The Chaos of Luck Read online

  The Chaos of Luck

  A Felicia Sevigny Novel

  Catherine Cerveny

  www.redhookbooks.com

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Acknowledgments

  Meet the Author

  Also by Catherine Cerveny

  Author Interview

  Newsletters

  Copyright

  To my parents, who never really got what the fuss was all about in the first place and couldn’t understand why anyone would want to go to Mars since there wasn’t any Disney World there, but supported me anyway.

  Chapter One

  It used to be that you didn’t often see dogs on Mars. With the strict quarantine laws bordering on the ridiculous, and the month and a half long voyage from Earth, it was easier to clone one from the pet you’d left behind. However, that tended to be expensive when you’d already spent your life savings trying to get to Mars in the first place.

  When the Tsarist Consortium took over the transit routes, they’d lobbied hard to abolish the quarantine—a move applauded throughout the tri-system. One Gov relented under pressure from just about everyone and now all sorts of pets were appearing on the once red planet. But still, the fact that I was seated across from a woman with a teacup Yorkie was actually pretty amazing, given I hadn’t known the breed even existed. That the woman wanted me to run my Tarot cards and tell the future of said Yorkie was not. It took a concerted effort on my part not to sigh out loud or reach over to throttle the woman. Besides, I’d hate to upset the dog, who, though I was loath to admit it, really was a cutie.

  “I’m sorry, but I don’t do readings for dogs,” I said, not for the first time that week. “I know Sunbeam is a member of your family, but that’s not how the cards work.”

  The woman on the other side of my card reading table, Lila Chandler, was a potential new client. Definitely older, though only her eyes gave it away. They had a hardness to them that came from decades of Renew treatments and a lifestyle that said been there, done that, and had all the T-shirts. I would have put her around ninety, or maybe even a hundred. Otherwise, she was flawless with pale porcelain skin, blond hair cascading down her back, and luminous blue eyes—and luminous wasn’t a word I threw around just for fun. And she was absolutely filthy rich. The kind of rich that got whatever it wanted and could afford to indulge in frivolous things most people would never think about. Like Tarot card readings for dogs apparently. Mars had two social classes—the ultra-rich and everybody else. I was still working out which class I fell into.

  About a third of my clients were of this sort—rich, curious women with nothing but time on their hands. In fact, she was the fourth client this week who’d come in requesting a pet reading.

  “I’d heard you ran the cards for Mrs. Larken’s dog Puddles and I want the same for Sunbeam,” she insisted.

  Puddles belonged to Mrs. Larken, whom I’d met on board The Martian Princess during the trip from Earth. She’d been old—like really old, maybe two hundred—and something about her charmed me. Maybe because she reminded me a little of Granny G, and gods knew I was a sucker for anything that put me in mind of family. Plus, I don’t think my head was screwed on straight once I’d reunited with Alexei after having thought him dead for six months. When we’d come up for air, I’d met Mrs. Larken, taken a liking to her, and done a reading. Once on Mars, she’d opened doors for me I’d never dreamed of touching on my own. When she’d imported one of the first dogs allowed on Mars and asked me to do a reading for her mini schnauzer, I couldn’t think of a polite way to refuse. The end result was I’d been tagged as some sort of psychic dog whisperer. And although Mrs. Larken had genuinely liked me and vice versa, Lila Chandler was something else entirely.

  “Well, then perhaps Mr. Petriv might be here and you could introduce us? I’m told you’re acquainted with him and he drops by quite frequently,” Ms. Chandler said, meeting my gaze with a level one of her own.

  Wonderful. Now the claws were out and we’d come to the real reason for her visit: Another portion of my clients came in the hopes of spotting, and presumable landing, Alexei Petriv.

  “I’m sorry, but he isn’t here at the moment. Unfortunately, I can’t predict when he’ll decide to drop in.”

  “Oh, that is too bad. In that case, perhaps I should rethink this entire appointment. Things don’t seem to be going well for either of us today, do they?”

  Fuck. And now I was being threatened over a dog card reading.

  “Not necessarily. I can run a combined reading for you and Sunbeam,” I said, and proceeded to shuffle the Tarot deck, making a mental note to tell Lotus to screen for dogs and their psycho owners beforehand. This would have never happened with Natty back on Earth.

  Sorry, Granny G, I thought out to the universe. A gold note is still a gold note and a girl needs to eat and keep the shoe industry afloat. I can’t lose business on account of crazy.

  “Oh, how exciting!” Ms. Chandler exclaimed. Then she held her little dog to her face and proceeded to baby talk us to death. “Isn’t that right, Sunbeam? Who’s a good girl? You are! Mommy loves you. Yes, she does. You’re going to get a card reading today! Yes, such a good girl,” and on it went until I wanted to put all of us out of our collective misery. At least Sunbeam seemed happy, given how quickly she gulped down her doggy treats.

  Like my shop back on Earth, I’d used the same décor scheme of exotic Old World meets space-age New World, yet somehow the look hadn’t translated well to Mars. And the fact that I now essentially had a day job was depressing. On Earth, I’d only worked nights. On Mars, it just hadn’t attracted the same clientele so I had to open during the day instead. The only time evenings were profitable was on weekends during the Witching Time. Then, I could pretty much double my fee. People expected a show extravagant enough to blow their minds, so I gave it to them. A Martian day, or rather a sol, was thirty-seven minutes and twenty-two seconds longer than an Earth day. For some reason people went wild then, as if the extra time meant the rules didn’t exist. They partied harder, committed more crimes—even wanted their babies born then. And if it helped my shop’s month-end numbers, who was I to argue?

  Half an hour later, I walked Ms. Chandler out of my reading room and to the front reception area. I made sure she transferred her three hundred gold notes to the shop’s account and reassured her I’d already uploaded the reading transcript to her memory blocks on the Cerebral Neural Net. The CN-net linked every human mind in the tri-system of Earth, Mars, and Venus into a sort of electronic collective of information sharing via One Gov’s t-mod implants. Implants I didn’t have. Then I got her the hell out the door. I’d jacked up the price on the spur of the moment, tripling the rate to include an annoyance fee—Sunbeam had passed out in a treat-induced coma after making little tiny doggy poops on my reading table. Besides, we both knew she wouldn’t become a regular client. No, all she wanted was a glimpse of the infamous Alexei Petriv, lead
er of the Tsarist Consortium who was too damn hot for his own good, and to see if she could get the current competition out of her way. Namely, me.

  I stood in the middle of my small reception area, taking deep breaths in hopes of avoiding a meltdown. I turned to Lotus, who looked at me like having me explode might be entertaining to watch. That she was my fourth cousin and had been recommended to me by family back on Earth sometimes made me regret I was such a softy when it came to my relatives.

  “No more dogs, Lotus. I don’t care how rich the client is, if they have a dog, I don’t want to see them.”

  “Sorry, Felicia.” Lotus hung her head, her blunt-edged pixie cut doing nothing to hide her grin. Did I mention I come from a family of con artists? “But you have to admit, little Sunbeam was so cute! Did you see her little tiny doggy paws? I’ve never seen a teacup Yorkie before and I couldn’t pass up the chance. Didn’t they bring those back from extinction?”

  “I don’t care where they brought them back from. Screen the clients first. If you get the slightest whiff of dog, forget it.”

  “Fine, whatever. I’ll have Buckley sift them on the CN-net and let you know what shakes out,” she said, referring to her boyfriend, who was fully wired with t-mods, unlike me and Lotus, who relied on antiquated tech like charm-tex bracelets and flat-file avatars on the CN-net. I wasn’t sure I liked the idea of Buckley going through my potential clients, but decided to let it slide. “I thought you said you needed to increase the shop’s revenue. You said—”

  “I know what I said, but I changed my mind. I don’t need that much money or the headaches that come from dealing with those women,” I said, then ran a distracted hand through my hair and froze.

  Ah hell. I’d forgotten I braided a thin chain-mesh weave through the nearly black waves that morning. Now my hand was stuck. I sighed as I tried to get free, pulling out a few strands in the process. Lotus watched me struggle before bursting out laughing and coming to rescue me from my own damned hair.

  “You really should cut it off. It’s so much less work,” she said, gesturing to her own short hair.

  Hers was just a shade lighter than mine, just like her eyes were a darker green, her skin a little more olive-toned—everything in keeping with the Romani looks she shared with most of the Sevigny family. I just happened to look more like my mother, which drove my father crazy. Literally. Me too actually, though not so literally. I’d gotten off easy in the crazy department, considering my mother had cloned me then tried to kill me so many months ago. With family like that, it was a wonder I wasn’t in therapy.

  “I like it long,” I said, even as I winced when she tried tugging at my two rings still caught in the mesh weave. “Ouch. Take it easy!”

  “Sorry. And does he like it too?” she asked with seeming innocence. “I bet he does. I bet he wraps his fists in it and—”

  “Just put whatever dirty thoughts you’re thinking right out of your mind. We’re at work and I’m not discussing this with you now.”

  “Fine. Don’t be any fun. See if I care,” Lotus griped. A beat of silence, a little bit of tugging, and my hand was out. “There, you’re free, Medusa. You shouldn’t wear that mesh thing anymore.”

  “You’re probably right,” I agreed as I pulled a few long black hairs out of my rings, all of them elaborate costume jewelry I’d brought from Earth. Maybe it was time I did away with the props. It seemed like everything I used back home wasn’t cutting it on Mars. Maybe I needed to rethink the whole business model. “And for the record, yes, he does like it. A lot. Now if you need me, I’ll be sanitizing my reading table and spraying air freshener everywhere. Sunbeam shit on it in the middle of the reading.”

  “Oh, Felicia, I’m sorry!” Lotus laughed behind her hand, green eyes wide. “That’s awful. You’re right. No more dogs. Let me take care of that since I feel like it’s my fault anyway. I’ll get the cleaning stuff.”

  She headed to the supply closet, where we kept a few basic cleaning supplies since the shop was professionally cleaned every evening. Then she froze, caught like a baby rabbit in some big bad hunter’s trap. I knew the exact reason for her reaction. It was written all over her face, plus it wasn’t the first time I’d seen this particular behavior from a woman before.

  “Good afternoon. Nice to see you,” Lotus said in girlish tones. Her cheeks flushed and her tongue darted out to lick her lips as if tasting something sweet.

  I turned and my heartbeat seemed to skid to a halt before resuming again, just as I suspected it did for all the women who met him. Except in my case, I knew the look he wore was solely for me.

  Alexei Petriv stood in the open doorway of my shop, removed his sunshades, and slid them into the breast pocket of his charcoal gray suit jacket. Tall, broad-shouldered, well-muscled, and built like a rock, he seemed to fill every room he entered with his presence alone. He didn’t have to do anything other than just stand there, and he was still overwhelming. His thick black hair fell nearly to his shoulders and his eyes were so intensely blue, sometimes I wondered if they could cut into me if he stared at me long enough. At the very least, they gave the disturbing illusion he could look into your soul. Saying he was gorgeous and sexy as hell was a ridiculous understatement. In fact, words failed me. His MH Factor was off the charts, up in some stratosphere no one could calculate. The same could be said for his t-mods, meaning his mind could manipulate the CN-net in ways few others could. Looking at him left me breathless and sometimes made me doubt what I saw was real because he was utterly perfect. So perfect, in fact, he might not be human anymore.

  I’d secretly been cataloging the oddities I’d noticed during our time together. So far as I could tell, he never got sick—not even a cold. If he hurt himself, such as when he’d once sliced his palm with a paring knife, the wound healed in hours with no skin renewal patches required. He needed very little sleep, and some nights I wondered if he even slept at all. He was definitely stronger than average and had little trouble keeping in shape, though he worked out like a fiend—doing even more than was required by One Gov mandate. He could hold his breath for ridiculously long periods of time, something I’d learned when we’d gone on a day trip to Aeolian Beach. And one thing I’d discovered soon after the first time I’d slept with him—he needed almost zero recovery time before he was ready to go again. Sometimes it was thrilling to have that much attention. Other times, it was exhausting and made me wonder how I could ever be enough for him.

  “Hello, Lotus. Glad to see you’re doing well,” he said in that deep voice of his, a slight hint of a Russian accent present. Sometimes it felt like that voice could slide around your mind, commanding you do to things you weren’t entirely sure were a good idea. Or maybe I was the only one he had that effect on?

  “I’m fine, Mr. Petriv. Thanks for asking.” Lotus continued to stand there gaping, mouth slightly open. I rolled my eyes. Was it always going to be like this when other women had his attention?

  “Dog shit, Lotus. Remember?” I reminded her, none too subtly.

  Lotus shook herself and flushed a brilliant shade of red. “Oh, right. I forgot. I’ll get that cleaned up right away. Excuse me.”

  In a flash, she was at the supply closet, gathering some rags and a spray bottle of cleaning solution. Then she disappeared into the back room, slamming the door so hard behind her, I winced.

  “Sorry about that. It’s been an interesting morning.”

  “Another dog card reading?” Alexei asked, arching an eyebrow. He left the door frame and crossed the shop to me, fighting to stop a grin from filling his face. “How many has it been this week? Three? Four?”

  I shrugged. “Four, but who’s counting?”

  “You are.”

  “Lotus is enamored with dogs lately so she keeps booking pet readings whether I want them or not.”

  He laughed. “Maybe she thinks you need a dog.”

  “Not if they’re going to get excited and shit on everything I own. At least this latest did it on my table,
so that’s something new.” I looked around the shop—a shop that wasn’t as successful as I’d hoped it would be. I was doing okay, but not like I had been back home, and I couldn’t figure out why. I missed Charlie Zero and his business savvy.

  “I assume you were able to convince the owner to stay for a reading of her own?”

  “Of course, but you know they’re only here because they’re hoping to catch a glimpse of you. It’s like I have to beat the women away with a stick and it’s getting exhausting.”

  He’d reached me now and his hands were on me, sliding along my neck to tilt my face up. Even in my highest heels, my eyes were barely level with his shoulder. My gaze locked with his and my neck arched under his hands. “You have to stop doing this to yourself, Felicia. You’re making yourself crazy and imagining things that don’t exist. I have no interest in any other woman.”

  I swallowed. “I know, but it’s hard when I have yet another Martian blueblood in here, judging me. I never cared about any of that before, and now it seems to be bothering me all the time.”

  His expression hardened. “I hate it when you do that, compare yourself to things I have no interest in, because there is no comparison.” He looked like he wanted to say more. Instead he stopped and his mouth quirked at the corners. “Besides, you’re the only one who can keep me from jumping off the deep end into megalomania—or so you keep reminding me.”

  “Very funny. Someone needs to keep you humble or you’ll think you own the tri-system.”

  “Actually, I believe I only own half of it, or thereabouts,” he said drily. His hands drifted down my body, coming to rest at the small of my back. “Tell me who was here and made you feel this way, and I’ll deal with it. Then it’s no longer a problem.”

  It sounded tempting, but Alexei’s way of dealing with problems tended to be extreme, with no chance for the other party to recover. Depending on what he was after, such as securing ownership of most of the off-world asteroid mines, it ran the gamut from driving his opponents to financial ruin, undercutting prices on business rivals, or pitting family members against one another and taking advantage of the chaos. While none of it was technically illegal, it didn’t sit well with me—and those were just the things I knew about. The Tsarist Consortium was considered a legitimate corporate and political entity with plans to revolutionize lives throughout the tri-system, but you could never forget how it started, or where its roots lay. They’d come a long way, but not far enough in some people’s minds.