Hunting November

by Adriana Mather

  “Matteo,” I say without a lead-up, because I fear the more details I give, the more likely I am to betray him with my body language.

  “What?” Ash and Aarya say at the same time.

  “Believe me, I was more surprised than you. He stopped me on the street in front of the restaurant. I actually punched him before I realized who he was.”

  Aarya lets out a belly laugh. “How did I miss this? And why do you get to have all the fun while I have to babysit Ash?”

  “Why is Matteo here?” Ash asks, ignoring Aarya. “In London, of all places?”

  I shake my head. I wasn’t thinking about the fact that Matteo’s in enemy territory; I was too caught up in the necklace trade and the Layla conversation. No wonder Matteo was so adamant that I not tell Ash about the restaurant; a Bear property in Lion territory is something to guard.

  “Probably planning some revenge for Stefano’s death,” Aarya says, and I wonder if she’s right, and if that’s how Layla convinced him to come.

  “Or doing Family business,” Ash says. “Considering his mother is also here.”

  “Or that,” Aarya concedes. “But you still haven’t explained how you got the necklace.”

  “That’s because you’ve been talking,” I say, which makes Ash smile.

  Aarya slashes her fingers at me like they’re claws and purrs.

  “I told Matteo about the apothecary and it turns out that all the head Bears wear the same necklace. He gave me his,” I say, “in exchange for me keeping silent about the restaurant and staying away from him and his Family.”

  Aarya grins. “He must really despise you.”

  Ash gives Aarya a hard look. “I’m sure they just have important negotiations going on that they can’t risk having disrupted.”

  Aarya looks like she’s not convinced, and I don’t blame her. I’m not convinced, either.

  I CLIMB INTO my makeshift bed of blankets and pillows on Aarya’s living room floor. Ines went to bed an hour ago and Aarya’s in the bathroom brushing her teeth. We haven’t yet agreed on a plan for tomorrow, and we spent most of the evening going in circles about how many guards there would be at the ball and the best way to use the ointment the apothecary gave us. As our conversations wound down, I began stressing over sneaking out to meet Layla and Matteo.

  Ash pauses to look at the bathroom door and frowns.

  “What?” I ask, although I’m pretty sure I know what he’s going to say.

  He sits down on an arrangement of pillows and blankets on the rug near mine. “I don’t trust her,” he says.

  I glance at the bathroom door now, too. “She’s eccentric and a real pain sometimes, but you have to admit…the fact that she’s here sort of clears up the trust issue.”

  “Not even a little,” Ash says. “We have no idea why she’s here besides wanting to participate in the destruction of Jag, which I grant you is a reason, but not a good enough one for a mission with this much risk.”

  “I mean, yes, but—” I say.

  “And the way she was encouraging you to steal that necklace…,” he says, shaking his head, but doesn’t finish.

  I chew on the inside of my cheek. I hate doubting her. It feels wrong after everything that’s happened. And yet I get why Ash is questioning Aarya. He should be.

  “Also, Felix isn’t with them,” Ash says.

  “For that, I’m actually grateful. I’m not sure I could pretend to be civil with him after he threw me out of that tree,” I say.

  “Right,” Ash says like I’m agreeing with him, “and Aarya knows that.”

  I study him for a moment. “Are you saying she left him there on purpose in order to gain our trust?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m suggesting,” Ash says. “There is something they’re not telling us, and I intend to figure out what it is.”

  I nod at him. And for a few seconds we sit there, staring at the fire, both lost in thought. In the quiet, my worries drift back to Layla and Matteo.

  “You’re stewing about something,” Ash says, and I realize I’m staring far too intensely at the fire. “I’m exceedingly familiar with that look because Layla is perpetually in her head about something, and has been ever since she could talk. You wouldn’t imagine that a two-year-old could stew, but Layla made it an art form.”

  I smile, picturing a small and serious Layla. While I can’t tell him what I’m thinking about in this moment, the overall list of things I’m anxious about is long. “I’m not clear about the plan.”

  Ash laughs. “No one is clear about the plan. We’ll be lucky if we sort it all out by the time we get to the ball.”

  “I mean the bigger plan,” I say. “We find my dad, and let’s say we actually manage to use his knowledge of the Lions to disrupt the current leadership…then what?”

  Ash looks thoughtful. “You mean, do we go back to the Academy or do we stay in Europe?”

  “Yes and no,” I say. “I didn’t grow up as a Strategia; it’s like my whole identity has suddenly changed and I’m not sure what that means going forward or if I’m even okay with it.”

  “You were always Strategia,” Ash says.

  “Yeah, but I didn’t know that,” I say.

  “Yes you did.” He sounds so confident that I look at him sideways. “You didn’t have a word for what you were, but that doesn’t mean you didn’t know deep down. You’ve told me multiple times that you always loved knives and swords, that you loved strategy games, that your dad went out of his way to challenge you and teach you survival tactics. You weren’t raised with stuffy history tutors like me and Layla and you weren’t sent to spar with the estate guards while your parents critiqued you, but you learned what you needed to all the same. You haven’t suddenly changed. You’ve just been given context and a word for your identity. And I get that it must be an adjustment, but you’re just as much Strategia as you’ve always been.”

  I open my mouth to argue, then close it.

  The corners of Ash’s mouth turn slightly upward. “See, even you agree.”

  I smirk. “You think you’re so clever.”

  “That’s because I am so clever,” he says with a sly grin.

  “And humble,” I say.

  “One of my many winning qualities.”

  We share a smile.

  “The thing is…I don’t know if I can go back to my old life,” I say. “I know you said there was a possibility I could when we were talking in the woods, but I’ve been over it a thousand times in my head and I just don’t see how it’s possible. Even if I pull off a visit once a year, that’s not the same thing as living there. I never considered a life without Pembrook. But spending time there means putting people I love at risk. How can I ever go back, knowing that?”

  “My question is, would you truly want to live there?” Ash says. “And not as a nostalgic idea, but in actuality. Would that be fulfilling for you?”

  I grip my cup of peppermint hot chocolate, soaking up the heat through my gloved hands as Emily and I leave Lucille’s diner.

  I wave it under my nose. “Mmmm.”

  “You act like that drink is your boyfriend,” Emily says as we cross the street toward the green in the middle of the town square.

  “I don’t know what Lucille does to make it so good, but I’m completely addicted,” I say.

  We take up our usual perch on the bench in the gazebo, which has a clear view of the decorated tree.

  “Em, what do you think we’re gonna be like as old people?” I ask.

  Emily sips her cider and leans back. “Pretty much like this. Only I’ll have taken over Lucille’s and transformed it into a hip bookstore that serves coffee and champagne. Oh, and dogs.”

  I laugh. “A bookstore that serves dogs? That sounds like a winner.”

  “No, idiot. A bookstore where you can
bring your dog.”

  “Okay, and I’ll be—”

  “A gym teacher,” Emily says, cutting me off.

  “Um, no. You get to run some hip bookstore and I’m a gym teacher? I didn’t know you thought so much of me,” I say.

  “Wellll,” Emily says, grinning. “You’ll try to do some extreme-sports-type job, but the only place you’ll be able to do it is in Hartford. And inevitably you’ll miss me too much and have to move back here, where the only logical job opening will be gym teacher. Of course after a few years of penance for moving away from me, I’ll let you work at the bookstore.”

  I smile. “And eventually we’ll be just as cranky as Lucille. Only difference is that we’ll be able to blame our farts on the dogs.”

  She leans her head on my shoulder. “And all will be exactly as it should be.”

  “I always thought so,” I say quietly. But what I don’t say is that the real dilemma is Emily—I don’t see how it’s possible to be Emily’s best friend and be Strategia at the same time.

  Ash watches me and I get the sense that he knows what I’m thinking.

  “The one thing I’m not doing, though,” I say, forcing my thoughts away from Emily, “is just killing people all the time.”

  Ash laughs so suddenly that it surprises even him, and he coughs. “November, no one wants you to kill people all the time. A surprising number of Strategia live peacefully, without ever harming anyone.”

  “Says you,” I say. “But somehow I’ve killed two people in a month. And I’m just…that’s not who I am. I’m not going to do that.”

  “First, you didn’t kill Dr. Conner,” Ash says. “You stabbed him, but only in self-defense, to save both our lives. Blackwood killed him. And second, I told you to break that branch; so Harry’s death is as much my fault as yours. Plus, there was no way to know that fall would kill him. The rock was unforeseeable.”

  I hesitate, not sure I believe him, but also not sure he’s wrong. “And what about the Lions?” I say. “What’s the plan there? Because the way Aarya talks about it, it seems like she would take out the entire Family if she could.”

  Ash sighs. “Let’s not forget that Aarya’s approach is usually unhinged. That being said—”

  “I heard that!” Aarya says from the hallway, and appears in the door.

  Ash gives her a scrutinizing look and I can almost see the gears in his head moving, adding eavesdropping to the list of reasons he doesn’t trust her.

  “And if anyone’s approach is demented, it’s November’s,” Aarya says.

  “Because I don’t like the idea of killing people?” I reply.

  “Because Jag killed your mother. He killed your aunt. He effectively killed Felix’s dad by sending him after your parents. He killed Stefano by proxy. And at this very moment he’s trying to kill you and your father. Not to mention the countless number of other innocent people whose lives he’s ruined,” Aarya says with feeling.

  I stare at her.

  “So you go right ahead with your nicey-nicey crap,” she says. “But me? If I get any kind of chance, no matter how small, I’m killing him. And I will dance on his grave.” Then she turns around without another word and slams her bedroom door behind her.

  For a second we’re both silent.

  “I’m not really sure what to say after that,” I confess.

  “I don’t think anyone knows how to follow that up,” Ash agrees. “But what I will say is that the Lions are a special case. Unless Strategia are truly warped, like Jag and Dr. Conner, they only kill when it’s necessary or in self-defense. Think about it; it’s a million times easier to outsmart or circumvent your opponent than it is to kill them. It’s like what Professor Gupta always says: the more you learn in deception class, the less you need to learn in others. You being Strategia doesn’t mean you’re a career assassin, it means that you have a very special set of skills, skills that can greatly impact the world for the better if you choose to use them properly.”

  I listen, considering his words. What he’s saying makes sense even if it hasn’t been my experience as a Strategia thus far, and if I’m honest with myself, Aarya makes a point, too. In fact it was just earlier today that I argued for the destruction of Jag when I was under the influence of that truth serum, calling him a tragedy worth stopping. Maybe I don’t know myself the way I always thought I did, or maybe I’ve been unwilling to embrace who I really am. Either way, there is no road back to my life as I once knew it, and no amount of pining is going to change that. I need to start making decisions about what kind of Strategia I intend to be.

  Ash’s lips turn up in a subtle smile, like he can hear my thought process. “And not to add fuel to the fire, but you’re attempting to upend the most powerful Family in all of Strategia. That combined with your parents’ legacies means you will never be anonymous again. In fact, if we manage to pull this off, you may very well become one of the most infamous Strategia in the modern world.”

  My eyebrows push together, and despite myself, I laugh. “Thanks, Ash. Here I am struggling with this new identity and trying to figure out where my life goes from here and now I also get to be infamous.”

  He smiles his mischievous smile. “Anytime.” But instead of looking away, he holds me in his gaze. “And I’ll be there.”

  I tilt my head questioningly. “Be where?”

  “With you,” he says, and the affection in his tone envelops me like a hug.

  “Oh…right, I’d love to…I mean, cool, yeah, that’d be great,” I say, completely tripping over my words.

  Ash’s grin widens. “Very smooth, November.”

  My cheeks flush and I laugh. “Right? Just grace upon grace.”

  Ash laughs, too, and it feels good to be sitting here with him making light of my romantic ineptitude. So much of our conversation has been about strategy and death recently that it’s easy to forget to enjoy the time we have together. And even if I love the idea that he’ll be with me, I’m not convinced that wherever my life takes me next is a place Ash would want to be—or where his Family would let him be.

  “It’s one of the first things I noticed about you,” Ash says. “Your humor.”

  “Really?” I say, genuinely surprised. “I always felt like I was so serious at the Academy. It would be different if you met me in Pembrook. Laughing until I cried was kind of my thing. But then maybe you wouldn’t have liked me if you met me there.” I wag my eyebrows playfully. “To you I would have been a commoner.”

  Ash shakes his head. “I think you’re absolutely wrong, November Adley. I would have known you were perfect anywhere I met you.”

  “Perfect?” I say. “Okay, now I know you’re full of it. The last thing I am is perfect.”

  “Perfect for me,” he says with such intensity in his expression that I think I might melt into the floor. And without me noticing it, the space between us has narrowed.

  I open my mouth, once again feeling scrambled. “Well…I…now…”

  Ash reaches up, running his thumb over my bottom lip and along my jawline to the back of my neck. “That’s a response that deserves a kiss if ever I heard one.”

  This time I don’t mumble nonsense at him. I lean closer. “Then what are you waiting for?” I say, our faces only a couple of inches apart.

  He closes the distance between us. His lips part as he presses them into mine. His hand drops from my neck to my lower back and he pulls me into him. And for this moment, it’s just me and Ash in front of a cozy fireplace in a tangle of blankets.

  * * *

  My eyes crack open for the hundredth time and I peer at the clock, which now reads 3:27 a.m. A shot of adrenaline sends me sitting straight up. I stare at Ash sleeping next to me in our makeshift beds, looking for any sign of movement. I listen to his breathing, but it’s long and heavy and consistent with a deep sleep.

  I
carefully peel back the blankets and pull on my socks, glancing at Ash once more before I get up. I tiptoe across the area rug in the living room and test the wood floor for creaky boards before I step on them. I silently lift my coat off the hook, check the pockets for cash, and pick up my boots. Then I open the apartment door with painstaking slowness to make sure it doesn’t whine.

  The instant it closes behind me, I yank on my boots and throw on my coat. I wait a beat to make sure no one in the apartment follows me and then I’m out of there full-speed down the hallway, down two flights of stairs, and out onto the cold dark street.

  It only takes one block to find an idling taxi and fifteen minutes to get across town. I repeatedly glance out the back window, making sure that Ash or one of the others didn’t somehow follow me.

  The taxicab lets me off on a commercial street filled with cafés and boutiques that are completely dark at this hour. I double-check the street signs and building numbers for the address Matteo gave me. It’s an odd adjustment from always following the map on my phone to suddenly having to use atlases and trust my own navigation skills.

  I stand there on the street in the dark staring at the building, which appears to be a run-down Victorian-era shop with boarded-up windows. In faded gold letters the sign reads PASSEMENTERIE. Can this be right—did Matteo really want me to meet him at an abandoned store?

  It occurs to me that I never questioned the invitation, not after he mentioned Layla. But Matteo doesn’t like me. And now all of a sudden he shows up in London, follows me from the apothecary, tells me to meet him somewhere because Layla is here, and also tells me I can’t tell Ash. I frown, tucking my hands under my armpits for more warmth.

  For a split second, I think about turning around, grabbing another cab, and sneaking back into bed. I’m an inch away from finding my dad and here I am taking a chance on Matteo—meanwhile no one knows I’ve left the apartment or where I’ve gone.

  “Damn it,” I breathe, and a white cloud billows out in front of me. No. This is ridiculous. Matteo gave you the apothecary information; he gave you the necklace. Why would he help you just to betray you? Unless he was just trying to lure you into a false sense of confidence so he could make his big move?