Round Trip Fare

by Barb Taub

  »»•««

  Two days later, the train pulled into the Seattle Metro station, and this time it was Yosh standing with a small crowd of passengers waiting to board. His face caught the light as he turned his head to say something to the young man next to him. The two men, one dark and the other fair, were both tall, powerfully built, with faces that could have served as models for Greek statues of gods.

  Frankie said he’d been sick, and he looked exhausted, his skin pale against the freshly shaven line of his jaw. But even so, the two big men standing together were enough eye candy to draw the attention of most of the passengers. Two girls coming onto the platform ran straight into each other, while an older woman fanned herself and stared. The Nephilim standing next to her just nodded his head in agreement.

  The younger man flashed the girls a blinding smile, but Yosh only had eyes for Carey. He gave her a small nod and held up the Accords Agency Metro pass. “Carey, I have to tell you…”

  Her lips shaped his name as she leaped from the steps of the train. Yosh caught her with an oddly strangled laugh as she twisted in his arms to pull his mouth down to hers. She neither saw nor cared if the other passengers noticed as they stumbled back onto the train, and she pulled him toward her little compartment at a run.

  “Carey,” he tried again, but her door was opening, and she was laughing and crying, pressing him back against the wall.

  “Yosh.” Her palms stroked along his jaw and up through his hair, pushing it back, that wicked smile she kept just for him lighting her face. “Now.” Then he was kissing her, and both were pulling clothes away as they collapsed onto her bed. Yes, want. Yes, need. Yes, you.

  She lay on her side watching him in the soft light from her iPad, open on the shelf next to the bed. His eyes were closed, but he wasn’t asleep. “Yosh?” There were so many things she needed to talk to him about—what happened in France, Laurel, Marley, Connor. “I love you.”

  He froze. There was a long breath. Two. His eyes opened, but she saw his hands tighten into fists. “Carey…”

  Shit! What was wrong with the stupid air? Why wouldn’t it go into her lungs? Shit, shit, shit! He only does happy-for-now. Finally she was whispering, too fast, “It’s okay. It doesn’t matter. I know you’re not— It’s just me. You don’t have to say anything.”

  He looked at her, appalled. “I can’t…”

  “No, no. It’s okay. We should…sleep.” She couldn’t stand to have him look at her, and rolled away from him. Behind her she felt him shift against her back, his arms reaching to spoon her against him.

  “Shh,” he whispered. He didn’t say it would be okay. They both knew it wouldn’t.

  She nodded, and stared at the Halloween photo long after she felt him slide into sleep, his arms still holding her like she would try to escape. It was a long time before she finally slept.

  »»•««

  She woke, alone, and finally found him in the kitchen car, face in shadows. In the feeble glow of a single tea light, she saw him staring into a glass of water, Bain at his feet. Sweat beaded his face, and his chest and back were wet. Had he been working out?

  “Yosh?” She didn’t need her missing connections to know she wasn’t going to like whatever was coming.

  The face turned to her wasn’t the laughing lover who’d been in her bed. The pain in his eyes was back, spread until his entire face was a mask, his body stiff against it. He met her eyes, and his flat voice ended her world. “They told me it’s Sweats. I thought they were wrong. Nobody has it anymore, and there weren’t even symptoms.”

  Sweats. She could almost see the word cutting the ties between them, so big and solid she thought for a fraction of a second she could slash at it with her sword. Destroy it before…

  Sweats. A death sentence. Doctors called it SAN or Sudden Autonomic Neuropathy. But soldiers knew it by its first obvious symptom, massive sweating. She had never met anyone with the disease that flared so virulently during the final days of the Nonwars but seemed to have disappeared since then.

  “That medic from the Seattle Accords—Anderson—spotted it. He patched me up after the fight last week when I brought Laurel’s body back. He said I should go to Null City, that if I got there right away before the first attack, I’d be okay.”

  “No, Yosh. Anderson must have made a mistake. He’s a moron, and certainly no doctor… I haven’t even seen you sweating until now.”

  He didn’t seem to hear her. “I saw it during the war. Neither side admitted to it, but there were a lot of deaths. Nobody knew for sure how it spread, but of course soldiers talk. Word was that you could get it from sex partners. All we really knew was that there would be nerve damage that got worse till you just couldn’t breathe, or your heart or kidneys failed. Most would go fast; some took longer. But they all died.”

  “Sex? You mean like we…?”

  “No! That was just once. I’m sure it couldn’t have been…”

  “So someone infected you? Someone you had sex with in what—the last couple of weeks? Lots more than once?”

  He met her eyes. “Carey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean— It wasn’t—”

  She didn’t recognize her voice, an agonized whisper that felt like each word was gashing its way out from a bleeding throat. “Wasn’t what? Wasn’t important? Didn’t matter? Like I don’t matter? Did you tell her, too, that you’d always come back?”

  “I never meant— But it’s not too late. You can go to Null City before there are any symptoms. Supposedly that will stop it from becoming full blown Sweats.”

  “Wait. When did you talk to Anderson?”

  “Last week. I brought Laurel back after the fight in France, but I was sick.”

  She thought she screamed them, but her words emerged in that raw whisper. “You knew a week ago?” She grabbed blind for connections that wouldn’t come. Last week? And still he came to her tonight? She swayed as the edges of her vision wavered.

  His arms reached to hold her up even as her fist flashed. Fast, so fast, she whirled from her hip. No grace, no finesse. And no way he wouldn’t be able to block it. Except he didn’t even flinch before her fisted uppercut smashed under his chin, snapping his head back. As he slid boneless to the floor, she wondered at the look in his eyes just before they closed. Relief?

  She stood over him, absently shaking out her sore fist. “You’re dying, you lying son of a bitch. You’re dying, and you killed me.” She stared down at his limp body. “You killed everything.” Screaming would be a good idea right now. Maybe even tears. Anything but this empty hole sucking everything away.

  “No!” A blur from her left had her swinging to face the new threat. The man—almost a kid, really, who had been with Yosh on the train platform—now glared down at her. Even taller than Yosh, he looked like he was in his late teens, with the perfect face of a Norse god, dark blond hair hanging across a broad forehead and enraged ice-blue eyes. Despite his height and the muscles that shouted regular workouts, it was his fury that threatened more than the awkwardly gripped knife. “What did you do to him?”

  “Who the hell are you?”

  “Get away from him.” He raised the knife as she advanced. “I won’t let you hurt him.”

  She shrugged and turned half away. In a blur, she ducked and whirled, coming up to kick his arm before slamming a punch into his chest. As his air whoofed out, the knife clattered to the floor.

  He wheezed, trying to draw breath.

  “I’m only going to ask one more time. Who are you?” She picked up his knife and moved toward him. “You can tell me now, or I can just put this piece of crap excuse for a knife somewhere inconvenient for you. Like your stupid mouth.”

  “Zach.” Despite another wheezing breath, he tried to move between her and Yosh. “Zachary Garde.”

  Wait. She knew that name. “The other SA from the Metro? Poppy’s brother? My cousin Zach?”

  He looked surprised, but nodded. “Who are you?”

  “I’m your SA replaceme
nt. And our mothers were cousins.” She gestured with the knife. “What are you doing here?”

  “I have family…problems.”

  “Don’t we all.”

  “He helped me get away from them once before. I owe him.”

  She stepped over Yosh’s prone body. “I can’t say I admire your taste, but he’s all yours. I’ve got to pack.”

  When she came back wearing her backpack and carrying her suitcase fifteen minutes later, Zach was alone in the kitchen. “He’s cleaning up.”

  “Your family problems?” She hesitated. “Do they involve Poppy?”

  “No!” He sounded shocked. “Well…only that she can’t stand my older brother and sisters. We had the same mom, but different dads. My sisters want me to go into their…family business. Only, it’s the kind of business that refers to their customers as either targets or suckers.”

  He must have seen something in her face, because he flinched and pushed out both palms in a “Whoa, it’s okay” gesture. “It’s not that they’re bad people. They love me, but I think they just don’t get that the things they do aren’t…good.” He shook his head. “Poppy won’t let them into Null City.”

  “So you owe him? That’s good because he owes me. Show me your wrist.”

  He held out his wrist, and she placed her tattoo against it. There was no reason for it to work, but when he hissed, she knew the tattoo was now on his arm. Carey stepped back. “I’m sure you know the drill. The tat is pretty faded because even though I’ve only been a SA for a little over three months by Seattle time, the Metro made a lot of trips to other-whens. With those added in, I don’t think there’s much time left on it anyway.” She stared at her arm, bare where the tattoo had been, and then pulled Connor’s yarn bracelet from her pocket and smoothed it over her wrist.

  The bells-voice announced the Null City station, so Carey pulled on her backpack and snapped her fingers for Bain. She was almost to the door when Yosh stepped in front of her, one hand raised slightly. “Carey, I never wanted to hurt you…”

  She wanted to be pleased that he seemed to have trouble talking, but she stared at his swollen chin and felt sick. “You are just not who I thought you could be.” Her voice was back to that whispered rasp, but at least her eyes were dry. “But right now, I’ve got a brother and sister to find, Marley to rescue, an angel to protect, and a city to save. I’m outta here. Iax.”

  The hand he’d held out to her dropped at her use of his proper name, and he stepped back as she swept past him and swung down from the train. She started across the platform toward a sign she’d seen before, advertising the services of Poppy’s little tour company.

  Her back was to the train, and she was dialing Poppy’s number. So she really shouldn’t have been able to feel his eyes on her as the Metro pulled out.

  Part II

  “As an equal-opportunity employer, the Accords Agency does not discriminate on the basis of metaphysical plane of existence, base form under a full moon, or pronoun preference —his/her/its/their/what’s-a-pronoun—. [note: restrooms, litter boxes, and karmic depositories are provided on each floor.]” —ACCORDS AGENCY EMPLOYEE HANDBOOK, fourth edition, revised July 20, 2010

  »»•««

  Hand-written sticky note attached to Accords Agency Handbook, Seattle Office:

  “Warnings!

  —The coffee-machine in the staff lounge supposedly has decaffeinated beans in the left-hand dispenser with the big “WHY BOTHER?” sticker. These have been in there since the Agency was founded back in 1998 and have never needed to be replaced. Some people think they may be made of plastic.

  —The big new-looking double-fridge in the staff lounge is for sole use of the were-badgers in Accounting. If you plan to steal any food from that, please make sure that you’ve filed updated beneficiary and notification of next of kin forms with human resources. “

  Chapter Twenty-One

  June 2011: Null City

  How would Carey have known she loved Null City? She’d only been a baby when her family left. But when Poppy took her on what she called her Not-Too-Sure-About-This tour, she realized she was home. She knew this place, first from her parents and then from Gaby. She knew the wide boulevards spoking out from the Metro station at its center. She knew there would be trees everywhere, cars and buses filling the streets, and cyclists thronging roads and park paths.

  They came to what Poppy said was the edge of town, past sprawling neighborhoods of houses and schools, and Carey saw a gray mist in the distance. “Where exactly is Null City?”

  Poppy looked thoughtful. “We’re not really sure, since a compass just points to the Metro Station from anywhere in Null City. But the weather and daylight patterns seem about like Seattle. My mom said she liked to think of it as an island, with the Metro as the bridge to the mainland.” She pointed to the line of gray fog. “Want to hear something weird? You can’t walk past that mist wall. If you go into it walking in a straight line, you come out a few steps later right where you started. But according to the records of the first people here, the wall used to be a lot closer. It just seems to move out as Null City grows.”

  They returned to the City Center and parked the tour company’s little van. As they strolled, Carey admired the generous brick structures dating back to the first half of the twentieth century that made up the City center. Turn-of-the-century stained glass and Arts-and-Crafts-period mosaics were interspersed with large shop windows showcasing everything from designer fashions to the latest electronics. Restaurants took advantage of wide sidewalks to seat chatting diners at tiny outdoor tables under awnings shielding against frequent rains.

  Poppy explained that during the Nonwars, building slowed down as people worried about the City’s survival. She pointed to a distant circle of construction cranes surrounding a handful of twenty-story buildings soaring above the surrounding treetops, their sides banded with great swags of greenery. “They started going up right after the Accords Agreement was signed. The builders of the first tower put in balconies for each unit and made the railings into huge planter boxes, and it really caught on. Now the residents compete to see who can grow the most. A lot of the older Null City people don’t like towers, but with all the new settlers pouring in, each one is filled as soon as it’s built.”

  They stopped at a roadside cart from Lattes Inferno, and Carey remembered that the coffee shops in the other stations were staffed by imps. A slender young man in a green apron handed over their coffees with a familiar air of contempt, but he was no imp. As they walked away with their lunches and coffees, she whispered her question to Poppy.

  Poppy nodded gloomily. “Yeah, imps who stay in Null City convert to their closest human counterpart. Most of them are now ex-PhD candidates in Literature or Classics who claim to be experts on coffee blends and obscure world music groups.” She shuddered. “They have open-mike poetry slam nights.”

  Lunch in hand, they headed through an arched gate. The wrought-iron sign above the gate proclaimed it Arneson Park, an expanse of green surrounding a man-made lake. Blue skies glowed against achingly white clouds, and the air smelled of fresh-cut grass. As children shouted, parents gossiped, and a dripping Bain happily retrieved sticks from the sand-ringed lake, Carey couldn’t help remembering the dispassionate judgment of the fake Connor. They were planning to sacrifice all this on the off-chance that someone might someday misuse the Book that made it all possible?

  Poppy pointed to a life-sized statue of a smiling woman who reminded Carey a little of her sister Gaby. “Carey Arneson, Null City’s first Anchor.” Poppy’s voice held quiet pride. “You were named for our great-great grandmother.” Carey moved closer to read the words carved into the stone base. “To our heroes, who sacrificed for our sanctuary. We will never forget.”

  Carey waved a hand at the people—the normal, human people—around them. “Do you know what they were…before?”

  “Only if I gave them their arrival tour. See that couple over there?” She pointed to a pe
tite blonde standing next to a handsome young man wearing a patch over one eye. “The woman who looks like she should be getting an armful of roses and a tiara while making a speech on how she’s all about world peace?”

  Carey nodded.

  “She was a minor dragon. Her friend, Prince Charming in an eyepatch, was a demon called a Krampus who lived on children’s terror. And her dog?”

  Carey looked at the tiny bundle of bouncing fluff.

  “She’s a poodle. Her mother was a poodle. But her grandfather was a hellhound. Most of the other people grew up here, so I don’t know what their parents were originally.”

  “So does everything else stay the same about them as it was before?”

  Poppy looked thoughtful. “Two things happen to most of the people who come here. The Metro is all about change, so it makes a demand that will cause people to change in some way. The dragon didn’t want to give up gold, so she took a Service Agreement. And the man gave one of his eyes. It changed both of them.”

  Carey thought about giving up her connections, and nodded.

  “And then there’s the City, which is about forgetting. People might forget what they are, but they don’t really forget who they are.” She waved at the couple again. “For example, you never want to get between a dragon and their gold, and as a realtor, Kristin is really into that commission. And Stefan is vice-principal of the middle school, so his job description pretty much still includes scaring kids.”

  Carey saw Stefan tap Kristin’s shoulder and point to them. As they approached, Carey noticed she was holding a blanket-lined basket. Pulling something out of the basket, Stefan held cupped hands out to Carey. Automatically, she palmed a throwing star and moved in front of her cousin, dropping into a fighting crouch. He stopped in front of Kristen and looked at Poppy in alarm. She grinned. “Kristin and Stefan, this is my cousin, Carey Parker.”