Damn.
Daiyu gave me a measured look, then smiled a slow smile. She knew exactly what I was thinking. “Come on. Climb on.”
“Won’t your father be looking for you?” I asked.
Her shoulders tensed, and her straight eyebrows drew together. “I messaged him good night hours ago. The door to my bedroom is locked. He’ll be too preoccupied tonight to think of me.”
I got on behind her, winding my arms around her waist, holding her close. I could feel the tension in her body, her muscles taut. “I thought you’d never ridden on an airped before?” I said against her ear.
She let out a sigh and relaxed against me. “I lied,” she replied.
Daiyu revved the engine, and the Blade purred as it sped down the empty street. “You seemed to enjoy showing off,” she said above the noise.
I rested my forehead against her shoulder and laughed as we lifted into the air, and my heart surged with it. She was absolutely right. I had enjoyed it.
? ? ?
Daiyu flew through the empty skies cautiously, as I was unsuited and hers was defunct. An accident would mean certain death. We weren’t near the center of Taipei, and at not yet three a.m., there was little air traffic in this area unfrequented by yous looking for a good time. To my surprise, Daiyu seemed to be headed toward Shilin and the Yangming mountains, back to where this all started—where I had kidnapped her last summer. I watched Taipei unfurl beneath me, a maze of narrow streets, dark alleyways and brightly lit boulevards. I loved this city, my city, and wondered if what my friends and I did tonight would help it in the way that we had hoped. Galvanize the nation.
Please don’t let Victor’s death be for nothing.
If I had learned anything growing up, it was that there were no guarantees in life. But that didn’t mean you simply sat back and never tried. I shivered. My expensive leather jacket did little to ward off the chill wind flying so high, but my chest was warm. I could feel my heartbeat against Daiyu’s back. We were near the base of Yangmingshan when Daiyu steered the airped onto a wide road, shutting the system and kicking down the stand.
After the rush of air against my ears and the hum of the airped’s propulsion system and engine, the sudden silence seemed loud.
“We’re here,” Daiyu said and waited for me to get off the airped before she slid off.
I glanced around. We were on an empty road that wound upward toward the mountain, untraveled because no one visited the haunted peaks anymore, after the earthquake and fires. I saw nothing but then glimpsed the curve of a dome hidden behind a thicket of trees set farther back.
“Come on,” she said. Daiyu walked toward the trees, and I followed.
We soon reached a large clearing, cut back to accommodate the structure I had glimpsed from afar. The building was made of ivory stone, smooth and circular, with a domed roof. A square vestibule was set at the front, with wide silver doors. It reminded me of the old-school observatories I had seen on the undernet, back when astronomers could actually study the stars and solar systems from within our cities. Now the skies were too polluted from Seoul to London to Mexico City.
“What is it?” I asked.
“It’s my senior project,” she said and gestured toward the entrance. “You’ll see.”
“You built this for your senior project?” It must have cost millions.
She nodded, unperturbed, and opened the elegant silver doors with a palm scan. The doors were etched with delicate plum blossoms—Taiwan’s national flower. Gold lights set into the arched ceiling came on, illuminating the empty chamber. I walked with Daiyu inside, admiring the jade tile work on the floor. “The vestibule isn’t finished yet”—she waved a hand—“but soon.”
The expansive chamber smelled of stone and wood, construction. Regulated air pumped from vents above.
“There’s a restroom.” Daiyu pointed to a cherrywood door on the right-hand side.
I slipped inside. After using the facilities, I stared at myself in the wide expanse of mirrors above the marble sinks. My short hair stuck up every which way from the airped ride, but also from my time spent as a prisoner. The lower half of my face and neck were smeared in dried blood, and my left cheekbone was swollen, making the eye appear squinted. I only had on my black leather jacket over dirty jeans, as I had used my shirt to cover my face while escaping Jin Corp, and lost it somewhere along the way. I looked every bit like a street urchin trying to be something I wasn’t.
I tried, Vic, I thought, looking at my reflection until it blurred. But you were always the suave one.
I washed my face and neck, then rinsed my mouth out. My head and cheek throbbed, but nothing I couldn’t deal with. I’d been beat up worse.
There was a light knocking on the door, startling me despite its muted tone. My heart raced, and the ground tilted beneath my feet; for a moment, it felt as if I were in Jin Corp again, with the building collapsing over me, my vision obscured by smoke. Daiyu entered carrying a silver cup. I let out a breathless laugh, gripping the marble restroom counter. “You have no sense of privacy at all, do you?” My voice cracked.
“You’ve been in here for a while.” She offered the cup. “I thought you might be thirsty.”
I was, now that she mentioned it. Suddenly, it felt as if I could fall to my knees from thirst. I drank, and ice-cold sugarcane juice slid down my throat like some miracle elixir. I didn’t set the cup down until I was done, already feeling more alert. “Thank you,” I said.
She was leaning against the counter, facing me, close enough I felt her body’s warmth.
“Jason—”
“I’m sorry,” I cut in. “I’m sorry that I lied to you and used you. You were a necessary means to an end.” Shit. I sounded like a robotic jerk. Gripping the counter edge again, I went on, “But it doesn’t mean that . . .” I faltered.
. . . it was all a lie.
. . . I only pretended to like you.
. . . the kiss we shared doesn’t still blow my mind.
“. . . I ever wanted to hurt you,” I finally said. Staring at my knuckles, I knew how foolish I sounded.
“You used me,” Daiyu replied. “But I used you too.”
That was true. She played me better than I could ever have guessed. Who was actually running the show this entire time? Lingyi and our group, or had Daiyu simply let us?
“That night you woke up from the flu, and you were so angry with me,” Daiyu murmured. “I told you I was starting to see. Starting to learn more and more about what my father was doing. How truly horrible it was for meis in our country. But I also saw that you couldn’t trust me.”
I looked at her then, and she graced me with a sad smile.
“You couldn’t truly trust me,” she repeated. “And I didn’t blame you.”
“I was the one who kidnapped you, Daiyu, who stole from you. Why did you trust me?”