by Trudi Jaye
She just wanted research guinea pigs and was prepared to do anything to get them.
Running from Ravenwood was the desperate act of someone who knew she had no other choice. Staying out of Ravenwood is the only way I’m going to survive.
27
The world rushes past outside the window of the truck. Inside, I feel cold. Nothing is going as I thought it would. I turn the Director’s card over and over in my hands. It’s made of some weird plastic, and changes color as I move it.
It’s actually pretty cool, but my thoughts are too agitated to appreciate it.
What would the Director do if he knew I was an escapee from a mental institution? On the run, accused of the murder of my parents?
Back then, Dr. Green told me the evidence was piled up against me. That the police were certain I’d done it. Maybe the detectives just didn’t care if I did it or not. When the doctor told them I was crazy, they just let her have me. Even my longtime friends, my supposed family at the compound, believed the police when they said I did it.
There was no one else to protect me, so I had to protect myself.
And that’s what I’ve been doing ever since.
I glance over at Blade. He’s concentrating on the road, his strong hands relaxed on the steering wheel. Now, there’s someone else looking out for me. I think he might even put up a fight if someone were to try to hurt me.
But can he defend me from being sent back to Ravenwood? If the authorities were to find me, what would happen? There’s nothing he could do, even though he knows that if I say I saw a demon, it’s true.
I shake my head, as if I can ward off the thoughts that way. Melancholy rests around my shoulders, a familiar friend. There’s nothing anyone can do to convince the police I’m innocent. They decided all those years ago, and nothing I said could convince them otherwise. That’s how I ended up at Ravenwood in the first place.
My demon starts to clamour about inside me, like it’s objecting to my decision. I put my hand to my mouth, trying to hold in the sob that wants to escape. I’m not that happy about my decision either. I let out a breath. This stupid demon is making me more upset than I’ve been in years. Does that mean it’s in control of me? Would that be enough for Blade to get out his knife? I swallow down another sob. I don’t know the answer to that, and it’s killing me.
I glance at Blade surreptitiously. He’s concentrating on the traffic. I have no idea what’s going on his brain. What does he think about Connor? What about the Director? Does he even know the demon is still rummaging around inside me? Or does he think it’s gone?
Will he miss me when I leave?
My breath hitches. Everything is unravelling around me. My nice, simple, ordered life is gone.
I clench my hand tight around the business card, but instead of breaking or crunching into a ball, it just presses into my fingers, until the edges create painful lines in my palm. I swear under my breath and put in back in my pocket. I can’t let the uncertainties get to me. I can’t let my fear and worry take over. I need to be calm and focused if I’m going to get out of this situation alive.
Or at least not end up in a straight jacket.
I force my brain to work on the planning required to leave. I need to check my stash of supplies and figure out what I’ll have to buy. I already have a new identity prepped. It’ll mean a new name, and I’m sad about that. Hazel is my real name, and it’s been nice using it for a while. I’ll need to pay Mr. Fookes the rent for the next few weeks, so no one realizes that I’m not coming back. And I need to decide where I’m going to go. That’s probably the hardest part. I going to have to—
The truck bumps over the driveway entrance at my apartment, and I look up in surprise. I didn’t even realize we were home. Blade parks the truck, not saying a word. He seems just as abstracted as I am. I climb out of the truck and lead the way into the building without looking back at him.
I’m putting my foot on the first step when Blade speaks, making me jump.
“What do you think the Director’s playing at?” he asks. “Why is he so interested in you?”
I guess that answers my questions about what he was thinking. “I don’t know the man.” I shrug helplessly. “I don’t know what’s going on in his head.” I limp upwards.
“He wants something.”
“With men like him, it’s usually power.” My hand is on the rail, and I’m hobbling up the stairs, almost like I’m being chased. Maybe I am. Connor and the Director both want something from me. Maybe even the same thing?
If Freddy is right and I’m the most powerful supernatural on the West Coast, my life is about to become even more problematic. Men like the Director and Connor are going to be like moths to a flame. I feel a little shaky even just thinking about it.
“He knows something,” says Blade from behind me, his voice cautious. He’s not even puffing. “Damien must have told him you’re a chalice.”
“He’s his boss. It would make sense.” My chest feels like someone is sitting on it. Panic is making me gasp for breath. I desperately want to stop, but Blade is right behind me.
I glance back at him over my shoulder. “Is what Freddy told us about chalices common knowledge?” I ask.
“He must know some of it. Why else would he be here?”
Why else indeed? My demon trembles inside me, and a shiver rolls over my skin.
Crossing the landing, I pull my key out of my backpack. My hands are sweaty, but I manage to push it into the lock. Behind the door, I can hear the sound of cars racing. Nelson. I should feel relieved to know all these people will be out of my life in a couple of days. The pressure to protect them will be gone. Instead, it feels like there’s a hole in my chest. I take a breath, determined not to let anyone see how upset I am. I just have to hold it together for another couple of days, and then I’ll be gone.
As I push the door open, Nelson turns to look at me. He grins, and waves before turning back to his game. He looks comfortable in my house, like he belongs there, and the hole in my chest gets even bigger. I drop my bag by the door and walk into the kitchen. I’m going to need a lot of coffee to get through the rest of this evening.
Blade doesn’t follow me into the kitchen. Instead he plonks himself down on the couch next to Nelson and picks up the second controller. It’s not long before the sounds of them competing against each other filters into the kitchen. There’s something soothing about having them both here with me, the usual sounds of silly fun happening out in the other room. I try not to think about what it will be like in a couple of days’ time.
No matter how many times I repeat to myself that it’ll be a relief, it just doesn’t feel like that right now.
Resisting the urge to put some whiskey in my coffee, I take a gulp of the hot liquid as I head back into the living room. I put the plate of cookies on the table, grab a couple to keep me going, and then head to the lab to check on my latest creations. The boys don’t even seem to miss me as they whoop and holler at each other as they drive around the circuit.
Pushing open the door to my little home lab, a calm settles over me. The familiar smell of metal, glue, and the soldering iron help to ease my tension. It feels like forever since I’ve been in here. I sit down in front of my latest metallic figurines. They’re a pair of crazy little statues, not as big as normal, made out of springs and coils and other curly things. They’re very different to the large—almost threatening—sentinels that I’ve been making for the last year or so.
Am I going to be able to take them with me? I don’t know. Probably not. There’s so much here that I’m going to have to leave behind. I’ve allowed myself to get comfortable.
I pick up one of the statues and turn it over in my hands. It’s heavy and solid, and I bounce it in the air. Despite what Mr. Fookes said, and the fact that I’d really rather stick around, I have no choice.
28
“Hazel.”
I look up from the bench where I’ve been soldering additional curl
s into the hair of one of my creatures. Blade is at the door.
“I’ve been calling you,” he says.
I blink, still adjusting back into the real world. “Sorry, I was concentrating.”
Blade just gives me a look. “Nelson’s gone home. I cooked us dinner. Time to eat.”
“You cooked?”
“I can cook,” he says drily.
“What did you cook?”
“Pad Thai with chicken.”
“Did we even have the ingredients for that in the cupboard?” I’m not really into cooking.
“I went to the corner store.”
“Are you serious? You did all that while I was…?” I glance around and see that the light at the window is dark. “How late is it?”
“Pretty late. Come on, it’s time to eat.”
Bewildered, I stand up and follow Blade into the living room. The table has been set with plates and there’s a big bowl of what can only be described as deliciousness sitting in between.
“Wow, that smells amazing.”
“Sit down. Let’s eat.” He pours us each a glass of white wine from a bottle that definitely wasn’t in my house earlier.
I sit down cautiously, and then pile up my plate with noodles and veggies and chicken when Blade hands me the servers. “Where did you learn how to cook this?” I take a sip of the wine, and it’s fresh, fruity.
“I traveled in Asia for a while. I like to cook, so I decided to learn how to make some of the dishes I most enjoyed while I was there.”
His answer makes me realize that I don’t really know an awful lot about Blade. I take a forkful of noodles. “Oh wow. This is amazing.” The flavors are like a burst of color in my mouth. “I can’t believe how good this tastes.”
Blade gives a half smile. “Thanks.”
“What else don’t I know about you?” I ask, suddenly curious. I take another sip of the wine. It goes perfectly with the light flavors of the main dish.
Blade shrugs. “I’m not that complicated. I like to cook. I know how to kill demons. I take care of my family.”
“Have you traveled much?” I lean my chin on my hand, eating mouthfuls of the delicately flavored food he’s put in front of me.
He nods. “Some. When we were kids, my grandparents used to travel and take me and my sister with them. Then I did a bit when I was older.”
“What’s your favorite place overseas?”
“New Zealand. It’s small, has beautiful scenery, and there aren’t many demons there.”
“I would have thought you’d like somewhere with lots of demons to fight,” I say with a smile.
His brow darkens. “Despite what you obviously think, I don’t relish killing demons. It’s just what my family does.”
His expression wipes away my smile. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean….”
He leans back and lets out a breath. “No, it’s not your fault. It’s just a touchy subject for me. I’ve been feeling cornered lately.”
“Because of your grandmother?”
“Yes. I want to help her, but I know what will happen. If I give in, it will seem like something temporary… until suddenly I’m old and I’ve lived my life doing what she wants me to do. At least when I’m hunting demons, I have some control of my life. If I were to give in, it would be like putting myself in a cage and locking the door.”
“That must be hard. It’s obvious how much you love your grandmother.”
He nods and takes a sip of wine. “My sister is the one who should be helping her.”
“Why isn’t she?”
“She took the death of her husband badly. She’s still not recovered.”
“Have you talked to her about it? Maybe it’s just what she needs to get back into the world?”
“I don’t want to push her.”
“I’m not suggesting that you should make her do anything against her will. Just that sometimes people need a nudge. It might work, it might not.”
Blade nods thoughtfully. “Maybe I’ll give it a try.” He piles another forkful of noodles into his mouth.
We eat in silence for a while, but it’s not awkward. I’m devouring his delicious food, and he’s obviously thinking about his sister.
“What about you?” he asks suddenly.
“Me?” For a moment, I’m confused by what he’s asking. Does he want to push me into something? My brain feels like it’s operating slower than usual. I’ve got a happy buzz from the delicious food and wine.
“Have you traveled much?”
I take another sip of wine to give myself time to think about my answer. “In America, yes. Overseas… not so much.” I was always too worried about how my fake identities would stack up at the border and was never quite game enough to try it. Not that I’m going to tell Blade that.
Except part of me wants to do just that. I want to open up to him, tell him everything. Unburden myself, ask his help. I’m convinced I can trust him.
“How come?” He’s twirling his wine glass around in his long fingers. It’s mesmerizing to watch.
I open my mouth, the real words on the tip of my tongue. Except habit is a powerful force. “I just never got around to it,” I say.
Blade pours more wine into my empty glass, then gives himself another helping.
“So what else should I know about you? How did you get into designing crazy metal statues?”
He’s almost jovial. He’s certainly relaxed. I don’t quite understand what’s brought on this mood—other than the good food and wine—but I’m enjoying it. This Blade isn’t as sharp-edged, and I catch a glimpse into what it might be like to really be his friend.
“Where I grew up, the compound, they didn’t believe in outside help,” I say. “We fixed everything ourselves. I was this annoying kid. I followed our fixit guy around, and just badgered him with questions all day. Made him show me stuff.” It’s more than I’d usually tell people, and it speaks to my own mellow mood. I rub my fingers over the wine glass in my hands.
“So you learned how to make your devices because of that?” He takes a lazy sip of his wine and smiles across at me.
“Well, that’s where it started. That’s where I learned how to fix things, how to understand how things work.”
“It’s impressive.”
“It’s a process, that’s all. Follow the pattern to the end. Anyone could do that.” I’ve never felt like the machines I design are anything special.
Blade shakes his head. “I disagree. It’s a very specific skill, and one not shared by many people. You are a rare individual, Hazel.” His eyes are a fierce green, and he’s staring at me like he’s never seen me before. I don’t understand how I went from feeling so comfortable around him to suddenly being tense, but that’s what has just happened.
I swallow hard. “I… uh… thank you.” I can’t seem to stop staring at him. He’s a magnet, and I’m a piece of metal. Without any effort, he’s dragging at my senses. Everything inside me wants to just get closer. I move restlessly in my chair.
He clears his throat and pushes back to stand. “Are you finished with your plate?”
The mood is taken down a notch. I can at least swallow again. “Thank you,” I manage to scratch out.
He takes the plates out into the kitchen, and I can hear him rinsing them and putting them into the dishwasher. He’s been tidying up the kitchen every night, but this is the first time he’s cooked for me.
I stand up, nervously running my hands down my jeans-clad thighs. “Are you okay out there?” I call through to him. “Can I help?”
“No, just go sit down. I have something else for us.”
I nod, as if I’m confirming something to myself. I have no idea what. My demon is fizzing inside my stomach, and my T-shirt feels tight and hot. My living room feels too small, and I wish I had somewhere else I could run to. Briefly I consider making a retreat into my lab, but I can’t bring myself to say no to whatever Blade has been working on. I sit down on the sofa and pin my hands under
my legs instead.
When he brings out a tray of tiny sweets, I smile. I’m so full I’m almost cross-eyed, but he’s put together a mixture guaranteed to tempt me. Did he know what a fiend I am for chocolate? Or did he just assume?
“How did you whip these up?” I glance out to the kitchen, as if he’s hiding a chef out there.
“I lived in Switzerland for a bit.”
“You’re kidding me.”
He grins. “Okay, yes I am. I bought these.”
“Oh, thank God. I couldn’t take much more of you being so perfect.”
He shakes his head and looks uncomfortable. “I’m not perfect. Anything but.”
“You can cook, that makes you accomplished in my books.”
“You don’t cook?” He sits down beside me, the sofa cushions bending under his weight and throwing me closer to him.
Needing something to do, I reach over and grab a chocolate, popping it into my mouth. The sweet taste of coconut and chocolate hits my senses, and without thinking I let out a groan and lean back on the cushions, closing my eyes. “My favorite,” I say through my mouthful.
When I open my eyes again, he’s watching me with a strange expression. His eyes are flickering green flames of heat, and his expression warms my skin. I don’t know why he affects me like this. I don’t even know if he’s aware of what he does to me. I sit back up and clear my throat. “I was never really interested in cooking,” I say quickly, replying to his original question. “I like to understand machinery, take things apart and fix them if they’re broken, or make them work better if they’re not.” I know I’m chattering, but I have to keep talking. The other option my fuzzy wine-affected brain is considering is jumping him and kissing him again.
“Cooking is a process, and you said you liked processes,” he murmurs.
“I guess.” I clasp my fingers together in my lap, trying not to let them do what they really want to do. He’s so close, his body heat is warming up my body.