by Ellery Kane
“You should go talk to him,” Elana urged.
“I don’t know. I look ridiculous.” Emma, on the other hand, looked perfect, as usual. She was wearing a size-too-small Free Inmate 243 T-shirt and tight blue jeans.
“Lex,” Elana chided. “If you’re not going to talk to him, then why did you come?”
“Ugh.” She was right. “Okay. Will you come with me?” I followed Elana, pushing my way through the muddle of the crowd, feeling increasingly nervous as the distance between me and Quin grew smaller. With just two steps between us, Elana called out to him.
I watched as her voice registered on Quin’s face. He turned to us, confused. “Elana? What are you doing here?” He didn’t even recognize me.
Elana’s voice was mischievous. “I want to introduce you to someone. This is my friend, Ms. Blonde Bombshell.” The color drained from Quin’s face, as our eyes met.
“Hi,” I mumbled, feeling small. He looked me over befuddled. “Don’t ask.”
“Why … what are you … um—” As Quin stumbled, Emma interrupted.
“Nice hair, Lex.” Her tone was unreadable, another insult in disguise. “Blondes really do have more fun. But, technically, you’re still a brunette.” She leaned against Quin as she spoke, wrapping her hand around his bicep. I imagined myself reaching out and pulling her black braid until she screamed in agony. But Quin stepped away from her, toward me. That step—small, but momentous—was so much more satisfying.
Elana nudged me with her elbow, prompting me to speak. “Uh—I wanted to be here to support you,” I told Quin, trying to block out Emma’s prying eyes.
“Humph.” Emma’s contempt was obvious. “Too little, too late.” She spoke the words low, under her breath.
“What’s your problem?” Elana demanded, glowering at her.
“My problem?”
As Elana and Emma fired back at each other, Quin took another step toward me. “Thanks for coming,” he said. “How’s Artos?”
I half-smiled. “He’s good. Doesn’t even know you’re gone.” In truth, Artos was nervous without Quin, constantly biting his paws and licking his fur, but I couldn’t say that out loud. It was too hard.
“What about you? Same as Artos?” The question—Quin’s sudden vulnerability—surprised me.
Laughing, I teased, “Yep, same as Artos.”
“I miss that,” Quin said, stopping himself in mid-reach for my hand.
“What? Artos?”
He shook his head no. “Your laugh.”
I felt a surge of warmth travel through me, like spring returning to my heart, but I wasn’t sure what to say. That’s not fair—it was your decision, I replied in my head. I couldn’t look at him, so I let my eyes wander down, down, down the steps through the crowd below. I gasped, grabbing hold of Quin’s arm without thinking.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Augustus,” I breathed the name, not wanting to say it aloud. “He’s here.”
“Where?” Quin’s gaze followed mine, stopping at the base of the stairs. Just arrived, a black car idled, door ajar. “Are you sure?” I narrowed my eyes, squinting at the car’s tinted windows.
“I’m sure.” I wasn’t really. Except for a long, pant-suited leg, the car door blocked my view. Still, the raised hairs on the back of my neck, bristling in alarm, convinced me. It was him. Emma’s timing was impeccable. She stomped toward us, leaving a red-faced Elana in her wake. My hand was still latched onto Quin, and I certainly wasn’t planning to let go now.
“It’s probably not him,” Quin assured me. “Even so, I doubt he would recognize you.”
As Quin spoke, Emma frowned at me, crinkling her nose with distaste. Her eyes zeroed in on my hand, as she scoffed, “Are you really that helpless? Quin won’t always be there to protect you, ya know?”
Ignoring her, I remained laser-focused on that car. Unfolding from its depths, like a spider emerging from a dark hole, Augustus appeared. “I told you,” I said to Quin.
“You’ll be fine. He’s here as the drug czar.” His words were little comfort, as Augustus’ walk was deliberate, his path direct. He was coming this way. Elana and I scooted off, concealing ourselves behind a tall rally-goer. She arranged my hair, pulling it close to my cheekbones, shielding my face, as if she was closing a curtain. As Augustus approached, I realized that I was completely invisible, just a blonde in the crowd. His sight was set on Quin.
“Well, well, well, Quin McAllister.” Augustus could not conceal his excitement. “I haven’t been this thrilled to see an old friend in quite some time. Five days to be exact, but who’s counting?” I shivered a little knowing he was thinking of me.
“Old friend?” Quin sneered. “I would ask if you try to kill all your friends, but I guess we both know the answer to that one.”
Augustus feigned hurt. “I’m not sure what you’re referring to, Quin. But you must be misremembering. I’ve always been quite fond of you.”
“Yeah. Misremembering. Right.”
I stifled a giggle, as an overconfident Emma positioned herself between Quin and Augustus. This was going to be good. “Who are you again?” she asked, cocking her head to the side.
From two feet above her, Augustus loomed, furrowing his brow in annoyance. Addressing Quin, he shot Emma from the sky with a few pointed words. “Where is Alexandra? I do so miss seeing the two of you together. I’ve always been partial to young love!”
“She’s not here,” Quin answered, ushering a subdued Emma out of the way.
“How disappointing! We had such precious little time together, when I saw her last. So much unfinished business.” Augustus’ head swiveled, scanning the crowd. I squeezed Elana’s arm tight and tried not to look. His gaze rested on us for a moment too long, and I prepared to run. But then, “Such a pity she couldn’t be here to support you, but then, she never understood you like I did.”
Maintaining his poker face, Quin turned his back on Augustus. “Mr. McAllister, you’re more like me than you know.”
His words stonewalled Quin. He spun on his heels and stood toe to toe with Augustus. “I am nothing like you. You are a liar, a criminal, and a murderer.” Augustus put his finger to his lips, shushing Quin, as a few heads turned in the crowd. I heard their whispers. “Drug czar … Augustus Porter.” He acknowledged them with a fraudulent smile and a pageant wave.
When he spoke again, I had to strain to hear him. “Think about it, Quin. Liar, criminal, murderer—those are your words. Are we really that different?” Quin squirmed away, as Augustus reached to pat him on the shoulder. “I’m sorry I can’t stay for the festivities. The work of the drug czar is never done.” With that, he slithered back down the stairs, flanked by two police officers.
“Q,” Emma called. “We should get started. The crowd’s getting a little restless.” Quin nodded vacantly. I knew how he felt. Augustus’ mind games were brutal.
“Do you think he saw me?” I asked Elana. “He was looking right at us.”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so. Even if he did, there’s not much he can do here.”
I wanted to believe her, but I knew better than to underestimate Augustus. “Have you seen my dad?”
“No, but I’ll keep an eye out for him. I can’t imagine he’ll miss us.” She tugged at my wig.
Emma cleared her throat into the microphone, quieting the crowd. “On October 9, Shelly McAllister tragically lost her life. I want to begin tonight with a moment of silence for Shelly and her unborn baby.” I tried to look at my feet, to stare straight ahead—anywhere else—but my eyes were pulled to Quin by an irresistible tether. When I finally gave in, he was looking right back at me.
CHAPTER FORTY - NINE
BURIED DEEP
“I WAS LUCKY TO KNOW both Shelly and George,” Emma began. “They were a great couple, always supporting each other, no matter what.” I was probably being paranoid, but it felt like that comment was meant for me. “And in all the time I knew them, I never even saw the
m argue…”
Emma had never witnessed an argument between George and Shelly, but I had. It was buried deep—way down—in the boneyard of my mind, a singular, indelible memory in an unmarked grave. I never told Quin.
I heard their raised voices from outside the door, as Quin waited for me in his father’s car. I forgot my jacket inside their apartment.
“Is this how you talked to her?” Shelly was screaming, the kind of rage that dissolves into tears. “Did you treat her like this?”
“That’s a low blow, Shelly.” Silence. “You’re my wife. I want you to start acting like it.”
“I didn’t do anything wrong,” Shelly was crying now, her voice broken between sobs. “I can’t help how your friend looks at me. What are you gonna do, George, kill me?”
Without warning, the door opened, Quin’s father bursting through it, nearly knocking me over. “Alexandra, what are you—?”
“Sorry, I forgot something.” Before he could say anything, I turned around—mortified—and ran down the stairs, leaving my jacket behind. We never spoke of it again.
Elana squeezed my wrist in alarm, jolting me. “Do you know that guy?” As I started to turn my head, her voice stopped me. “Don’t look now—but he’s staring at you!”
I felt my heartbeat quicken.
“Oh God,” Elana breathed. “He’s coming this way.”
My head felt leaden, heavy with dread, turning it like moving a stone. Mickey! As Emma droned on, he was ambling up the stairs, obviously drunk, roughly parting the sea of people with his ape-like arms. I could hear his labored breathing. His unruly brows were narrowed, a look of determination on his face.
“Go, Lex!” Elana pushed me forward, and I scampered up the stairs toward the podium. Hushed voices and pointing fingers chased me through the crowd, as I ran.
“You!” Mickey’s voice rose up from the crowd and descended like a hammer, silencing Emma. “Stop!” Moving with the speed and grace of a walrus, he galumphed onto the stage after me, grabbing my ankle. I wriggled free, leaving him clawing at the air, as he yelled in a singsong voice, “Girlie, somebody’s lookin’ for ya!” By somebody, he meant Augustus.
Just as Mickey regained his balance, he realized he was cornered. His eyes were wild, uncertain where to land. Quin stood like a roadblock in front of him, with two men from the crowd flanking him from each side. With nowhere to go, he reached into his waistband and withdrew his gun.
“Gun!” someone shouted from the crowd. “He’s got a gun!” I ducked behind the podium, as people descended the steps en masse like an avalanche, climbing and jostling for their lives. I could hear my own breathing—fast—like the beat of a hummingbird’s wings.
Emma pushed past me, hands on her hips, marching toward Mickey. Her lips were pursed with disdain. “Hey, you!” Was she insane? He froze for a moment—dumbfounded—his mouth open, jowls flopping. “Yeah, you!” She egged him on. “You probably don’t even know how to use that thing.”
Mickey pointed the gun at Emma. Emma stared back.
“Emma! Get down!” Quin yelled.
“I’m not scared of this drunk baboon!” she fired back.
Mickey let loose an unhinged cackle before firing. Bam, bam, bam! Just as he pulled the trigger, he was tackled from behind, sending his bullets straight into the air. Mickey hit the ground with a plop. His gun scuttled across the steps. Police descended on the scene, cuffing him and helping his unlikely captor to his feet. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, as I watched my father brush himself off and run toward me.
CHAPTER FIFTY
LUCKY ENOUGH
I WAS SITTING ON THE STAIRS next to Elana and my father, as the police carted Mickey away. “Mr. Knightley, that was really brave,” Elana said.
My father’s cheeks pinkened at Elana’s compliment. “I’m just glad I was here.”
“Me too,” I agreed, giving him an affectionate squeeze.
“What d’ya say we get out of here, Blondie?” My father stood and offered me a hand.
“I want to say good-bye to Quin first.” I looked over my shoulder, where Quin and Emma were talking to the police. Emma noticed me first, her expression darkening as I approached. She nudged Quin with her elbow and whispered something in his ear—the small red bow of her lips close enough to brush against his cheek.
I addressed Quin. “I’m sorry about all this.” When he turned to me, his eyes softened.
Emma scowled at me. “Next time you want to be supportive … don’t.” I felt my cheeks flush crimson with shame. “You ruined everything.”
“Emma—enough!” Quin scolded her.
“It’s okay. I can fight my own battles.” My voice was cold and my eyes—fixed on Emma—even colder. I hardly recognized myself, this territorial creature, baring her teeth. “I just don’t get you, Emma. Why do you hate me? You don’t even know me.”
“I know enough,” she said flatly.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Emma’s smile was condescending. “I know if I was lucky enough to be with Quin—”
“Please, don’t do this.” Quin looked helpless, as he pleaded with Emma.
“No, she needs to hear it,” Emma insisted, before continuing her lecture. “I wouldn’t run away, and I certainly wouldn’t throw his father in his face. But that’s just me.”
Her words burned. Satisfied, Emma walked away, trotting down the stairs, savoring her win. I spun around to face Quin.
“You were right about Augustus.” His voice was tender. “He came here to find you.”
“You told her about our fight?” I countered.
He said nothing more, but hung his head. “Quin?”
Finally, he spoke again. “Emma’s not as bad as she seems. She’s just shaken up right now.” Seriously? Shaken up? Sensing my annoyance, he added, “She’s been through a lot … like me.” Whatever. I stared at him blankly. “She’s my friend.” Friend. There was that word again.
“Well, it’s pretty obvious she wants to be more than that. Maybe that’s what you want too.” I didn’t wait for Quin to deny it. Blonde wig in hand, I headed down the stairs and let him watch me go.
CHAPTER FIFTY - ONE
ONE OF A KIND
MY FATHER PERCHED AT THE EDGE of my bed, tucking the covers in tight around me the way he did when I was a little girl. On his chin were the beginnings of a bruise from his abrupt encounter with Mickey.
“I’m worried about Max and String,” I said. “If Augustus sent Mickey after me, then I’m sure he’s still looking for String. I wish Max hadn’t gone with him.”
“I know,” my father agreed. “I tried to talk him out of it, but he seems quite fond of this String fellow.” With a wink, he added, “Hope String’s not just stringing him along.”
“Dad,” I chided him, shaking my head at his corny joke. I knew he was trying to ease my mind. “Seriously. Maybe we should let String stay here if he comes back.”
“If he comes back, I’ll think about it.”
“Do you think Mom knew everything about the Prophecy Program?” I asked, my thoughts turning to Quin and Emma and their shared portion of the genetic code.
“It’s hard to believe she didn’t.” His answer was the same as my own. “And you know your mother. She wasn’t exactly an open book.” My father’s eyes twinkled, as we shared a quiet laugh. Still, it didn’t chase away the clouds of melancholy.
Reading my thoughts, my father said, “Your mother was right not to tell you. What I said the other day—about Quin, his genes—I was being ridiculous, Lex. Quin isn’t a bad guy, and he’s not his father. I said those things because I want to protect you. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“I know, Dad, but getting hurt is a part of it, right? A part of loving someone?”
My father sighed and nodded. “When did you get to be so wise?”
There was a question I had been waiting to ask. “Did you ever fall in love again … after Mom?”
“Never in l
ove,” he confessed, his eyes elsewhere. “But I tried. In the end, your mother was just one of a kind.”
“I guess you were too, Dad.”
“Nah.” He chuckled, but his eyes filled with tears. “You were the love of your mother’s life.” He patted my arm beneath the covers. “Just like all great loves, you changed her—changed her in ways I never could.”
I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing. Instead, I wriggled my arms from their blanket cocoon and put them around my father’s neck.
After we said goodnight, Artos settled into a spot next to me, warming my side. As I cuddled against him, the brave face I had put on for my father cracked, and I let my tears fall into Artos’ fur. Luckily, he didn’t seem to mind. Without my mother, without Quin, the needle of my compass was spinning in every direction. No matter where it pointed, I felt lost, and I knew I had traveled too far, too long, to find the way back to my old life.
CHAPTER FIFTY - TWO
COVERT OP
TAP, TAP. TAP, TAP. Ears perked, Artos trained his eyes at my window and growled. Tap, tap.
Quin. My heart skipped successive beats, like a side-armed stone skimming the water.
“Alexandra Knightley, it is cold out here.” Edison’s irritated voice was unmistakable. Not Quin. Just like that skipping stone, my heart sank. I shushed Artos and walked to the window, peering around the edge of the curtain.
“Shh. She’s probably asleep. I told you this was a crazy idea,” Elana scolded. “We should’ve just knocked on the door.”
“Right. Like her dad is going to let her out of his sight.”
Elana shook her head, incredulous. “Do you really think the security team sitting outside is not going to tell him?”
“I guess you forgot, Red.” Grinning broadly, Edison put his arm around Elana, pulling her close to him. “They work for me too.”
I cracked the window an inch, diverting their attention from each other. “You two are unbelievable. What are you doing here?”