Even through closed eyelids, the flashes dazzled us, left our vision bruised, like we’d stared at the sun. Theboomwould fritz our ears for a moment, until sound slowly leaked back in.
Peter’s laughter was always the first thing we heard.
“My childhood was idyllic.”
“You said that with anger. Are you sure it’s true?”
“I hope you’re not charging me for this.”
“I don’t care about money. I don’t care who you represent. All I care about is your pain, Jessica.”
I smiled. This wasn’t seduction—this was one power move after another, pure intimidation. Not the prelude to an offer, but to a beating. He thought he could scare me.
“We’re older than you, Dr. Lyon, by millennia. We have deeper pockets, colder hearts. We aren’t going away.”
“Abused as a child,” he said. “And you don’t even know it.”
With all of them stunned, blinded, I would stab Lyon. Three times in the stomach, survivable enough. Then reverse my grip and swing for the neck of the man in the passenger front seat. The driver, a flash-bang having gone off in his lap, would be an afterthought.
“What did your family do to you, Jessica?”
They taught me not to listen to strangers.
“Whatever it was, you still have something inside you, something wonderful that survived.” Another smile in the darkness, this one sad. “Do you love Hiromi?”
I didn’t answer. I didn’t know.
“She wants you to say it first,” Lyon said.
He sounded as certain as a Morton. But he was pretending.
“All you have to do is sign a piece of paper. You can keep your patients, your Kandinskys, your parties.” Houses, horses, tuition, Paris. “You can buy all of Hiromi’s robots. And you won’t have to worry about the law anymore. We’ll fix that.”
“She’ll leave you soon. You aren’t worth the risk. You’re someone who vanishes one night, driving away and never coming home. Like her parents, crashing on an icy road.”
Bind up Lyon’s wounds. Put the other two in the trunk. Meet Uncle Orrin halfway to the estate. Let the elders do the rest.
Once Lyon had struck the first blow, we would take it all. But he hadn’t yet.
I needed him to hurt me. I wanted very much for him to try.
“Hiromi’s nothing special,” I said. “A second-rate artist, for third-rate collectors.”
“Oh, dear. You’ve got it worse than I thought.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “Is she your first true love?”
My hand went tight around the knife. I’d pushed too hard, become transparent, like when I tried to be witty for Hiromi’s friends.
The flash grenade first, the blade in his stomach. Reverse my grip, swing for the throat. The driver an afterthought.
“You’ve made me an offer,” Lyon said. “Now let me make one.”
“Any deal ends with you signing your name.”
“I’ll fix her for you,” he said. “There’s no need for her to suffer.”
I stared at him.
“She’s flourishing at this party. You’ve already seen it. All those fans, all that attention—all of it comes from me. Tomorrow, driving home,she’ll start to wonder if I’m really so terrible. You two will have exciting new friends, who will sing my praises. All you have to do is nudge her onto my couch, and I’ll fix her. You can have her then. All I want is to fix her.”
