by W. J. May
“Please don’t,” Rae whispered, burying her face in both hands. The irony was so bittersweet it was ripping her heart in two. “I’m serious, you don’t need to do this. I’m fine. You can just go.”
Devon acted like he hadn’t heard her. The second they were inside he shut the door behind them with his foot, flipped on a lamp, and carried her over to the couch.
A trail of water followed their every step. Staining the hardwood floor. Leeching into the upholstery. Neither one of them seemed to care enough to notice, or do anything about it.
“May I?”
Rae lifted her head. He’d set her down on the couch and was now kneeling on the floor in front of her, gesturing to her boots. It took her a second to understand what he was asking. Then, after a moment of hesitation, she nodded slightly.
With hands so gentle that she barely felt them, he reached up and began slowly unwinding the long laces, coaxing the wet leather down her legs. She watched in silence. Eventually, they loosened enough that he was able to slide each one off her foot and set it to the side. Her socks were soon to follow.
When he was finished, he quickly glanced up at her knees. She had come down with a lot of force, and the cuts were deeper than your average scrape. After meeting her eyes, a silent command to stay put, he vanished momentarily into the downstairs bathroom. When he came back, he was carrying a clean washcloth and a bottle of antiseptic.
She perked up slightly at the antiseptic, and a shudder ran through her shoulders. “I don’t…I don’t think that’s really necessary.”
A faint grin ghosted across his face. “Is someone scared of a little sting?” He uncapped the bottle, and the harsh smell of rubbing alcohol washed over them. Then, without missing a beat, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a knife.
Rae recoiled automatically. She couldn’t help it. The last time he’d been under Samantha’s influence and had pulled out a knife, it ended up embedded three inches deep in her chest.
“Whoa! What’re you doing?”
He glanced up in surprise, and deliberately slowed down all this movements. The hand with the knife lifted peaceably in the air, while the other pointed to her ripped jeans. “I need to see what I’m dealing with. I was just going to cut away the fabric.”
Rae stared at him for a long moment.
The old Devon would have just taken off her pants. Ignored her attempt at stalling and made a game out of it, until she was giggling so hard she forgot about the pain.
The new Devon was kind, but almost clinical in his approach. Careful not to touch any more of her skin than was necessary.
Unable to think of anything to say, she directed her gaze to Angel’s jeans. “I can’t just cut them up—”
“They’re already torn,” he said softly. “I can throw them out on my way out of the city.”
Rae paused another moment, then nodded. A little chill ran through her body as she extended both her legs, one after the other, and lay them in his arms.
He was careful, but quick. Devon had always been good with a knife. The silver blade dipped in and out of the fabric, cutting a clean circle while never touching her skin. When he was finished, he set it down and picked up the cloth. “You ready?”
Her eyes fixed on the bottle, and she shook her head. “I’ll take my chances with tetanus.”
He laughed softly. “You don’t have tetanus.”
“Then what’s the point in sterilizing it? Some germs are good, you know.”
Unwilling to argue the point, he simply leaned back on his heels and waited. She knew better than to try and outlast him, but it didn’t mean she wasn’t going to give it her best shot. The corners of his lips twitched up into an almost taunting smile as she recoiled farther into the couch.
“I thought you had to get back to the city…”
“I have some time.”
She stared with dread at the washcloth, and tried again. “Actually, if you wouldn’t mind getting me a glass of water from the kitchen, I’ll just take that and do it myself.”
That coaxed a smile.
“Really?” He cocked his head to the side. “You thought that might work?”
Her shoulders fell with a little sigh, and she reluctantly braced against the cushions. “Fine…do it. Just give me a countdown, okay? And don’t mess it up. No going on two, instead of waiting for three. Those tricks don’t work on me. I need an actual, serious count—OW!”
One knee done. The next was soon to follow.
He’d finally broken character and used his powers, wanting to finish as quickly as possible to spare her the most amount of pain. By the time she opened her eyes, the bandages were already secure and he was simply dabbing away the residual drop of blood running down her knee.
She took one look at the beautiful patchwork, then kicked him in the chest.
“Hey!” He laughed, falling back a step. “What the hell kind of thank you is—”
“I told you to count!” she yelled. “I told you I needed a count!”
Ever since her ability to heal had been stripped away, Rae had found herself woefully behind the others in terms of bouncing back from scrapes and bruises. Each hurt she thoroughly documented and catalogued, while each twist and sprain was loudly lamented.
Much to the great karmic amusement of all her friends.
But that was back when she had friends, when they knew her.
Even now, though, Devon couldn’t hold back his laughter. “I’m sorry, okay? This kind of thing isn’t exactly new to me. I happen to know it’s a lot easier when you don’t see it coming—”
Another kick, and he fell back onto his hands.
“But it’s not up to you!” Rae exclaimed, furious at the fact that he was still smiling. “It’s my body! It’s my leg!”
He straightened up, rubbing at his chest with a rueful grin. “Give me a break,” he grinned, screwing the cap back onto the bottle. “You didn’t kick so hard the last time I bandaged you up—” He cut off suddenly.
Rae shot to the edge of the sofa. “What was that?” Her eyes burned into his. Every fiber of her body held its breath. The answer was right there in front of him, but he was still frozen. As if someone had placed him on pause. “Devon, say that again… Please.”
“Sorry. It was Molly.” His head jerked to the side, and he blinked back to the present. It was as if someone had kicked him back awake. “You used to… Molly used to kick me like that.”
Like a deflating balloon, Rae sank back onto the couch.
They had been so close. So damn close! For a minute, he had started to remember…
But while the entire experience had left her reeling, it had firmly clammed him back up into his shell. All those walls were back, and he was cagier than before. Before either one of them had a chance to say another word, he pushed to his feet and began gathering up all the supplies. One glance at his troubled expression, and Rae knew better than to speak. She simply watched as he threw the tattered fabric into the trash and picked his jacket up off the floor.
He cleared his throat as he stared down at the floor. “I’ve got to get going.”
He couldn’t even meet her eyes.
She was going to kill Samantha with her bare hands.
“I thought you needed some clothes,” she began tentatively, but he shook his head.
“I’ll be fine.” His eyes swept briskly over her before he turned towards the door. “Good luck with the new job—”
“Wait a second.” She leapt to her feet, dug into her pocket, then pressed something into his hand. “This is for you.”
He looked down at the folded-up wad of bills. Totaling just under sixty-five pounds. “What’s this?”
She didn’t miss a beat. “It’s my tips from today.”
This time he looked up in surprise, then stared back down at the money. “Why are you giving it to me?”
The hint of a smile twitched at her lips, and she gestured around the extravagant home. “For rent.”
There was a beat of silence then a slow grin crept up the side of his face, followed by the dimple. It took everything in her not to reach out and touch his cheek. He glanced up at her, like she was utterly adorable, before trying to press the money back into her hand. “Not a chance. This is yours. You earned it.”
“Nope.” She curled her fingers into fists, and pressed them into the sides of her jacket. “I don’t want to be your charity case. If you’re letting me stay here, I’m going to pay whatever I can.”
Even if it was a laughable pittance compared to the price of such accommodations.
He hesitated, still holding it out. “Rae, I really don’t want to take this. You’re not a charity case; I’d never think of you that way. But you just started a new job, and you need this to—”
“Are you trying to make me feel bad?”
He stopped short, trying to keep up. “…what?”
She folded her arms defiantly across her chest. “Because you’re treating me like something out of Oliver Twist.” She affected a cartoonish cockney lilt. “Best let her keep the pocket change. Poor little dear. She’s got nothing.” The accent dropped and she pointed an incriminating finger at his chest. “That’s what you’re doing.”
A look of sheer bewilderment flashed across his face, melting into an incredulous smile. “I am not.”
“You totally are.” She gestured down the money. “It may seem like nothing to you, but that cost me eleven hours and nine chemical burns, my friend.”
He threw up his hands in exasperation, still grinning from ear to ear. “That’s not what I’m saying at all! I’m just trying to do the right thing here—”
“Then take the damn money.” She jutted her chin into the air, doing her very best to fight back a smile. “Otherwise, you’re calling me poor.”
There was a beat.
“… You are poor.”
Another beat.
“You don’t have to draw attention to it…”
Call it a stalemate. In the end, Devon took half the money and left the other half ostentatiously on the coatrack by the door.
Rae followed each gesture with an amused smile. “Great, now I feel like your prostitute. Leaving money on the nightstand…”
He shook his head and burst out laughing. “Enough, alright? I don’t think you’re Oliver Twist. I don’t think you’re a hooker. Just keep your half of the money, and leave it at that.”
She shrugged dismissively. “If you like.”
In reality she was actually quite desperate to use the money for basic things she was unable to conjure anymore. Like food. Not that Devon needed to know any of that.
They bid each other a smiling farewell as the night came to a close. It wasn’t until he was already halfway down the front walk that she called out suddenly. She couldn’t stop it herself. It tore at her to see him leaving her.
“Devon? Why is it so impossible to believe?”
He paused and turned around, not saying a word.
“You’ve had stranger things happen to you before.” She stepped out onto the porch, folding her arms protectively across her chest. Her knees stung and the cool air slipped into the cut jeans. She shivered but ignored it. “Why can’t you believe that I might be telling the truth?”
He gazed back at her in the dark, and for a moment she thought he was actually considering it. Then the moment passed, and the little twinkle in his eyes faded away. “Because you’re someone I don’t know. I can’t just make myself know you.”
Their eyes met briefly in the silvery moonlight, then he bowed his head with a quiet sigh and began walking away. “Even if I wish I could…”
Well, that’s it then. Can’t get more honest than that.
Rae stared at his retreating figure. She sighed, blinking back tears. Turned on her heel to go back inside.
…and then went flying back after him.
She didn’t plan it. She didn’t even know exactly what she was going to say. She just knew that she couldn’t let the conversation end like this. That couldn’t be the last word of the night.
She flew down the cobblestones and spun him around by the sleeve. He tried to pull back in surprise but she ignored it, staring intently into his eyes.
Devon Wardell was one of the smartest men she knew. A man she would trust with absolutely anything. Trust to solve absolutely anything. He could solve this.
“Then what would you do?”
He blinked at her in the rain, then shook his head. “What are you talking about?”
She refused to let up. Not even an inch. “If you were in my situation,” she pressed. “If you had been deleted from the lives of everyone you knew, everyone you loved. If they wouldn’t believe you. What would you do?”
He stared at her for a long moment, a thousand things dancing behind those devastatingly handsome eyes. Then, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, he tucked a lock of hair behind her ears. “I would get proof.”
And then he was gone.
The glow of his taillights dimmed in the night, then disappeared as he rounded the corner of the park. Racing back to Kent while his fiancée stayed behind in the rain, standing exactly where he’d left her.
But for the first time since he’d walked away, Rae didn’t feel the accompanying wave of hopelessness that always seemed to follow. Quite the contrary. As she stood there, shivering a bit in the cold, a sudden smile began creeping up the side of her face.
Get proof.
He made it sound so simple when it was anything but. And yet, there might actually be some truth in what he said. She had been overcomplicating things. Relying on powers that didn’t work, and people who didn’t know her. Trying to produce evidence of her own identity when she should have been focusing on Samantha’s identity instead.
I might not know where to find her, but for better or worse she does still have a tatù.
Rae spun on her heel and marched straight back inside.
Which means that somebody’s found her already…
* * *
The next morning, Rae got up at the crack of dawn. She climbed out of Devon’s bed, and took a quick shower before scampering back down the hall to steal even more of Angel’s clothes.
Hopefully I can return these in one piece today.
There weren’t many suitable options, given the girl’s flair for extremes, but fortunately Rae happened to find exactly what she needed. Simple black training clothes. The same kind that she’d worn a million times before on her way to the Oratory. The same kind that everyone else in the Oratory was sure to be wearing, too. It was the PC’s unofficial uniform, and what better way to blend in than to don the company clothes?
Speaking of the PC, hopefully they return ME in one piece…
It was a legitimate fear, and one that had kept Rae tossing and turning in bed for the better part of the night. She had walked onto Guilder’s campus a million times before, but never before had she tried it without sporting any ink. The ramifications of such a breach could be catastrophic, and given that no one had ever tried it before Rae had no earthly idea what might happen to her if she happened to be caught.
No worries, I’ll just have them call Devon again as a reference. Tell them I work in sales.
The thought brought a smile to her face, because there was no way in heaven or hell that the real Devon would ever let her attempt something so outrageously foolhardy. Certainly not on a whim. Certainly not by herself.
But she simply saw no other alternative. Ever since the moment he’d driven away she’d been going over it again and again in her mind. This was the only way.
To stop Samantha she needed to know where to find her. To know where to find any person in the inked community she had to go to through the governmental files. And to get to those governmental files she had to go back to school.
“Cheer up, Kerrigan.” She pinched her pale cheeks to get a little color. “The worst they can do is kill you.”
Hopefully.
She wa
ved down a cab the second she stepped outside, but almost immediately waved it away again. A taxi from London to Guilder would drain what little resources she had. If she wanted to make those tips last, she’d have to get a little thrifty.
Or a little creative…
Her eyes flickered over the driveway before landing on her victim. A sleek vintage Jaguar, a recent addition to make up for one she’d already gotten towed.
“Sorry, Jules,” she muttered as she walked slowly forward. “Desperate times and all…”
One of the first things Rae learned in training was how to hotwire a car. It was a particularly memorable lesson, because afterwards the entire class had snuck out to the faculty parking lot to test out their new skills. A vintage model like Julian’s was a little more difficult than your average, but it was still less than a minute before she got the engine up and running.
“And now just to avoid hitting the curb—” She broke off suddenly as a metallic screech shook the car. The whole thing slowed down for a moment before gliding reluctantly onto the street. Rae glanced nervously in all her mirrors, guiltily easing out into traffic. “The thing came out of nowhere…”
As much as the car itself might hate her, it ran like a dream. Less than forty minutes later she was already deep in the English countryside, and the iron gate of Guilder were just coming into view.
At that point she slowed down carefully, and went through her cover story one more time.
“Just an ordinary clerk on her way into the office. Needs to go through and reorganize some files, standard housekeeping,” she muttered, inching up in the line by the gatehouse. “Why haven’t you seen me here before? Oh, I just transferred in from the Swiss branch. Was stationed there a little over two years. Boring stuff, really. I’d much rather talk about you…”
For the first time in her life, Rae had actually applied makeup…to her lower back. It had taken over half an hour that morning, just trying to get it right. No matter how hard she tried to cover up the fairy, the damn thing kept glittering through. Finally, after about fourteen coats, she was able to subdue it long enough to draw over it in black sharpie. As she was constantly reminded of her rather limited skill set in the art department, she’d decided to keep it simple.