Chapter 2: Dinner Parties
A/N: Hey guys! Sorry for the slow updating, but I didn't know what I was doing with the chapter until recently, and homework is hindering my writing time. :( Meanie homework. Anyway. Enough about my life. On to the story!
Disclaimer: Me no owny.
Zia hated dressing up, but she could deal with it, for tonight at least. Adrenaline pumped through her veins, making her fingers tremble with excitement as she adjusted the hem of her too-short black dress. Normally, she wouldn't have even considered a dress like this one – barely covering her legs and shoulders – but it was forced upon her by some of her colleagues.
But she could deal with the dress and high heels. Tonight was the night she could finally get her chance at revenge – or at least the start of it.
"You all remember the plan?" asked Michel Desjardins, in his thick French accent. He was another agent of the FBI, and had been for a while now. He was a man in his early forties, but was still as quick and agile he had been twenty years ago. Next to him was his wife, Marie. She had been the one who had chosen their dresses for the evening.
Zia nodded. "Yes. You do as well?" She fingered the clasp of her black handbag, remembering the pistol inside. She grinned, mischief glinting in her eyes.
"Of course," Michel answered. "Remember, though, that gun in your bag is for protection and chances that we're going to be shot at too; do not shoot first. We're only here to collect information."
"Right, right," Zia said, waving off his order. He didn't understand her yearn for their blood to be spilled. No one knew the full story of her orphaning, just that she used to live in Egypt, and her family was killed when she was eight, and was then adopted by a loving family and moved to America. They didn't know who had killed her family. But then again, she had to follow his orders; he was her superior, having been an agent longer than she had been.
She turned her head out the window, at the breathtaking sunset behind the concrete buildings of Brooklyn. The colors sent a sense of deja vu down her back, the memories of the last night with her family coming back strong and fast. Quickly, she put up a wall to stop the quell of memories, successfully stopping them from taking over her. It was a skill that had been difficult for her to master, hiding her emotions.
It seemed strange how it seemed like only yesterday she was coming up to her foster family's house for the first time, scared and alone. Now, she had graduated from Yale with a law degree, and joined the terrorism unit in the FBI, little over a year ago, at the age of twenty-four. She was now a year older, wiser and quicker. She could clearly remember seeing that man's picture in the file of cases, and overwhelming sense of deja vu, hitting her like a truck. Back then, there had been no lead on the case; they only knew that the man – Julius Kane, they said was his name – was a dangerous terrorist. Zia knew it too; he'd wiped out a whole village mercilessly in Egypt. Well, except one little girl...
The limousine pulled to a stop in front of a mansion. It looked like it was made of marble, a pearly, creamy color. It must have had over a hundred rooms, judging by all the windows lining the sides of the house. Zia, Michel, and Marie stepped out of the limo, thanking the driver. Michel informed him (the driver) that he would call him when they needed him again.
"Smile," Marie whispered to Zia, who had her usual frown plastered across her face. "Act like you want to be here."
Zia complied, turning the edges of her lips upward in a fake, but pleasant and believable smile. She straightened her posture, as she followed Michel and Marie to the man who was standing by the gate – or, more accurately, leaning against it. He had a bored expression on his face, as he checked guest's invitations.
The trio got in without any commotion or trouble, which was a nice change.
"Go and mingle," Michel muttered to Zia in an undertone. "Talk to people, find out anything you can." Zia nodded, and strode off into the crowd.
To be frankly honest, she didn't like talking, or large amounts of people. That was part of the reason she was so good at her job; she kept secrets. But when it came to gleaning information from people, she was terrible. Perhaps she was too careful, and simply didn't talk to people. She had always been classified as an introvert, and being an FBI agent sworn to secrecy had only seemed to further this.
She somehow ended up talking to a bubbly blonde girl with a southern accent.
"I'm Jaz," she introduced herself, with a grin, revealing straight, white teeth. She extended a hand.
"Zia," Zia replied, hesitantly taking her hand and giving it a small shake.
Jaz began to talk about the program Amos Kane – Julius's brother – was running here in this mansion. It was mostly during the summer, but also during school breaks. He trained kids and some young adults in martial arts and fighting. It seemed interesting, but also suspicious. Why would a middle-aged man train kids to fight?
"He does this all alone?" Zia asked, looking around at all of the people milling about, talking and laughing.
"No, of course not!" Jaz answered. "He has his niece and nephew to help, Sadie and Carter. In fact, they're over there, with Amos." Jaz pointed in the direction of a platform, where a man about her age, twenty-five, who looked too much like Julius for Zia's liking, was talking with an older man, with beads in his hair and a fedora on his head, and a girl who also looked to be in her early twenties, with long caramel hair streaked with red. "I think Amos is going to make his speech now," Jaz thought aloud.
Zia watched as the fedora-clad man stepped up to the microphone, and cleared his throat.
"I would like to thank all of you for attending this year's summer program here. It was a pleasure to teach you all, and I hope to see you return next year. The buffet is towards the back; help yourself." He stepped back and the room exploded in chatter again.
After a few more minutes of Jaz explaining how the organization worked, Zia asked, "Doesn't Amos have a brother, Julian or something?"
Jaz's expression became more somber. "He used to. Julius died almost ten years ago. He was Carter and Sadie's dad."
"Oh." While she didn't say much, Zia's mind was whirling. So...Julius died. And Carter's his son, and Sadie his daughter. I should have known about Carter; he looks almost exactly like him. But Sadie? She must look like her mother.
"Zia?" Jaz asked, tilting her head to the side.
"What?" Zia looked up, jolted out of her thoughts.
"You weren't talking."
"Oh, sorry." She paused. "What are Carter and Sadie like?"
Jaz shrugged. "Carter's real smart and bookish. Sadie's sarcastic and rebellious."
Zia nodded. "Well, it was nice talking to you, but I'll be going to get some food now."
"Okay." Jaz waved, then her eyes caught the attention of another girl. "Hey, Alyssa!" She ran up to another girl, and the two began chattering joyously.
Zia turned away, not feeling the least bit guilty about her excuse to go eat. She searched around for more people to talk to, and discovered a few more things:
-Carter was in fact twenty-five, like her, while Sadie was twenty-three.
-Sadie had lived in England from when she was six until she was twelve.
-Carter had traveled the world with his dad when he was eight (when his mom had died) until he was fourteen, when Julius had died.
All in all, it wasn't much, but it was sending Zia's mind on a roller coaster. If what she heard was true, then that would mean that Julius had died around the time she was fourteen, and Ruby – as she learned Julius's wife was called – when she was eight, which was – coincidentally, or not – the same age she had been when her family had been ki -
Deep in thought but still walking, she didn't see where she was going and ran into someone. They both tumbled down to the ground.
"Sorry," the person she had run into apologized, standing up and extending a hand for her. She took it, hauling herself to her feet and brushing off her dress. He tilted his head to the side, peering at her curiously. "I feel like I've seen you before...but you weren't here before, were you?"
Zia shook her head, and realized that the boy was Carter Kane. Tensing her muscles, she kept his gaze. Recognition flashed across his eyes, and he didn't look to pleased. The two stared at each other for several minutes, before she broke the gaze.
"I have to go check on something," he muttered, turning and walking in a different direction.
Zia watched him leave, thinking on everything he said. He had left too quickly for her tastes, like he was afraid to talk to her. Everything about that conversation sent chills down her spine.
If anything, talking with Carter Kane had only furthered her want to be the cause of his death.
A/N: BAD ZIA! YOU DO NOT WANT TO KILL CARTER! }:(
Ahem.
Review? :3 I promise to update faster; I already have the next chapter in mind.