Chapter 20 — Ace
On Halloween, the Sargon manor was abuzz with activity. Josiah had gotten home from school early, and I could hear him downstairs barking orders at the servants, criticizing everything from the floral arrangements to the design on the platters.
Meanwhile, he had revealed nothing about his plan to sneak me into the ball. When I asked, he gave me a smile that bordered on maniacal and assured me I would know soon enough.
A knock came from the door.
“Josiah’s not here,” I called.
“I know,” a girl said. “He sent me up here to get you ready for tonight. My name’s Kaitlyn.”
I opened the door. The way I would sneak into the ball became clear.
I shook my head. “He can’t be serious.”
She struggled to hide a smile. “The Sargons allow certain guests bring a date to the ball. By the time I’m done with you, no one will be able to tell the difference.”
I wasn’t sure whether to strangle Josiah or applaud him for his creativity.
Kaitlyn set up her supply of pigments as I watched with growing unease.
She dipped a fluffy brush in a vat of powder and brushed it on my face. “I need to soften some angles. It’s good your face is on the gentler side. Makes my job a lot easier.”
I frowned. “Are you calling me effeminate?”
“No, I’m calling you pretty.”
After an hour of blending, dabbing, and brushing with various products I had never even heard of, Kaitlyn deemed my makeup ready. She wrapped my hair in athletic stretch tape before fixing a wig to my head. Kaitlyn then spent another hour braiding and curling the hair with hot irons.
Did women always take this long to get ready? I tugged on a curl, letting it bounce like a spring.
Kaitlyn slapped my hand away. “The wig may not fall off since I secured it with glue, but pulling on the hair will make my hard work come undone.”
She handed me the ball gown, a monstrosity of dark blue satin and silver lace.
“Could you?” I gestured for her to turn away.
“I didn’t know you were shy type, Ace,” Kaitlyn teased as she averted her eyes. “You might want help with the zipper though.”
I shrugged off my shirt and pulled the dress over my head. The fabric bunched up, so I tugged the skirt down until it swished over the floor. I unbuttoned my jeans and threw them on the ground next to my shirt. Kaitlyn had been right about the zipper. I bent my arms into awkward positions to zip up the dress.
Kaitlyn squealed as she turned around. “I’ve outdone myself this time.” She pointed to a mirror. “Take a look!”
I couldn’t keep from going slack-jawed. Kaitlyn had braided a part of the wig and laced it with tiny silver ribbons, leaving the rest in ringlets that fell past my shoulders. Copper eyeshadow and light pink lipstick made my eyes vibrant.
The dress wasn’t as bad as I feared either. The fabric swirled around, trailing on the ground as I walked.
“Josiah will freak out when he sees you,” Kaitlyn said.
“Oh, God,” I groaned. “He’ll never let me live this down, will he?”
If spies had to crossdress to get information, how in the world did they retain their dignity afterwards?
Kaitlyn handed me a pair of black flats. “I don’t think it would be a good idea for you to risk heels tonight.”
After seeing my mother stumble around in stilettos after a night of drinking, I wholeheartedly agreed.
“And now for the finishing touch.” She handed me a silver mask.
When I put it on, it covered half my face. “Am I ready to go now?”
Kaitlyn frowned. “Almost. You look like a girl now, and a gorgeous one at that, but you don’t talk like one.”
I put on a falsetto. “Hello, my name is Caela.”
She shook her head. “Is that what you think we sound like? Take the voice down an octave.”
“Hello, my name is Caela.”
“Better, but now you sound angry. You’re at a masquerade ball with one of the most desirable boys in the country—”
I snorted.
“—so sound excited about it. Make your voice breathier.”
“Hello, my name is Caela.”
Kaitlyn smiled. “I think we’ve got it.”
There were several sharp raps at the door.
“Are you finished yet?” Josiah’s voice came from outside. “You take longer than a girl to get ready.”
Kaitlyn hurried to answer the door. Josiah stood outside in a tuxedo with a dark blue tie and a mask that matched mine. He was checking the time on his phone.
“What’s your rush?” I asked. “The ball doesn’t start until seven.”
“We need to be present before it begins.” Josiah put the phone back in his pocket. “It’s rude for hosts to…”
He gaped at me.
“It’s rude for hosts to what?” I said.
Josiah muttered something under his breath.
Kaitlyn laughed. “I know. I’m good, aren’t I?”
My eyes narrowed. “What did he say?”
“Nothing.” He held out his arm. “Don’t dawdle. We’re going to be late.”
I forced a dazzling smile and took it. “My, what a gentleman.”
Josiah swallowed. I dropped my eyes to his lips, and he stiffened beside me. Being a girl would be far more fun than I had thought.
“Josiah, there you are.” His mother ran up to us. “The guests are about to arrive. Norman informed me about limos pulling up in the front.”
She noticed me and smiled. “Aren’t you a pretty one? No wonder my son’s been spending so much time up in his room—”
“Mother.” Josiah looked mortified.
“—and no wonder he asked to borrow Kaitlyn. I see she’s worked her magic as always.”
Mrs. Sargon drifted off to find her husband as the guests started pouring in. I scanned the crowd for Horace Whitaker, but it was hard to tell with their faces covered. The masks ranged from simplistic to full-blown works of art.
A young man in an eagle mask smiled at me. As the string quartet—a real string quartet, how much more pretentious could Josiah get—started to play, couples began to fill the dance floor.
Horace Whitaker still hadn’t shown up. Josiah’s arm snaked around my waist. I looked at him in surprise.
“Guys are eyeing you like a piece of meat,” he said. “I would rather you not end up in a room alone with one of them, only for the poor guy to find out you’re not really a girl.”
I raised an eyebrow. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you sound jealous.”
The eagle mask guy started toward us.
Josiah nodded toward the corner of the room. “There’s Horace Whitaker. Let’s go greet him.”
He dragged me across the dance floor.
“Mr. Whitaker,” Josiah called.
The man had an easy smile. “My boy, we’re supposed to remain anonymous until midnight. Don’t go shouting my name around like that.”
“Sorry, sir. Just wanted to say hello. How’s life on the campaign trail?”
“It’s had its share of difficulties. What about your junior year?”
I shifted from one foot to another as they made small talk. It was mind numbing. I opened my mouth to ask him about EAGLE or the Underground, to watch his reaction if nothing else.
As if he knew what I was thinking, Josiah’s arm tightened around my waist.
“Horace, there you are,” a man said. “I’ve been looking all over.”
Horace Whitaker’s smile withered a little. “I’ve been right here the whole time, Nathan. Is something wrong?”
Dressed in a pinstripe suit with a golden dragon mask was the EAGLE director.
He shook hands with Josiah. “Josiah Sargon, I presume?”
Josiah nodded. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Harker. I’m a great admirer of the work you’ve accomplished since you came to power.”
Nathan Harker tilted his head in acknowledgement and turned to me. “I don’t believe we have had the pleasure of being introduced yet.”
I held out my hand. “My name is Caela.”
Instead of shaking it like he had with Josiah, the EAGLE director bent down and kissed my hand. Heat rose to my cheeks.
“I’m afraid we must leave you now,” he said. “Horace and I have much to discuss.”
Nathan Harker snapped his fingers as he walked off, Horace Whitaker trailing after him like a well-trained dog.
I watched them leave. “How are we going to talk to him alone now? You should have asked him when you had a chance, before the EAGLE director showed up.”
Josiah’s eyes narrowed. “Oh no. You are not pushing the blame on me.”
“If you had just asked him, we could already have everything we need to know. Instead, the two of you prattled on about golfing strategies and fashion designers like you were in a chick flick. And you call me a girl.”
“Who’s the one wearing a dress right now?” he said. “Besides, Horace is a lot smarter than he looks. If we question him before he’s inebriated, he’ll become suspicious.”
A guy wearing a feathered mask stepped forward and clapped Josiah on the shoulder. “What are you doing in the corner with a pretty girl that doesn’t involve locking lips? Lover’s spat, Sargon?”
Josiah rolled his eyes. “Shut up, Ethan. What would you know?”
“I know that you moved on fast from Cheryl,” he said. “My congratulations. What’s your name, darling?”
“This is Caela.”
I shoved him with my shoulder. “I can speak for myself, Josiah.”
Ethan grinned. “You’re a feisty one, aren’t you? If you get bored with golden boy over there, I wouldn’t object if you showed up in my bed.”
“Thanks for the offer,” I said, “but you’re not my type.”
My jaw still ached from his punch.
Josiah laughed. “Didn’t you say you were everyone’s type, Ethan?”
He rolled his eyes. “Shut up. She just hasn’t seen the best part of my face. You’ll be singing a different tune at midnight, Caela.”
Ethan sauntered away.
“I wish I was still an assassin so I could kill him with no consequences,” I muttered.
Josiah shrugged. “Ethan’s a nice guy.”
The string quartet took up a fast-paced jig. Servants rushed by bearing platters of empty champagne flutes. With alcohol in their veins, people began finding the courage to drag their friends, and strangers, out onto the dance floor.
“We’re going to look weird if we keep standing here,” Josiah said.
I raised an eyebrow. “Are you asking me to dance?”
“I’m asking you to keep up appearances.”
“By dancing.”
He sighed. “Do you have to be so frustrating?”
The string quartet changed to a waltz. Josiah had a point. The people left standing on the side appeared suspicious and awkward unless they were drinking champagne.
I took Josiah’s hand and let him lead me onto the floor. Out of the random lessons I had accumulated throughout the years of trying to get close to targets, I was thankful ballroom dancing had been one of them.
Swaying to the music, I clasped Josiah’s hand and brought my other arm to his shoulder as I stepped forward.
I winced when Josiah trod on my foot and stomped on his in retaliation.
Josiah hissed in my ear, “Stop trying to lead.”
“I’m hardly going to follow you,” I said.
“The guy leads, the girl follows.”
“Do you have any idea how anti-feminist that sounds?”
Josiah squeezed my hand. “I’m talking about the basic rules of waltz dancing, not undermining feminism. Quit taking everything I say the wrong way.”
The music changed to a tango. Josiah brought his right foot forward, forcing me to step back to avoid being trod on again.
“Do you trust me?” he asked.
“Not in the slightest.”
Josiah smirked. “Good.”
He released his hold on my waist and led me through a series of turns that increased in intensity along with the music. My head spun as he pulled me close to his chest. The room tilted sideways. At first I thought I was dizzy, then I realized Josiah was dipping me.
When he pulled me back to standing, I clung to him to remain upright. The room whirled around me.
Josiah held me up. “You’re not about to faint on me, are you? You know you’ll never live it down.”
“I’m never letting you take the lead again,” I groaned.
I pressed my fingers against my temples and closed my eyes.
“Don’t do that,” Josiah said. “It’s better to focus on a fixed point.”
In a room of spinning dancers, that was easier said than done.
He pointed to a golden frame. “Look at the portrait of my great grandmother.”
I squinted at the far wall. The woman in the painting was rather pretty, even in her old age, with thick gray curls and deep brown eyes, the same color as Josiah’s. An opulent sapphire necklace hung around her neck. The artist had done a brilliant job of painting the jewel. Even from far away, it seemed to sparkle in the light, outshining the rest of the portrait.
I stumbled toward it, dodging and weaving through dancers with the grace of a rhinoceros in ballet slippers.
Josiah chased after me. “Caela, where are you going?”
I inspected the sapphire. There was oil paint around the edges to help it blend into the rest of the portrait. In place of the jewel, however, was a camera lens.
“Someone’s trying to spy on the dance,” I said.
Josiah shrugged. “It could be a person upset about not being invited. Could be the tabloids. It doesn’t have to be a nefarious force.”
“Who uses nefarious in conversation?”
“I do. And there’s an easy way to solve the problem.” He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and tucked it around the edges of the lens.
We returned the dance floor as the string quartet kicked up a tarantella. The EAGLE director stuck by Horace Whitaker’s side like a stubborn burr. While the politician swayed on his feet, Harker’s eyes scanned the room like an eagle’s.
It was a little past ten o’clock. There were only two hours before the unmasking at midnight when people would start to leave.
Sweat soaked through the bodice of my dress as we danced, the moving bodies turning the ballroom into a furnace. The chatter got louder as people lost their volume control, along with their coordination, to the alcohol.
“Josiah,” I said. “You need to get the EAGLE director away from Horace Whitaker so I can ask him questions.”
He scanned the room for the pair. “That’s not going to happen. He’s expecting Horace to be questioned, and he’s staying close by to make sure nothing is given away.”
“Figure something out.” I glanced at the clock. “It’s already ten thirty. We’re running out of time.”
“Why don’t you distract the EAGLE director and leave Horace to me? Just bat your eyes, giggle, and ask him to dance. If he’s anything like the wealthy men I know, you flutter your lashes and his attention will be diverted.” He leaned in close. “And if you got into bed with him—”
I dropped Josiah’s arm and stepped away from him in disgust. “You’re messing with me again.”
He laughed. “I’m serious about the first part. Ask the EAGLE director to dance so I can talk to Horace without him butting in.”
“I’m not asking the EAGLE director to dance. It wouldn’t be proper.”
“Since when did you care about proper conduct, ghetto boy? Remember, you’re not actually a girl.”
I opened my mouth, a retort on the tip of my tongue, when a weight slammed into my back. On instinct, I jabbed backwards with my elbow. The dress limited my movement, but the blow connected with a satisfying thump. My assailant cried out in pain, tightening their grip on my shoulders.
I tucked my head into my chest and bent toward the ground. Long black hair flew at my face as my attacker slammed into the floor. It was Cheryl.
She stabbed at me with a kitchen knife. I jerked backward, but the blade nicked my cheek. I aimed a kick at her knee. When Cheryl lunged for me again, Josiah grabbed her arm and pulled her away. A stream of curses burst from her lips.
“You little vixen,” she screamed. “You think you can take my boyfriend from me? Just because you blocked my security camera—”
Nathan Harker came up behind us. “What security camera?”
“We discovered one in that painting.” I pointed to the gold frame on the wall.
Mr. Sargon looked aghast. “She defaced the portrait of my grandmother? It’s priceless!”
Cheryl seemed to come to her senses. “Sir, my parents will cover all damages done, and I apologize for—”
Josiah’s father glared like he wanted to bite her head off. She quailed beneath his gaze.
A drop of red landed in the folds of my dress.
“Caela,” the EAGLE director said. “You’re bleeding.”
I touched the cut. “Only a little. I’ll live.”
Josiah cupped the side of my face and used his thumb to wipe away the blood. Cheryl swelled like she was about to burst.
“Nathan,” Mr. Sargon said. “Could you escort this girl outside and coordinate my security detail to ensure that no more undesirables get into the party?”
His voice made it clear it was an order.
Nathan Harker inclined his head. “Of course.”
Cheryl’s eyes filled with tears. “Mr. Sargon, please—”
His lip curled. “Get her out of my sight.”
He watched with satisfaction as the EAGLE director dragged her out of the ballroom.
Mr. Sargon turned to his son. “Josiah, make sure your next partner is mentally sound. I do not want to deal with any more psychotic ex-girlfriends, do you hear?”
Josiah frowned. “Father, you were the one who suggested I date Cheryl. You said the scientific research of her parents would be a great asset to the company.”
His father had the grace to look embarrassed. “Everyone makes mistakes. All we can do is minimize their effects on our lives.”
He plucked a flute of champagne from a passing servant as he walked away.
Horace Whitaker stood in the corner of the room, watching the proceedings with an air of bemusement.
I made my way toward him. “Mr. Whitaker.”
“No need to be so formal. Horace works fine for such a lovely young lady.” He gave me an exaggerated wink that was probably smooth and charming in his mind.
“Horace,” I paused, considering how to broach the subject. “I was wondering what you know about a collaboration between the EAGLE director the Underground leader? Between Harker and Seth.”
It wasn’t subtle, but indirect questioning would go over his head.
Horace paled. “How do you know his name?”
“The EAGLE director is famous.”
He looked around for listeners. “No, the leader of the Underground. Seth Vasiliev.”
So that was his last name. I’d always wondered.
“I didn’t give it away, did I?” Horace mopped at his forehead. “I knew I shouldn’t have had that last flute of champagne. Listen, it would be best for you to forget anything you’ve heard me say tonight. It could cost you your life.”
He wasn’t threatening me so much as warning me.
“You didn’t give away anything,” I reassured. “I know Seth because he’s my…”
Leader? Enemy? Boss? Would-be killer?
“My father,” I decided. “He’s my father.”
Horace mouthed my words like a goldfish. “Did he send you here to keep an eye on me? You can go tell your daddy that there’s no need to send assassins after my family. I’ll do whatever he says.”
“I want to help you, but I can’t do that without knowing your situation,” I said. “My father and I are a bit at odds right now.”
Understatement of the century.
Horace shook his head like he was shaking off a stubborn fly. “I’m not getting caught in the middle of a family feud.”
“You got involved the minute you chose to work with them to seize power,” I said.
He let out a bitter laugh. “I was an idiot to think they would treat me as their equal.”
“What do you mean?”
“My end of the bargain was to delegate more authority to EAGLE once I became president, and the director will keep pushing me until the head of EAGLE becomes the most influential position in the government, more so than the president. It would upset the balance of power. When I told Vasiliev there was a limit to what I could do, I overheard him plotting with Harker. They plan to kill me when I’m no longer useful.”
“Harker wants to be a dictator,” I noted. “What’s Seth getting out of this?”
“Same as the EAGLE director.” His words slurred together. “He’s getting power. Harker will turn a blind eye to the Underground’s activity and provide a place for Vasiliev to send his enemies. Between the two of them, they’ll control the nation, Harker in charge of the government, Vasiliev in charge of the crime.”
“What’s to say they won’t turn on each other?”
“No one will trust an EAGLE director with criminal ties, and no one will trust an Underground leader who is part of the government. They need each other, but they don’t need me.” Horace seized the folds of my dress and sank to the ground. “You have to help me, Caela. Harker has threatened to hurt my family if I step out of line. My daughter is finishing her master’s degree, and my son is about to get married.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Josiah talking to the EAGLE director who was shifting side to side as if he couldn’t wait to get away.
To my horror, Horace broke into heaving sobs. Nathan Harker showed no sign of having heard him, which was a relief, though some people gave us strange looks.
I hauled him to his feet. “Pipe down. We can’t discuss this now. Do you have a way to contact Josiah?”
He nodded. I brushed off my skirts and mingled with the crowd on the floor, accepting a young man’s offer to dance. Looking back in the corner, I saw that Nathan Harker had re-established his post by Horace’s side. A hand tapped me on the shoulder.
“May I cut in?” Josiah said.
He held a staring contest with the young man who tilted his head and stepped away.
“What have you found?” he asked.
I was about to tell him when the grandfather clock in the corner chimed. Mr. Sargon clinked a spoon against a glass and announced the unmasking.
As people began pulling their masks up over their heads, I headed toward the exit.
Josiah caught my arm. “Where are you going, Cinderella? The party doesn’t end at midnight.”
“People can’t see me without a mask,” I said. “They’ll be able to tell.”
He grinned. “That you’re not a girl? I can’t tell half the time when I’m sober. I doubt the guests will notice when they’re wasted, and you’re wearing a dress.”
“Hilarious. Got any other jokes you’ve been saving up?”
“Trust me. Kaitlyn wouldn’t spend so long on your makeup to hide it behind a mask.”
“Forget it. I found all I need. I’m heading to bed before I push my luck too far.”
It was a mistake to turn my back on Josiah. The minute I started walking away, he grabbed the string and pulled the mask over my head.
“Josiah!” I hissed.
He stuffed it in his pocket along with his own mask. “Everyone will speculate if the girl I brought to the ball vanishes before the party is over, especially after the situation with Cheryl.”
“I didn’t ask your psycho girlfriend to attack me.”
“Ex-girlfriend,” he corrected. “And don’t worry about it. You look nice.”
Coming from Josiah, it sounded like an insult.
He rolled his eyes. “If you don’t believe me, we can ask for a second opinion. Hey Ethan!”
He waved his friend over before I could stop him. The inexplicable urge to punch someone returned as Ethan drew closer.
“Wow.” he whistled. “You’re definitely hotter without the mask.”
I had to question his tastes if he thought a boy in a dress was pretty.
“Have I seen you before?” He studied my face. “There’s something about you, Caela…”
“That makes you want to tumble her in bed?” Josiah finished.
My cheeks flushed.
Ethan laughed. “You know me so well, Josiah. Look at that, your girl’s blushing.”
“Shut up,” I said, my voice dipping down to my normal tone.
Josiah gave me a warning look, but Ethan had turned around and was waving someone else over. Zack and Anthony, both with girls by their side, approached us. I tried to slip away, but Josiah wrapped his arm around my shoulders.
“Only a little longer,” he promised.
The girl with Zack had bronze skin and distinct Middle Eastern features. I was surprised to find I recognized her.
“Fatima,” I said.
She jumped at the name and frowned. “I am sorry. You must be mistaking me for someone else. My name is Fiona.”
She had a slight accent, far less prominent than Fatima’s had been when I first met her.
She might have dropped her accent and traded her rags for silk and jewels, but I never forgot a face. Still, I didn’t press the issue.
“My mistake,” I said. “I guess I had a little too much to drink.”
Josiah frowned, knowing full well I hadn’t gone near the champagne tonight.
The blonde girl with Anthony gave a tinkling laugh. “Haven’t we all? The hangover tomorrow will be a killer. I’m glad my parents are letting me stay home. My name’s Sabrina, by the way. I’m Fiona’s sister.”
I nodded. “Caela. You guys don’t look alike.”
“The Bouchets adopted them,” Anthony explained. “They considered it their charity work.”
Ethan grinned. “If charity work involves adopting girls as beautiful as you lovely ladies, count me in.”
Fiona and Sabrina giggled.
“Figures that’s what it would take for you to do some good,” I muttered.
Josiah hid a smile.
The ballroom didn’t empty until two o’clock when I was on the verge of falling asleep on my feet. Kaitlyn came by to remove the hair and makeup.
I tugged the dress off and left it in a heap on the ground, far too tired to pick it up. Forgetting that I was supposed to sleep on the floor, I collapsed straight into Josiah’s bed and drifted off.