Anyway, there wasn’t much I could do to speed our progress at the moment.
Staring at the remaining zig-zag of line in front of us, I sighed, glancing over at Jon, who frowned.
“Jaden’s freaking,” I explained to his questioning look. “They’re at the gate.”
Jon shrugged, his voice neutral. “Not much we can do. Anyway, he might as well get comfortable. I heard the delay was around ten hours for most flights.”
I nodded, agreeing.
Jon grunted, muttering, “So sorry the terrorist attack that nearly killed his girlfriend screwed up band-boy’s precious schedule.”
I bit my lip, shrugging. “He gets stressed about gigs.”
“You almost died, Allie.” Jon turned, gritting his teeth in barely disguised disgust. “Doesn’t he give a shit about that? Or does he even realize how close you were to the blast?”
I pursed my lips, not answering as I stared out over the crowd.
My ears were still ringing faintly, even with the liquid the SCARB agent sprayed in my ears as we went through the first security check point. They’d had a number of medics looking those of us over who’d clearly been in the blast. Since my hair still smelled like smoke and my arms and clothes were singed and covered in cement dust still––not to mention my suitcase, which resembled a rolling briquette––I got called aside so I could be questioned by SCARB. While the two agents talked to me, I also got checked out by one of their EMTs.
Luckily, they’d decided I was okay to fly.
The SCARB questions were pretty routine. Mostly they wanted me to describe every person I’d seen in the area, and whether I’d seen the blast itself.
I fudged some of my answers, I admit.
Maybe it was habit––some kind of semi-instinctive impulse most civilians developed, in terms of avoiding giving out any information the World Court authorities might find overly interesting.
And yes, maybe it wasn’t only myself I was protecting. Maybe I was avoiding putting someone else on SCARB’s radar, too––a certain tall guy with weirdly light eyes and black hair who pulled me out of harm’s way.
I was pretty sure he’d saved my life.
On the other hand, he’d known he needed to, which would definitely interest SCARB.
Regardless, I couldn’t bring myself to throw him to the dogs, so I told the two agents I was close to the alcove when the blast went off, and I didn’t see anything. I described the three weird guys I’d seen just before that, but left out my sighting of the black-haired guy that time, too. I also had to admit I had no reason to suspect the other three of being directly involved, either.
In the end, they let me go.
I have no idea if they got anything off what I’d said or not.
I also didn’t know if they’d had a seer checking my answers for accuracy.
We were now in line for the third checkpoint, where we should be able to ditch our bags finally. Then it was state border crossing and two more security lines before we could walk to our gate. We’d already gotten notices via our private accounts that our flight was scheduled to happen, despite the delays.
The terminal was packed.
Security went up to red-level after the bomb, so all of this would take about five times longer than usual, even apart from the flight delays.
“Anyway,” Jon said, his voice slightly subdued. “Jaden’s show isn’t until tomorrow night, right? So even if we don’t get in until morning, he should be fine.” Jon grunted, back to muttering, “Seriously. Ten years ago, they would have closed the airport for a week. He’s lucky to be getting there at all.”
I nodded again, more or less agreeing with him.
My eyes followed two massive German Shepherds whose backs came up to their handlers’ waists. They had to be genetically modified. The Home-Sec agents holding their leads used voice commands in some language I’d never heard, clicking their tongues.
They were probably there to sniff out any bombs with organic tech.
That, or they’d been trained to ID seers.
“So who did it?” I asked Jon, still watching the dogs. “Has anyone taken responsibility? I haven’t been on the network feeds.”
“No one’s saying yet.” Jon grunted, his voice lower as he glanced around. “On the black feeds they think it was Third Myth. That, or seer radicals. Or both.” He gave me a harder look. “You really have no idea who that guy was? The one who helped you?”
I shook my head, glancing around surreptitiously. “No clue.”
“Why didn’t you tell SCARB about him?” Jon said, his voice faintly accusing. “He knew the bomb was coming. You don’t think that’s kind of suspicious?”
I gave Jon an incredulous look. “You want me to go on record with SCARB? Are you out of your mind?”
Jon exhaled, shaking his head. “No,” he said, lower. “It’s just risky, is all. If surveillance saw you with him, and it turns out he’s involved––”
“Can we not talk about this here, please?” I gave him a death stare, then lowered my voice to below a whisper. “Jon, even apart from the SCARB thing, I’m not turning in someone who saved my life. Not without a shred of evidence that he had anything to do with it. You know what they do to suspected terrorists, right? Even when they have no proof?”
Jon shrugged, his eyes conceding my point.
Then he frowned, as if something else occurred to him.
“You know he sounds like a seer, Al,” he said. “The way you described him? You know that, right?” Grunting, he added, “That would explain him knowing about the bomb. But not why he singled you out to save, out of a whole crowd of people.”
Turning, I stared up at him. “What?”
Jon rolled his eyes. “Tall. Weird eyes. Black hair. You said he looked vaguely Asian, or like he had a mixed ethnicity of some kind.” He paused, as if for emphasis. “You just described a seer, Al. Do you really not get that?”
I shook my head, frowning. “He didn’t have a collar––believe me, I looked. And he didn’t look like the seers I’ve seen on the feeds.” Thinking about that woman with the violet eyes, I tried to remember if I’d seen a collar on her.
“He was human,” I said, instead of voicing that aloud. “He had to have been human. Being tall isn’t exactly ‘proof’ a person’s not human, you know. And his eyes weren’t ‘weird,’ just unusually light. I’m sure they were blue or grey or something.”
Jon exhaled, hands on his hips. “Lack of a collar isn’t an absolute guarantee he’s not a seer, either, Al. Maybe he was SCARB… or owned by Homeland Security. They don’t collar them while they’re working, you know.”
“He wasn’t with anyone, Jon. I didn’t see a handler anywhere.”
Jon snorted. “So?”
“So that’s illegal,” I said flatly. “As in World Court illegal… not even federal.”
He gave me an incredulous look. “Jesus, you can’t really be that naïve.”
When I gave him an annoyed look, his frown deepened.
“Do you ever watch the feeds anymore?” he said. “There was a big exposé about government agencies using uncollared seers… just this past week. They found over a dozen international corporations in violation of the Human Protection Act, in addition to Home-Sec and a few other agencies. There’s been a whole investigation going on for weeks, Al, ever since that whistleblower in SCARB turned evidence at the World Court hearing in Munich. How could you not know about that? The Allie I remember used to give a shit. You know, before…”
As if rethinking what he’d been about to say, he trailed, not finishing the thought.
I knew the end of that sentence, though.
Before Jaden, is what he’d been about to say.
As if hearing me, he scowled.
“You used to be more political than me,” he muttered accusingly. “You can’t exactly blame me if I’m not a big fan of him trying to change you into someone else.” He gave me another pointed look. “I liked the old Allie just fine�
�� for the record.”
I considered arguing with him, but frankly, I didn’t see the point, and my brain still felt like it was working slower since the bomb.
Besides, he was right. Jaden did hate politics. He hated when I talked about them. He also complained about Jon’s “conspiracy rants” almost as much as Jon complained about Jaden’s “entitled narcissistic apathy.”
I glanced around us as the line shifted forward a few more spots.
“Where’s Cass?” I said, changing the subject. “Shouldn’t she be back by now?”
Jon grunted. After giving me a brief stare, he let me drop it. Bending down, he shoved our bags and suitcases forward to fill another gap in the line.
“She knows where we are. I have my tracer switched on, so she can find us easier. The lines are probably just long in the food court, too.”
I nodded. We couldn’t be the only people who realized we’d need food after they started announcing estimated flight delays over the terminal feed. Now that we were through the preliminary security checks, they’d let us bring anything we bought inside.
When the blinking light started up in my virtual projection again, I used a mental impulse to switch it off. Combing my fingers through my dark hair, I leaned down to help Jon move the bags forward when the line inched ahead a little more.
When I lifted my hands to my face, I realized my skin and hair still smelled like smoke, strongly enough that I coughed. I’d also singed most of the hair off my arms.
“Do I still have eyebrows?” I asked Jon.
He smiled, fingering my hair off my forehead. “I count two.”
I sighed in mock-relief. “That’s how many I remember.”
I was still rubbing my face, looking at the white powder coming off in my fingers, when my eyes focused on something in my direct line of sight.
Once they had, I frowned, lowering my hands.
Blinking, I shook my head, but he was still there.
Unlike me, his clothes were spotless, back to a deep black, like he’d managed to clean himself from head to foot following the blast. I watched him speak intently to an airline employee behind the first class counter, standing maybe forty yards away.
“That’s him,” I said, still staring. “The guy from outside.”
“What?” Jon said, sharp.
Just then, Cass’s voice sing-songed from behind us.
“Helloooo, my people! I am back! I survived the alien hordes! And I bring gifts!”
I turned in time to see her push her way through the last segment of crowd, smirking and smiling and joking her way through the tightly packed line to reach where we were. She gripped two white bags in her hands. A stick from what was probably an ice pop protruded from between her lips. Whatever it was, it stained her lips blue.
My suspicion was confirmed when she popped the round chunk of ice out of her mouth, her tongue the same sky-blue color.
Jon took the two bags from her and proceeded to shove them into my satchel, which he still wore cross-wise around his chest and shoulder.
“Allie?” Jon said, still fumbling with the bag. “Did you really see him? Where?”
“Where what? Where who?” Cass said. “Who’re we looking at?” Still sucking the sky-blue piece of ice, she quirked her eyebrows, folding an arm under her breasts before she looked between us. “Not more terrorists, I hope?”
Jon glanced around us nervously, giving her a warning look. “Don’t even joke about that, Cass. Not unless you want to be strip-searched by SCARB another five or six times.”
She snorted. “You say that like it’s not going to happen later today already.” She nudged me with an arm. “Seriously, who? Who are we talking about?”
Without thinking, I turned back towards the first class counter.
He was still there, his narrow mouth set in a faint frown as he listened to the woman behind the counter speak. I watched him interrupt her, gesturing gracefully with one hand. I thought about what Jon said, then looked him over, reassuring myself that he didn’t wear a collar, or any of the tattoos that would have identified him as something other than human.
No ownership brands, either.
He had to be human. He wouldn’t have made it past the blood scans, if he wasn’t.
As for him being here… well, it had to be a coincidence.
Hundreds of flights would be leaving out of this terminal over the next five to fifteen hours, bomb or no bomb. He’d already been at the airport, so obviously he was here for a reason. It was just a fluke he was traveling on the same airline as us.
Even so, I couldn’t take my eyes off him.
Cass looked between me and where I was staring, lining up her eyes with mine to see exactly who I was looking at. Once she’d zeroed in on the guy with the black hair, she chuckled. Taking the ice pop out of her mouth, she gave me a wry grin.
“The guy at the first class counter?”
I nodded, giving her a bare look.
“Well, I get why you’re staring.” She touched her lips with one manicured nail. “I think there’s s bit of drool just there, Allie.”
Giving her a brief glance and a frown, I looked back at the guy with the black hair and those strangely light eyes. I couldn’t help but note again how tall he was.
“It’s definitely him,” I said, pretending Cass hadn’t spoken. “He’s the one who shoved me into that wall––”
“––and knew your name,” Jon muttered, frowning.
He was staring over there now, too.
Cass smirked. “Funny how you didn’t mention he was all hot and sexy and dangerous-looking. And sooo your type.” When I gave her an incredulous look, she shook her head, still smirking. “…and good thing Jaden isn’t here to see you all gawky and panting.” She pretended to be thinking. “Or… is it?”
My look and voice turned openly annoyed. “Cass, for crying out loud. You’re not going to tell me what this guy did outside was normal? Like I should just brush off the weirdness there, and check out his ass?”
Shrugging, Cass gave the black-haired man a more thorough once-over, tilting her head to make a show of taking in the length of him.
“Well, it is a nice ass,” she commented. “Maybe weirdness would make for a positive change. After all, Jaden is excruciatingly normal.” She glanced back at me. “And zero visible female companionship on this one, so bonus points for that. Did you get his name, while he was playing superhero?”
Flushing a little, I rolled my eyes. “No.”
At another lift of her eyebrow, I snorted.
“There wasn’t any sexy-making going on with us, Cass… I promise you. Whatever that guy’s deal is with me, it isn’t that. He wasn’t exactly what I’d call…” I laughed a little at the understatement. “…Flirtatious.”
“So what was he, then?” Cass sucked on the ice pop, raising her eyebrows in mock suggestiveness. “Do tell. Before this delightful hunk of man-flesh decides to flee back into his native wilds.”
Jon grunted a laugh, dragging about half of our luggage forward when the line moved up a few spots. Even so, he took the time to talk over his shoulder at Cass.
“Read between the lines, Cassandra. Allie’s got herself another stalker.” He aimed a near-accusing look at me. “Another religious fanatic, Al? Or just an admirer? Did he vibe you in some way, decide you were his soulmate?”
I turned my annoyed and slightly incredulous look on Jon, who only shrugged.
Irritated, I said, “I love the not-so-subtle implication that it’s somehow my fault.”
Jon grumbled to himself, shaking his head. “Only you could pick up a stalker in the middle of a damned terrorist attack––”
“––Again,” I cut in. “Said as if this is somehow my fault.”
I saw Jon aim another stare and scowl at the black-haired man, who was still leaning over the ticket counter, speaking seriously to the uniformed woman standing there. I followed Jon’s gaze, noting the unreadable yet somehow intimidating look my re
scuer aimed at the airline employee, right before he motioned gracefully again with the same hand.
When I glanced back at Jon, I saw my brother’s eyes focus briefly on the guy’s ass.
Snorting, I rolled my eyes.
“Jesus. All right… I get it. He’s kind of hot.” Grunting, I added, “But seriously, that’s not the vibe I got from him at all. I’m pretty sure I was wholly incidental to him. He protected me like it was his job. Then he left, without saying a word to me, really.”
Cass laughed, hooking my arm with the one of hers not holding the ice pop.
“I forget how young and innocent you are,” she mused teasingly. “Such a trusting, good-hearted soul… so oblivious to the dangers she’s in. So vulnerable to the beast that is man.”
I snorted. “Sure. That’s me.”
Cass added more seriously, “You really can be incredibly dense when it comes to that whole sex-magic full-moon crazy-magnet vibe of yours, Al. It’s kind of cute. Annoying, but cute.”
I bit my lip, fighting not to get irritated for real.
The running jokes about my bizarre stalker problems invariably got old for me sooner than they did for Jon or Cass––probably because it wasn’t really a joke. Weirdos really did seek me out and obsess on me in disproportionate numbers; it honestly wasn’t that unusual for me to pick up stalkers just for existing.
A lot of it wasn’t remotely sexual, either.
A lot of them were simply––as Cass and my brother termed it––“full moon crazies” of one kind or another. People who thought I was an angel, who somehow fit me into their conspiracy theories or hallucinations. People convinced they’d been abducted by aliens. Religious fanatics. People who swore they knew me from a past life, or that they could see my aura. People who thought I was a witch. I’d gotten a few who’d recently had near death experiences.
I glanced back at the first class counter as this ran through my mind.
I was too late, though. He was gone.
The man with the black hair had vanished a third time.
New York_A Bridge & Sword Prequel Page 3