30 Somebody Help
Somebody Help
T he inner courtyard’s pool glistened darkly. Temmi shivered, both from the night’s chill air and her general nervousness. Kalvin had said he’d meet her out there twenty minutes before—where was he?
She didn’t like being outside alone, kept picturing masked murderers hiding in every shadow.
Kept jumping whenever the pool skimmer hanging on the outside of the dressing room jostled in a breeze.
But it’d been a minute since she’d been able to talk to Kalvin.
He was good about bridging her daily—checking in.
But they couldn’t talk candidly over bridge, and finding time to speak alone was difficult.
Temmi had been building a mental case against Cailin, had recently discovered, from a conversation with Yoshi Blagden, that Cailin’s law firm had shut down a philanthropic endeavor initiated by Kya Ep-Kmin.
There could’ve been legitimate bad blood there.
Come on, Kalvin. Temmi crossed her arms over her chest and settled nervously on a reclining deck chair. Spie and Nix’s cocktail party would be wrapping up soon; Kalvin had said he’d be able to slip away for a few minutes before it ended.
The sound of hurried footsteps drew Temmi’s attention. Someone was coming down the garden path opposite the pool. Kalvin? She jumped to her feet.
A woman tore free of the hedged-in path, stumbling onto the tiled deck.
Temmi squinted into the moons-lit darkness. Golden hair, a sleek black dress with a plunging neckline. “Rosaria? Aren’t you supposed to be at the cocktail party right now?” And why was she alone?
Rosaria’s gaze lifted to Temmi’s—even in the darkness, even across the thirty-foot pool separating them, Temmi didn’t miss the panic on her face.
Rosaria stumbled forward, falling to her knees alarmingly close to the pool’s edge.
Her hands shot to her throat and a violent fit of coughing overtook her slender frame.
Sudden panic launched Temmi into a run. She skirted the pool in a rush to get to Rosaria’s side. Once there, she dropped to her knees. Rosaria was shaking uncontrollably, still coughing.
“Can you breathe?” What a dumb question. Temmi placed her hands on the other woman’s shoulders gently in an attempt to soothe her shaking. “Can you tell me what happened?”
Another bout of violent coughing overtook Rosaria. What the fuck was Temmi supposed to do? She glanced around the pool, looking for anyone and anything to help. Weren’t there supposed to be guards milling about somewhere?
“Help!” she bellowed. Then, louder: “SOMEBODY HELP!”
Rosaria’s coughing subsided. She lifted her face. What looked like black tears streaked down her cheeks and dribbled from her flared nostrils, leaked from the corners of her mouth.
With trembling fingers, Temmi flicked on her CB’s flashlight—and recoiled. Those weren’t black tears.
They were red.
Immediately, Temmi smacked her CB and bridged Kalvin.
IT’S HAPPENING AGAIN. HELP.
“The drink,” Rosaria panted, blood flecking her lips as she spoke. “She gave me...the drink.”
“What drink?” Temmi grabbed the other woman’s hands. “Rosie, who gave it to you? You know what, it doesn’t matter. Can you walk? We need to get you inside. Find someone. Find Petra—she’ll know what to do. You need to get to a hospital.”
Temmi stood, wary of how close she was to the pool’s edge, the backs of her heels precariously hanging over the pool’s lip. Carefully, she bent to grab Rosaria under her armpits and tried to haul her to her feet. Easier said than done—Temmi cursed her complete lack of upper-body strength.
Rosaria broke out into another coughing fit, this one even more violent than the last. She pitched abruptly forward, frantic hands latching on to Temmi’s shirt and throwing her off balance.
There was a singular moment of suspended freefall, and then—Temmi plunged backward into the pool.
The cold bite of water enveloped her limbs, her face.
Rosaria clung to her, the weight of their combined bodies driving them down, down.
Water poured into Temmi’s open mouth. An animal panic stole through her brain.
She couldn’t swim—had never learned. X72 wasn’t exactly known for its swimmable bodies of water.
And recreational pools would be a ridiculous waste of resources.
Temmi flailed—Rosaria’s grip went slack, and her body slipped away, vanishing into the dark water.
“No!” Temmi screamed, more water filling her mouth, bubbles spilling out. But she couldn’t swim, couldn’t get to Rosaria—
She battled the water, pushing and pulling and kicking, driving herself toward the surface. Her lungs ached; her open eyes burned. Chlorine, some detached part of her brain provided in explanation. How deep is this fucking gods-damned pool?
Her nose and mouth broke the surface. She hungrily sucked in air but accidentally inhaled more water instead. Spluttering, she dipped back under. Fatigue turned her limbs to lead but still she kicked, fought, clawed her way back to the surface, brain screaming from lack of oxygen, vision blotting—
She submerged again. This time, her eyes drifted shut.
Something firm wrapped around her midsection and pulled. Rosaria? Had she made it up from the pool’s depths?
“I’ve got you, it’s okay, you can stop fighting me.” A voice, as though from far away.
Was she fighting the voice? She couldn’t say, she felt so detached from her body.
“Come on, breathe for me.”
Temmi opened her eyes. She was staring at a dark sky. Three moons and the bright glow of orbiting space stations stared back. Nausea roiled up her throat as hands rolled her onto her side just in time for a geyser of pool water to spew from her mouth. She coughed, vomited, and coughed some more.
Everything hurt. An aching burning in her lungs, a headache the size of X72 pounding through her skull.
Beside her on the pool deck was an oblong blue buoy, and beside that—Kalvin. His dress shirt was soaked through, the fabric clinging to his skin, water pooling around his knees.
Temmi forced herself into a sitting position. “You—” Her vocal cords felt raw. Had she been screaming while drowning? “What about—” Adrenaline launched her to her feet.
Rosaria lay on the pool’s opposite side, unmoving. A guard knelt over her, their visor resting on the deck beside them, their dark hair dripping wet.
“Rosie...” Temmi staggered along the pool deck, her wet clothes cold against her skin. “Rosie!”
She collapsed next to Rosaria Yune’s unmoving form. Beside her, the guard was standing, shaking his head at Kalvin.
“Rosie. Fuck.” The blood had washed from her face. Her mouth was open, her eyes unseeing. “Rosie. I’m so sorry— I—” Tears turned Temmi’s damp skin to salt water.
From behind her, Kalvin’s voice. “We did everything we could.”
An ice-cold sensation tore through Temmi’s center.
Rosaria had been—well, they’d been something close to friends, hadn’t they?
She’d been kind and effusive and hadn’t given a shit about Temmi being a complete idiot when it came to the show.
The thought of Rosaria being sent home had been sad—the thought of her being dead? Fuck.
“Someone gave her a drink.” Temmi’s throat burned as she spoke.
She turned to Kalvin. He was wringing water from the ends of his shirt.
“She was coughing and bleeding from her mouth and eyes and she said she gave me the drink . Who? Maybe someone at the cocktail party? Could it have been poisoned? Cailin was there. Roll back the film. She had to have slipped something in Rosie’s drink.
I tried to help her up but then she fell, and we both landed in the pool and I can’t swim— You need to stop the show, Kalvin.
Someone’s murdering contestants. The manor isn’t safe for any of us. ”
“Breathe, Artemis.” Water dripped from Kalvin’s rolled-up slacks. He wiped his nose with his upper arm. “You’re in shock. I can’t just stop the show.”
“Are you trying to tell me,” Temmi panted, her breath hiccupping, “that you’re going to cover this up, too? Pretend Rosaria didn’t just—didn’t just—” Temmi lurched away from Rosaria’s body and vomited beside Kalvin’s bare feet.
Slowly, he knelt. “Artemis. Look at me. I understand how serious this is—trust me. But the emperor doesn’t want the show shut down, and she certainly doesn’t want the viewing public to catch wind of any deaths—”
“Who gives a flying fuck what the emperor wants!”
Kalvin glanced quickly toward the manor, then back at Temmi. “You need to keep your voice down. I’ll see to Ambassador Yune’s body, and you should get back to your room and sleep as best you can. We can talk more once you’ve rested.”
Temmi wiped furiously at her eyes. “Did I kill her? Kal, did I kill her? If I’d been able to swim, I could’ve saved her—or if I’d pulled her away from the pool faster. Oh, gods, Petra is gonna be so sad. Fuck—I killed her, didn’t I?”
Temmi started shaking uncontrollably; her vision went blind with tears. She was cold—so cold. Something warm and dry wrapped itself around her shoulders. A towel.
“This is not your fault, Artemis.” Kalvin’s voice. Steady, low, soothing. A hand, rubbing her arm above the warm towel. “This is not your fault. But if you want to stay on this show, then you need to get out of here. Now. And not a word to anyone.”
She sucked in an aching breath. Then another. “And if I’m poisoned next? I need to go home. What good am I to my family dead?”
“And give up everything you’ve fought so hard for?
” Kalvin was in front of her again, his obsidian eyes intense.
A droplet of water streaked down the side of his bald head.
“Remember who you’re doing this for. Your family.
Your planet. Leaving early will put you in breach of contract—you don’t want Blessing Stone to send IBN lawyers after you. ”
Temmi snorted—her nostrils burned with latent chlorine. “Blessing Stone hates me. She’ll be glad I’m gone.”
“On a personal level, I’m certain you’re right. But you’ve proven to be good for ratings. And what’s best for the show will always win out over her personal feelings. Now is not the time to make a rash decision.”
Slowly, Temmi nodded. Kalvin was right. She was almost halfway to the end.
Final eight and the promised one million credits was within reach.
Plus, she and Nix were growing closer. There was every chance she’d make it to the finale—even a small chance she could win.
If she left now, she’d be giving up everything.
The money, the chance for real power, a future where her family was safe.
And then, there was Spie. If she left now, she would never see the princess ever again.
The thought hurt more than it should.
With burning eyes, she gave Rosaria’s body a final, parting glance.
I’m so sorry , she thought. But it wasn’t enough.
Being sorry wouldn’t bring her back. I should’ve been able to save you.
But I will make this right. I promise. In the morning, Temmi would have a drink in Rosaria’s honor, an X72 tradition.
And then she’d find the evidence needed to nail Cailin Frederik for good.
· · ·
Temmi thanked all the nebulas that she managed to beat Arbora to their room. Quickly, she stripped out of her waterlogged shirt and sweats, and donned a warm, dry pair. It wasn’t until she’d climbed beneath her covers that she realized something was off.
The familiar burning sensation beneath her shirt was absent. Dread clamped tight across her rib cage. An awful sense of foreboding stole into her still-aching limbs as she pulled the neckline of her shirt to the side.
Her necklace was gone.
She’d been wearing it when she went out to meet Kalvin by the pool, hadn’t she? Was it now resting on the bottom of the pool? Or had she taken it off when she’d showered earlier that evening?
Throwing her covers off, Temmi dove to the floor and started tearing through her suitcases. She’d definitely taken the necklace off before her shower. She must’ve forgotten to put it back on afterward, too distracted by thoughts of Spie Expani’s lips. Where had she placed it?
She pulled open a small suitcase. Inside were two zipper compartments. A bigger one where Temmi kept her underwear and a smaller one that housed her socks. She’d placed the necklace in the smaller one; she was sure of it.
But when she unzipped the compartment, it was empty.
Oh, fucking fuck. And just when she thought her day couldn’t get any worse.
Temmi checked the large compartment for good measure, sifting through pairs of underwear, the dread in her chest tightening and tightening, when—her fingers brushed something hot.
Relief washed over her as she withdrew the necklace.
She fully collapsed onto the floor. I must’ve put it in the wrong compartment. A careless but simple mistake.
Unless she hadn’t made a mistake. Unless someone else had removed the necklace while Temmi was away. And that someone else had mistakenly returned it to the wrong compartment.
But no, that was absurd. It didn’t fit with what Rosaria had said about a poisoned drink. Unless Rosaria had been wrong about the drink. Temmi was suddenly desperate to know what, if anything, had been caught on film.
Who had access to Temmi’s room and things? Arbora, of course. And Justine. Manny and his makeup team. Blessing Stone. Kalvin. Any number of attendants.
The list was impossibly long.
Temmi inspected the orrist basalt’s protective outer casing, just as she had after Kya’s death. No cracks, no obvious breaks. She was being paranoid. Cailin Frederik using some kind of more-traditional poison made the most sense as the murder weapon.
Slipping the necklace over her head, Temmi crawled back into bed.
She itched to bridge Petra and confess what had happened.
Tell her why, when morning came, Rosaria’s name would go dark on the galactic ceiling map.
But Kalvin’s voice was in her head— not a word to anyone.
The emperor doesn’t want the show to be shut down.
Would the emperor silence Temmi if she spoke out?
It wasn’t long before her CB lit up with a bridge from Petra.
Petra: Not sure if you’re awake but two PAs just showed up for Rosie’s stuff. She’s not responding to my bridges and the fuckers said I can’t say goodbye. The room already feels empty without her. I really thought she’d make it longer.
Temmi squeezed her eyes shut, trying to hold back fresh tears. She didn’t reply. Didn’t have it in her to pretend Rosaria Yune had been sent back home to the Underbelt when she knew the truth.
But when Temmi tried to sleep, all she saw were Rosaria’s bleeding eyes; all she felt was the weightless sensation of Rosaria’s body slipping away in the dark water; all she heard were the sounds of her own screams.