New Identity

by Tenaya MKD

  All too soon, we would be fighting for our lives. And it would be my first time, if you didn't count when I’d been nearly kidnapped, which I didn't. That had been mostly luck. Now, I was a trained fighter, fighting for more than just survival.

  Eric blocked my left hook with his forearm. Then he held up his hand and grabbed my following right jab, stopping it dead as it traveled toward his chin. My whole fist fit in his strong grasp. He held me there.

  “You aren't gonna die on me, are you?” he asked.

  “Of course not! I kick your ass on a regular basis, don't I?” I said it with a smile, but we both knew this wasn't the lighthearted conversation we were making it out to be.

  He released my hand, bringing his together to pop his knuckles. “Promise me you will be at your best. Promise that you are going to be safe.” His voice had gotten heavy. The voice of an Eric I didn’t see too often.

  “You know I can't promise that.”

  No sense in being unrealistic.

  Real frustration tensed his face. “You know what I mean, Nova! Please, just promise me that you won't do anything risky.”

  He knows me too well.

  I still fully planned to go after my body, on my own, which probably falls directly under “risky behavior.” I couldn’t change my mind about doing it though. I wouldn’t change my mind.

  “Don't worry about me! I'll be fine,” I assured him. “You're the one who better be careful! My grandma can throw punches harder than you've been throwing tonight.” I laughed, jabbing at him.

  He smiled a hollow smile. “You don't even know your grandma.”

  30

  At 10:20 a.m. the seven of us were standing outside the hatch door, facing the expansive desert. Even though it was the middle of December, it wasn’t too cold when the wind was calm. The sun was high enough to give us some warmth. But that also meant it was bright enough to hurt my eyes. The sunglasses I’d taken from Eric helped, but I still felt more comfortable looking down. Which was lucky, really, because I noticed the creepy centipede coming for my foot with enough time to get out of its way.

  Each of us was armed with our carry-on backpacks and a paper-bagged lunch from Bunny. She’d packed me a faux BLT sandwich, and the peanut butter cookies that made my heart as happy as my stomach.

  We had all been given hoodie sweatshirts and jeans just for the trip. Seeing everyone in regular clothes was odd, but imagine the looks airport security would have given us if we had all shown up in matching jumpsuits.

  Quinn had almost handed me a pink sweatshirt when she was passing them out, but I quickly grabbed a green one from her other hand instead. Pink will never just be a color to me again. The jeans I got were light-wash with holes cut in the knees. After weeks in our comfy jumpsuits, it felt like they were suffocating my legs. I never would have imagined myself choosing the ugly jumpsuit over real clothes, but apparently, a couple months of comfort is all it takes to abandon all notions of fashion.

  The cold wind picked up. I pulled my hood up to help shield my face against it, and next to me Eric did the same. He smiled as I turned to look at him—not at me, just in general. He’d been waiting for this mission a long time.

  The whirring sound of the helicopter reached us before it did. As soon as it touched down, Markham led us forward, instructing us to lean down as we ran for the door. We piled in, quickly took our seats, and were off.

  The helicopter ride was exciting and swift, only about 15 minutes. But the whole process of public air travel, both at the airports and in the air, felt interminable. When we finally reached the hotel, I never wanted to travel anywhere again. Markham and Quinn remarked how nice the flight had been, but I had hated every second of it, nearly as much as Wyatt did.

  “I could be touching those clouds,” he said to me, more than once, while he sulked with his forehead against the window glass.

  Being stuck next to him, in a small seat surrounded by people and their stale air, made me incredibly anxious. If I hadn’t had the cookies, I might have screamed at the little boy behind me who kept pushing his feet into the back of my chair. Apparently, I'm just not cut out for air travel.

  “Okay, two of you to a room,” Quinn said, passing out key cards in the hotel’s lobby. She handed Cayde a card. “You’ll need to room with Nova.”

  We both nodded. He glanced at me for only a second before heading off down the hall—I assumed in the direction of our room. I followed from a few feet behind.

  We got ourselves settled into our room and ordered room service for dinner. A waiter, in a full black suit and bow tie, pushed our food into the room on a fancy cart topped with a white tablecloth. A red rose in a white vase sat in between two dishes, each covered with a silver, metallic-globed lid.

  Pretty fancy for pizza.

  It might have felt romantic, but awkward tension hung thick in the air between us. Cayde and I each sat on our own queen-sized bed. The sounds of our chewing were deafening.

  Apparently, the moment we’d had in my room the other night hadn’t meant as much to him as it had to me.

  Or he found something in my head that he can’t stand…

  That thought hurt. But the more I considered it, the more likely it seemed. Which only made the air around me feel even more tense. Nearly unbreathable. More than once, I considered going to sit in the hall, just to escape the weight of the room.

  He must know I’m not mad anymore; he has to feel it. He doesn’t want us to fix things…

  Every time I would think of something to say to lighten the atmosphere, I’d second-guess myself, and ultimately dismiss it as stupid, before I could get the words out. I could have sworn I saw him open his mouth to speak at least twice, but he only sighed and the silence continued.

  I eventually resorted to turning on the TV, just to have something to listen to. It had been two months since I’d even seen a television, and I hadn’t missed it. But it seemed like a great excuse to not make conversation.

  The show I’d chosen at random was confusing. Characters kept talking to the camera, as if it was a reality show, but I really didn't think it was. We got through two episodes before I decided I preferred the quiet and shut it off. Cayde didn’t seem to mind either way. Once it was off, he just hid himself behind the book he brought, The Time Machine.

  I’m going to have to start getting my own books…

  While I got ready for bed, Cayde paced the room, wringing his hands. He kept glancing in my direction with furtive eyes.

  Whenever I caught him looking at me for more than a split second, I got the sense that he was examining me… Sizing me up, maybe? Contemplating something.

  He was looking up and down, from his hands to where I stood by the closet.

  Just say something. Anything.

  I took a deep breath. “What’s on your mind?” I managed to ask.

  Whatever it was, he wasn't sure about sharing it with me. I saw him go back and forth with himself over the idea, at least ten times, in a matter of a few seconds.

  “Do you want me to go get ice?” he spat out.

  “Are you worried about helping me tonight?”

  “No, not at all,” he blurted.

  “Are you uncomfortable sharing the room with me?”

  He cocked his head to the side, pausing a second too long for my comfort. “No.”

  “Then, what's going on with you?”

  “I'm just tired.”

  Damn. This man is worse than me!

  “If you say so…” But the lie was so pitiful, I couldn’t help but shake my head. He pretended not to notice.

  “I'll wake you up when it’s time,” he said.

  Something was really bothering him, and I felt sure that it was me. When his pacing brought him near my bed, I pulled him down to sit next to me, keeping my hand on his.

  I looked into his eyes, fully intending to ask him for our friendship back. I wanted to beg him to forget whatever he found in my head that made him look at me so differently. The words wou
ldn’t come out though. They sat lodged in the back of my throat. Choking me with their weight.

  “Thank you,” I said, in a small voice.

  The corners of his mouth pulled up slightly. But he stood and headed to his own bed pretty quickly.

  Before turning off the lights, he looked at me, making my heart flutter. I thought maybe he'd say more—something that would put me at ease.

  “Goodnight, Nova.”

  I sighed. “Goodnight, Cayde.”

  The bed frame creaked when he sat down. I woke up quickly, but not panicked like I had the last time. Once I sat myself up, Cayde took my hands in his and closed his eyes. I did the same, doing my best to open my mind to him. In an instant, he was there with me, at that place in my mind where the power built.

  The luminescent colors were just beginning to spill out from the darkness. This time, I hoped to be of more help, so I envisioned myself as a wave, like Cayde had been before. My wave took a form, but it didn't do much to dampen the growing energy when it collided with the vibrant blues, greens, and pinks. It was nothing like Cayde’s.

  His presence spread throughout the corners of my mind, growing much faster and stronger than it had the last time. In merely a moment, it flooded my entire consciousness. The colors were extinguished. My whole being felt calm.

  He didn't leave my mind immediately. The edges of his presence retracted inward, like the waves do on a beach, but he let himself pool into the center. I didn't understand why, at first. Then I felt it.

  It was goodness. I can’t explain it any other way. It was goodness, but tangled up with regret and longing. It was care. It was light. It was smiling. It felt like trust. And, layered on top of all of that, was an apology. A wish to be understood.

  I didn't understand how I was feeling any of it, until I opened my eyes and saw the way Cayde was looking at me. His autumn eyes were looking straight into me—questioning.

  These are his feelings.

  He is asking us to trust each other.

  We couldn't talk about what had been sitting between us, so he got words out of the way. Everything was out of the way.

  Without hesitation, I leaned into him, pressing my lips firmly into his. I felt his heart kick-start into a faster rhythm. In the next moment, he let go of the connection to my mind and sunk into my body instead.

  He wrapped his hands around my waist to pull me closer to him. My hand found its way into the tousled hair at the back of his neck. At first, our lips moved together slowly, but my heart was pounding now—urging me on.

  I lay down, pulling him on top of me. When his body pressed into mine, he sighed, as if it was a relief to finally be there. It was for me. I wrapped my legs around him and slipped my hands under his shirt, not wanting to miss an inch of his warm skin.

  I definitely would not have stopped there. But he pulled his face away from mine to look at me—still panting. He gave me my favorite smile, and it warmed my heart. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed it.

  When he brought his lips back to mine, it was light—sweet. He moved himself to lie beside me, pulling my body to fit into his. He kissed the back of my head. Then, he softly caressed my arm with his fingertips, tracing upward over my shoulder and then my neck.

  The iron wall that had been between us melted away to nothing.

  No words were needed.

  More comfortable than I had ever been, I drifted to sleep, holding Cayde's hand against my chest.

  31

  I opened my eyes to a white, insulated carafe and black mug waiting for me on the nightstand.

  My hero.

  Cayde had to be up early for his scouting shift, and he hadn’t woken me when he left. But now that I was conscious, I thought I recalled him gently kissing my forehead.

  I sat up and poured the coffee, letting the aroma pull the sleep from my eyes. The thought of Cayde’s lips on mine came flooding back to me, making a big grin spread across my face.

  Chill, Nova. This is probably the dumb look Oliver has on his face every time he looks at Sam.

  I laughed into the empty room. I never would have imagined myself fitting into that comparison.

  I resolved to keep the grin in check around other people. Because right now, I had no choice in the matter. It was overtaking my face, and there was no stopping it. Not while the feeling of his fingertips across my skin was still so fresh in my mind.

  Before I was ready to face the world, there was a knock at the door. Quinn had brought a breakfast of pastries and fruit. Not Bunny’s usual feast, but it would go well with my coffee.

  I assumed she would leave after making her delivery, but instead she sat down on Cayde's bed and bit into her bear claw.

  “How was the stakeout?” I asked.

  “It was productive. At 1 o’clock there is a shift change that leaves the ground floor and parking garage empty for ten minutes. It doesn't give us a lot of time. But it will be enough to get into the stairwell and at least a few floors up, so we have a head start. It is better than I had dared to hope for, actually.”

  “Great.” That really was good news, but you wouldn’t know it from the tone in my voice. I’d woken up so happy that I’d forgotten to feel anxious about the danger we'd be in tonight. Anxiety was quickly piling on me now; pressing heavier than ever on my mind, heart, lungs—you name it.

  “What time will Cayde and Wyatt be back?”

  “Chief Markham will take their place around five o'clock, so they will have a chance to rest a bit.”

  “Cool.” I tried not to sound as relieved by that as I felt.

  “I trust everything went well last night?” she asked.

  I turned to her with wide eyes, a little too quickly, before realizing she was referring to controlling my ability.

  “Yeah, it went well. Cayde's powers have grown so quickly. It was easy for him.”

  “He is quite the student. You should take notes.”

  I laughed. She was right. He was disciplined in a way I’d probably never manage to be.

  I swiped my hand across the thick, white comforter to brush away my glazed donut crumbs. It was luxuriously soft. That’s when it occurred to me, for the first time, how nice the room was.

  The matte-black metal bed frame twisted into complex designs at the head and foot. Crisp, black-and-white photography of various Manhattan cityscapes hung on the white walls, in black frames that matched the curtains. The nightstands and writing desk were all real wood, pristinely coated in ebony-black paint, not the plywood shit you see in cheap motels. Plus, we were in Manhattan.

  “How can we afford this hotel?” I asked. “Actually, how do we afford anything?” I'd never had the need to think about money, but it didn't make sense that we had enough to even cover the facility’s expenses. Our coffee budget alone must be outrageous.

  “I fund the facility,” Quinn said.

  My eyebrows raised. “How do you afford that?”

  “I have money,” she said simply.

  “A lot of money?”

  “A lot of money.”

  “Oh.” If it were anyone else, I’d ask where she got it. But I knew better than to push Quinn when she didn't want to do something. And it was clear, in the way she set her shoulders and filled her mouth with pastry, that she didn't want to have this conversation.

  But I wouldn't be me if I didn't try my luck a little. “What makes you willing to give so much of it to the facility?”

  Her lips pursed, annoyed, but she answered anyway. “Like everyone else we live with, something happened... I owe our facility a lot.”

  “We have spent so much time together over the past couple months, but I know nothing about you, Quinn.”

  “That's on purpose,” she said, moving to get up from the bed.

  “Ouch!” I feigned an injured heart. “That's rough. Even for you.” She relaxed back onto the bed with a sigh, but the corners of her mouth pulled up, ever so slightly. “You act like you don’t like anybody, but I see through it. I knew you l
iked me,” I said. She frowned, giving me a sideways look. “Uhh, deep down?”

  She laughed. “Okay Nova, I'll tell you a bit about myself, but only if you do two things: One; promise to shut up about it, and two; spend more time meditating.”

  “I swear.” I raised my right hand as if I were a Girl Scout taking an oath.

  “Okay, fine.” She looked down at the last bites of her bear claw. “Well, I like scary movies, though I can't remember the last time I watched one. I was born in Michigan into a small, wealthy family who was very good to me. They all passed away by my twentieth birthday.

  “Twelve years ago, five men broke into my house in the middle of the night. I fought them off as best I could. But I wasn't strong enough. The only woman I have ever loved was taken from me.”

  I had to try not to let my jaw drop. I couldn't imagine Quinn ever losing a fight. Or grieving…

  “Having heard he was investigating similar kidnappings, I sought out Chief Markham. I'd have been lost without his mission. He gave me a direction to keep going.” Her eyes turned glassy, but she quickly recovered; her usual stern tone restored. “And that’s how the facility was born.”

  “Wow,” was all I could say. “I'm so sorry.”

  “Don't be.” She quickly stood. “The last thing I need is someone feeling sorry for me.” She took a couple of steps toward the door, but turned back to point a rigid finger at me. “Don't make me regret telling you this.”

  I nodded. “You're the toughest bitch I know, Quinn. How could I feel sorry for you?”

  A small smile touched her face. “Damn straight.”

  Once she left, I finished my donut, then sank back into bed. Sunlight shone in on me through the crack in the curtain. Its warmth was a feeling I had sorely missed. I closed my eyes, making an effort to focus on nothing but the sensation of the light on my cheeks. It was an effort to keep my promise to Quinn, but more than that, it was an attempt to quiet the panic building in my mind.

  Every one of the people I knew had been touched by the hellfire that was Crowley and the rest of Shadow. Tonight, we planned to walk into that fire.