by Alex Mae
Fortunately Sam only kept him waiting a short spell. As he slid out into the hall, he carefully concealed the interior from view.
‘Room’s a mess,’ he said by way of explanation, shutting the door firmly. ‘What’s up?’
Warwick felt awkward. He hated having to throw his weight around. ‘Yeah. I’m sorry to barge in on you like this, man, but the thing is...’ his voice trailed off as he peered at Sam more closely. ‘Are you ok? No offence, but you look like hell.’
He wasn’t exaggerating. Sam was handsome in a typically English way, with pale skin which easily took on high colour, navy blue eyes and that short, straight up sandy hair favoured by preppy schoolboys everywhere. Usually, he dressed accordingly: simple, tidy, all well pressed t-shirts, jumpers and jeans. Who was this dishevelled guy in the tatty shorts, slitty eyes staring out at Warwick from under a matted lump of hair?
‘I can’t sleep,’ Sam rasped in his north London twang. He ran a hand over his fringe self-consciously. ‘Haven’t properly for days. Booze last night was an error.’
‘Have you told the healers? There might be something they could recommend, help you get some shut-eye.’
Warwick’s drawl always grew slower and deceptively thick when he was anxious about something. Sam eyed him suspiciously.
‘I’ll think about it. So. Why are you here? Not just to check on my health, I’m guessing.’
So much for beating about the bush. ‘I hear you are taking Raegan out tonight.’
‘Not that it’s really any of your business but... yeah. We had a vague plan.’
‘More than vague, the way she told it.’ Unaware of how seriously he was damaging Raegan’s façade of coolness, Warwick steamrollered on. ‘You know we can’t let you do this.’
‘We? Who’s we?’
‘At the moment, just the Level Fives. But we could take it further if you want.’
Sam let out a disbelieving hoot. ‘You’re joking, yeah? Limiting my duties isn’t enough for you lot – you want to restrict who I spend time with too?’
‘C’mon. We had nothing to do with you being taken off active duty, you know that. It was the Praetor and the centurions who made the final call.’
‘But not without speaking to you all first. You just had to give them the inside scoop, didn’t you?’ Sam hissed.
‘You didn’t exactly give us much choice, man. I’m not gonna act like I know what you went through-‘
‘You have no idea!’
‘-but that doesn’t excuse what you did. You gotta deal, Sam. Everyone has to get their shit together at some stage.’
Bootfaced, Sam changed tack. ‘I don’t see what any of this has to do with who I date.’
‘Oh, so you’re dating now, are you?’
‘Sod off. I like Raegan and she likes me. End of discussion.’
Warwick was growing impatient. ‘And this has nothing to do with Declan?’
Sam didn’t say anything but Warwick didn’t miss the slight smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. He lost his temper.
‘Aw, don’t be a dick! She’s a good kid. Whatever you think about the rest of us, you know she deserves better.’
‘I know exactly what she deserves.’ Sam’s tone was breezy and, apparently fed up with the conversation, he reached for the door handle. ‘I don’t know what you’re so worried about, anyway. She’ll have a good time.’
‘No, she won’t.’ Warwick’s hand got there first. There was no way the door would budge if he didn’t want it to.
Sam glared at him.
‘Here’s how this is going to play,’ Warwick said softly, looming over his much-smaller colleague. ‘You’re not taking Raegan out on some cosy little outing. Period. For one thing, we’re in charge of that girl’s safety, not you – she’s not leaving the compound illegally unless we say so. And she’s damn well not leaving without our protection. Second, I don’t trust you as far as I could throw you. And believe me,’ he added, grinning nastily, ‘I could throw your skinny ass pretty far.’
Not for nothing was Warwick known as ‘Tank’. He was huge. Sam was a talented Regent, active duty or no active duty; but now, when wedged between the door and Warwick’s weighty left bicep, he could only nod mutely in reply.
‘Good.’ Slowly, Warwick released him. ‘I’m glad we got that straightened out. Make no mistake, Sam – I don’t want to have to repeat this conversation. We were friends once. We could be again. But if the message doesn’t sink in, I’ll happily hammer it home.’
For a moment, the corridor was devoid of sound save that of their breathing. Warwick’s, deep and calm, provided a slow, steady counterpoint to the noticeably ragged inhalations of his companion.
‘So... what should I tell Raegan?’ Sam asked finally through gritted teeth. His cheeks were very red.
‘No need to tell her anything,’ Warwick said cheerily. ‘She’s expecting you tonight at 10, right? We’ll come for her instead. It’s about time she had a night out; time to get her out of Crosshaven and show her the sights of Carrigaline, Regent style.’
Jauntily, he strode away, whistling. But Warwick was not unkind; and after a moment he turned back. Sam, wilted against the door, did not stir. Warwick tried not to dwell on how defeated he looked or the possibility that he might have been too forceful.
Instead, with a sensitivity belying his appearance, he offered the olive branch.
‘I’m going past the hospital now, so I’ll drop in and let the healers know to expect you later,’ Warwick’s voice was gentle. ‘Once you’ve been, catch up with me, and I’ll fill you in on the details for tonight. You can still hang out with Raegan. We’ll just be there, too.’
***
‘I can’t believe this!’ Raegan muttered to herself as she flew down the via decumana. What was meant to be a quick chat with Jasper had turned into a proper natter. And now she was late; it was nearly nine forty-five, and she had no time to get ready for her date with Sam. There she went again, calling it a date! Those little smiles, looks, the hand on hers – what if she had misread the signs? Play it down, Raegan, play it down, she chided herself. That way, there will be no disappointment.
Rocketing into her room, the door slamming loudly behind her, she lunged for the clothes laid carefully on the bed. She was only halfway shimmied into the green playsuit – which was flattering but a nightmare to get out of if you needed the loo – when she heard a tapping at the window. The peach lace of her favourite bra peeked out from between the undone buttons of the top. It was not the best look.
Could it be Sam already? He said he’d swing by her room, but she didn’t think that would mean pelting asphalt at her window...
Hastily pulling the straps over her shoulders and yanking the playsuit up, she opened the curtain cautiously.
Bree, stunning in leather trousers and a scarlet chiffon blouse so sheer that it left nothing to the imagination, gazed up at her.
‘You’re not my type,’ she grinned. ‘But you’ll do. Get your bag, Cinders; Fairy G is taking you to the ball.’
***
It was past eleven by the time Bree led Raegan into the crowded bar. After an hour in the freezing cold, Raegan was relieved to be inside.
‘You go through all that every time you go out?’ she asked her friend as they queued for the cloakroom.
Bree threw back her head and laughed. ‘Just be thankful we’ve only come to Carrigaline tonight! Sometimes we go as far as Cork. That takes hours.’
‘But that much effort!’
‘It’s worth it to escape Unit Bore for a bit.’
‘Why don’t you just traverse?’ Raegan asked, stamping her numb feet. Her sexy leather boots had proved useless against the icy Irish air.
‘But what would be the point? To us, the journey would still take as long,’ Bree pointed out reasonably. ‘Plus, we’d have to wait until we were a good distance from the Unit to even try – the mages inside the fort keep any eye out for any such unusual activity within a certain radius
. We are trying to be covert, darling.’
‘I guess,’ Raegan said grumpily. ‘But why do you have to get on a boat? A ruddy boat! Why not a car? Or one of those nifty helicopters that picked me up from Ramsey...’
‘Do you understand the meaning of the word covert?’
Raegan had to admit her friend had a point. Sailing a small boat down the estuary of water which separated the Crosshaven coast from Curraghbinny, and which led all the way to Carrigaline, was an ingeniously discreet method of transport. Still. This wasn’t what she’d expected her night out with Sam to be like. She hadn’t even seen him yet!
Apparently the separation was totally necessary. To Raegan it was just annoying.
‘It’s not that we don’t trust you,’ her friend had said evenly. ‘But leaving camp is against the rules, and we have to be careful about it – particularly as you are so new to the training. You are our responsibility.’
Secretly Raegan thought that it was pretty hypocritical to forbid her and Sam from breaking the rules on the grounds that they would be safer if they broke the rules en masse.
‘Sam will meet you there,’ Bree continued. ‘We have a deal with certain Skippers on the Night Watch, but even so, we have to leave the camp in shifts. It would be far too obvious if we all left at once. You and I are last on the rota – so at least you’ll be able to make a fashionable entrance, eh.’
One bonus of the plan was the chance to catch up with Bree, at last; and now they were safely inside, Raegan wondered if she should bring up the Trace. She didn’t really want to. What she really wanted was a night off. At the same time, she was desperate to hear Bree’s opinion on Declan’s weird behaviour at the party. Could it be possible that he might also have the Trace? And if so, did he know about it? Was that why he was so hostile toward her – a sense of competition?
But then Bree handed her a compact, and the moment was lost. ‘Give yourself a quick touch-up,’ she suggested kindly. ‘You look pretty lickable for someone who’s been out on the water, but I know how you fret.’
‘You’re a mate,’ Raegan took the compact, secretly grateful for the distraction. The Trace would have to wait. Then, glancing at the mirror, she gave a gasp of horror. ‘’I take that back! I look like Rudolph! Why didn’t you tell me…?’
Wordlessly, but with a good-natured shake of her head, Bree drew a large brush and some powder from her bag. Thankfully Raegan’s long nose was far less luminescently rosy after a thick application of Yves St Laurent’s finest.
‘Ready?’
As was typical for one blessed with the kind of natural good looks that require little maintenance, Bree lost patience with grooming quickly. She did not wait for an answer before pushing open the black doors leading from the corridor into the bar. The huge wave of heat, noisy chatter and a thumping, electronic bass-line hit Raegan like a smack in the face. Slipping on the fetching neon-pink wristband designated to under 18-entrants, she followed her friend into the heaving throng.
Bree moved purposefully; and where Bree moved, slinking through the pulsing bodies like an undulating scarlet flame, crowds parted. Minutes later she was handing Raegan a brimming cup of non-alcoholic mulled cider. Not for Bree the commonplace annoyances of barging sweaty fellow drinkers out of the way or cutting in line; a barman was at her elbow almost before she’d arrived at the counter. Volcanic charisma certainly had its perks.
A new track started to play. Blue lights pulsed on and off, illuminating the swarming dancers throwing their hands in the air. Lady Gaga, Raegan recognised with a start. She knew the voice but not the song. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard a new piece of music.
With a pang, she wondered what Marie would have thought of this place. It was pretty crappy compared to Mojo’s – not a leather couch in sight! At the same time Raegan could see why the Regents came here. The decor might be tired but the crowd wasn’t. It was easy to lose track of the days in Unit Prime but Raegan didn’t need a calendar to tell her that it was Friday night; the excitement in the air was contagious. She turned to Bree with a smile.
‘This place is awesome.’
Bree’s eyes glinted wickedly. ‘I’m glad you’re in the party mood at last.’ She gestured to the counter, which was covered in dents like a pot-holed road. On it sat some new additions: eight fat shot glasses, filled to the brim with clear liquid. ‘Up for it?’
Raegan looked at the shots nervously.
‘Relax! I’m just being wicked. No booze for you on my watch. Stick to your fizzy pop, darling.’ Bree lofted the tray above her head like a waitress, balancing it lightly on her fingertips. ‘Let’s find the others.’
Watching Bree weave through the crowd was pretty amazing. She balanced the tray as skilfully as a circus acrobat: not a tremble troubled the brimming glasses held high in the air. Raegan wasn’t quite as graceful but it was still easier to keep up than it would have been a month ago at Mojo’s. Back then she’d felt like a baby elephant, cannoning off people at random; now she glided, deftly side-stepping drunken stumbles or wildly embracing couples without breaking her stride. She felt good. Separate.
It was the same for all of them. Little things gave them away; like when Warwick, irritated with their wobbly table, crouched down on the floor and then lifted the heavy object into the air with one hand; or how when a waiter stumbled into the group with his tray, Tyrell caught the full wine bottle and glasses without breaking a sweat; or how when a sleazeball made a lunge for Adriana’s rear she stopped his hand mid-movement without even turning around.
Normal people would probably laugh it off; maybe even come up with some plausible explanation for these strange feats, if they could be bothered. But Raegan knew the truth. Looking around the room, she remembered how relieved she’d felt to be here: escaping from the pressure-cooker of the Unit, returning to the familiar, joining in on the Friday night blowing off of steam. Except that she could never really join in again. She was no longer one of them.
The realisation was amazing. Not to mention terrifying.
‘Penny for them,’ a voice said, raised over the loud music. Sam. Her stomach flipped.
He grinned down at her, pulling her close to his chest. His t-shirt was damp with sweat. She tried to ignore the slight sogginess.
‘I was just thinking how strange it is,’ she began, but the music was at fever pitch now. He leaned in so quickly they nearly knocked heads.
‘Sorry, what did you say?’
‘I said, I was just thinking how strange it is.’ Shouting to make herself heard, she immediately regretted starting with such a heavy topic. ‘You know, being among all these people again, them not knowing about us, what we do...’
The vacant expression on Sam’s face didn’t change. ‘I can’t hear you very well,’ he yelled, right into her ear, which vibrated painfully as a result. ‘D’you want another drink?’
She nodded, but before she could tell him what he wanted, he wandered off. He was not entirely steady on his feet.
‘He’s drunk.’
Declan’s voice was cool with barely-concealed disgust. She hadn’t even seen him.
‘Not exactly the stuff of fairytales, is it? The entire brigade crashes your date and by the time you arrive he’s already half-cut.’
The bar stool was wobbly and too high for the table, meaning that Declan had to bend his body double to talk to her. With just a quick shove she could make him fall flat on his face, she thought viciously. No-one could blame her.
'Get lost.’
‘No thanks. I’m enjoying the view.’ He raised his beer in the direction of the dance-floor, where Bree and Adriana were dancing together, surrounded by drooling men. ‘You feel free to go whenever you want, though. And take that jerk with you. If you can find him.’
Like a balloon deflating, Raegan watched the two girls for a moment. They looked so happy.
‘You don’t want me here, that’s no shock. You’ve never liked me.’ Her voice felt tight in her throat. ‘But wh
at is it with you and Sam? I’ve never seen him be anything but nice to you. But you act like a complete twat. Every time. I don’t get it.’
The ‘twat’ comment seemed to go right over Declan’s head. Instead, he looked at her with genuine surprise. ‘I don’t dislike you.’
Raegan exhaled sharply, torn between laughter and violence. Was he for real? She settled for pressing her fingertips to her sides, hard. It would bruise. ‘You’re joking, yeah? Maybe I’m missing something - because I’m not laughing. I’m just sick and tired of it. Yeah, you heard me. I am sick to death of you treating me like shit!’
He tapped the bottle against his lip, as if debating something with himself. Finally he looked away. ‘You made the wrong choice, that’s all.’
‘Choice?’ If the music hadn’t been so loud the word would have been deafening. ‘What choice? Look, I’ve had enough of this. What the hell are you talking about?’
‘Take a chill pill,’ he said, maddeningly calm. ‘You’re making way too big a deal about this. I don’t like the guy, that’s all. I don’t have to explain myself to you.’
Her chest was choked with anger. Thoughts of Sam at the bar were long forgotten. All she could think was how unfair it was. What was wrong with this guy? Ruining her time at the Unit wasn’t enough for him – now he wanted to ruin her night out, too? She forced herself to take a deep breath.
‘Fine. You don’t dislike me. No, it’s just him you don’t like. But you were completely foul to me just then, for no reason.’ Raegan fought to keep the wobble out of her voice. ‘So were you an arsehole because I came here to meet Sam? Or would you have been an arsehole anyway?’
She was totally unprepared for his reaction. He stood up so fast that he nearly knocked the chair over.
‘You think I’m jealous? You think that’s what this is about?’
‘N-no,’ Raegan stuttered, taking a step backwards, crossing her arms protectively over her chest. ‘I didn’t say that-‘
‘Get over yourself, sweetheart.’ The venom in his voice made her flinch.