Chapter 13. Ghost In The Circuit
Terror was the only thing ringing in Raveene's mind as she stood in the suffocating opulence of the living room. Her brain reeled, her senses dialed to a frantic high alert while her nerves felt like frayed wires sparking in the dark. The rhythmic thumping of her heart was so audible, so violent, that she was certain it was drumming through her ears for the whole world to hear. She prayed her father couldn't detect it, fearing that the sheer physical resonance of her panic would serve as the final evidence he needed. Across the room, the Governor was hunched over his phone, his thumbs moving with a clipped, brutal efficiency that betrayed the silent rage he was fighting to contain.
He isn't going to give me the benefit of the doubt, she thought, her teeth grinding together as the silence stretched into an agonizing expanse. God, Raveene, how can you be this pathetically stupid? After several minutes of rhythmic tapping, her father finally looked up, his brow furrowed into a sharp, judgmental line.
"Is there anything else you want to tell me?" his voice was cold, stripped of any paternal warmth. When she remained silent, he offered a jagged dismissal. "If you have nothing else to say, then get out."
The words stung, a familiar barb that hit the center of her chest, but she didn't allow herself to feel the pain of the rejection. The looming threat of his investigation was far more agonizing than his usual coldness. She had long ago resigned herself to the fact that she would never receive the affection she craved from him; he was a man of protocols, not feelings.
Without a word or a moment of hesitation, she turned on her heel. She forced herself to walk calmly toward the grand staircase, resisting the primal urge to bolt. She focused on instilling a false confidence into every step, knowing he was watching her back. Only when she was safely out of his line of sight did she break into a sprint, stumbling into her suite and clicking the door shut with a frantic, shaky hand.
Her lungs burned as she took a deep, jagged breath. She rushed to her reading table, her eyes falling on the scattered research of the Nightfall case. "I'm so sorry," she whispered to the empty room, her fingers flying over the papers. "I wanted to figure you out, but you have to be put on hold. Things are going crazy."
She gathered the documents with a desperate speed, stacking them into neat bundles and shoving them into a heavy envelope. She jammed the envelope into her bag, zipped it tight, and thrust the entire thing into a deep drawer. After snapping an airtight padlock into place, she tossed the key into a hidden compartment and exhaled, her hands immediately beginning a frantic search of her pockets.
"Where the hell is my phone?" she hissed, pacing the length of the room. Her mind raced, retracing her steps until she remembered the lounge area. She hurried across the middle section of the suite and found the device lying face down on the floor. She snatched it up, checking the screen for cracks before swiftly dialing Clara's number.
The call connected on the very first beep.
"Raveene? How did it go? What's wrong?" Clara's voice was a jagged edge of anxiety.
"There's a massive problem, Clara," Raveene said, her own voice sharp and trembling.
Clara let out a long, weary exhale. "What is it? What happened?"
"My dad is suspicious. Deeply, dangerously suspicious," Raveene explained, her heart doing a slow, heavy roll in her chest.
"I knew it. I knew this was coming," Clara muttered. "What did you say to him? Tell me you didn't give yourself away."
"I tried my best, Clara. I covered my tracks, played the part of the confused daughter, but he isn't letting it go. He's launching a formal investigation. He's calling in a forensic audit team to look for anomalies."
"Crap," Clara breathed, the word sounding like a death sentence.
"Yeah. If they find the connection between us and the VPD network, we're both finished. We have to do something about the devices, Clara. I'm so sorry—I never should have involved you. I should have gone alone."
"Keep quiet, Raveene," Clara snapped, her voice regaining its professional steel. "Did you really expect me to sit back and play it safe while you handed yourself over to a demon? I still have a thousand questions about why that thing didn't tear you apart, but we'll deal with that later. Right now, we survive. I'm going to go into the system and scrub the communication logs. I'll erase every trace of the tools I used to bypass the city grid."
"Okay, that's a start," Raveene said. "But what about the comms? They're traceable. They have internal timestamps that can't be wiped."
"I know," Clara replied. "You have to move fast. You need to end the existence of that comm device. Take it as far away from the estate as possible and smash it into dust. If they try to track the signal, they need to hit a dead end that can't be traced back to your house. Do you understand? Destroy it and take it far away."
"Take it far away, smash it. Got it," Raveene confirmed.
The line went dead. Raveene didn't hesitate. She grabbed her silky jacket hoodie, pulling it on and yanking the hood over her head. She rummaged through her bag, pushing aside her handgun and spare cartridges until her fingers closed around the small, sleek communication device. She shoved it deep into her pocket and headed for the window. She locked the bedroom door first, ensuring nobody would wander in, then slid the window pane open.
Outside, a massive, ancient tree stood opposite her room, its thick branches acting as a familiar fire escape for her midnight excursions. Be quick, Raveene, she coached herself, her pulse thundering. She swung one leg over the sill, prepare to leap for the branch, when a sound from the hallway made her go rigid.
A faint shadow flickered at the bottom of her door, accompanied by the muffled, unmistakable shuffle of footsteps. Raveene's eyes went wide, her heart skipping a beat as time seemed to stretch into an agonizing crawl.
Who the hell is at the door now?
A soft, tentative knock followed.
"Raveene? Are you in there?"
The voice was clear and unmistakably maternal.
Mom? Raveene thought, her jaw tightening with a flare of desperate annoyance.