Killer

by Francine Pascal

  Screw it.

  She was going to take full advantage of her condition—in a way she’d never done before. Her blood went from simmer to boil. She brazenly marched to their table and slammed her fist down on it—so hard that Ella’s wineglass rattled and a few drops swished over the rim and onto the table.

  Sam looked like he’d been punched. His face went pale. His hazel eyes bulged. He threw Ella’s arm off his shoulders. “Gaia!”

  “That’s right,” Gaia hissed, her voice straining. Her cracked heart thundered in her rib cage. “So I guess it’s true. You are the scum of the earth.”

  Instantly he started shaking his head, his body jolting as though he had just been zapped by a cattle prod. His soft lips trembled. For a fleeting moment Gaia almost regretted the look of pain she had caused him. But not quite. Pain was her mission. She wanted to see a lot more of it.

  “What are you doing here?” Ella whispered. “I thought you were gone.”

  Gaia forced a brittle laugh. An electric fizz filled her body, the same sensation she always got before combat. She had a fleeting vision of cracking Ella’s spine across her knee—snapping it in half like a piece of bamboo—and seeing Ella’s face as she shrieked in pain. “I hope you brought your gun,” Gaia said. “Because you’re gonna need it again.”

  Sam’s gaze flashed between the two of them. “What’s going on?” he whispered. “What are you talking about?”

  “You didn’t know?” Gaia asked, staring straight at Ella. “She shot at me.”

  “What?” Sam shouted. “I don’t believe—”

  “Why not?” Gaia barked. “Ask her. Just go ahead and ask her.”

  Sam blinked at Ella. “You . . . shot Gaia?”

  Ella didn’t answer. Her eyes narrowed into slits.

  He turned back to Gaia. “Okay, look, Gaia, please,” he begged quaveringly. “This is all a big misunderstanding. I came here to meet you—”

  “That’s a lie,” Ella interrupted. Very calmly, she turned to Sam. “Tell Gaia the truth,” she commanded. “Tell her you sent me an e-mail telling me to meet you here so we could talk about our future together.”

  Gaia’s nostrils flared. For once she found she could actually side with Ella. That was how completely twisted this whole scenario had become.

  “But I didn’t do that,” Sam protested.

  Without warning, Ella lurched out of the booth. “Fine,” she spat. Her eyes darted between the two of them. “You kids hash it out among yourselves, okay? I have better things to do. But I’m warning you, Gaia—you can’t come home. You’ve run away. You’re no longer welcome. So you better stay out of my life.”

  And with that, she turned and fled.

  THE MOMENT ELLA STALKED OUT of the restaurant, Sam collapsed back in his seat, overcome by two simultaneous, powerful, and contradictory emotions. One was relief—relief that she was gone, relief that he could be alone with Gaia. The other wasfear. Ella hadn’t left to give them privacy. Ella had left because she was up to something that very well might put either one of them in danger.

  Checkmate

  But he couldn’t worry about her now. He could only focus on salvaging what he could with Gaia. If that was even possible . . .

  Gaia was still standing in front of the booth. Her beautiful face had turned as cold and hard as marble. She looked just about ready to walk out, too. But he couldn’t let that happen. He wouldn’t.

  “I know what you must be thinking,” he forced himself to whisper, looking her in the eye. He reached for her hand, desperate to make some sort of connection. Gaia recoiled, as though she had been burned.“If you just let me explain—”

  “Explain what?” Gaia hissed. “That you slept with my foster mother?”

  Sam’s mouth remained open, but the breath flowed from his lungs like air out of a punctured tire. There was no explanation for . . . what he did. But maybe he could explain what he was doing here with Ella. At least he could account for that.

  “This morning I got an e-mail from you to meet me here,” he said.

  Miracle of miracles, she actually sat down. But it didn’t look like she was giving in. It looked like she was sitting down to block his path so he would have a harder time escaping. Her expression was hardly conciliatory. It was threatening. This really was like a game of chess, wasn’t it? Only he had already lost, long before this move....

  “I never sent you an e-mail,” Gaia stated simply.

  “Then Ella must have sent it,” Sam countered, his voice rising. “Because I got a message with your name on it. It’s on my computer. I can show you.”

  “Don’t bother.” Gaia’s voice wasn’t cold. It was empty. Completely devoid of feeling. Somehow the emptiness was much more painful to Sam than a scream. It meant that she just didn’t care.

  “Listen, I wouldn’t lie to you, Gaia,” Sam pleaded. “I swear.”

  “Then why were you sitting here, all over Ella?” Gaia asked. “I mean, come on, Sam—”

  “She was all over me!” Sam cried, unable to control himself.

  Gaia shrugged carelessly. “Oh. I didn’t realize there was a distinction.”

  Sam ran his fingers through his hair. This wasn’t working. Of course not. He sounded impossibly lame. How could he defend himself when even he couldn’t blame Gaia for not believing his story? Surprisingly, though, he wasn’t nearly asnervousashe had been only secondsago. It wasfunny how fear suddenly disappeared when you had nothing else to lose.

  “Look, Ella means nothing to me,” he stated. Sam flinched at the sound of his own words, which were far less eloquent than the ones rolling around feverishly in his head. “Whatever crazy stuff is going on between you two, I had absolutely nothing to do with it.”

  Gaia said nothing. Her eyes were distant. Was she even listening?

  “Maybe I should’ve told you about that thing with Ella sooner, but I couldn’t get the words out,” he added, plowing forward desperately.“I didn’t want to hurt you.”

  Still no response. Gaia seemed completely cut off from him in every way. So unlike every other time he’d been in her presence. From the moment they met, Sam had felt an unspoken connection with her, a bond. It was as though certain things never needed to be said between them—they were just automatically understood. Like the fact that he would never lie to her and would never do anything to hurt her. Was he crazy? Was that connection stuff only something he dreamed up? Why wouldn’t she believe him now?

  “Heather broke up with me. It’s all over between us. I’m single now—”

  “Forget it, Sam,” she interrupted. Her tone softened. She laughed once. “You know, it’s funny how the imagination works.”

  “I’m not lying, Gaia,” he insisted. “This isn’t a product of my imagination—”

  “I’m not talking about you. I’m talking about me. Because I realize now that I never knew you. All these months . . . I mean, we’ve just been kind of passing each other, like planes in a big sky—each going our separate ways. And I’m glad. Because I realize now that you are the most vile human being I’ve ever met. Everything else was just in my imagination. I actually imagined I had feelings for you....”

  A searing pain shot down Sam’s spine. That was it. He’d blown it. He’d blown everything. To know that Gaia had felt something for him in the past . . . It was almost too much to bear. The truth had destroyed him. He might as well give up now. There was no point in going on. He’d been checkmated.

  THE RESTAURANT SEEMED TO RECEDE into the distance. Gaia stared at the tabletop, at Ella’s glass of wine, sitting there before her. She felt her entire body shutting down.

  Glowing Warmth

  It was the exact same phenomenon that happened at the end of an exhausting fight. First her eyesight began to dim, then her hearing faded. Her muscles and joints would weaken to the point of collapse. It lasted for only a few minutes, but for that brief time she wasenveloped in a feeling of powerlessness. Of vulnerability. Of being completely exposed.


  And she hated it.

  Still, being powerless after a fight wasn’t nearly as miserable as being emotionally powerless. As this. At least when someone was pounding on you, you knew it was bound to end soon and your body would eventually heal. Or you’d die. Either way, it would end.

  “...I didn’t even know she was your foster mom.” Was Sam still talking? She could barely hear his voice. It was as if the painful words were being absorbed right through her pores, slipping into her bloodstream.

  “. . . went to a bar and got drunk . . . She just kind of appeared out of nowhere—”

  “Stop,” Gaia commanded, squeezing her eyes shut and slumping helplessly against the seat. “Just stop. I don’t want to hear about this.”

  “But I want you to know, I was depressed about you and your boyfriend,” Sam persisted.

  Gaia’s eyelids fluttered open. She scowled at Sam. Now he was telling lies that had no hope of working. He was clutching at straws—bizarre ones, at that. “I don’t have a boyfriend, Sam, okay? So stop. Nothing you’re saying is making any sense. . . .” Waves of agony washed over her, reaching excruciating heights that rivaled even the mysterious murder of her mother. Ever since she met Sam, Gaia felt that there wasa reason to go on with her miserable life. For whatever reason, Sam had given her life purpose. He’d been . . . different.

  But that was just a dream—an impossible dream of somebody who didn’t even exist. Sam was a lot like her father in that way. Somebody who never delivered. He had done something cheap, just like every other guy looking for a good time. Gaia knew that there was no way she could be with him now. And without Sam, there was no point in caring about anything anymore. He had been her last hope.

  More than anything, Gaia wanted to deaden the pain, but her body was wide awake. Her mind was alert—refusing to enter the bliss of unconsciousness. Almost without even realizing it, she found her fingers reaching for the base of the wineglass, for that heavy red liquid. Gaia remembered her dinner with Uncle Oliver, at that expensive restaurant, and how soothing the wine had been. It had enveloped her in a glowing warmth. . . .

  “Tell me, Gaia,” Sam begged, his voice growing more and more feverish even as it faded from her senses. “What do I need to do to make you believe me? Just tell me, and I’ll do it.”

  “Nothing,” she answered, raising the glass. “There’s nothing you can do.”

  PEARL FIERCELY KICKED THE POINTED toe of her shoe into the base of a streetlight. What the hell was Ella doing? She shouldn’t be walking. She should be convulsing. Never,ever had a target escaped once, let alone twice. Pearl might understand it if her target was exceptionally clever. But Ella was an egocentric fool. Annihilating her should have been easy.

  Death Sentence

  Pearl’s pulse increased ever so slightly. Loki was not going to like this. At all.

  She didn’t fear him, of course. No. But he had powerful friends. He had an army of henchmen. Pearl was just one person . . . a freelancer, a lone operative. Sweat broke out on her forehead. She didn’t fear him. She could always escape. But escape would end her career. Which wasn’t an option.

  Even as these thoughts raced through her skull, she knew that Loki was waiting for her to call to tell him the job was finished. By now he must have suspected that something was up. She couldn’t call and lie to him; he’d see right through that.

  No—she had to follow Ella. But she couldn’t. Not just yet.

  Why the hell didn’t I bring a gun? Pearl wondered angrily, watching Ella’s retreating form vanish among the traffic and pedestrians. It would be so easy to pump a few rounds into Ella’s back and vanish before anyone even knew what was happening....

  The problem was that Loki’s niece was still inside with Sam and that glass of poisoned wine. Loki had made it crystal clear that if anything happened to Gaia, the consequences would be dire. Sure, the chances of Gaia’s drinking that wine probably weren’t huge. But it was a risk Pearl couldn’t afford to take. So in essence, she was faced with an impossible juggling act: Keep one person alive, and kill the other.

  Pearl rushed back across the street and peered through the restaurant window. Gaia was still there and still upright. But in a flash, panic seized Pearl.

  Gaia was lifting the glass to her lips.

  No!

  Okay. Maybe Pearl was afraid of Loki. Admitting this wasn’t a sign of weakness; it was an acknowledgment of reality. The memory of Loki’s menacing eyes ripped deep into her very core. She had to do something fast. Right. She grabbed her handbag and tossed it in the nearest trash can. Then she ran back into the restaurant as fast as her legs would carry her.

  GAIA TILTED BACK HER HEAD AND opened her throat, ready to drink the entire glass in one long gulp. Please, she whispered silently to herself. Let the pain go away....

  Coping with Loss

  But as the ruby liquid flowed toward her lips, a hysterical voice shattered the dull murmur of the restaurant: “I’ve been mugged! Someone please help—he took my purse!”

  Frowning, Gaia set down the full glass, dribbling some wine on her chin. She wiped her face with her sleeve and glanced up to see an impeccably groomed woman standing at the door. She looked frantic. Shit. Gaia really didn’t want to deal with this. But against her will, adrenaline was already gushing through her system and raising her temperature—priming her senses for action. She waited a beat or two to see if someone else would pick up the slack for once, but everybody continued stuffing their faces with pasta as if nothing was happening. Typical. No one ever wanted to get involved.

  Then again, no one besides Gaia was fearless.

  “Hey, I know her . . . ,” Sam mumbled, craning his neck at the woman.

  Gaia sniffed. Her jaw tightened. Sure, he did. He’d probably slept with her. He had a thing for older women, right? Or maybe he was just lying. That was certainly a possibility, too. Pretty soon she’d find out that he wasn’t even a premed student at NYU but one of those guys who salvaged books out of trash cans and sold them at the flea market on Saturdays. Whatever. Now wasasgood a time asany to say good-bye to Sam Moon forever. She slid out of the booth.

  “Hey—where are you going?” he protested.

  “Where do you think?” she muttered, without even bothering to look behind her. “I’m going to help that woman out.”

  Gaia was already at the door before Sam could utter another word. Maybe this was the start of her new life. Yes. Right here and now. Or a return to her old life. Her pre-Sam life, when she roamed the city, looking for a fight. Being away from Sam might have the effect of lessening the pain of his betrayal. Right now, however, it simply hurt. But it didn’t lessen her resolve. She had to get as far away from Sam as she possibly could. She had to forget him.

  “. . . I was standing at the light, and this man bumped my shoulder,” the woman was babbling, trying to catch her breath. She was clearly shaken, unable to stand still. “The bag slid down my arm—and suddenly it was gone....”

  A purse snatching. Gaia frowned. Yup. Another reason New York City sucked. Another reason she had to get in touch with Uncle Oliver as soon as possible and get the hell out. This woman must have been carrying some fussy little designer number that made her an especially easy target. Gaia stepped forward.

  “Did you see the person who took it?” she demanded.

  The woman glanced at Gaia and blinked, then shook her head. The hostess, seizing the opportunity not to be further involved, vanished back into the kitchen. Gaia resisted the temptation to snicker.

  “I—I . . . don’t think so,” the woman stammered. “When I turned around, he was gone. Come outside—I’ll show you.”

  At this point there was little hope that the bag would ever be recovered, but Gaia followed, anyway. The drama was a welcome distraction. Anything was a welcome distraction at this point.

  The woman stopped.“I was right here at this corner....”

  Gaia nodded patiently as the woman ran through her story again—but she was hardly liste
ning. Her steely blue eyes performed a radar sweep of the immediate area. That’s when she spotted a trash can on the opposite side of the street. A trash can with a purse in it. It was every mugger’s favorite trick: Swipe the money; ditch the bag.

  “Is your purse a black leather shoulder bag with a silver clasp?” Gaia asked.

  The woman stared at her. She seemed slightly taken aback—almost suspicious. “How did you know?”

  Gaia smiled, then gently took the woman’s arm and led her across the street to the trash can. “Here it is,” she announced, flicking aside a few ancient french fries and pulling the bag out of the garbage.

  The woman’s face registered some emotion between relief and revulsion. Gaia could just imagine what was going through her mind: Taking a purse out of the trash? Eww . . . She flashed Gaia a pained smile, then delicately took the purse between her thumb and forefinger and opened it with her other hand, touching as little as possible. She sighed deeply. “My cash is missing, but everything else seems to be in there....”

  “Well, that’s good,” Gaia said. “You’re lucky. Most people never get it back at all.”

  The woman nodded gratefully. “I’d like to give you a little reward. I really appreciate—”

  “Oh, no, please,” Gaia interrupted as politely as she could. “It’s no big deal. Believe me. Really. I know what it feels like to lose something.”

  GAIA

  People I Trust . . . or

  Once Trusted: (a shrinking list)

  5. My Father

  4. Uncle Oliver—if his phone worked

  3. Ed