Democracy is Dead

Chapter Eleven

Dyo was running late. It was Sephy's fault, really. He'd been bombarded with so many messages during her lecture that he'd struggled to see straight as he left.

The time popped up in the corner of his glasses, glowing an angry red. 12.10. "I know, I know," he muttered under his breath. "I am very, very late."

But he was also nearly there. He started to watch the numbers on the buildings he was passing. The facades looked much the same as they had always done; a sign of New London's lingering heritage. Only the buildings' uses had changed. This street was close to the old palace. Once frequented only by royalty and the elite, it was now a luxury hotel and spa. Horse Guards Parade had become a trendy bar and club, Downing Street student halls.

Dyo came to a stop in a side street just down the road from Horse Guards Parade. 12.13. It could have been worse.

No one was watching him; their heads were bowed towards the ground as they attempted to keep the snow from their eyes. He was cautious none the less and slipped into the doorway casually, careful to keep his gaze straight ahead so that if anyone did look across, he would look like someone sheltering from the snow in a bid to read something on his feed glasses. Without looking, his right hand found the key pad to the door. Hermes had made him repeat the code so many times last night that it had worked its way into his dreams: 4601. The door gave way as he hit the 'unlock' button and he slipped inside.

He entered a corridor lit by cerise wall lighting, which gave the white paint a pink glow. Dyo scowled. What was wrong with pop voters? Five seconds and he could already feel a headache developing. Who could possibly work under this lighting all day?

Dyo counted the doors as he passed. The fifth door on the right was the one he needed. Hermes had promised it would be unlocked. He could be in and out in two minutes and no one would be any the wiser. He checked the time again. 12.15. He didn't have more than two minutes anyway. Not if he was going to make it out unseen. He uttered a silent prayer of thanks that there were no cameras in the building. Sometimes the voters got it right - especially when it came to privacy.

He passed the fourth door, refusing to increase his pace; he had plenty of time and he needed to stay quiet. When he reached the fifth door he breathed a sigh of relief. So far so good.

He jumped a foot into the air when he heard footsteps behind him. When he spun around, desperately scrambling for an excuse that wouldn't land him in jail (or worse) his guilt was mirrored on Athena's face.

Dyo's immediate reaction was to shut his eyes, willing her to be a figment of his imagination. He would have happily accepted the fact that he'd progressed from thinking about her to hallucinating her if it meant that she wasn't actually there.

But she wasn't an illusion. When he opened his eyes, Athena was standing directly in front of him.

***

Athena hadn't planned on Dyo seeing her. She'd hoped to follow him at a distance, work out where he was going, then report back to Castor and Cress. But the building didn't appear to have a name and the door hadn't quite closed shut behind him. She figured she could venture inside far enough to see what he was doing, then leave again before he noticed her.

But now he had. What surprised her was that he didn't look mad. He looked upset; his eyes crinkled in at the edges, his mouth pulled into a grimace. The sight of her pained him.

Athena felt her veins flood with fury. She wasn't going to cower and stumble while he launched into another rant on everything that was wrong with her. She pulled her shoulders back and put her hand on her hip. She was confident. She was in control. Dyo was going to regret every word he'd said to her yesterday. And then he was going to explain what he was up to.