The Key to Fear - Kristin Cast Page 0,55

“My chance to inform our fine citizens of whatever the corporation deems necessary.” She smiled to herself. Truly a Cath-like recovery.

“Maxine, you and everyone else know that Cath and I are very close.” She paused to add emphasis to the statement as she folded her hands in front of her the same way Cath did when she explained something serious. “And I do appreciate your excitement and ability to seize an opportunity—but she is the closest thing I have to a mother. We mustn’t forget that.” The corner of Blair’s lip itched with a sly grin. “While still working to claim Holbrook’s title, of course.”

Maxine nodded.

“And get a new card for Holbrook’s widow, what’s-her-face. I should sign it myself this time.” Blair huffed. “While you’re at it, go ahead and have my funeral attire dyed black.” She’d wanted to standout as much as possible while also appearing respectful, but perhaps she’d have a better edge if people thought she was grieving as much as Cath. The board was clearly comparing them, so she had to try harder to embody everything everyone loved about Cath, while maintaining her own ruthlessness and persistence. It shouldn’t be too hard. She’d been pouring herself into different molds for as long as she could remember.

“I’m on it.” Maxine tapped out notes as she headed to the door. “And Holly will play the feeds whenever you’re ready. I loaded both the version that we’ll show the public as well as the actual footage.” She scanned her cuff and the door closed noiselessly behind her.

Blair settled into her plush velvet seat and crisscrossed her legs underneath her. She stretched, brushing the top of her chair with her fingertips. She’d told the designer that she wanted a throne, and he had delivered.

“Holly, play the version that’s been approved for citizen viewing.” Blair trailed her fingers over the metal-studded armrests as the holoscreen image changed, replaced again by the Key’s vibrant red logo.

“To health. To life. To the future. We are the Key.” Blair said the words along with the version of her own voice that she’d had programmed into Holly.

“Good afternoon, citizens.” Vaughn Kelley stared into the camera. His expertly maintained caterpillar eyebrows twitched with each inflection. Blair often wondered if that had been taught, a sort of signature he’d perfected over the years of being Westfall’s go-to news anchor, or if it was natural, if his brows and his vocal cords had been stitched together since birth. “We have reporters on the ground in Zone Seven to bring you live, up-to-date information on the current raids and how they are impacting the safety of our community.” Vaughn flicked his attention between the cameras as the studio bots changed angles. His tailored blue blazer matched the intense aqua of his eyes and stood out in stark contrast against the white backdrop beaming behind him.

Live, up-to-date information …

Blair didn’t stifle her eye roll.

One of the many false truths the Key fed to its citizens. Black lies of necessity. Protection and safety and helpfulness wrapped into an easily digested nugget of censor-enriched truth. That may sound confusing to some, only because some people had too much faith in what citizens would do if given the whole truth and nothing but the truth. And Blair, more than anyone, understood how facts created monsters.

Only real emergencies or causes for celebration were reported in real time. This video may not go out for days. And, up until the Eos attacks, there had never been a real emergency in Westfall. Real emergencies had occurred overseas and in other New American cities where Eos cells had been active for years, but Westfall had seemed immune. Apparently, no city was safe from Eos.

Vaughn’s eyebrows twitched as he snapped his gaze to another camera. “Now, over to Chad Sandhar, reporting live from Zone Seven.”

Flames seemed to engulf the wall of Blair’s office as the view switched from Vaughn’s sterile newsroom to the fires blazing throughout Westfall’s outermost zone.

The corner of Blair’s mouth curled with a grin.

The camera steadied and zoomed in on a row of Key Corp soldiers, their black, flame-retardant uniforms rising from the charred and barren field like so many more lifeless husks. The black earth and withered trees told the story of the Key’s previous voyages to the wooded forbidden zone. Soldiers would be deployed to Zone Seven and beyond again and again until the fingers of the Key stretched black and charred throughout the land. And, if—No, when Blair was appointed director, the

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