Shades of Gray - By Jackie Kessler & Caitlin Kittredge Page 0,28
to their destinations. It would be so easy to step off the disc and let herself fall, until the ground came up to meet her.
She nodded, determined. If it came down to it—if the voices grew too strong—she would kill herself. Better that than to become something worse than rabid.
By the time they touched down in front of the Sixteenth precinct, Jet was feeling better. Her head still hurt worse than the scorched earth, but at least she felt in control, if exhausted. Nocturne had curled into a tight ball and wouldn’t untangle her limbs even when on solid ground. Jet debated leaving the woman tucked in a fetal position right there by the commissioner’s doorstep, but she decided against it. Wouldn’t do her any good if the police or even Wagner himself tripped over Nocturne and wound up breaking an ankle.
As Jet hauled her captive up the precinct steps, a black limo pulled up to the curb, followed by a battalion of minihovers overloaded with screamingly bright news-channel logos.
Jet distinctly thought, Fuck. Then she prodded Nocturne harder, telling the woman to move. Peripherally, she saw a brute stuffed into an expensive suit climb out of the limo. Strictly bodyguard material. As he scanned the block, taking in both Jet and Nocturne, flashes and glares and pops from the newsies burst like localized fireworks.
Almost there, Jet thought, propelling Nocturne toward the massive front doors. If she could escape inside the building, that would be the end of it; the media didn’t make it a habit to set foot inside the police station, not since Wagner had nearly taken off a reporter’s head for interrupting an interrogation by asking the prisoner to smile for the vids.
“Jet,” a man’s voice called out. “A moment of your time.”
She turned to see the large man standing in front of the limo. Overhead, the cameras whirred and clicked.
“A moment, citizen,” she agreed, despising that the conversation was being recorded and simulcast to the networks. Motioning to Nocturne’s bound form, she said, “Then I must return to business.”
“Understood.” He opened the limo passenger door with a perfected flourish. The well-dressed man who emerged was small, fat, and wore enough cologne to fell Colossal Man at two hundred meters.
Mayor William Lee.
Behind her optiframes, Jet’s eyes narrowed. Two weeks ago, this man was practically falling over himself to show Jet his gratitude for all the work she did as the official Hero of New Chicago. But then she’d offended him when she’d ditched an award ceremony (in her honor) to confront Iridium—at the time, still Public Enemy Number 1. Lee hadn’t taken it well. In fact, he’d almost gotten her sponsorship with the City revoked.
So how to play this?
Jet wished she could get Ops online for advice, but there was no time—the mayor was approaching briskly, his face set in a scowl. Jet pushed aside her exhaustion and her worries, straightened her spine, and lifted her chin.
“Good day, sir,” she said—not simpering, no, but borderline deferential. The cameras and vids caught every nuance.
The mayor glared at her, then at Nocturne. “Isn’t littering a finable offense?”
She smiled tightly. “We’re on our way inside to see Commissioner Wagner.”
“Of course you are.” He walked up closer until he was well within her personal space. “Nocturne saved my daughter’s life last year.”
Careful, she told herself. “Last year, Nocturne was a valuable member of the Squadron.”
“And now?”
“I caught her breaking into First National, sir, then she fought me and tried to escape.”
“And you prevailed. Miraculous,” he said dryly. “So why is it that all of the Squadron goes insane except for New Chicago’s own patented hero? Why is Corp refusing to comment? Can you give me any answers, Jet?”
If it were Hornblower here instead of Jet, he certainly would open his mouth and censure Corp-Co, damning them to the deepest Darkness. But the years of conditioning still held; if Jet tried to breathe a word against Corp, her brain would catch fire. She knew—she’d tried before.
So all she said was, “I wish I could, sir.” And that was the Light’s honest truth.
He held her gaze, and around them, the reporters salivated. Cameras flashed and vids gleamed in a dizzying array. Jet’s optiframes irised, canceling out the blinding effects.
“Well, you have a long history of service to the city,” he said loudly in his smooth politician’s voice, smiling. He offered his hand, and as Jet took it, he leaned in close enough to kiss her. Lee whispered, soft enough that the vids wouldn’t catch