Zachary Rawlins - The Academy

He took a hot shower, more to help stretch out his sore muscles than anything else, washing his hair and cursing his failure to find a barber while Eerie had shopped, resolving to get it taken care of tomorrow. Alex stayed under the hot water for an extra few minutes, letting it beat down on the back of his head, thinking about Eerie. He wondered where she fit in the whole power struggle in Central, if she had a side, or allegiances of her own.

It didn’t seem possible to Alex that she managed to stay completely uninvolved, as the conflict seemed to consume the whole of Central, where Eerie had lived since she was a child. Even so, it was hard to imagine her as one of Anastasia’s lot, and though he hadn’t met too many people from the Hegemony yet, he had even more trouble with the idea of Eerie fitting in with them.

They had taken a BART train to the Hilton that afternoon, after she’d finished shopping, a glass tower embedded in an otherwise commercial neighborhood. Alex had requested a room with two queen beds, to be on the safe side, paying with the stack of bills that Eerie had given him earlier. The guy at the counter had found that amusing, and Eerie had laughed when she opened the room door, causing immediate and total regret in Alex. He had no intention of spending his time at the Academy rebuffing the advances of cute girls, whether or not they were weird. Or insane. Or not human. He had, after all, been forced to spend a good portion of his life in strictly all-male institutions. Clearly, he thought, his understanding was lacking.

Napping on their respective beds, Alex was acutely aware of Eerie sleeping a few meager feet away. If he held his breath, he discovered that he could hear her breathing. He tossed and turned, wondering what would have happened had he requested one bed, wondering what would happen if he got up and went over to her. Helpless, he cursed the stupidity and fear that kept him from finding out.

He hadn’t slept all that well, Alex thought, feeling profoundly sorry for himself.

“Have a seat, Miss Martynova,” Gaul said mildly, gesturing at the plush office chair in front of his desk. His hands were steepled in front of his face, his expression unreadable. Behind him, Rebecca scowled from her perch on the windowsill, circles underneath her eyes, dangling a cigarette out the open window.

Anastasia took the offered seat without comment, smoothing her silk dress carefully across her lap as she sat. Then she waited in polite silence, her hands folded neatly, resting on her knees.

“I’m certain you know why we’ve called you here today, Anastasia,” Gaul said from behind his hands, the glare from his glasses hiding his eyes.

“I’m not so certain,” Anastasia said dismissively, inspecting her immaculate black nails. “Are you going to tell me?”

“Where’s Alex?” Rebecca demanded, her voice tight and her frustration obvious. “Where’s Eerie?”

“I don’t know,” Anastasia said, sounding bored. “Are we finished, then, or do you have more?”

Gaul turned briefly in his seat to glance at Rebecca, who gave him a curt, angry nod.

“The students in question appear to have departed the Academy sometime this afternoon,” Gaul said mildly. “We have reason to believe that members of the Black Sun Cartel assisted them in this endeavor.”

“Is that so?” Anastasia shrugged and gave them a wan smile. “Well, I am afraid that I don’t know about it. If this was done by members of my cartel, as you suggest, then it was done without my knowledge.”

“You expect me to believe that your cartel members acted on their own?” Rebecca made a face. “Not likely. You run too tight a ship, Anastasia.”

“Believe me or don’t, Rebecca. I’m telling the truth. I am not sure what else I could offer you…”

“Help us to understand,” Gaul suggested. “If you didn’t approve it, how could this happen?”

“Well, I am not certain about Eerie, but I told Alex that the resources of the Black Sun were at his disposal,” Anastasia explained matter-of-factly. “I had instructed my staff to provide him with anything that he might ask for, no questions asked. Perhaps, then, he requested transportation? My people would not have sought my approval, because I had already given it in advance.”

“Why would you do that?” Rebecca asked, surprised. “What did Alex promise you in return for that?”

“Nothing,” Anastasia said, shaking her head. “I didn’t ask him for anything, and he didn’t promise me anything. Maybe I like to help people. Maybe I felt sorry for him. Maybe I’m that confident. You’re the empath, Rebecca, you tell me.”

“You little witch!” Rebecca exploded, flicking her cigarette out the window. “How is that you keep me out of your head?”

“I have my ways,” Anastasia said lightly. “You can question my staff, if you like. All of them will corroborate my statement. Is there something else I can do for you?”

“Can you find Alex for us?” Gaul asked patiently.

Anastasia stood up, her smile compact and mocking.

“Is that all?” She asked cheerfully. “Ask me directly next time. You know how eager I am to do favors for the Administration, after all. But, as crass as it is to mention, if you want me to do you a favor, then…”

“You little brat,” Rebecca snarled, only to be cut off again by Gaul’s arm. “You’re still a student here, Anastasia.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” Anastasia said, nodding.

“What will it cost us to get Alex back?” Gaul asked, pushing his glasses back up on his nose. “And Eerie too, of course.”

“Of course,” Anastasia deadpanned. “My terms are simple, and I hope, not too objectionable. If you want me to find Alex and Eerie, I will. But it will be the Black Sun that collects them, not Central.”

Anastasia waited while Gaul calmed Rebecca down, who was fuming and swearing behind him. She managed not to laugh out loud, not right then, but as a reward for her self control, she promised herself that she would laugh later.

Last, to be specific.

It wasn’t a club, but it wasn’t what Alex would have called a rave, either, from his vague understanding of what a rave constituted.

This was a couple hundred kids packed into what might have been an indoor basketball court, judging from the painted wooden floor that Alex could see peeking out from underneath the black foam mat that had been put down over it. The DJ was in the far corner of the room, spinning tribal-infused trance at a deafening volume, the sound system massively oversized for the space. A few long cloth curtains and a handful of black lights seemed to constitute the whole of the decor for the otherwise naked building.

The promoters had seemed leery of police attention, given the number of hoops they’d had to jump through to get here — a phone number on the back of a flier that Eerie had selected from the stack of them she had collected while shopping which rang endlessly until after nine, when a voicemail message appeared and gave directions to what turned out to be an alley in the Tenderloin. Alex found the whole thing sketchy, walking between two dark brick buildings and past overflowing dumpsters, the whole narrow alley reeking of urine and rotting food, up a set of stairs and into a small enclosed parking lot. There they bought tickets, and got a sheet of photocopied directions from a Mexican guy in a wife beater, and a blond girl with at least a dozen piercings in her face.

The party wasn’t anywhere close to the ticket location, and they’d ended up taking a bus back to Soma, Eerie leaning her forehead against the window, staring out into the intermittent darkness on Market Street. Alex stood next to her, clutching an overhead pole, wondering how long it would take them to get to the party, wondering if the bus driver planned to let them live long enough to get there in the first place. He was a little bit sick to his stomach. Alex stopped counting, but it was at least a dozen stops before Eerie abruptly stood up, grabbed his arm, and dragged him wordlessly from the bus and down a side street. There was a short line in front of the building, which looked like an old, anonymous commercial property. While waiting, Alex noticed that SF police impound lot was directly next-door, a couple of uniformed officers lounging by the closed gates, laughing at the party-goers attire. He swore to himself and wondered what the purpose of all that had been.