by C. M. Fenn
“You’re my sister, Simone. It doesn’t make me happy to see you suffer.”
Her eyelashes flutter as she blinks rapidly. Her mood feels heavy and tired. It must be exhausting for her, keeping her defenses up constantly, always hiding behind a steel exterior, striking out with hateful looks and venomous words.
“I’m not Angel. I’ll never be as sweet or as kind as she is. Heck, I’m can be as stubborn as you sometimes.” I smile ruefully at her. She sniffs noisily and crosses her arms defensively.
“But the bottom line is,” I tell her, “you’re family to me just as much as any of the other Walkers. That feeling we all have for each other, the one that connects us, I feel it for you too. And I’ll continue to feel it no matter how you treat me. So, I guess what I’m trying to say is I’m not going to give up on you.”
She finally looks up from her lap, a hint of a challenge in her eyes.
“I won’t ever force you,” I assure her. “Ever. But I will bug the hell out of you. I’ll beg, I’ll plead, I’ll grovel at your feet if that’s what it takes.”
A hint of a smile dances around her mouth. “Grovel, huh?”
“I’d prefer not to. But …” I shrug.
“So, what? We’re supposed to be besties now?”
“No. Not besties. Just,” I mull a few words over in my mind, “comrades. We’re comrades in arms.” She searches my eyes for any sign of mockery. Finding nothing but sincerity, she nods shortly.
“Fine.”
A grin spreads wide across my face, but she humbles me quickly.
“But I reserve the right to change my mind at any time,” she states. “Just because I let you do your mind mumbo-jumbo on me once doesn’t give you unlimited access whenever you want.”
“Of course,” I say, placating her.
“And this does NOT mean we are friends.”
“If that’s how you want it, okay.”
“Okay,” she throws back at me. She must realize how juvenile she sounds because she makes a visible effort to soften her expression. After a few deep breaths she asks, “What do you need me to do?”
Simone’s mind is much like the other Walkers’, clear and quick and strong. I delve deep within her consciousness searching for areas of overdevelopment. I purposely ignore the area of her brain that gives her the ability to morph into whatever she chooses. I’m already aware of that ability. Instead, I search the corners, plunge the depths, and skim the shallows looking for any hint of some other ability.
I find a couple obvious strengths. Her willpower, for one, though others might call it stubbornness, is immense. Her perception of people, or scrutiny as some may say, is unnaturally strong. While these attributes explain some of the more disagreeable aspects of Simone’s personality, none of them point to a legitimate ability. At least none that I’m familiar with.
There is, however, a feeling. It’s difficult to describe. It’s as if I’m right on the verge of discovering something. It’s like a secret, like some massive potential is just out of my reach. It’s frustrating and disappointing, and I dread telling Simone that I don’t have an answer for her. She wants this so badly—to be able to feel like she’s one of us.
I withdraw myself from her mind and return to my own. Slightly dazed, she opens her eyes. It takes only a second before she’s gripping my arms tightly, a look of desperation on her face.
“Did you find it?” She looks terrified of my answer.
“Yes and no,” I tell her, hoping my instincts are right.
She shakes her head in confusion. “What does THAT mean?”
“It’s there … something’s there,” I try to explain. “I just, I can’t tell what it is yet.” Her head drops into her hands.
“Simone,” I try to comfort her, “this is good news. We need to be patient. I need a little more time with you, to see how your mind works.”
“But,” she hesitates, “it’s there? You’re sure?”
“Something’s there. I can feel it. I’m sure.”
For the first time, I feel a flicker of hope spark within Simone.
“Will you let me work with you? I’ll need to be with you often, observing how you think and react to everything. It may be intrusive.” I’m afraid she’ll say no, throw me out for not being able to help her, and never talk to me again.
“Okay,” she says meekly.
“Really?” I ask surprised.
She nods vigorously. “Yes. I … I need …,” the words seem almost painful for her to say, “your help.”
“Then you’ve got it,” I say matter-of-factly.
At that moment, I feel a strange sensation at the back of my mind, like a nagging, plucking feeling. It’s as though my attention is being tugged in a certain direction, and it takes me a moment to realize what it is. Angel had described this to me when she was assigning her duties to me one by one. She told me this is how I’d recognize a weak spot in the fabric of Chaos.
Simone senses my alarm. “What is it?”
“A weak spot. I’ve got to go.” I jump down and rush out of her room and down the hall. As I run, I send out a mental call to all the Walkers within the realm.
There’s a weak spot in Chaos.
I immediately feel apprehension from multiple frequencies. I search for Sam and find his familiar presence in Logistics. I run in that direction, finding Ember and Crank along the way.
“Boss is in Logistics,” I say as I run past. They follow me with tense, worried faces.
When we arrive, we find Sam pacing in front of his desk. “Where’s Angel?” he demands. His intensity startles me.
“What?”
“Angel. Where is she? She’s not answering the summons. We need her to show us where the weak spot is since you can’t go out there.”
“I haven’t seen her. Give me a second.”
Angel? I call to her mind. I can feel her now, though she’s distant. She must be top-side.
Angel, we need you.
“This is strange,” Crank says. “Angel’s the one who usually tells us if there’s a weak spot, and now she’s not even here?” There’s a hint of accusation in his tone.
“I’ve been taking over for her,” I say defensively. “She’s just a kid, Crank. She shouldn’t have to do everything all the time.”
Crank immediately looks ashamed. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
But I barely hear him. I’m concentrating on getting through to Angel. It’s never been so difficult before. It feels like I’m trying to talk underwater.
“I may have to go out there, Sam.”
As he starts to protest I hold up a hand. “Got her!”
I feel her more clearly now. She’s in Chaos though she seems peculiar—muddled, almost groggy.
I’m on my way. I can tell the others received her message too from their obvious relief.
“Go assist her, guys,” he tells Ember and Crank. “Lang and Mel are on a mission now. Give them a heads up once you’re out there. You may need their help.”
“Yes sir.” They leave in a hurry.
“Be careful!” I yell after them, feeling useless.
Sam leans back against the edge of his desk, arms crossed, face weary.
“Will you monitor them? So we know if this will be an all-out war?”
“Already am,” I tell him. “I think it will be okay though. The weak place hasn’t gotten any thinner, so I don’t think the other side knows about it yet.”
“I’ll relax when it’s fixed.”
I lean back next to him, our shoulders touching. We sit this way, in quiet anxiety, for at least ten minutes. Finally, the tugging sensation at the back of my mind lessens then disappears altogether.
“It’s fixed. Everyone’s safe.”
“Thank goodness.” His posture relaxes. “Great work, Addy. It’s nice of you to give Angel a break, and it’s a relief to know I can trust you to do a good job.”
“Thanks Sam.”
“How did things go with Simone?”
<
br /> “Okay. Actually, it went better than I expected.”
“Yeah?” He guides me around in front of him so we’re face-to-face and rests his hands on my lower back, pulling me close. “Tell me about it.”
“She let me in.”
He frowns thoughtfully. “Wow.”
“Yeah. I didn’t learn anything earth-shattering. Not yet anyway. But I know there’s something there. I’ll find it.”
He lifts one side of his mouth into a crooked grin. “I know you will.”
I warm at his confidence in me. “Sam?”
“Hmm.”
“Can I talk to you about Mikhail?”
His eyes harden. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
“I’m not going to try to change your mind,” I insist. “I know he’s in there for three months. I won’t fight you on that.”
He looks wary. “Then what?”
“You said you were going to have Angel dig around in his head, find out his secrets. What if it doesn’t have to come to that? What if we don’t have to give him an ultimatum? There are much nicer ways to get information without leaving a damaged relationship behind.”
“You think he’ll tell us?” he says derisively.
“Maybe,” I venture, “if the right person asks.”
“No.” I feel his arms and chest grow rigid. “Absolutely not. What kind of a man would I be if I let you in there with him? After what he tried to do to you?”
“I don’t have to be alone. You could come with me.” He’s shaking his head adamantly back and forth. “But he trusts me!” I object.
“I’m sorry. It’s out of the question.”
I stare hard at Sam’s chest and fight back tears. I can feel him watching me but I won’t meet his gaze. After a moment he relaxes and his arms around me soften.
“Addy,” his face is close to mine. “I don’t want you be unhappy. But I NEED you to be safe. Can you understand that?”
I nod shortly.
“Addy,” he says my name again, quietly in my ear. His grip around me tightens, bringing me closer to him until we’re pressed together.
The heat begins again, like it did the first time he held me. It starts underneath his hands where they rest on my back and follows the trail they make as one slides up over my shoulder blades, the other around my waist. My own hands move on their own accord, following some deep instinct, as if they already know the steps to the dance. They press into him, up over his chest to his neck, one reaching higher into his hair as I pull him down toward me.
His mouth burns and melts into mine. All my anguish over Mikhail evaporates in the heat of the embrace. He’s gentle with me, not rough or urgent, the way the imposter Sam had been. We kiss slowly and the places behind my knees tingle and weaken. After a while he pulls away and rests his cheek on mine, running his fingers through my hair.
I don’t want it to be over. I want more of him. When I look in his eyes, they burn with the same feeling, the same heat and intensity that pulls at my gut. But then I feel another Walker approaching Logistics and we both hear footsteps in the hall. I try to clear away the lightheaded feeling I always get when I’m close to Sam as Angel walks in.
“Everything go well?” Sam asks.
“Like clockwork,” Angel chirps, smiling.
“Excellent. Where are Ember and Crank?”
“They decided to relieve the others. It was nearly their shift anyway. Addy,” Angel turns to me, “thank you for covering for me. I’ve been enjoying the time off.”
“I’m happy to help you. You deserve it.”
“Actually,” her expression serious, “I’ve been spending a lot of time with my mother.”
Harmony’s mention of her mother is unexpected. As far as I know, she’s never mentioned anything relating to her life outside of Chaos.
“That’s good, Angel.” Sam smiles warmly.
Angel looks uncomfortable all of a sudden. She’s having a hard time looking us in the eyes.
“Is everything all right?” I ask. She studies the hem of her shirt intently. The last time I saw her fidget this way was right before she asked me to help with Simone. She must need help with something but is afraid to ask for it.
“What can we do, Angel?” I question, trying to make it easier for her.
“Well, you see, it’s my mom.”
“Is she okay?” Sam asks abruptly.
“Oh yes! She’s fine. It’s just …” She looks back and forth between the two of us. “She’s kind of strapped for money.”
“Angel, you can take as much from the Walker account as you need. If anyone’s earned it, you certainly have.”
She seems to relax a little. “It’s just the two of us, you know? My mom and I. And … we’ve managed to get by on our own so far, but lately things have been really hard. She doesn’t know anything about Chaos and I don’t want her to find out. I don’t have a clue how to handle this whole thing. I could really use your help.”
“Sure Angel,” Sam assures her. “Whatever you need.”
Chapter 50
“Idaho?” Ember asks, her green eyes burning with curiosity.
“Idaho,” I confirm.
“Really?”
“Why do you look so disappointed?”
She goes back to rummaging through my closet. She’s been helping me pack since we woke up top-side.
“I don’t know.” Her voice is muffled behind the closet door. “I guess I thought it would be some place more exciting.”
I laugh at this.
“Well,” she says defensively, “it’s always been some big mystery. No one ever knew where she was from. I guess my imagination got the better of me.”
“She needed privacy. She’s only a kid.”
Ember comes back out with a couple tops and bottoms. Folding them nicely into my duffel bag on the end of my bed, she asks, “And it has to be NOW?”
“Yeah. She seemed pretty insistent about it. I guess they really need the money.”
“Huh. And she wants you and Sam to bring it to her?”
“It makes sense. It’s not like she can hand it over to her mom. Besides, she wants us to visit. From what it sounds like, she doesn’t have too many friends. You know how consuming this way of life can be.”
“Won’t it be weird when two adult strangers show up at a child’s house and claim they’re her friends?”
“We already got it settled. We don’t even have to lie about it. We’re going as representatives from the Walker Foundation. We’ll say that someone anonymously nominated them for a donation and we’re there to determine how much assistance is needed.”
I zip the duffel bag closed and swing it over my shoulder.
“Ooohhh. Clever.”
“You about ready, Addy?” Sam calls from the foyer.
“Coming!”
Ember looks bewildered. “Well, it MUST be pretty important. I can’t ever remember Boss taking time off work.”
I’m beginning to think that perhaps Ember’s feelings were hurt that she wasn’t asked to come along. Angel specifically asked for just Sam and me to come. She thought any more than that would be suspicious.
I put my hands on Ember’s shoulders. “When Angel asks you to come, you come. Even if that means taking off work.”
“I guess you’re right. Anyway, I’m glad she’ll be taken care of, her and her mom.”
“Me too.” We grin at each other before she hugs me good-bye.
“Come back soon.”
“You won’t even know I’m gone.”
The flight from LAX to the Boise airport takes only a few hours. After grabbing a rental car and throwing our luggage in the back, Sam and I head east to the town of Caldwell. It doesn’t take long to get there, and once in town we stop and order lunch from a drive-through fast-food chain. Sam punches Angel’s address into the car’s GPS while we eat.
“Look at that.” He points to the highlighted route on the display. “We’re only a few miles away.”
&nb
sp; “I thought we were close by. I can feel her.”
I ball up my trash and chug the rest of my soda.
“I’m ready when you are.”
Sam grins at me. “Let’s go make someone rich.”
We drive a short distance then turn into a neighborhood of modest houses. I smile through the open window as the breeze hits my face. The weather is pleasantly warm and the sky’s full of fluffy white clouds. It would be impossible to be grumpy on a day like this.
The light blue home we pull up in front of is small and old but looks well cared for. While the grass in the yard is yellow and brown, the bushes along the front walk are neatly trimmed. The sidewalk and driveway look swept and there’s a quaint little bench on the front porch.
As we stand on the welcome mat, I give myself a once-over. I smooth out my plum-colored button-up shirt and tuck the ends into my dark slacks. I wore my best clothes hoping to make myself appear older and more professional. Sam’s dressed similarly in gray slacks and a pale blue dress shirt. He looks tough, like a detective on a crime show. He sees me scrutinizing him.
“What?” He smiles a bit self-consciously.
“Do you think we look convincing?” I ask.
“Don’t stress, Addy. It won’t matter what we look like once it’s clear we’re offering money. We could be wearing clown suits for all that matters.” He reaches up and presses the doorbell.
“And you’d still look like a cop.” I grin at him.
“Ha. Probably more so.”
The door opens.
“There you are!” A woman with slightly graying hair stands in the open doorway. She’s covered from head to toe in scars.
“Faye?” Sam and I say in unison.
“We’ve been waiting for you. Come on in.” Faye winks at the two of us conspiratorially. We step inside the foyer and follow her into a small but tidy sitting room. On a couch with an outdated floral pattern sits a petite woman, hands clasped in her lap.
Her clothing looks worn and faded and hangs off her small frame as though it’s two or three sizes too big. Her mousy brown hair is pinned back away from her face revealing big violet eyes. Her expression is haunted. She seems shaken, as though recovering from shock.
“Mrs. Tanner, this is Sam and Adelaide.” We reach across the coffee table and take turns shaking hands.