Page 134 of Neon Flux

“Doesn’t matter to me. Look at this monstrosity. Even this close to Magenta, this much land’s worth a billion at least.”

“Starting to sound like a bleeding-heart rebel.”

He tilted his head toward me with that wicked grin. “Don’t get too excited. I’m still a corpo dog. Don’t let my new look fool you.”

Ironically, he looked more corporate now than he usually did. He’d let me change his hair to a more neutral black and slick it back into a clean, high bun. He wore a standard but sharp suitto match my conservative dress. I eyed him up and down with a grin, and he frowned, tugging at his collar.

“I hope you’re enjoying this, because it’s not happening again.”

“It’s about playing a character, Cy. It’s easier when you have a costume.” He’d pouted, but let me do it nonetheless.

He was still staring at me. “What?”

“Never thought I’d have a thing for blondes, but you make it look good.”

I rolled my eyes. “Get a grip, corpo. Are you ready?”

He nodded and slid his arm through mine like it was the most natural thing in the world.

We walked through the front doors into the Church’s atrium.

I’d attended church in the outlands as a child. It had been an old barn, always packed with bodies that stank of sweat from the heat and long days of work. I remembered playing on threadbare carpet with the other kids while the priest droned on. I mostly ignored it, as children do, but I remembered it being warm, friendly, and filled with joy.

This place was nothing like that.

The atrium was long and narrow, and uncomfortably cold. Thin, icy-blue pipes of Stellarium framed the ceiling and drew the eye to the far end of the space, where a glowing blue arch beckoned. It was meant to be isolating and overwhelming.

We walked toward the arch, our footsteps echoing like gunshots in the hollow space. Near the arch, a woman stood, her face covered in the translucent white veil of the Church, her neon halo casting her features in harsh lines.

“Welcome, children of Light. I’m sorry, but the Church is closed to all but Echelon-level members tonight.”

I put on my best disappointed look, tilting my head like I was just so heartbroken to be turned away. “Oh, that’s unfortunate.We were recommended by Brother Ian—he told us to come as soon as possible. Said it was urgent.”

The Sister’s expression wavered for just a second, enough for me to catch a flicker of uncertainty before she pasted her polite smile back on.

“Yes,” Cy chimed in smoothly, looping an arm around my waist in an easy, possessive gesture. “My wife here, you see, she’s been—”

I let my Flux pulse, just a little. The faint crackle of electricity sparked in the air, more visible in the dim light. My knees buckled, and I leaned heavily against Cy, letting out a soft gasp like I was overwhelmed.

Cy caught me effortlessly, his arm tightening around me in a way that felt natural, like he did this every day. He shifted his weight to support me fully and glanced down with what even I almost believed was genuine concern. His acting wasn’t half bad, and for a split second, I forgot we were lying.

The Sister, however, couldn’t even fake subtlety. Her eyes widened, and the greed practically radiated off her as she watched the sparks skitter across the floor toward her feet.

“I’m sorry,” I murmured, making my voice tremble. “Sometimes it’s just too much.”

Her smile stretched wider, a saccharine grin that made my stomach churn. “Oh, my poor darling. Of course, of course. I’ll get someone to see you right away. Father Malachi is busy, but perhaps Brother Lucas can—”

She stepped back, muttering into her Vysor.

Cy leaned down, his breath brushing my ear. “So manipulative. I love seeing this side of you, jerking these fools around.”

“Am not,” I whispered back. “Stay in character.” I nudged his ribs with my elbow.

He chuckled. “Whatever you say, wife.” He tightened his grip around my waist unnecessarily.

“Brother Lucas will see you now,” the Sister said, reappearing with that same rehearsed smile. She gestured for us to follow.

The walk through the Church was just as staged as the atrium. Every detail was designed to impress—or intimidate, depending on how you looked at it. The hallways were lined with shimmering Stellarium mosaics depicting angels, celestial beings, and streams of divine light. None of it was comforting.