by E. C. Myers
“Uh-oh,” Miltia said. At the top of the stairs, Spider reinforcements were waiting for them.
All things considered, an angry Lil’ Miss Malachite was the scariest thing Roman had faced all day. She had him sit next to her, bowls of cottage cheese before them.
Roman eyed the lumpy white mess as he pushed berries around in it with a spoon.
“What is this supposed to be?” Roman said.
She put her spoon down, finished chewing, and dabbed at her mouth with a napkin. “Cottage cheese. Eat up.”
“I know what’s in the bowl, but I don’t know what this is. Is it a reward? Is it a punishment?”
“You think I served you my favorite food as punishment.”
“Well …”
“What do you think you deserve for that stunt you pulled, Torchwick?”
He glanced down at the bowl. He scrunched up his face. “I think it’s a punishment.”
“Maybe it is. Maybe knowing where you stand with me now is all the punishment you need.”
She pushed her bowl away and turned to face him. With relief, he pushed his untouched bowl away, too, and looked at her.
“I trusted you. With my girls. And you offered them to one of my rivals.”
“It was a ruse, and they agreed to it.”
“They’re teenagers.”
“What were you doing when you were their age?”
One of her eyebrows lifted.
“Exactly. Don’t underestimate them,” he said.
“Never. However, you did almost get them killed by a Grimm. Which my crew then had to destroy.”
“Thereby earning the Spiders some goodwill in the city! We took away Parrot’s most valuable possession, what he used to make people afraid of him—and he was arrested! It all worked out.” He paused. “Just like I planned.”
Roman grabbed the spoon from his bowl and started to take a bite. Lil’ Miss knocked it from his hand with her fan. Globs of cottage cheese splattered on Roman’s face.
“And the fact that it somehow ‘all worked out’ is why you aren’t dead, Torchwick.”
He glanced at the cottage cheese nervously. Had she put poison in it?
“That isn’t why I’m upset. I’m upset because you acted on your own instead of coming to me. You seem more interested in your own personal gain,” Lil’ Miss said.
“I only had your best interest in mind, ma’am. As always. I had to act swiftly to take advantage of the opportunity.”
“I’ve already managed dear Chameleon,” Lil’ Miss said. “The only colors she’ll be for a while are black and blue. Though if she hadn’t told me where you went, the Spiders wouldn’t have been there in time to save you.”
“They didn’t save us. They weren’t even there!”
“Oh, they saved you. Because if you had tried to keep that massive screwup a secret, you would be wishing that Grimm had killed you. Consider this your last warning: Don’t ever go behind my back again.”
“Worried I’ll see the knife you’re hiding there?”
“When I kill you, Torchwick, you’ll know it’s coming.” She reached over and wiped the cottage cheese off his cheek with a finger, almost like a caress.
Is she flirting? he suddenly wondered. He hadn’t ever considered that she might like him, but if that was the case, he could use that to—
A sharp fingernail grazed the skin dangerously close to his right eye. “And death won’t come from a knife.”
She turned away from him and picked up her own spoon.
“Go on now. Get yourself cleaned up. With all this activity and the Parrots out of commission, there’s a lull in the war. It’s safe to come out from hiding—for now.”
Roman stood and was surprised to feel how shaky his legs were. He was probably just tired. It had been a long day.
“Just to be clear. I wasn’t hiding. The girls were hiding. I was just guarding them.”
She stopped him before he left. “About that. Naturally I can’t trust you to watch them again.”
“I understand.”
He held his grin in until he was back on the street.
Because of course that had been his true goal all along—a very calculated risk to demonstrate that when it came to babysitting, he was the wrong man for the job.
The last thing he wanted was to be responsible for some kid.
As Aurelia droned on about how Vale’s attack on Mistrali settlers had started the Great War, Trivia let out an exaggerated yawn, patting at her mouth with her hand.
“Am I boring you?” her tutor asked.
Trivia closed her eyes and dipped her head forward until it touched her school Scroll. She startled “awake,” jolting her hands to her sides and opening her eyes wide.
Aurelia laughed, despite herself. “History can be somewhat dry, but it’s just as important as gymnastics.”
But gymnastics is more fun, Trivia texted. What good will history ever be to me?
“It’ll come in handy next week when I test you on everything we learn today.”
Trivia twirled a finger over her head. Pass or fail, her parents would always be disappointed in her. There wasn’t much motivation for her to do well—none of this mattered, and her performance only reflected on Aurelia’s abilities as a teacher. It was her parents’ fault for refusing to send Trivia to a real school, insisting that they could provide for her “special needs” better at home. But the real reason was that they wanted to be able to keep an eye on her.
She used to think they were embarrassed about her mismatched eyes and her muteness, and there was that, but she was starting to think there was another reason: They were worried about people finding out about what she could do.
And maybe they were afraid of what she would do.
“Whoopdee, indeed. However, your parents are investing quite a bit in your education. Not everyone can afford a combat school professor to tutor their child, and most of those who can never would think to.”
Trivia raised an eyebrow. She texted a one-word message to her teacher’s Scroll: Former.
Aurelia sighed. “That’s right. Does that matter?”
Why did you give it up?
“I told you, I missed living in the city. That’s all. Why are you bringing this up again?” She shook her head. “You’re trying to distract me so you don’t have to finish the day’s lessons.”
Trivia leaned back and smirked.
“What?” Aurelia asked. “What are you getting at?” She leaned forward.
Trivia shook her head. She lifted a hand to her lips, thumb and forefinger pressed together, pinkie out. She tipped her head up and pretended to sip, like she had when having imaginary tea parties with Neopolitan and her stuffed animals and action figures.
“Tea does sound nice.” Aurelia put down her Scroll. “All right. Maybe it will wake you up. A little break and then we’ll finish up the section with Vacuo’s role in the war.”
Trivia sighed.
“I’ll be right back.” Aurelia stood.
Trivia jumped up. She pointed to herself and then the door.
“You want to get the tea? All right. Just one sugar for me.”
Trivia rushed out of the room. Neopolitan was waiting for her in the hall. She tossed up her hands. Finally!
Trivia held up a hand and moved her fingers and thumbs like a puppet’s mouth. Some people don’t know when to shut up.
They hurried toward the kitchen together. Trivia filled a kettle with water and placed it on the stove. While it heated up, she pulled out the bottle of sleeping pills Dr. Mazarin had prescribed for her, for her “nerves,” and used a spoon to crush four of them. She swept the powder into a teacup just as the kettle whistled.
She dumped a bunch of tea leaves into the pot and swished it around impatiently. Neopolitan leaned her head on her arm on the counter and drummed her fingers.
Finally, it was ready. She piled the cups onto a tray, poured the tea, and added a sugar cube to Aurelia’s. She stirred the sugar and t
he ground-up sleeping pills until they dissolved and added a splash of cream to her own cup, so there wouldn’t be any chance of mixing them up.
Back in her room, she clinked glasses with Aurelia and watched her drink.
“It’s a little more bitter than usual, isn’t it?”
New blend from Mistral, Trivia texted. Very expensive.
“Of course it is. Well, back to work.”
The sleeping pills worked quickly. Trivia only had to endure another three paragraphs before Aurelia nodded off, for real. Neopolitan entered the room from the hall. Trivia flashed her a thumbs-up.
She dragged Aurelia over to her bed and tucked her in under the blanket, so her head was covered. Trivia pulled a printout from her desk drawer and left it on the table, then she grabbed the woman’s purse and stepped into the hall. She heard footsteps approaching and thought quickly.
Her father was heading right toward her room.
“Leaving already? How did the lesson go today?” he asked.
Trivia extended a flat hand and tilted it back and forth. So so. She tried not to stare at her hand. Its skin was more brown than hers, and she liked the way Aurelia’s silver ring caught the light.
She had been practicing with her Semblance, but it was still disorienting to be in another person’s body, wearing their face and their clothes.
He grunted. “Trivia lacks motivation, but I know she’s a smart girl. Maybe too smart for her own good. You’ll let me know if she becomes a problem?”
Trivia nodded. Then she put a finger to her lips and pushed her hand down to her chest.
“Lower my voice?” he said more loudly.
Trivia tipped her head toward her bedroom door. She pressed her hands together and brought them up to rest her head on them like a pillow.
“Oh, she’s sleeping. Why didn’t you say so?” he said in a lower voice. “She does stay up until all hours. I’ll see you out.”
Trivia smiled and walked alongside him silently. He opened the door for her.
“Not that talkative today. I know how it is, when you have to do all the talking for both of you. But it seems like Trivia is rubbing off more on you than the opposite.” He chuckled and shook his head. “See you on Thursday.”
Trivia walked calmly toward Aurelia’s car in the driveway. Neopolitan was waiting for her in the passenger seat. She clapped and grinned as Trivia took a seat.
We aren’t out of here yet. Trivia looked at herself in the rearview mirror. Aurelia’s green eyes looked back at her. She hadn’t realized before how sad the woman looked. How tired she was.
She had some idea why. The research she had done on her teacher had turned up a story Aurelia would probably much rather forget. A student of hers had died on a training mission at Patch Combat School, lost in a scuffle with Ursa Grimm. The school didn’t hold her responsible—she had managed to protect her fifteen other students, and it was all part of the risk. But there was plenty of blame to go around. The child’s parents vowed to have her pay for the death of the girl, and Aurelia’s official statement was, “I blame myself. She should still be with us. She was always so capable, perhaps I put too much faith in her to take care of herself while I got the others to safety.”
The girl had been the same age as Trivia, only fifteen.
Aurelia had resigned soon after. But she hadn’t done anything wrong in the eyes of the school, and her references had checked out, so Papa and Mama had no reason to suspect she was anything other than the perfect tutor for their daughter.
Neopolitan snapped her fingers. She pointed ahead of them.
Where are we going? Trivia looked down at the drab gray clothes Aurelia favored. They weren’t much more exciting than what Trivia wore—what her parents bought for her. She wished she could dress more like Neo, with her bright pink-and-white wardrobe.
So let’s go shopping. Trivia put the key in the ignition and took a moment to familiarize herself with the controls. She had never driven a real car before, but she had played plenty of driving and flying simulation games.
The engine roared. She put her foot to the gas. The car rolled forward smoothly.
She grinned. Sometimes imitations were just as good as the real thing.
In a dressing stall at a Kaiser’s department store, Trivia tried on another blouse, this one sky blue. She caught Neo’s reflection in the mirror, gagging from behind her shoulder. Trivia blew her brown bangs away from her eyes and added the shirt to the growing discard pile.
The only shirt that met with Neo’s approval was a pink pastel baby doll, which was more her style’s than Trivia’s. She flashed her a big thumbs-up and then pointed to white denim overalls on a hanger.
Really? Trivia thought. But she tried them on, and she had to admit they were cute. She undid her two long pigtails and shook her shoulder-length hair out. Neo clapped quietly.
Trivia tilted her head as she studied her reflection. Though she hadn’t worn overalls since she was a little girl, wearing her hair down made her look older. She seemed more playful. Happier.
More like Neopolitan. No wonder her friend was so enthusiastic.
She added a pair of black combat boots and a black beaded necklace. She didn’t look anything like herself.
It was perfect.
She felt a sense of loss when she activated her Semblance to project an illusion of the clothing she’d worn into the store over her fun new outfit. The fake clothes felt more constricting than the physical ones, which she kicked under the bench in the dressing stall. She even found it harder to breathe. Neo put a hand on her shoulder and another over her heart until she calmed down.
The real her was under the illusion, like it always was. It was just starting to hurt too much to hide it. That’s why she’d had to leave her house today, leave Aurelia behind—if she didn’t do something unexpected and different to break up her boring, predictable routine, she was going to lose touch with reality.
When she had calmed down, she stepped out of the stall. A young woman in a chic black-and-red dress, hair pinned up in an elegant do, approached and eyed her up and down.
“Didn’t find anything you liked?”
Trivia shook her head.
“Would you like me to help? Maybe if you tell me what you’re looking for. I’m sure we can find you something—”
Trivia’s Scroll rang. She pulled it out. Papa was calling her.
She held up the phone and raised her eyebrows.
“Of course.” The woman stepped aside and allowed Trivia to pass.
Trivia sent the call to voice mail and headed for the exit. When she stepped through the security scanners by the door, an alarm sounded. She tensed, ready to run.
But she stopped, turned, and put on an expression of puzzled annoyance.
“Sorry, miss. I’m sure there’s something wrong with them, but would you mind waiting just a moment?” A brawny security guard stepped over to her.
Trivia shrugged.
She was disguising the stolen clothes, but they still had the store’s tags on them, with their anti-theft devices. Next time she’d have to remember to remove those.
Of course there was going to be a next time.
Then she saw the saleslady come running out of the dressing room at the far end of the shop, holding two empty hangers in one hand, waving Trivia’s drab brown skirt in the other. The same as the one Trivia appeared to still be wearing.
“Stop her!” the woman shouted.
Trivia’s heart started racing and she knew she had dropped the illusion for just a moment because the guard stepped back and said, “What the?” He recovered and reached for his holstered gun.
Trivia wiggled her fingers good-bye and somersaulted backward, kicking her legs up and just grazing the man’s chin with a boot-clad foot. She came up facing the other direction and glimpsed Neo holding up a sign: 9.5.
Some friend you are, she thought.
She kicked the doors open and ran.
Trivia didn’t return home unti
l late. There wasn’t much point in going back sooner. Her father’s text messages made it quite clear that they had discovered Aurelia and knew she was gone. Neo convinced her she should enjoy herself while she could because she might not have another chance for a while.
By the time she drove up to the mansion, the car was full of things she had stolen from shops all over the city of Vale. Three pairs of boots, a dozen tops, seven jackets, three skirts. All in bright colors that didn’t match anything in her wardrobe. She skipped up to the front door wearing the last outfit she had shoplifted, a white ball gown with a pink lace trim and belt sash. Hooked on her forearm was a closed white-and-pink paper parasol.
She opened the door and paused on the threshold, listening. The house was dark, but it was unsettling because she had expected more commotion. Police waiting to talk with her, perhaps. Her parents greeting her with stony faces at the entryway. She figured at the very least they would have waited up for her.
But the house was quiet. She checked her Scroll. The last message from her father had been more than two hours ago. Just two words: “We’re worried.”
Trivia walked through the house tentatively. She finally heard her father’s voice coming from his study. He was still up, working probably. Trivia approached the open door. He was leaning wearily over his desk talking to someone on-screen.
“Thank you. Consider your debt repaid, Chief.” He disconnected the call and leaned back in his chair with a heavy sigh, eyes closed.
Trivia stepped back, but her paper parasol brushed against the doorframe roughly. Papa bolted up in his seat. He spotted her.
“Oh, it’s you. Feeling any better?”
Trivia stepped into the room and pressed a hand against her forehead. Her mother got a lot of migraines. She claimed they were because of Trivia.
“Go back to bed, Carmel. I know you’re worried, but right now you need your sleep. I’ll deal with her when she comes home.”
Trivia nodded. She smiled, in the slightly sad way her mother often did. It was so easy to mimic other people. It wasn’t just the face and the clothes, it was all the little mannerisms that they probably didn’t even know about. The little tells that betrayed what they were thinking, even when their mouths said something else. Those were the details that made most people terrible liars.