Blood Like Magic, page 13
“How can I help you today?” she asks.
“I got a notification that my tracker for the matching program was ready.” Technically, I got the notification a few days ago, but this was a day when I had a higher chance of running into Luc.
“Wrist on the scanner, please.”
I hold out my hand and place it, palm down, on the surface of her desk with a flashing green light. It scans the microchip just under the surface that acts as my identification.
My feed information comes up on the screen. “Perfect,” she says. “Let me grab it for you.” She turns around and presses something against the wall. Compartments pop out like a filing cabinet, and she looks through them.
I explore the space with my eyes. Stark white walls, white floors, white couches with people waiting to be seen for their high-cost genetic modifications. Maybe an adjustment to weed out an allergy to grass so they can frolic in the sun for the summer. Or something a little more exciting, like unusually strong nails. I know a few witches who have done that to avoid needing to use falsies.
One of the men seated nudges the woman with him and jerks his head forward. I follow his gaze, and none other than Justin Tremblay is walking my way with Luc and the other two interns from the Q&A, Jasmine and Juras.
Maybe the ancestors don’t hate me after all. Finally, something has come easy. I hadn’t even begun to look for Luc and there he is. I swallow and try not to think of him as my murder victim. He’s a potential love interest. Like I’m a girl in a feed show, not a witch meant to destroy him.
Sure, it was easy for Luc to brush me off via messages, but an in-person approach would be harder to push aside. I stride toward him and his sponsor family and paste a smile on my face. It takes two seconds for Luc to spot me and twist his mouth into a frown.
My palms get sweaty the closer I get to the group. I can’t back down now. I need to do this. That, and I refuse to give Luc the satisfaction of seeing me intimidated.
I’m a Thomas. We suffer and we survive.
“Fancy seeing you here,” I say, voice higher-pitched than normal.
Luc looks somewhere over my shoulder. “Who are you?”
My mouth drops open.
Hack him!
He’s seriously going to pretend he has no idea who I am? For real? I grind my teeth together. “You don’t know? That’s so funny, because you work here, so you must know about the matching program, and yet you have no idea who your match is? Not a big fan of the project, are you?”
Justin’s gaze roves over me and Luc, his blond hair as immaculate in person as it is on feeds. “I should hope that’s not true. He’s the lead on it.” He holds out a pale hand to me. “Justin. And you are?”
“Voya.” I make a hopefully inconspicuous wipe of my sweaty palm on the bottom of my yellow sundress and shake his hand, avoiding staring into his swirling bionic lenses. With those on, it should pull up my feed and present my info to him in an instant. He could see through my skin and bones to my fast-beating heart if he wanted. Asking for my name is a courtesy.
I expect his hand to be cold, like a cartoon villain’s, but it’s warm and soft. Granny says you can’t trust men with soft hands. But every man in our family except for Grandad has smooth palms. And Grandad’s were rough from gardening, not hardship.
Luc splutters before regaining his ground. “I have faith in the program, I just don’t feel it has a set timeline. It’s fine if I don’t immediately connect with my match.”
“And yet your focus notes say initial meetings are important and should happen as soon as possible.” Juras has a smile on his face he doesn’t try to hide.
Luc’s shoulders go stiff. “I didn’t realize I was meant to be a case study for the program.”
“The best way to connect with your project is to participate on a personal level.” Justin’s voice is as silky as my homemade chocolate mousse. “What do you think of the program so far, Voya?”
I straighten. “I don’t quite agree with my match, but I’m willing to invest in getting to know him.” I meet Luc’s eyes. “He seems content to prove those vicious ratings on his feed right.” I widen my lips in a smile at Justin. “People can be so judgmental online. I’d imagine that it would be hard to become the face of a company if you’re not well liked.”
Luc’s jaw twitches, and his eyes dart to Justin. If he doesn’t want to participate, fine, but I can bet that Justin wants a successor who people like. He’s got no children, so it’s likely that one of these three in front of me will lead the company at some point. Luc’s got competition, and Juras showed he isn’t above undermining him to look better in front of their sponsor dad. I bet Luc would do most things to get on Justin’s good side.
At the front desk, the receptionist gawks at us with my tracker grasped in her hands.
“It was wonderful to meet you, sir. I believe my tracker is ready.” I force out a heavy sigh and hunch my shoulders. “I don’t know if the data will be any good without a participating match partner, but it’s a fantastic program, and I hope the beta information is valuable.”
“Thank you for saying so,” Justin says. “It’s a sad day when a participant is more invested than the lead on the program they’re participating in.” The end of his sentence is clipped and terse, followed by a side look at Luc.
Even as I’m facing Justin, Luc’s shaking fists are obvious in my periphery. Sensing an opportunity, I speak again. “It’s too bad not everyone can see the best of NuGene. I brought my cousin to the internship Q&A, and she was put off by the attitude of a presenter. I thought she would be a great fit, too.”
“What’s her name?”
“Keis Thomas.”
Justin gestures to Jasmine. “Look her up, please.”
I came here to find some way to connect to Luc, but if there’s also a chance to get Keis an internship, I can’t pass it up. What Rowen’s uncle could swing would be nice. But this is NuGene. Keis could get any job she wanted with this on her résumé.
Jasmine pipes up. “Found her.”
“Send her an invite to the exclusive tour so we can show her the best of the company. And our friend here too—Voya Thomas?”
My face heats, and I wave my hands. The last thing I need is another chance to humiliate myself in this building. “I’m okay, she’s the one you want.”
“Nonsense. You have a great passion—you should come on the tour.” His eyes bore into mine. “Is that your full name?”
He has my feed data, which means he already knows. The insistence on his part of having me say it is what makes me swallow. “You were right. Voya Thomas.” I take a step backward, feeling more seen by his swirling bionic eyes than I want. “Thank you. I’m going to get my tracker now.”
“Of course. Lovely to meet you.”
“You too.”
I should feel triumphant. Keis will get to go to the exclusive tour and be a step closer to a NuGene internship, and I figured out a way to push Luc into at least trying to participate in the matching program so I can increase my chances of falling in love and… the other thing that I would rather not think about. At least the sight of his flushed face and shaking fists should have me leaving the building with a skip in my step.
Instead, I shuffle out with a tracker shoved in my purse and Justin’s eyes in my mind. I don’t know why I’m obsessing over him. The adults hate him for some reason, but that could be about anything.
And then there’s that little gnawing in my chest that wonders if I went too far. Justin wouldn’t send Luc packing because of what I said, right? I swallow down the guilt and set my face. If he had just agreed to meet me in the first place, it wouldn’t have needed to go this far.
Now I’ll give him a day before reaching out again.
He’s going to give me a chance to love him, whether he likes it or not.
* * *
I can’t go home after my encounter with Luc and company at NuGene, not while I’m this agitated. Granny will pick up on it and grill me. Instead, I slap the monitor on my wrist and take the streetcar to Gerrard Street East. The neighborhood is considered a smaller version of Chinatown, though it has more than just Chinese businesses. There are at least five pho soup places in a row, and the street smells like a mix of the savory broths and car exhaust. There’s one giant mega market that takes up the whole corner block in lieu of multiple blocks of fruit and vegetable stands, and it’s busy even though it’s a weekday afternoon.
I love the East End. There’s a calm here you don’t find downtown. It’s busy, but not in that way where everyone is rushing and angry. It’s just alive with people going about their business.
I hop off the streetcar at the corner of Gerrard Street East and De Grassi Street. The sidewalks alternate between smooth and cracked cement. They keep doing repairs, but with the combination of our cold winters and streetcar traffic, the cracks always come back. I make my way up the street until I reach the entrance of the International Market.
It’s as good a time as any to get more ingredients and experiment with recipes for the contest. If I win, I can cook without having to turn the oven back on every twenty minutes.
The holos on the building are in Mandarin, Arabic, French, Urdu, and more. All topped off by a single Canadian flag made up of every single flag in the world. The glass doors are covered with local ads. Lauren’s missing posters take up the entirety of one. There’s an International Market in every district of the Greater Toronto Area, but this is accepted by most to be the best.
When Eden was four, after a solid week of her begging Dad and Priya, Keis and I took her here. Her face lit up as she pulled us around to look at everything. I bought her way too many packs of kurma. She was bouncing off the walls for hours, to Dad and Priya’s dismay. I keep those moments I get with her close to my heart in case Dad leaves again. I’m used to him being gone, but I’ve been with Eden since the day she was born.
I want her to have those moments and other ones too. Like seeing the ancestors during Caribana. My earliest memory is of clinging to Mom when I was three while Bibi Ulvirae, the ancestor with dark hooded eyes who assigned Mom’s Calling, danced over and pressed their ghostly palm to the skin of my cheek. It was cool and comforting.
Eden was so excited the first time she saw the ancestors. She was tucked in a sling around Priya’s neck and barely six months old. Her little fists waved with untethered infant enthusiasm, and she’s been as excited every year since. I never thought to ask which ancestors she was seeing, assuming they were from Dad and Priya’s family. Now I realize that she was seeing Thomases all along.
Experiencing your ancestors is a gift you get by virtue of being born their descendant but lose as soon as you fail them.
There’s more to our lineage than casting and gifts. Our magic is our connection to our past, and Eden deserves to experience it all. My sister deserves to live.
I slide my eyes away from Lauren’s posters and push the doors open. Now I’m just as bad as everyone else. But my baby sister’s life is on the line. I don’t have time to think about Lauren anymore. After my Calling, after this is all over, I promise, I’ll do something to help.
As I enter the market, the air is warm, like folding myself in a blanket of curry and spices.
I make a beeline for the smoothie stand and order myself a small sorrel-and-coconut slush with lychee boba. The lady working there hands me the pink drink, and I stab my straw through the recycled paper lid.
Nothing like comfort food to help ease the ache of needing to murder someone.
“This is what you do after embarrassing people? Come and enjoy a refreshing beverage?”
I nearly choke on a boba pearl as I twist around to where Luc is standing with his arms crossed. “What are you doing here?” I splutter.
“I’m good with computers, and your phone security is lacking.”
“You stalked me?”
“Isn’t that what you wanted? With your talk to Justin about how unfortunate it is that not everyone believes in the program?”
I roll my eyes. “It’s the truth, I just said it out loud.”
“You made it look like I don’t take my job seriously in front of the CEO! Who also funds my sponsorship and can ship me out of the country any time he feels like it, by the way.”
I resist the flush that works its way to my face. I won’t be made to feel ashamed because he got caught slacking. Even though I was having the same thought barely an hour ago. “No, you didn’t take your job seriously and made yourself look bad.” I shake my head. “I can’t believe you’re the lead on this project and you aren’t taking part in it.”
“Just because I’m not pursuing my romantic match doesn’t mean I’m not participating.”
I snort. “What? So you’ve met your friendship matches? Your rating is still two. I guess they didn’t like you either.”
The skin around his eyes bunches, and his expression seems to darken. It slaps right back into a neutral expression a second later.
My cheeks burn. “Would it be so bad to get to know me? I’m not asking you to be in a relationship. I’m asking you to explore the reason why we were paired in the first place.”
His expression is flat. Devoid of anything.
“You’re already here, right? So just try. Spend thirty minutes with me without being an asshole.”
“Now we’re name calling?”
I grind my teeth enough to make the sound audible. “Let’s make it twenty minutes.”
Luc crosses his arms and regards me. He’s only a couple of inches taller than I am, and at five feet, it’s not like I’m towering over anyone. Our eyes are almost level.
“Think of it this way,” I say with a sigh. “Spend twenty minutes with me, and you get that much data you can show to Justin and prove you made an effort.”
“Ten.”
“Fifteen.”
He narrows his eyes at me for a moment more. His shoulders drop. “Fine.”
I would cheer except what I’ve won is time with him. Time with a boy I’m supposed to fall in love with before murdering. If I can even manage to turn feelings of irritation into full-on infatuation in a month. There are people who celebrate one-month anniversaries. That means people can, hypothetically, fall in love during that time. I can do it too. I just need to try.
“What’s sorrel?” Luc asks.
I blink and look at my cup. “It’s a flower. You can dry it and soak it to make a drink. We brew it for holidays in my family. I get it in a slush here sometimes.”
“What does it taste like?”
I thrust the drink out to him. “Try it.”
He pulls his mouth into a grimace.
“You’re not going to contract anything!”
He leans forward and takes the world’s tiniest sip.
“So?”
“It’s kind of like hibiscus?”
“Yeah. I guess most flowers taste the same.”
There’s a moment where we’re both not doing anything but standing. I take a good look at him and clue into the fact that this is the first time I’m seeing him out of the NuGene lab coat. He’s got ripped jeans and a black short-sleeved hoodie on, with a faded gray beanie pulled over his hair. It’s actually a really nice outfit. He is super cute. I remember thinking that when I first met him until he opened his hacking mouth.
“What?” he barks.
I roll my eyes. That mouth ruins everything. “I have to go to a store over this way.” I walk ahead without waiting for him.
“What for?”
“Ingredients.”
“For?”
“A cooking contest.” I glance back at him. “Do you cook?”
“No.”
“Personal chefs make your food?” I imagine that Justin’s sponsors don’t often have to lift a finger.
“You paid attention to those ratings on my profile, eh? Yeah. I have a personal chef, and a servant who wipes my ass when I shit. I live an easy, privileged life.” His voice is sharp enough to sting.
I stop and turn to face him. “Okay, what’s the deal? If everyone rating you has got you wrong, what is it? You don’t have a personal chef, whatever. And maybe your life isn’t easy—no one’s is—but you’ve got a lot of privilege. Enough to not invite someone to an exclusive internship tour that could change their life because you’re pissed they talked back to you.”
“I don’t choose who gets invited to the tour. The Human Resources department does.”
My mouth goes slack. “Then what’s the point in everyone trying to impress you at the Q&A?”
“We can make recommendations, which HR doesn’t always listen to. And, not that it matters, I did recommend your cousin. But it’s an exclusive tour, and they prioritize people with STEM specializations. That’s probably why she wasn’t already invited.”
My legs feel like they’re withering underneath me, and the world is tilting on an angle. “Why would you recommend her?”
“Because she talked back to me.” Luc jerks his head forward. “Ten minutes left. Let’s go to your store.”
We walk down the hall and turn into an alcove. The shop owner’s light Trinidadian accent wafts through the air as we enter.
“You came again, eh?” She raises a skeptical eyebrow. “And with a friend, too.”
I could curl into a circle and never uncurl. Like a Swiss roll. “I was hoping you had some goat?”
“In the back freezer.”
“Thanks.” I grab a canvas shopping bag from the front and make my way to the back.
Behind me, Luc walks with his arms crossed, glancing at the shelves.
I let out a sigh. “I’m sorry. Ratings can be complete spam. I shouldn’t have judged you by yours.”
Luc peeks at me out of the corner of his eye. “Whatever. What’s the goat for?”
“Curried goat. The contest is for heritage recipes, so I’m trying out a few.”
“And your heritage is?”
“Mostly from Trinidad and the Caribbean, a few from New Orleans and around the US. Africa at some point, but I don’t know much about that.”
“What is it like there? In Trinidad? I went to New Orleans once with Justin for a conference, and it was interesting. Lively. Lots of history.”
