by Ann Denton
Lowe clenched a fist and opened his mouth to lash back—
“You’ll have to rain check,” Tier grumbled. But he smiled as he took a seat. He appreciated cocky banter.
“You called me, sir?”
Tier steepled his fingers in front of his lips. “Yes. Are you familiar with the girl Lowe brought in? Mala?”
Ein shook his head.
“New recruit. Doesn’t appear she has any control over her ability,” Lowe said, shrugging. “Every time she’s melted, she’s been under extreme stress. The process seemed to disturb her. She can only melt back to her original state, her true linear age, by swimming.” He paused, considering. “Or maybe the cold water shocks her out of whatever emotion led her to a meltdown.”
“You forgot to add that she melts like Klaren,” Tier raised his eyebrows.
Ein took a step back. “The deranged?”
Tier nodded.
“Muck.” Ein’s smart mouth didn’t have any further words.
“I need you to figure out how she melts.”
“What does she know about the process already?”
Lowe answered, unable to contain his delight at the shocked look on Ein’s normally smug face. “Until yesterday, she thought she was insane.” Cursed was the word she’d used, but he didn’t think Tier or Ein would appreciate that.
“What do we know about Klaren’s melts?” Ein’s tone immediately became scientific.
“Practically nothing,” Tier grabbed a pen and started jotting something on a scrap of paper. “My predecessor didn’t make everyone keep a log of their melts. Didn’t interview them on video. If he had, his recruitment numbers might have been better.” His voice grew smug on the last line.
Ein turned his hazel eyes down to Lowe’s. Lowe straightened his spine, but Ein was a gangly giant. There was no way to win a staring contest with him. He made everyone feel three-feet tall.
“What do you know about her melts?”
“Other than what I’ve just told you?” Lowe raised an eyebrow. “Nothing.” He deliberately forced away the thought of his kiss with Mala. Ein had enough information without that. And Tier didn’t need to know that Mala had melted into and seen their double agent. I’m in deep enough water already.
But Ein’s eyes narrowed. “What is it?”
“I’ve known this girl two days.”
“She’s your first recruit. It means you’re making gaga eyes at each other. What’s she told you?”
“Her mom died the night we met. So not much of anything.”
“You’re lying.”
“No. You just don’t want this assignment. If it’s too hard for you, just say so.”
Ein took a step forward, towering over Lowe. Lowe’s face heated. He wanted nothing more than to sweep a leg out. I can snap you like a little matchstick—
“We need her under control yesterday,” Tier snapped. “This is now your top priority. Both of you”
Ein mashed his lips into a line. “With all due respect, sir, I have other projects. The sewage system’s been sprouting leaks like sludging dandelions, and the pipes on the south side have rusted over. Fall’s almost over. If I don’t get this done before—”
“Ein, shut up,” said Tier. Ein shut his mouth abruptly.
“Top priority,” Tier said sternly. “Bar none. Are we clear?”
Ein gave a terse nod. “Yes, sir.”
“Dismissed,” said Tier, and Ein nodded before marching out of the room. Lowe lingered a moment, uncertain if the dismissal was his as well.
Tier stared hard at him for a second. “You should have left her behind. You know that.”
Lowe shook his head. Then ashamed of his own defiance, he looked at the ground. “It was in the report. Blut was after me. She was there. I couldn’t leave her. If the Erlenders were following him, worried that he didn’t come back, she’d have been a sitting duck.”
“Blut was after you?” Tier’s eyes glittered with fury.
“Yes.”
“Muck.” Tier moved to a stack of folders and flipped through them. His eyes scanned the first page of Lowe’s report. He kept his face controlled, but his breathing picked up. His eyes dilated. “Was the other mission compromised?”
Lowe returned his eyes to his commander’s. And he lied. “No, sir.”
“You’d better find something to move your little stray forward, and fast. Tell Stelle we have a shipment of cloth headed downstream in two weeks. Should be tempting for those blue-nosed muck-heads. But you need to get her more intel. Get back out on the field ASAP. There are rumors going around, and our window of opportunity might be closing.”
A drawer creaked open in Tier’s desk. Lowe looked up in time to see the Ancient throw him something small and squarish. He caught the two-way radio an inch from his nose.
“Use it to contact Stelle. Channel four.”
“What are the rumors?” Lowe asked, sliding the sleek little radio into his hip pocket.
A knock on the door halted Tier’s response. A Typical archivist poked his head in. “Reports, sir?”
Lowe turned to leave. He pulled open the door and stepped out into the dim corridor. Tier’s voice carried down the hall as Lowe walked to conference four.
“By the Deadwater, you’d better fix this, Lowe.”
Tier’s frustration bulldozed through Lowe. This mission was the first one he’d failed. The first time he’d messed up. Not once, but twice, muckhead. He reminded himself of Stelle’s scathing put-down. He blew out a deep breath.
“I’ll fix it,” he whispered.
Chapter Twenty-One
Lowe sat in a single-room dome of woven reeds and grass. His hut bobbed on the surface of the lake, connected to other Kreis huts by floating wooden walkways. He was senior enough, he didn’t have a roommate anymore. So he sat alone, staring at the handheld radio Tier had given him, tossing it between his hands. He’d contacted Stelle twice, or tried to—she hadn’t responded. Her frequency was dead. He hoped that didn’t mean she was too.
If the woman with Sorgen made it to Troe before Stelle did … Lowe shook the thought away. He’d had it often enough over the past few days, but there was nothing he could do about it now. Stelle was either dead, or she wasn’t. He bottled it up, the way he bottled up damn near everything else, and buried his fear deep down in his heart.
He wondered how Mala’s training had gone today. Every day this past week, she’d had a double whammy. Ein, for testing. Lowe had watched many of her tests through the observation window, hoping to see something the genius missed. He hadn’t. Instead, he’d watched Mala march from Ein’s torture chamber over to Verrukter’s, where she had combat. Lowe observed those lessons discreetly as well, so he could coach her in the evenings. Occasionally, he’d interrupt a lesson—when she looked too far gone—and drag her to a meditation room. He’d let her rant or rave or cry, then he’d lead her into stretching and yoga positions until she was calm again. She’d only had four breakdowns in her first week.
About as great as my first week, probably. He grimaced. Blut had wiped the floor with him in combat. He’d barely been able to walk. He’d melted down about eight times a day. His thoughts drifted back to his lowest moment. Sore beyond belief, he’d refused to get up off the mat. Blut had yelled. Kicked him. But he’d refused. Stubborn teenage shit that I was. Fell had come to see him. I told her I wanted to quit. I couldn’t take anymore.
Fell had hauled him to his feet. Run her hands gently over his cheeks. Examined his black eye. Propped him under her shoulder to help him hobble away. And then, she’d punched him in the face. And said, “You can take more. You can always take more.”
Lowe smiled. She’d been right. He hadn’t stayed down since. But he hoped Mala wouldn’t try to quit. He wasn’t sure he could punch her in the face.
He rubbed his own face in frustration. He’d had no leads on Klaren’s melts. Every second he wasn’t supervising Mala, Lowe was researching how she melted.
He’d talked
to Klaren’s friends, the Kreis still alive. There’d only been three. All they’d been able to tell him was that Klaren had clammed up if anyone asked him once about how he melted.
“And if you asked him twice …” Samen had grinned, showcasing a smile that was only half-filled with teeth. “He took a couple of these out for me. Course, I never told him I only asked him so many times so I wouldn’t have to ship out to the mucking hospital. Damn canines rotted out. Let him think he was tough. You know?”
It had been a dead end. So had the medic’s records. Lowe sighed. He was no closer to finding out how Mala melted than Ein was. Which left Stelle stranded. If she was still alive.
There was a splash outside, and Lowe shoved the radio under his mattress. He peered through the doorway and saw Mala pulling herself out of the water, dripping wet and glowing in the gold light of sunset. His breath caught.
Mucking gorgeous.
Mala grimaced at him as he exited his hut. Lowe pushed back his hair and flicked his eyes away for a second. He took a calming breath.
She made him feel too much. Too many things. Sympathy. Guilt that she was here, that Stelle was waiting. And stronger than all the rest, this infuriating heat. It was everywhere when she came close, a burning sensation that tingled in intimate places. It was uncomfortable, but hell if he wanted it to go away.
He left the hut and sat next to her on the floating reed walkway. He traced circles in the green water with his toes. “Evening,” he said.
“Hey,” Mala murmured back. She had a big purple splotch on her jaw, and he spotted some yellow bruises through the circle cutouts on the arms of her wetsuit.
“How’d it go?”
Mala just sighed.
Since she wasn’t sharing, Lowe changed topics. “So.” He put his hand on hers. “Made any friends?”
Mala snorted. “No. But I think Verrukter is starting to like me.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I think he secretly likes getting his butt kicked.”
Lowe laughed. That was one of the reasons Verrukter liked Alba so much. She was one of the few people that could consistently put his face to the mat. “I’d believe it. What did you do today?”
“Sneak attacks,” Mala said, a grin splitting her face. “I didn’t win. But I think I got close. Alba told me he leans left. I got him down on his knees at least once.”
Lowe groaned and resisted the instant urge to protect the family jewels. “Not fair.”
“First thing he taught me was fights aren’t fair,” Mala laughed.
Lowe gave Mala a thump on the shoulder, which transformed into a side hug and ended up with her head on his shoulders.
“Is it crazy that I’m kinda happy to be here?” Mala asked. Her face turned wistful. And then sad. He could tell her thoughts were on her mother.
Lowe gave her a moment. Then decided to lighten the mood.
“I’m here, so—no.” Lowe elbowed her. She laughed. The sound made his heart jump and started high-fiving his other organs.
“You. Yes. You. But Alba and Ges too. You all kind of counteract the evil named Ein.”
Lowe smiled. “I’m glad.”
“I … you know I’m a ruiner. But it’s been hard for me to make friends. Before here,” Mala confessed.
“I wasn’t … social either. Before …” Before my parents died, he thought, but he didn’t want to ruin a blossoming moment. He shook the memory away. “I was a shy kid. I only had one friend.”
“One more than me,” Mala replied. She gave him a playful bump with her elbow. “Who was it?
“We grew up together, so it wasn’t like I ever had to introduce myself. I kind of just followed her around. She called me her shadow.”
“Her?” Mala raised her head to smile at him. “Oh, so you’ve always been a stalker.”
Lowe laughed. “Guess so.”
“What was her name?”
“Stelle,” Lowe saw Mala’s face fall in recognition.
“The redhead?”
“She’s long gone,” Lowe lied, taking Mala’s hand.
But even as he reassured her, an image flashed through his mind. Six-year-old Stelle, with short hair and muddy fingers, laughing herself insane as she painted obscene images on an abandoned store’s windows. Lowe was beside her, a head shorter, clapping and cheering her on.
She’d held his hand and led him away, their graffiti and shallow footprints the only signs of life the abandoned place had seen in years. The sun had been so warm that day, the breeze hot like steam, and they’d been sweaty and grimy, but he didn’t care … she’d made him laugh.
A fire erupted in Lowe’s chest, the kind that meant he was on the cusp of losing control. He clenched his fists and dragged himself back to the present. The sunlight of the memory faded, and the silvery shadows of dusk took its place. A cold wind washed over his face, tousling his hair. Reminding him with a quiet urgency that Stelle wasn’t here. That he wasn’t sure if she was alive.
Mala was staring at him. Lowe took a deep breath through his teeth. He put on a happy face. “I could introduce you to some more people if you want,” he offered, trying to make up for the moment he’d been lost in memory. “We do this thing. Call it family dinner …”
“That’s … good, I guess,” said Mala. “Ein won’t be there?”
“Not with us.”
Mala bit her lip. “How many people?”
“Dez, Beza and his mom, Verrukter and the flavor of the day …” Lowe shrugged.
Mala looked hesitant.
“Please?” He stuck out his bottom lip. “Please with honey and nuts and sugar and apples and maple syrup and partridge and pork chops—”
“Okay, this request is getting weird,” Mala quirked an eyebrow.
“They’re all my favorite things,” Lowe responded.
“I don’t have to talk?”
“If you don’t talk, Verrukter will probably start miming at you.”
Mala pursed her lips. “He would do that. Ugh. Can I bring Alba?”
“Sure.” Lowe wasn’t sure if Verrukter and Alba were on-again or off-again, but he didn’t much care. If it made Mala more comfortable, he would deal with Verrukter’s whining.
“Okay.” Mala smiled and relaxed back into him. “When is it?”
“I can probably get everyone together in an hour or two.”
“Tonight?”
“Is there something wrong with that?”
“I … I … wanted to you know … think about what I was going to say.”
Lowe laughed. “Just insult Verrukter a couple times. You don’t have to say much else.” He tousled her hair like a kid. But that drew her face close. Her lips parted. And he couldn’t resist.
His hands moved on their own—one to her waist, the other more securely behind her head, drawing her closer. She leaned into him, eyes drifting shut, her own hands encircling his neck. He could feel her heart pounding under her skin.
Lowe pressed his lips to hers. She opened her mouth and closed it again. His tongue snaked forward …
A fire erupted in them both, a sudden explosion of impossible heat. Two seconds passed. Lowe groaned.
“Mucking hell,” he muttered, pulling back, bracing himself. He just stopped his own melt. But his skin wavered painfully as he fought for control.
He glanced over. Mala had melted into Stelle. She stared down sheepishly, wringing her hands and biting her lip. Guilt stabbed his chest like an icicle.
Mala bit her lip and burst into tears.
“I’m sorry!” she sobbed, hiding her face in her hands. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I, I ruin everything, I’m sorry, I know I’m stupid, I—”
Lowe’s arms were around her in an instant. She buried her face in his chest, muffling her sobs with his wetsuit. He stroked her hair and shushed her. “No. No, Mala, you don’t ruin anything. You’re only human. Control will come with time. It’s alright. It’s alright, Mala. You don’t ruin anything.”
He let her cry he
rself out, the sun sinking behind the mountains and staining the sky blue and purple and grey, streaks like watercolors, all bleeding into each other.
When the sky was dark and the first stars appeared, Lowe pulled her up to face him. Her eyes were red and puffy, her nose vibrant pink. Her cheeks gleamed with tears.
Lowe dried one with his thumb. His voice was grave. The face belonged to Stelle, but the tears, the anguish, the bit lip belonged to Mala. “Don’t you talk about ruining anything. I’d melt a thousand times to kiss you again.”
And he did. He touched his lips to hers, softly, just for a moment.
Then he sat back, pulling himself away, not touching her. Lowe gave her space to jump into the brisk autumn lake water. Then he helped her climb back out, used his blanket to wrap her and settled her on his lap, out of the north wind. He held her while the moon crested the jagged teeth of the mountains.
“Thank you,” Mala said quietly.
Lowe reached for her hand.
“No,” Mala said quickly. “What if we? If I … I don’t want to … meltdown.” She whispered the last word.
Lowe gave her a soft smile. “Here,” he said, linking his pinkie with hers. “I think this should be safe.”
He earned a soft chuckle.
“Don’t think that this gets you out of family dinner either,” he turned his tone mockingly grave.
“Oh?”
“Next week. Have your canned lines prepared.”
Mala elbowed him. He laughed. And a little piece of his soul sighed in contentment. But his mind ruined the moment. Don’t get too comfortable. You have to figure out her melts. And then you have to leave her.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The archives stood seven stories, a long vertical tube of rooms filled with books and maps and computers. Each room opened onto a central ledge and wayward archivists could fall off if they weren’t careful. Ladders connected the ledges at each floor, ringing the central access tube at one-meter intervals. Typicals in green wetsuits with books strapped to their backs climbed up and down the iron library’s hollow core like spiders.
Lowe watched them and gave a little shiver.