Traitor Born (Secondborn #2)(6)
The black heels I order have a wait time of thirty minutes. Barefoot but dressed, I go back to the bathroom. As I’m twisting my hair into a smooth knot at the base of my head, the door of my apartment bleeps in melodic tones.
“You have a visitor,” a sultry male voice says from the apartment’s speaker system. The heavy metallic ring of Phoenix’s feet begins in earnest below—clang, clang, clang, clang—
“Who is it?” I ask, securing my hair with a few pins.
“Secondborn Kinjin Star,” replies the simulated voice.
Clang, clang, clang, clang, clang—
Smoothing the last hairs into place, I leave the bathroom and descend the stairs. “Open the front door,” I command, hurrying across the drawing room to the foyer. The apartment door opens, and the young woman outside gazes down at Phoenix at her feet. The mechadome shifts noisily from side to side.
The Star-Fated woman looks up at me as I approach. “I read the order, but I thought it was keyed in wrong. You have a Class 5Z Mechanized Sanitation Unit as a domestic assistant?” Her brown eyes sparkle with restrained mirth. She rests her hand on the knee of her lemon-colored uniform, bending toward Phoenix in fascination. The silver belt around her waist holds magnetized tools. In her hand is a silver case.
“They’re the up-and-coming thing,” I reply, my lip twisting with sarcasm. “Everyone will have to have one soon. Please come in.” I move aside, allowing her in. “This one has seen better days, though. The hover module doesn’t work on either of its feet.” The door slides closed behind her.
“Is there a place I can work?” she asks, appearing as if she’s making mental notes of all the tests she’d like to run on my little bot.
“This way.” I sweep my arm toward the long table in the formal dining area. Phoenix toddles along behind me like a puppy. At Kinjin’s urging, I help lift Phoenix off the floor and onto the marble tabletop.
“Thanks,” she says. “These little units are heavy. Their outsides are iron, and their insides are lined with lead.”
She wipes her forehead with the back of her hand and goes to work pulling rusted fasteners from Phoenix’s abdomen. As she works, I watch, asking questions when she pulls out soldering tools and replacement wiring. She runs upgrades on the operating system. After minutes of poking around, Kinjin pulls out a blackened metal part.
“I don’t have a replacement component for this,” she explains with a sheepish expression. “The lead is fine, but the receptor nodes on either side of it have shorted, and its boards are shot.” She sets pieces of lead on the marble table. “The hover mode won’t work without them. I can requisition replacement parts, but it will take several weeks because it’s not a high-priority item.”
“Is there somewhere I could get them?”
Her eyes turn up toward the ceiling, and her cheeks puff out. “There’s a small repair shop in the downtown city center of Purity. They might have them. I can give you coordinates, if you’d like.” I nod. She closes and secures Phoenix’s iron casing. As she repacks her tools in her silver case, she reaches for the damaged lead parts.
“Can I keep those? I can show them to the technician at the shop. It might be easier,” I explain, palming the parts and shoving them in a nearby drawer before she can say no.
“Sure.” Kinjin shrugs. Together, we lift Phoenix down from the table. The stout bot seems no less functional for the loss of the small lead bits. Kinjin packs up her tools while Phoenix waddles around sucking up dust from the floor with its vacuum arm. When she’s finished, Kinjin says, “I’ll contact you when I get the parts.”
I nod. We walk together to the foyer. Once we’re away from Phoenix and the noise of the vacuum, a thought occurs to me. “I wonder . . .” I want to be subtle about what I say next. It pertains to Firstborn Reykin Winterstrom, my contact in the Gates of Dawn resistance. He told me he’s looking for his secondborn brother, Ransom. If I could somehow find this secondborn Star, I’d have something to barter with Reykin and the Gates of Dawn the next time they want something from me. “Kinjin, do you happen to know an engineer by the name of Ransom Star?”
A flicker of recognition crosses her face. “That’s an unusual name,” she replies.
“Yes,” I agree, offering nothing further.
“It doesn’t sound familiar.” Her eyes shift away, as if she’s afraid to look at me.
“Oh. Well, I’ll notify you if by chance I can get those parts sooner than you can.”
Kinjin nods without glancing my way. “You have a pleasant evening.”
“And you, as well.” The door closes behind the Star, leaving me to wonder why she lied.
Once Kinjin is gone, I panic. That was a supremely stupid risk to have taken for a negotiating tool I’m not even sure would be useful. I just blurted out Ransom Winterstrom’s name, as if a name like that couldn’t get me killed! As if a connection to Reykin Winterstrom and the Gates of Dawn isn’t the most dangerous aspect of my life. Everything is a mess. My hands tremble. I close them into fists.
Suddenly, this apartment is too small. I need to escape it. Going to the bureau drawer where I stashed the lead pieces, I yank it open. I could leave. I could cloak my moniker with the lead parts and just run away, but where would I go? Not back to Swords—not without speaking to Gabriel first. The moment I cross back into my Fate, I’ll be cut down—unless it’s in secret, and for that I’d need a plan.