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33 Detroit 10.31.2038

8:05 pm

1554 N Fairway Rd

Clara

The party is in full swing when we arrive that evening. Apparently this isn't the first party he's thrown, and he's on the police radar. Unfortunately, with his dad's position, they can't really do anything unless they see solid proof of wrongdoing. Connor is back in human clothes—the same clothes we got at the thrift store during our first case together. Walking into the house of a suspect of android arson dressed as an android didn't seem like a smart play. I'm in my usual clothes, and I hope we're not the only ones without costumes.

Music bleats from the house but not loud enough for the neighbors to complain just yet. Even though the lights are lit, children skirt past it, ushered by parents who cast the house disapproving looks. I feel almost self-conscious walking up the porch because I can only imagine the hidden debauchery we're about to walk into. On impulse, I reach out and take Connor's hand. At first it's stiff and unyielding and I can imagine I've surprised him. When I don't let go, he finally bends his fingers around mine, glancing down at me with brown eyes filled with uncertainty.

"Ready?" I ask. He gives me a nod, but his usual confidence is gone. We're both way out of our element here, but I'm not turning back now. I grip his hand tighter and we enter the house.

No one stops us. We get several cheers as we enter, which I'm sure has Connor's LED blinking yellow under his hat for a few moments. Everyone is already super drunk or super high on red ice. I see red fumes wafting from the room beyond as people dance with chaotic motions. I swallow hard. This is so not my scene, and I'm having flashbacks to my one party in college. I see a boy pulling a girl up the stairs, and in my mind she's the android and he's the bully. I freeze, panic welling in my chest, squeezing it tight. I'm not sure I can do this. Connor seems to sense my hesitation. He tightens his grip a little on my hand and pulls me farther into the house, skirting around the milling drinkers to a quiet spot in the kitchen. He puts his free hand on my shoulder, leaning down to speak above the music.

"Are you okay?" His brow is furrowed in worry, and I meet his eyes as I take several fortifying breaths.

"I will be." I just need to focus. This isn't college, and there's no android here to be harmed. Except Connor, but the hat covers his LED, and I'm not letting him out of my sight.

"I'm fine," I manage after a beat. "Just bad memories."

He nods, understanding, and I'm glad I opened up to him. Somehow in three months, I feel as if he knows me better than any human. I know he's still learning. Humans are an enigma that can't possibly be understood so quickly, and I have to remind myself he's only been around a few months. "We can leave." I can tell by his tone he doesn't expect me to take him up on his offer, but I appreciate that he's putting my well-being above the investigation.

"No. I'll be okay." I give him a tight smile. "Let's find Brett." Tony sent over his mug shot earlier, so we both know who we're looking for. I feel a surge of anger building in my veins and focus on that. I'd rather be angry than afraid. We weave through the party guests, and I fend off red solo cups and try not to breathe as we pass red ice junkies. A couple is shooting up in a corner looking blissfully unaware of anything going on around them. It disgusts me, but I can't let that show on my face. Someone might notice we're not having a fun time and ask questions.

"We should pretend to be having a good time," I whisper to Connor, leaning up to reach his ear. "Otherwise we're going to draw attention." This isn't some college party that we're crashing. These people hate cops and they hate snitches even more. I've already seen a couple guys glance my way, and so far I'm sure I look more like I'm attending a funeral than a party. Not everyone is wearing a costume but even still, we're standing out too much.

"Okay," Connor says, unsure. He doesn't know how to have a good time in a place like this and neither do I. But I know how to fake it. I slide my fingers through his and laugh, smiling as if I haven't a care in the world. He smiles back at me, hesitantly. It comes out as more of a grimace.

I move us toward a table filled with beer bottles and solo cups. I snatch a cup and fill it partially, handing it off to Connor before filling my own. "Don't drink it," I warn as he gives it a cursory sniff. He wrinkles his nose at the pungent scent.

"People really enjoy drinking this?" he asks softly.

I shrug. "I guess. I never developed a taste for beer, and I certainly never thought getting drunk off my ass and waking up the next morning feeling like you went through a cement mixer overnight was equivalent to a good time."

We stand and pretend to sip our drinks, eyes scanning the room for our target. "Let's see the other rooms."

The living room is expansive, but I don't see Brett anywhere. There's a game of beer pong going on in the dining room, but he's not there either. They actually have a billiards room and a study and several guest bedrooms on the first floor, but he's not in any of the rooms, and I have to give an embarrassed apology to a couple we walk in on in one of the bedrooms, my heated cheeks completely genuine.

"Let's try upstairs," I suggest. We abandon our cups and move up the grand staircase. There are doors everywhere, and I don't even know where to start. I can hardly open every one and hope I don't walk in on someone in a compromising position-or raise suspicion.

"There," Connor says, nodding subtly to the railing across from us. And there stands Brett gazing down on his empire holding a glass of something much more expensive than beer. He's flanked by two girls who seem to be trying to get his attention without being too obvious. "What do you want to do?" Connor asks. Brett is turning our way, so I grab Connor's hands and place them on the railing on either side of me, boxing me in. He tenses but keeps his eyes on me as if sensing a distraction. I lean closer to him, heart picking up a little. Apparently I like to torture myself because that's exactly what this is. Connor is calm, but I feel like a mess right now. I have to remind myself we're just acting.

"We pretend we want something from him. He's in charge here. I thought he'd be drunk as hell and partying with his guests, but he's not so that means he's staying sober for a reason. Maybe he's got some kind of deal going down, maybe he just wants to make sure none of his parents' precious dishware gets broken. Tony said he has a record for dealing, so we could play the red ice card. I have a feeling that as soon as we talk to him, he's going to realize we don't belong here. He didn't invite us. I'm hoping it's not uncommon for his guests to invite guests of their own. As long as we pretend to hate cops and following the law, he might buy it."

"And when we get him alone?"

"I want a confession," I say. I don't know how I'm going to get it, and I know I can't ask Connor to rough him up. "We might be able to charm it out of him. Speak to his ego. But we're also going to have to pretend like we hate androids." I glance up at him, afraid this will bother him, but he just nods. He's pretending to be human tonight, so it's not really a stretch.

He steps back and I smile at him as if we've just shared some sort of romantic moment instead of plotting against the host of the party. I lock eyes with Brett and stretch my smile. "Brett? Brett Evans?" I ask as if I had no idea this was his party. I'm totally making this up as I go, so I hope his bullshit meter is broken.

"Do I know you?" he asks, stepping forward to greet us. The girls pout behind his back, but I ignore them.

"We did a couple classes together at the community college." Tony mentioned Brett had attended for a few classes before dropping out. "I'm Sara." He's probably met about a dozen Saras in his lifetime, so I take a stab in the dark.

"Oh yeah," he says, a little recognition lighting up his eyes. Sometimes when someone approaches you with confidence saying they know you, your brain starts to create false memories of this person. I could have been in a lecture hall and he wouldn't be able to confirm that I actually wasn't. It's an easy sea of faces to get lost in.

"What was that professor's name? The one that was always rambling on and on..."

"Professor Hopper?" he asks with a grin.

"Yes! He was so boring." I roll my eyes.

"So how did you hear about my party?" he asks. He hasn't totally let down his guard, but he isn't suspicious anymore.

"Oh through, who was it?" I turn to Connor, waving my hand. "A friend of a friend. He said you throw the most killer parties on Halloween. We would have dressed up but, well, slutty nurses are so last year." Who is this girl speaking with my voice? I press on before I slap myself. "This is my boyfriend, Tom." I gesture to Connor, and he holds out a hand to shake Brett's.

"Good to meet you," Brett says, shaking it. "Aren't you a little hot?" He motions to the beanie covering Connor's LED.

"He gets cold really easily," I lie. "He was really sick as a kid, and he's never totally shaken it." No one questions sick people. I trust that Brett won't either. "So actually," I say, drawing out the words. "We were hoping we might be able to do a little business with you."

Brett closes off just a little and I want to curse myself. Too soon? If I stand here shooting the breeze as Sara any longer, I'm going to pull a muscle in my mouth. Sara smiles a lot. I'm not a fan of Sara.

"Let's talk somewhere else," Brett says.

"Okay, sure." He leads us down a hallway, and I can hear people murmuring behind closed doors. We stop at the last door, and Brett pulls out a key.

"Gotta have one place to escape to," he says with a shrug, opening the doors for us to enter. It's a bedroom-Brett's I assume. He shuts the door before going to sit on the edge of the bed. Connor and I are forced to keep standing, but I pretend not to mind.

"So. What was it you were looking for?" he asks.

"Oh, the usual," I say with a twitter. "Maybe something red?"

Brett chuckles, seemingly charmed by Sara's cluelessness. "I don't deal that anymore," he says. "My contacts were, shall we say, dissuaded from ever doing business with me again by my father. I can deal you some pot or some coke. I might have some E if you're looking for an escape."

"You don't have any red left over?" I ask in a pouty voice. Brett grins. What a sucker.

"Okay, I might have a tiny bit left over, but I'm not giving you my stash." He moves to grab a tin stowed on the top shelf of a bookshelf. I pretend to be excited while rolling my eyes at Connor. Brett hands me a tiny bag of red powder and I want to throw it into a toilet at once.

"How much?" I ask, hoping he'll just give it to me. I don't want to give this pig a cent and I only have two dollars anyway.

He waves a hand. "For old time's sake," he says.

"Now I remember why I liked you," I reply. "Hey, kind of off topic, but are some of the rumors I've been hearing true?" I have to play this carefully or he might shut down.

"Rumors?" He looks cautious, but I can also tell I've stroked his ego.

"About the androids? And the fires?" I lower my voice. "I heard you've been taking a match to the fuckers." Inside I'm screaming at what a terrible person Sara has become. Fuck you, Sara.

Brett's grin grows. "Oh yeah? You heard that?"

"I was kind of jealous. Tom lost his job because of androids. Lost his health insurance. His medication is hella expensive without it. I wouldn't mind setting some of them on fire myself."

"That's ballsy, Sara," Brett tells me. I had pressed record on the phone in my pocket the second I'd entered the room. I just needed a confession.

"Yeah, well, they have it coming. How many did you light up?"

Brett leans forward, conspiratorially. "I have one down in my basement right now."

"What?" The alarmed response that pops out of me is totally genuine. "Really?" I try to smooth it over.

"Yeah, wanna see?" he asks. He pulls a lighter out of his pant's pocket and starts to play with it.

"Hell yeah," I say, trying to look eager. I am, in a way, because now I can get evidence of his crimes. "How'd you swing that?"

"Mad skills," is all he says, and I frown at his back as he leads us out of the room. We have to wade through the party goers to get to the basement. Tony would be waving a matching set of red flags in front of my face if he were here, but I am not turning back now.

The basement is a full room, well lit and filled to the brim with stuff. But not an android. I realize a second too late that Brett knows full well there was no Sara in his class. There probably was no Professor Hopper. It was a test. Fuck. I didn't think he was this smart. I think all this in a split second as I turn. Connor goes down hard with a blow to the back of his head. I cry out, trying to get to him, but Brett grabs me from behind, hoisting me clear off the floor.

"I thought I recognized you, but I realized it wasn't from college. It was from the front page of the paper my parents so religiously read, Clara."

Connor is unconscious. At least I hope he is. Then his eyes flit open, and he tries to get to his feet. Brett shoves me aside sending me sprawling to the floor. My head hits the base of a metal shelf and everything goes black.

...

When I open my eyes again, I'm still lying in the basement. My head is throbbing but no blood comes away when I touch it. It's completely dark, but I can hear the sounds of the party raging up above me. I try to call out, but I realize there's no way anyone would hear me. I reach for my phone, but my pocket is empty. The red ice is gone, too. No loss there, but my phone...

I struggle to my feet, vision wavering a moment as my head throbs. Getting up the stairs offers quite the challenge with my vision swimming, but I fight back the pain and try the door. Locked. Of course. It's not a strong door, just your average door, but there's no way I can shoulder it down. I find the light switch and the basement floods with light. There has to be something in here I can use to beat down that door. I have to get to Connor. I see a spot of blue blood on the floor where he had been, and my blood boils. If they've hurt him... This was a terrible idea, and I blame myself totally for anything that happens to Connor. I toss boxes here and there, tear into everything. When I open up a wooden box expecting to find yet another useless object, my hands still above a handgun. I check to see if it's loaded. It's not, but the ammo is inside the box too and I inexpertly load it, metal cool and unfamiliar in my hand. I race back to the door and level the gun at the lock. Bam! Bam! Bam! The shots are louder than expected, but the wood shatters, and the door swings open, lock completely compromised. I burst out expecting to find a crowd of confused onlookers. There's no one there. They're all outside, and my heart drops at the sight that awaits me.

Connor has been trussed up in the backyard. I can see him struggling, but his hands and feet are tied. Blue blood drips down his temples and his nose. His hat has been ripped clean off, exposing his LED which is currently bright red. His eyes meet mine over the crowd, and I see a silent plea for me to run, to save myself. Instead, I lift the gun and fire two shots into the sky. People scatter. I get several terrified looks, but no one questions me.

"GO!" I shout at the top of my lungs. Brett doesn't budge nor do his 'lackeys' who stand at his side. They each have blue blood on their knuckles, and I'm going to make them pay for that.

"Let. Him. Go," I enunciate, aiming the gun at Brett.

"Clara, Clara, Clara. I thought I'd taken care of you," he says, trying to act nonchalant. I can see his eyes calculating though. He doesn't know me. He doesn't know if I'll shoot. In truth, neither do I. He plays with something in his hand, a lighter, and I notice what lies at the base of Connor's feet. Wood. Kindling. They were going to burn him. My vision goes red. There are four guys other than Brett. There's no way I can fight that many. I probably, definitely, can't even fight one.

"Step away or I shoot," I say, trying to sound like I mean it.

"I don't think you will shoot, Clara." I hate the sound of my name in his mouth. I want to spit.

"You have no idea what I will or will not do," I return.

"You've never shot a gun, have you?" he asks, taking a step toward me.

"I just shot your basement door pretty dead." My eyes are on the lighter. One move, one flick... "Toss me your lighter," I say. He smiles.

"This?" He flicks it open, flame dancing. "Okay. I'll toss it." And he does. On the ground. I shoot as flames lick the grass. Brett cries out, blood spraying out from his arm where I shot him. The others run at me, but I point the gun at them.

"LEAVE!" I shout, firing a warning shot at the ground. It's a miracle I even hit Brett. I have no idea what I'm doing, but my rage makes me see clearer.

"Crazy bitch!" Brett yells at me.

"I've been called worse." The flames are spreading, not quite to the kindling around Connor. I feel a frantic surge of fear, but my path to him is still blocked. Then a cry of "COPS!" echoes in the night, and suddenly the guys are all about getting out of my way. Everyone except Brett. I see flashing red and blue lights lighting up the side of the house. Brett is on his feet, striding toward me. I don't want to shoot him again so I dodge, running to Connor while Brett swears angrily behind me. The evidence of his crimes are all over the house, and he bolts inside as if to try to hastily cover them up.

"Connor!" I tuck the gun into my pocket and move behind him to work on his ties. The flames are spreading, eating up the grass and turning it to char. A piece of kindling catches fire, and I can feel the warmth of it now, uncomfortable and dangerous. His wrists and legs are zip-tied and I swear in frustration. "Hold on." I do a quick scan of the yard, but Connor beats me to it.

"Garden shears. To your right." He bobs his head toward a garden shed, and I see the shears glinting. I run over and snatch them. The flames are nearly to Connor now, and my hands are shaking. I maneuver the shears a clip the ties. As soon as they drop to the ground, I drag Connor away, the fire scorching at our backs. It's a bonfire now, and the spot where Connor was standing moments before is now the center of the flames. I hear the voices of police in the house, busting down the front door. The fire department has been called, I presume, and the night air is acrid with the scent of burning wood. I stand, breathing hard, my hand still clasped tightly around Connor's wrist.

"Are you okay?" I ask, reaching up with my other hand to wipe some of the blue blood away.

"I will be. You saved my life." His brown eyes are intense, watching me with emotion I can't quite define.

"No one hurts you on my watch," I say fiercely.

"I was afraid he'd done something to you when I woke up and couldn't find you," Connor says, leaning closer as if to inspect me for wounds. "Are you hurt?"

"Just a bump on the head. I'll live. If Tony doesn't kill me first." I feel like I'm babbling, and I realize I'm shaking. Connor pulls me away from the fire, and I feel suddenly cold. Firefighters run into the yard, hose ready to douse the spreading flames. The night has descended into chaos, but I feel safe next to Connor. His LED is back to blue. We're kind of in the shadows where we stand next to the outside fence. No one is paying us the least bit of attention. His eyes watch the firefighters, but my eyes watch him. He'd almost died tonight. He'd almost been Brett's next victim.

"I almost got you killed," I tell him.

"You saved my life," he repeats, turning his eyes on me. They're warm, soft, and I don't feel like I deserve his kindness.

"Because I almost got you killed in the first place!"

He shakes his head. "It's okay, Clara. I'm okay."

My heart is pounding so hard it makes my throbbing head hurt more. My fear for him was so visceral. And god I want to kiss him so badly. That thought makes everything else go silent. No more fire, no more people, no more fear. All my thoughts are centered on that one feeling. I want to kiss Connor. Not like last time where we'd been trying to stay undercover. I could no longer ignore the feeling that had been creeping up on me all this time. I felt like I was crossing a line-humans didn't fall in love with androids-it just didn't happen. Not that I was in love with him. I definitely wasn't in love with him. I just...I just really liked him. He was everything that I wanted in a friend even if neither of us had realized that. I could no longer imagine my life without him and that was frightening. I wasn't used to that kind of connection. I didn't feel that way toward people. But he wasn't human. He was so much better, so much more.

He seems to realize something has changed. He cocks his head ever so slightly at me as if trying to figure out what I'm thinking. I can see the dying fire reflected in his eyes, and I realize I'd taken a step forward. My hand on his wrist slides up to his shoulder and then the back of his neck, feeling his feather soft hair. My eyes fall to his lips. All I have to do is lean up. I have no idea what Connor's thinking, but he's not pulling away.

"Clara…" He says my name tentatively like he's trying to process what I'm doing. His eyes are on me, but they dart down to my lips for just a second. My heart skips a beat.

"CLARA!" I jerk away from Connor as a very angry voice sounds from the gate. Tony is standing there, and he looks livid. My cheeks flush a deep red, and I'm glad the night has thrown my face into shadow. "This is your idea of 'just checking it out'?" He quotes my earlier words back at me using aggressive air quotation marks. "The yard is literally on fire."

"I-er-everything didn't exactly go as planned," I say lamely.

Tony runs a hand over his face. All I can think is did I really just almost kiss Connor? I can't tell what Connor is thinking, and I don't dare look at his face.

"We got our guy though," I supply meekly.

"Take her home now," Tony instructs Connor. I think Connor might be in for a sound verbal beating, but Tony sees the blood on his face and backs off. "I will handle this…mess." He motions at the yard.

"They were going to burn Connor," I tell him. "I did what I had to do to protect him. Brett assaulted both of us and he has red ice."

"Jesus." Tony gives a long sigh. "I don't want you in any more trouble tonight, you hear me? This is going way above and beyond your job, and you are going to get yourself killed. Or Connor."

That shuts me up properly. "I hear you," I mutter.

"I will text you the details later, but I want you home before you make this any more of a shit-storm."

I nod dejectedly and motion for Connor. We leave the yard in silence and walk the block to my car. It's only then that I realize I still have the gun in my pocket.