He’d never shared his abilities with Ellie. As his father had said so often, knowledge was the most effective leverage available, but levers were all about balance. If he wanted to keep on the high end of the beam, he had to control who knew what he could do. The Rook had requested the sealing of Mal’s file himself.
“But I’m— ”
Elouise scowled at him, her wings flicking.
“Sit.”
Instead of arguing with her, he acquiesced. It would make the conversation last longer, and he wanted to stretch it as much as he could. It was such a rare opportunity. Seeing her was a gift, and he would have to thank his mother for it. Mal sat on the closed toilet seat, allowing her to begin her fussy ministrations.
“God, you’ve gotten so tall,” she said, carefully wiping down his face. “Just look at you.”
Anyone else would have asked what had happened to him, Mal thought wryly. Ellie knew better than to ask questions. She’d cared for the Underwood men for almost her entire life. As the story went, his brother had found her as a downy-winged chick of a toddler, abandoned and sobbing in the rain. The Rook and Little Bird had saved her life, but no one ever stepped up to claim the little girl with wings.
They’d kept her. They’d taken care of her, and she’d returned the favor. He was not surprised that she’d decided to go into the medical field, given that she had been the Rook and Little Bird’s first line of response. With her life’s experience patching together self-destructive vigilantes, she would be an excellent caretaker. Ellie’s small, steady hands made beautiful stitches.
“And you, as well. If your goal was to look as though you belong atop a Christmas tree, you succeeded brilliantly, Elouise,” Mal said, sparing her a crooked little smirk as she worked.
“Good to see that my favorite avian asshole hasn’t changed on the inside,” Ellie said, her eyes lighting up as she smirked back at him. “I’ve missed you, big guy. I just about died last quarter without my study buddy.”
“Classes have become more difficult for you now that you no longer have a thirteen-year-old boy doing your homework? Imagine that,” he said, dryly. A jab of worry, sharp as a bone spur, drained him of all traces of sarcasm. “Has Marshal been escorting you to and from school in my stead?”
“He’s been busy,” Ellie said, dismissively.
Oh, yes. Mal knew.
“It isn’t safe to walk alone at night.”
By and large, anti-posthuman violence happened to posters with physical deformities. The diner Ellie worked at was a busy one, so she interacted with many people on a daily basis. Ellie rarely kept her strong opinions to herself, and she didn’t know how to back down from a confrontation. It would be all too easy for her to say the wrong thing to the wrong bigot at the wrong time.
When he’d been in Portland, Mal had made a point of escorting her wherever she’d gone after dusk. He knew too much about what could happen to think that it couldn’t happen to her.
“I might not look like it, but I can take care of myself. Or have your sensitive little ears forgotten?”
That was true, up to a point. Ellie’s powers gave her control over the sounds her vocal chords could produce. The silicone-based feathers on her undersized wings acted as solar cells, converting sunlight into sound energy. She could sing, and she could shriek so loudly, eardrums burst and most baseliners vomited.
Elouise Lark was scarcely ninety pounds, but she could bring him to his knees. She knew the exact pitch that gave him a blinding migraine. She’d only done it twice, and that had been more than enough. He’d learned to never argue with her over Disney movies or the Rook.
“You are a Gamma. You require at least a few hours of sunlight per week to use your abilities, and you live in the Pacific Northwest,” Mal argued, frowning. “You consider yourself blessed if you have a few hours of sunlight a month between October and April.”
Her jaw clenched, and she sponged at his healed wounds more forcefully. She didn’t like to be reminded of where she fell in the grand scheme of things, but ignorance was not bliss.
“Your point?”
“I would feel better if my brother would arrange for an escort for you,” Mal said, choosing honesty. “I know that he has lieutenants. If he can’t spare one for an hour, his vigilante network is nowhere near as robust as he claims.”
“Wow, I have gone way too many months without being stupidly mad at you,” Ellie said, aggressively mopping with her wad of paper towels. “In a masochistic way, I’ve kind of missed this.”
“Good,” he said, allowing her to fuss, though his wounds had long since healed over. “If you’re angry, then I know that you’re paying attention to what I’m saying. I was beginning to fear that you were simply tuning me out.”
“You’re such a jerk,” she said, crumpling up the soiled towels and throwing them away.
“If you’re going to bully me, I won’t give you your Christmas present,” Mal said, looking down his nose at her. “I seem to remember there being behavioral requirements associated with holiday gift giving. The good list and the nasty list, yes?”
Ellie’s too-blue eyes gleamed brightly.
“It’s the naughty list, but you were close enough that I’ll let it slide. You got me a present?”
“No. I made you a present,” he said, fishing the small, tissue-wrapped gift out of his pocket and handing it to her. “And before you ask, I did not know that you would be here tonight, but I had it on my person to give to Mother, in the hope that it’d find its way to you eventually. This will be a more direct method, I suppose.”
Ellie tore open the tissue paper, giving an abnormally high gasp of surprise at what she found inside. She picked the necklace up by its fine gold chain, letting the wooden bird dangle.
It’d been Mal’s insomnia project, a personal distraction that had kept him stable when his sleeplessness had been at its worst. It’d been time-consuming, and he’d readily accepted any hobby that made his long nights less unbearable.
He’d carved the pendant out of myrtlewood, since the cloudy golden grain was the closest he’d been able to get to the sun lark’s plumage. The polished lark hung from a thin chain, glowing and sleek when compared to the necklace she’d made him. He was a perfectionist in all things.
“Oh, Mal,” Ellie said, stroking the swoop of the lark’s wing with her fingertip. “It’s beautiful.”
“In case you were wondering, that is what a whittled bird should look. We can only hope that your skill with a whittling knife isn’t indicative of your future skill with a scalpel.” Mal motioned for her to turn around. He fastened the tiny clasp around her neck, taking care not to tangle the chain in the holly artfully pinned in her hair.
“Thank you. Do you think that you’ll come back to good ol’ P-town after you graduate, Jerkasaurus Rex?” Ellie asked, still fiddling with the necklace.
Ellie and Zipporah would get on well, he thought with a private smirk. Should they gang up against him, he would be at a severe disadvantage.
“I just finished the first year of the third block, so it will be two or three years at least. I hesitate to make any hard plans that far into the future.”
“Well, you’ll get into the capstone class no sweat. I mean, you are the kid who helped me with my college homework when you were still in middle school.”
“Yes,” Mal agreed, more hesitantly than he would have liked. “Of course.”
She narrowed her eyes at him, squinting suspiciously.
“Don’t tell me that something is up with your grades, Boy Genius.”
Damn. He still couldn’t lie to her. His extra height didn’t give him the looming advantage he’d been hoping for.
“The...circumstances of Father’s death affected my second block score, as handed down by the board. I was— I was only awarded seventeen points.”
“Oh my god. Are you kidding me? Seventeen? You? Did they score you on backwards day or something? Because you getting a thirty-three is still mind-bogglingl
y unfathomable, but it’s slightly more likely than you getting a seventeen.”
“Your vocal support is heartwarming,” Mal said, finding that it was much less sarcastic than he’d intended. Ellie had fluffed up like her namesake, her wings flapping indignantly. It was nice to know that some people knew that he’d been grossly wronged by the board.
“Hey, if it’s any consolation, you’re a perfect fifty to me,” Ellie teased, reaching up and tucking a sprig of holly behind his ear. “You keep doing us proud, big bird. You’ll make it. I know you.”
°
Mal sat up on the roof alone when he was upset. Zip preferred to have both feet on the ground, but she understood the desire to go someplace safe when your head wasn’t screwed on quite right. She called it a safe place, but Mal called it a vantage point. They were both right, she figured. He felt safe when he could scowl at the world from a distance.
Mal never knew how to ask for it when he needed a shoulder to lean on, so Zip had to find him and prop him up herself. That was what a partner did. She knew that she messed a lot of stuff up— and often, too— but being Mal’s partner was something that she was getting good at.
“I thought I might find you here. Everyone’s looking for you, y’know!”
Mal’s head lifted at the sound of her voice, but he didn’t budge from his perch. Everyone else was looking for him in the bathrooms and washrooms in the hall, since they thought that Mal was reasonable or something. Zip knew better, so she’d gone straight to the highest spot on the building.
“Ernest’s convinced that you’re passed out from blood loss somewhere,” she said, sitting down next to him on the edge of the rooftop.
“If he’s going to worry irrationally, he should at least try to envision scenarios that could actually happen,” Mal said, his sour muttering aimed at the snowy courtyard far below. “I’ve survived on less than a pint before. You’d think that he doesn’t know me at all.”
“He does know you. That’s why he worries,” Zip said with a wise nod.
“My injuries have already healed. I needed a few moments to think. Alone,” he said, with an emphasis that she chose to ignore. “I saw someone that I did not...I did not think that I would see again.”
“Your brother?”
“No. After. After, I— I saw a girl that I used to know. From Portland.”
She waited as patiently as she could, but he didn’t elaborate any more than that. He just sat on the edge of the roof, knees drawn up to his chest, and glared sullenly at the snow.
“You like girls?”
“Yes.” Mal frowned at her, brows beetling. “Were you under the impression that I did not?”
Zip just sort of shrugged helplessly.
“I dunno. You don’t talk about girls at all. I’ve been your partner for a year, and this is the first I’ve heard about this girl of yours.”
“I can appreciate women. I appreciate the way they look— the way they smell, especially. But it doesn’t...” He gesticulated vaguely, trying to put the right words to his feelings. “Do anything to me. I don’t feel the need to be with anyone. Not in abstract. When I was younger, I feared that I was— that I was stunted, somehow.”
Zip recognized the frustration and confusion in his voice. His was a different kind of loneliness, but a loneliness all the same. It was hard to tell someone else that you might have been born broken, she knew.
“But there’s a girl?” She prompted.
“But there is a girl, yes. When I think about her, just her, I feel...”
“You just feel stuff,” Zip said, knowingly. “And it means something, ‘cause it is something.”
“Yes. I don’t know what that means, if anything. To me, she is significant.” Mal undid the first three buttons of his stained shirt. Underneath his fancy dress clothes, he wore one of the ugliest excuses for an arts and crafts project she’d ever seen. “She gave me this for my fourteenth birthday. Hideous, isn’t it?”
She’d seen his black bird necklace before, but never up close. She’d only noticed the shape of it under his training shirts, the little lump where the bird pendant rested against his chest.
“You wear it all the time ‘cause the girl you like made it for you?” She asked, wanting to awww at him, but knowing that he’d clam up if she did. “That’s awful sweet.”
“It’s habit,” Mal said with a dismissive wave of one hand. He tucked his necklace back in, re-buttoning his shirt.
“I don’t see any reason why she wouldn’t go for a guy like you,” Zip said, patting his back. “You’re strong, and you’re smart, and you’re kind of a jerk sometimes, but you’ve got a good heart.”
“There are many reasons for a girl to not ‘go for’ a guy like me. You wouldn’t. Though you are a poor example, I suppose.”
Zip felt like she’d swallowed a great big knot, and it was stuck in her throat. It was hard to breathe around, and harder still to talk through.
“What’s that s’posed to mean?”
“I meant that I’m not...to your preferences.” He gave her a thoughtful look. When he really focused in on someone, it was uncomfortably intense. But that was just Mal. “I believe. Unless I’ve misread you.”
She hadn’t been fooling him. He’d figured her out, decided that who and what she liked didn’t matter to him, accepted her, and had moved on without her ever knowing it. She hadn’t brought it up, so neither had he. It was sweet, in a very Mal way.
“Nah. You’re right,” she said, trying to sound cheerful. Her voice kept wobbling on her, though. “You’re not the only one on this team that likes the way ladies smell.”
“I’ve had my suspicions for some time, but it...there never seemed to be an appropriate time to broach the subject. Did you avoid telling me because you assumed I’d think less of you for it?”
She just nodded.
“That’s ridiculous,” he said, and she would have sworn he almost sounded insulted. “Why would I fault you for liking the same thing that I do? This is one of the only things we have in common, you realize.”
If she didn’t run past this subject, she’d get all choked up. Crying was messy business, and she didn’t feel like ruining the mood. Zip nudged his ankle with the toe of her shiny gold sneaker.
“Okay, so. So if you like-like this girl, have you told her that she makes your heart go pitter-patter?”
“No,” he said, flatly.
“Aww, Mal, don’t tell me you’re scared.”
“No. I’m a pragmatist. She’s a Gamma. The expression of her powers comes with a physical deformity. It doesn’t bother me, but I...when I choose someone, I must choose wisely. My father’s legacy doesn’t need to be tarnished any further.”
Typical, typical Mal. A control freak in all things, and image-obsessed to boot. She got that, though. She got that all too well.
“You really think you get to choose who you like? Jeez, I thought you were the smart one.”
“You can’t choose, but you can choose whether or not to act on your feelings.” He grumbled low in his chest, resting his chin on his crossed arms. “Incidentally, I really dislike feelings.”
“‘Course you do. Anything you can’t control itches at you something fierce.” She shivered, briskly rubbing the feeling back into her bare legs. “See, I’ve got the opposite problem. The girl I like is outta my liege.”
“League,” Mal said with a Zipporah, please sigh. Whenever she ran past the word she meant to use, he pointed her back in the right direction. That’s what made them a good team, she figured.
“Yeah, that.” Zip kicked her feet, nervous energy waking up her twitches. “Plus, I don’t even know if she likes girls. The odds are bad, I figure.”
Mal arched an eyebrow at her. “Cindy, yes?”
“Is it that obvious?”
He shrugged. “I have it on so-so authority that she likes obnoxious redheaded speedsters.”
That made Zip sit up a little bit straighter. It wasn’t hard to get her attention.
“So-so authority?”
“Apparently, Cindy told her partner, Ofelia, that she is fond of you,” Mal explained, gesturing with a roll of his wrist. “Ofelia told Jennifer, Jennifer told June, and June told Ernest. Ernest only has a limited grasp on what it means to keep a secret, so he told me. And that is what I meant by so-so authority.”
Zip kicked her feet a little faster, squirming.
“But if people are, like, spreading the rumor, it’s ‘cause they think that it might be true, right? That it’s credential?”
“Credible. That the rumor is credible.”
Had she heard this a few months back, she would’ve gone nuts with anxiety— dread over being found out. Now, hearing that the girl that she liked might like girls, too, shot her straight to cloud nine.
“Yeah. That! That’s what it means doesn’t it?”
“Mm. I suppose it could mean that, yes,” Mal said, purposefully bland.
“You’re just about the least helpful person, I swear.”
“I’ve exhausted my helpfulness for the day, I’m afraid.” He got to his feet. He was still a little tender, she noticed. Marshal had worked him over like none other. “Ask Ofelia about it if you want further confirmation. I just thought that it’d be...prudent to mention it to you, hearsay or not. Maybe the odds are better than you assumed. I would not say that anyone is out of your league.”
“When it’s all said and done, you’re a pretty great guy, Mal Underwood,” she said, clapping a hand on his back.
“And you, well.” Mal smiled, the lights from the courtyard below bronzing the curve of his cheekbone as he turned to look at her. “You’re not terrible, Zipporah Chance. Not all of the time, at least.”
°
Ernest didn’t look younger when he was asleep. He seemed smaller when tucked beneath a pile of blankets, but there was still something about the size of him that was warm and inviting. It was impossible for him to be tiny and childlike— he was just too big. Mostly, Ernest just looked peaceful when he was asleep. It was a good look for him.
The Posterchildren: Origins Page 39