Tell the Wind and Fire(37)

“You should care,” said Mark. “Charles and I share everything. We always planned that our sons should do the same. If, however, you do not have the same loyalty to the family as your father does, if you continue to be softhearted and weak-minded, then all the privileges you have enjoyed—vacations and your fine school and your shining future—could very quickly come to an end.”

“Is that so?” asked Ethan. “Good thing I don’t want any of it, then.”

“You don’t?” Mark inquired, his voice like silk wrapped around a knife, the smoothness snagging just once on a sharp edge.

“The people hate us,” said Ethan. “The Light guards terrify people. The cages terrify people. They shudder as they walk through the shadow Stryker Tower casts.”

I tried not to react. That was all true, but I had not realized Ethan knew any of it.

“Hatred is the compliment the weak pay the strong,” said Mark. “A couple of dogs bite, so you put them down. But most dogs obey their masters.”

“I don’t want people to fear and hate me,” Ethan said. “I don’t want any part of that kind of deference.”

“That deference will keep the people slinking in our shadow as long as Stryker Tower stands. Think of this. If you were anyone but Ethan Stryker, you would be dead now. Your name saved you.”

“I remember what saved me,” said Ethan. “It wasn’t my name.”

“Wait for us outside,” said Mark, nodding to the gray-suited shadows behind him. “Stand up,” he told Ethan.

At the same moment the door swung closed behind the men, Mark hit Ethan: a swift, controlled blow in the stomach, where there would be no visible bruise.

Ethan doubled over from the impact of Mark’s beringed fist, gasping and grasping at the table. I jumped up out of my chair and slipped into the space between them. Mark was a good deal bigger than I was.

He looked at me, eyes icy and intent, but I had looked into the doppelganger’s face. Neither Mark’s likeness to Ethan nor his coldness could even make me pause.

“You don’t touch him again.”

“Lucie,” Ethan said, his voice hoarse, “don’t.”

“Are you where he’s getting all this new philosophy?” Mark asked. “You do not want justice, Ethan. Justice would mean your death. Who do you think disposed of the guards who accused you and who saw your double? There are different laws for us, but the system will only benefit you so long as you uphold it. Your doppelganger did not save you. I saved you. And I will not have you refer to him ever again.”

Ethan put one hand on either side of my waist and drew me back toward him. “I wasn’t talking about the doppelganger.”

“Oh, you were talking about Lucie? Yes, she’s a sweet girl, isn’t she? I know how fond you are of her. Consider how terrible it would be if something were to happen to her. I want you to be smarter than you are being. I want you to think, Ethan,” Mark murmured. “Think of all you have to lose.”

He stepped away from me and Ethan. He did not even cast a glance over his shoulder at our united front. He opened the door and joined all his bright-ringed shadows outside.

I could feel Ethan’s heart beating too hard and too fast, like a fist hammering on a door, a prisoner desperate for freedom.

“I’m sorry,” Ethan breathed into my hair. “I never meant to mess up this badly, I never, never meant to draw you into all this. That’s why I treated you like I did on the show. I don’t want you associated with any of the trouble I’ve caused. I’m so sorry.”

He didn’t seem to realize the implications of all he had said on television: that people truly would think he was guilty of conspiring with rebels. He’d led a charmed life, easy and luxurious. He’d never had to face horror and death. He could not help being na?ve, expecting there to be no consequences forever. I could not help wanting to shield him from those consequences.

“It’s okay,” I breathed back. “It’s going to be okay.”

But I had lost the power to convince other people of a lie, and I had never been able to convincingly lie to myself.

I covered the back of his hand with mine, and he laced our fingers together. We stood like that for a little time, skin to skin, our hearts finding the same rhythm.

“It’s too late to go back to school,” Ethan said. “Let’s go home, you and me. We can talk about all this. I have some stuff to tell you that I don’t want Uncle Mark to hear, and my dad will come home soon. He will help me.”

“How often has Mark hit you?” I asked.

“Never,” said Ethan. “He never has before. My dad would never stand for it. My father loves me, Lucie. He’s not a good man, but he loves me. He’ll stop my uncle. You’ll be safe.”

“I’m not worried about myself.”

“I’ll be safe too,” said Ethan. “Come on. We’re going home, and it’s going to be okay.”

I made a mistake then. Yet another mistake.

I believed him.





CHAPTER TEN



e went the way we had gone a hundred times before, past the doorman and through the double doors, into the gleaming elevator and up until we could cross the shining marble floor. I was shaken, holding Ethan’s hand tightly, but it was a comfort to be somewhere familiar.