CHAPTER FOUR
Castor
As Nova swiped the divider closed, the cold gust drained the heat from my face.
Jacinta hadn’t stopped fussing, oblivious as she patted the corner of her silk scarf against the already cleaned cut at my brow.
A doctor passed by with a MedChart in hand, disappearing behind Nova’s screen.
The divider muffled their voices, which was the whole point of it, but I needed to hear.
I barely knew Nova, but I wanted to cover her medical expenses.
This was my mistake. What I saw – what I thought I saw – had distracted me, caused me to crash into her path.
The voices behind the divider fell quiet, and a few moments later the doctor spoke again. I caught the quiet beep of the MedChart readying to accept payment. Pushing past Jacinta and Gemma, I opened the screen.
‘And you can press your biosig here so we can contact your insurance provider –’
The doctor stopped mid-sentence, staring at me. Nova looked up, and for a second I lost myself in her gaze. The same thing had happened while we were waiting for the ambulances. I’d been close enough to see copper light crackle in her eyes.
She bit her lip. ‘Everything OK, Cas?’
The way she pinched her bottom lip between her teeth wasn’t helping. She was gorgeous. She had paint splattered all over her clothes and a few glass specks from my windshield in her long braids, but her carefree smile and piercing stare froze me every time.
I blinked. ‘I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to … I wanted to make sure …’
Dense rows of text filled the MedChart screen, detailing the consequences of non-payment and confirming that the signatory accepted responsibility for any and all medical bills.
The print was so small I could barely read it.
A box strobed at the bottom of the tablet, waiting for a biosig.
I cleared my throat and pressed my thumb to the pad.
The solisAI chimed. ‘Signature accepted and approved.’
‘As I told the paramedics when I signed for the ambulance rides, and the nurses when we arrived, the accident was my fault,’ I said. ‘Everything should be charged to me.’
Nova’s mouth quirked a little.
The doctor – Dr Orion, embroidered above the pocket of her white coat – glanced between us, curiosity flickering across her face.
Her gaze shifted to my family behind me, recognition flashing for a split second.
I tensed. I didn’t want Nova to know who I was just yet.
I had a feeling she was stubborn enough to refuse on principle alone.
Dr Orion spoke at last. ‘That’s good enough for me. Ms Williams, I’ll go put in the order for that chest and abdomen CT we discussed, just to be sure about those ribs.’
Nova nodded, a quiet thank-you on her lips.
Nova Williams. I committed her name to memory.
‘You didn’t have to do that,’ she said once Dr Orion was out of earshot.
‘You’re right. He didn’t.’ Jacinta curled her hand over my shoulder. ‘But luckily, I raised a gentleman.’
‘Jacinta. Seriously, don’t.’ I yanked myself free of her grip.
Nova glanced between us. ‘I’m grateful. But I didn’t ask your son for anything –’
‘And you didn’t need to,’ I said, cutting in. ‘One promise down, one more to go.’
She didn’t have time to reply. Gemma’s solisPhone beeped, and she nudged Jacinta, nodding toward the exit.
Jacinta’s nails dug in as she took hold of my arm. ‘Our driver is waiting for us, dear. He’ll take us to the facilities in Crestview, in our neighborhood. Your friend will be fine here – I assume closer to her family.’
I rolled my eyes, annoyed by her underhanded comments. I didn’t want to throw my identity in Nova’s face. I’d avoided giving her my last name on purpose. ‘We’ll finish our conversation tomorrow?’ I called over my shoulder.
Nova didn’t answer at first, her gaze avoiding mine. Just before I turned the corner, our eyes met and a hesitant smile flickered through her reluctance.
It took some effort not to pump my fist in victory. Yes! A smile. Small, barely there, but I could work with that. I will work with that. I didn’t know her yet, but there was something in her stubbornness that made me want to.
Nova Williams was someone worth knowing. I could feel it.
Properly tempered and oversized windows drenched Mercy Coast Hospital in UV-filtered light. All the furnishings were either white, crystal or shades of blue, fitting with the ocean view outside my private room.
I scowled, annoyed Jacinta hadn’t allowed me to transfer Nova.
I wasn’t the one who needed this. The doctors replaced the medical glue holding together my cut with a cosmetic, surgical-grade laser stitch.
It wasn’t until they’d confirmed then double-checked I wasn’t concussed that Jacinta was satisfied enough to let me go home, accompanied by a private nurse for in-house care. For stitches.
‘You don’t know if a concussion could show up later,’ she argued. ‘You have the world at your fingertips. Let the doctors and nurses take care of you.’
Gemma didn’t help, requesting saffron tea from the homeopathic consultant. The drink tasted like wet flowers, but I gave in, letting everyone fuss over me if that meant being discharged sooner. I wanted privacy. Needed it.
Between the crash and the hospital, not a single blue bolt crackled over my skin.
But pain episodes – hellflares – were unpredictable.
One in every thousand people worldwide carried an active helical strain in their veins, the parasitic current attacking its host’s nervous system at will.
In Alta Bay, that number skyrocketed to one in every two hundred, the city feeling the effects of the solar flare worse than anywhere else on the planet.
Hellflares could be minutes or hours apart; some cases reported a frequency of days or weeks, and one where the pain lasted an excruciating thirty-six hours before never flaring again.
I needed to be alone in case it happened again. I needed it to never happen again.
Hours later, my thigh was a little sore from my bi-monthly B12x supplement injection.
The formula was Gemma’s contribution to the Dominion empire, and something Grandfather had suggested to boost my energy levels for the Qualifying Series this year – the only helpful, as opposed to controlling, contribution he or anyone else had made toward my career.
I sat on my oversized couch, game controller in hand.
It vibrated in my grip as I lost another match, my character swaying a few feet away via my immersive holographic entertainment system, waiting for my opponent – my other best friend, Pua – to deal a brutal fatality.
She and I had gravitated toward each other the instant she moved to Crestview ten years ago, the only other family of color on our street.
Jaiden and I had taught her to surf, and now she was better than both of us, though we’d never admit it.
Pua
Distracted tonight? I never whoop you this bad
Castor
Understatement of the day. I’ll catch up with you tomorrow
Pua
If you’re worried about qualifying for the Challenger Series next month, don’t. It’s your home surf. You got this.
For once, surfing wasn’t on my mind. I hadn’t mentioned to anyone what caused the crash, and maybe there was nothing to tell.
But if I did have helical disease, my face would be everywhere.
I could picture it clearly: Grandfather making me the new poster boy of the Freedom System, a shiny success story to parade through acceptance speeches.
Anything to rope me into the Fox empire.
I groaned at the thought. The pain would be horrible, but that type of attention, being sucked further into my family’s shadow …
Earlier this afternoon, a cameraman had hovered over my shoulder, capturing us at the honorees’ table for the Solaris Visionaries Gala. The first course had arrived – fig and goat’s cheese salad with balsamic vinaigrette – just as Grandfather’s picture flashed across the stage’s oversized screens.
‘I wish they didn’t have to have my face so large.’ Grandfather frowned. ‘Are my wrinkles that bad? Am I really that pale white?’
The lights did wash him out, but the same could be said for almost everyone in the room aside from the few spray tans, Jacinta, Gemma and myself.
‘Well, you’re the face of Dominion. The wrinkles give you character,’ I said, side-eyeing the cameraman beside me. ‘Is it possible for just two feet of clearance? Ow!’
Jacinta delivered a swift kick under the table.
‘Never mind,’ I corrected. ‘You can sit in our lap. Oomph.’
Another swift kick.
‘Get used to the cameras, Castor,’ Grandfather noted. ‘They’ll be all over you during the Surf Cup come September. And it’s during the flare anniversary celebrations, so the world’ll be watching. Remember, my offer for Dominion to sponsor you still stands. Either way, make the Fox name look good.’
‘Well, that’s why he’s leaving early, isn’t it?
’ said Jacinta, raising a mocking brow. ‘To practice so he can make his family look good? We’ve already invested so much.
The wetsuits. The boards. We’re already his sponsor.
We might as well put our logo on his board as a thank-you for everything we’ve done. ’
I stabbed a fig with my fork. This was why I needed to find my own way.
I’d give almost anything not to be a Fox for a day.
Yet as the applause thundered and Grandfather made his way to the stage, I smiled – not for the cameras, but for him.
As much as I wanted to escape the weight of his legacy, I was damn proud.
The Fox wealth wasn’t old money. Grandfather had done this himself.
From what I could tell, he’d held back tears.
He accepted the award with both hands, blue crystals swirling around a fiery orange orb.
‘Thank you, thank you all,’ he’d said as the clapping died down.
‘I’m lucky to have had a father who encouraged my curiosities from the beginning.
Family is the heart of Dominion. The Freedom System was created for families to thrive, to be proud, and to support one another.
My family is here with me: my daughter, Head of Solradiance Research and Development; my granddaughter, back from her homeopathic internship with our new office in Paris and soon to start her residency with our Pain Giver Comfort program; and my grandson, studying sports medicine.
Who knows, he might open a new physiotherapy division for us, if he doesn’t become a Dominion-sponsored pro surfer first.’
Heat radiated up my neck, and I forced a nod.
‘I’m truly grateful for this recognition, but it’s only made possible by my family, my legacy. This is for all of us. Eyes forward.’
Ending with his infamous motto, Grandfather hefted the award into the air, the room erupting into a standing ovation.
He held my gaze and grinned a little wider.
I returned the smile as the camera zoomed in.
To be a Fox meant showing gratitude through obedience, and obedience meant a lack of autonomy.
We both knew the comment about a new physiotherapy division was a lie.
I’d chosen sports medicine because if I couldn’t be in the waves, I still wanted to be part of the surf community.
But I had a role to play, and I’d played it well for the ninety-two minutes that had followed.
Voices down the hall pulled me from my memory, and I switched off my holo gaming deck, the projections in the middle of my room flickering out.
There were times when I imagined what my life would be like if I wasn’t a Fox.
Would I be able to cruise down Sunrise Avenue or Mercé Boulevard unnoticed?
It was why I hadn’t told Nova my last name when she didn’t recognize me.
I’d wanted to know what it felt like to be around someone who had no idea who I was.
It’d be different if the recognition came from my rising place in the surf community.
But no – it was always there’s Albert Fox’s grandson, heir to a billion-dollar pharmaceutical empire.
That was how I was known under the glassways and in my family’s social and professional circles.
If I became the face of Dominion, it’d be worse.
My image on every Freedom System ad. Staying out of the Crestview gossip headlines wouldn’t matter.
I lifted my shirt, examining the faint lines of my abs, then ran a hand over each arm.
Still no blue. The disease clung to its host’s nervous system, flaring whenever it needed to siphon a jolt from the nerve cells.
Researchers believed that following the solar flare, helical disease lay dormant in everyone.
We still didn’t know what activated it – why it awoke in some people and not others.
Could I have imagined it? What if it was only a flare of the light – the ocean scattering across my vision and on to my skin?
Someone knocked on my door and I jumped into bed, pulling up the covers. The dark blue comforter made me look like a single head floating in waves of fabric.
‘Are you awake, grandson?’
I sighed, staring up at the ceiling before answering. ‘Come in!’
Grandfather entered, no longer in his silk tuxedo from earlier, but wrapped in a monogrammed robe and matching slippers.
Without powder smoothing his face for the cameras, his wrinkles were even more pronounced.
He lifted my chin, examining the cut above my eye.
‘Your mother made it seem like your head was nearly taken off. You know, if the cyclist hit you, we can sue.’
‘You can’t be serious.’
Grandfather raised a brow.
‘There’s no need for all that. It was my fault, and I feel guilty enough.’
He patted my cheek. ‘I’m proud to see you taking responsibility.
Get some sleep. You don’t want bags under your eyes like me once you reach my heights – your face on a large screen accepting your future achievement award.
’ He motioned to the outpatient nurse. ‘Give him a sleeping pill. The good stuff. Foxes need their beauty rest.’