Stray (31 page)

I dig my fingers up into his soft bristling hair, greedy and reckless with my own demands. It might be a cover but I still want him. Love him. Desperate enough to take and give all I can in the seconds we have to fool Benjamin.
I love you. Forgive
me. Please, Jamie
. I press it through my skin, press it into him with my mouth and hands and body.

He cups the back of my head, tipping my chin up to kiss beneath my jaw, making me dizzy on his path to my ear. I’m pretty sure I moan.

“Is he still there?” He sweeps one hand over my hip, the other excavates the arch of my back.

I nearly ask, who? My eyelids flutter. I catch a glimpse of blank hall. “Um …” I don’t want to tell.

He swings me around for line of sight.

“Can you see?” I inhale, mainlining the scent of his skin in the hollow beneath his ear, already grieving for the end.

“Um …” He digs his fingers up into the short layers of my hair and I want to weep for that too, my hair, but his hesitation wrecks me with hope. Is he delaying? Backing through the doorway to the bedroom, he brings me with him. Still kissing, still crushing, somehow he closes the door, and with the metallic click it ends.

His hands come off me, his mouth releases mine, his body pulls away, air pours into the breach, oceans of it filling one, two, three feet of space. A chasm. I’m untethered, flying backwards, spinning away into the merciless void. Jamie turns his back and braces his hands on the doorframe. Head hanging, his back expands and contracts, the thick muscles across his shoulders, his ribs, strung taut. I’m panting too, fireworks not yet fading in my skin. My lips feel swollen and tender; all of me feels swollen and tender.

“You think he bought it?”

Jamie turns his head, not his body. “No.”

“Not convincing?” My chuckle falls flat and I cringe.

Jamie doesn’t chuckle, doesn’t answer. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other and swears. Repeatedly and heatedly, a muffling whispered rumble of expletives. When he’s done, he straightens up. Keeping his back to me, he presses his fingers into his scalp and turns to the dresser for more leaning and head hanging and swearing. “If he knows and isn’t saying anything–” he cuts off. “It means they’re going to kill Aiden.”

“
Why
does it mean that?” But it’s not a real question because he’s voicing my fears. It’s exactly what I thought the moment I landed on the possibility that Benjamin was aware of my brother and keeping it secret. What other possible reason for silence? “How can you be sure?”

“It’s what I’d do.”

“
What?
”

“I’d find a reason to move to a new location. Get everyone out of the house. Lessen the variables. Remove the obstacles so I could return and take care of it without fuss.”

My mouth dries. “You – that’s what you’d do?”

He straightens and this time clamps his hands to his hips, still shifting his weight, still not turning to face me. “Yes.”

“And the obstacles? They would be … me?”

“You. Ethan. Felicity. The girl.”

The pause becomes dangerous, unbearable. I clench my fists. “And?”

He grows still. “Me.”

I unclench, but only a fraction because I hear the condition in his voice. “Because you wouldn’t agree to anything that might endanger Kitty.”

He nods.

“Damn it, Jamie. Turn around.”

“No.”

I throw my hands up. “You’re doing my head in.”

“I’m – not …” His voice gets all constricted and his shoulders hitch up. “Just give me a bloody minute, all right?”

Understanding tumbles in on me. The heavy panting. The restless shifting. Even in the midst of terror about Aiden, a hot spike of what – embarrassment, pleasure? – makes my whole body blush. “I thought we were acting.”

“I was,” he says, quick and cutting. “Push the right buttons and you get the results either way. It doesn’t mean anything.”

I feel slapped, humiliated and worse. “Wow … that – that was really shitty.”

His shoulders slump and he groans, half-turning towards me.

I yank the door open and stalk out.

“
Wait
,” he calls after me.

I hesitate in the living room. The Proxy still sits knees up on the couch, covering her ears like the monkey who hears no evil. She bites her lips, eyes moving from her fix on the ceiling to me. Tears? Are they tears in her eyes? Whatever the case, it’s not thunder freaking her out. She knew the moment she stepped in the house. Beside her Felicity mutters, packing up the unfinished food. Does she know too?

Fear makes me jointless, my legs unsteady and loose. I turn to the kitchen. Benjamin stands by the table, leaning back against the wall. I register the baton on his hip, the gun in his shoulder holster, his relaxed posture, but there’s an aura of tension about him. Jamie was right. We didn’t fool him. He knows we know. Davis and Tesla look up from the table. Everyone frowning and watchful. Do they know? Or do they just sense the tension in the atmosphere? I force myself to meet Benjamin’s gaze and swipe my wrist across my face. “Your friend’s an asshole.”

Davis doesn’t laugh or make a snide comment about Jamie. I’m not sure that’s a good sign.

Benjamin looks past me, to Jamie coming through the living room. I go to the sink so I can have my back to them. Let Benjamin think I believe my own acting. I’m pissed with Jamie. That’s all. I run the faucet. Fill a glass. Bring it to my lips. My trembling hand could be emotion after our fight rather than terror for the fight I’m about to start. In the window I watch Jamie with his hands in his pockets, frowning at my back, shrugging at Benjamin, shaking his head, sharing a “Women, what can you do?” moment. He’s way better at this than I am.

I shouldn’t have stormed out. I should have stayed with Jamie. Planned something together. He knows these guys, what they’re capable of. Would we stand a chance in a fight? The bandwidth is useless with static. I can’t scan for intent. Will precognition work in this kind of interference? I guess if ours won’t work then neither will theirs.

What about Tesla? It’s hard to believe Benjamin and Davis would go against his orders. I saw the men in the mess hall. Saw their respect. Heard the murmurs and awe. How could they do this? I’m surprised to find myself offended on Tesla’s behalf, but what it really reinforces to me is just how much they must despise the idea of helping a Stray. That’s what’s at the core of it. I remember the intense hostility in the mess hall when Davis told all those Shields what I had done, the revulsion and disbelief.

I watch Davis in the window reflection. Elbows on the table, the handle of his gun exposed beneath his arm, the grip of the baton poking out from his hip. I lower my glass and turn around, making my face sulky.

Tesla wipes his mouth with a napkin. “Evangeline, you should eat before we go.”

“Go?” Understanding hardens inside me and I can’t help glancing at Jamie. This is what he said would happen. He keeps his expression impassive but holds my gaze. I wish I could reach past the static and read his intent. Fight? Go along with them? Plan to slip away and return before Benjamin does? There’s no way that would work. We act now or not at all.

“The forecast is bad,” Tesla says, turning in his chair. “Benjamin says it is clearing down the coast. Better than waiting here. We get past the storm and take a reading.”

Benjamin says
.

The decision to act now is as simple as reaching for the last slice of pizza. Time fissures, adrenaline charges my vision, my skin. The air tastes electric with ozone and coming violence. Dust motes turn like galaxies beneath the plastic pendant light. I come to the table and lean between Tesla and Davis, their overlapping auras of musk and heat, trusting Jamie to see me and know me and for the love of God manage Benjamin down at his end. My left hand extends for the pizza, my right slips low for the handle of Davis’s gun. His head turns.

Davis is ready for me. His elbow erupts, winding and vicious. I see stars. The bandwidth screams with static and time becomes microseconds stretched on a loom, every whirling, raging limb distinctly woven. Tesla rising as I buckle. Davis’s chair flying back as he launches to his feet. In my peripheral vision, Jamie and Benjamin a fierce blur of arms and legs. I duck Davis’s backhand, land my fist in his throat, leave the ground with his knee in my stomach, taste my own blood. Up-end the table with the force of my turn, somehow miss losing my head to Tesla’s foot as it collects Davis in the chest. Davis flies. Falls. Destroys the pantry door.

Tesla follows, pinning Davis, ransacking his body for weapons. “
Scheiße
.” He calls over his shoulder, “You could have warned me, Evangeline.”

A calamitous clap of sound, a shot, two, three, four shots.

Jamie shouts, his pitch and desperation more frightening than the gunshots.

Benjamin writhes beneath him, his gun pointed at the ceiling. Jamie, straddling him, wrestles his hands. Dust and paint chips in the air. Cries from the living room. Cries from the attic. The crack of Jamie’s knuckles on the bones of Benjamin’s face. Again. Again. The gun clatters to the floor. Jamie keeps hitting.

I scramble from the kitchen, leaping bodies, skidding through the lounge for the hall. The Proxy and Felicity huddle in the corner, Felicity stretching herself to cover the girl, her eyes wild with terror. I yank the trap door cord, grab the end of the stairs and haul them down, shouting, “Aiden! Kitty!”

“Evie!” Aiden’s cry echoes in the roof. “Help me! She’s hurt! She’s shot!”

He appears in the cavity, sheet-white, blood on his hands, on his face.

Kitty in his arms, just as pale, her mouth twisted in pain, clinging to him, sobbing, “It hurts!”

“Is it safe?” Aiden demands.

“It is
now
.” Jamie pushes past me, blocking the stairs. “Get your hands off my sister.”

“He’s bringing her down.” I pull at Jamie’s shoulder. “Move.”

He jerks away from me and leaps onto the stairs. “Give her to me! Now!”

Aiden, shaken, fierce but uncertain on the steep narrow staircase, struggles to comply. Kitty cries out at the jostling. “
Aiden’s
not hurting me, you idiot. Oh, oh God, Jamie, it really hurts!”

“Where?” He backs down the stairs with her. “Where?”

“My leg.” She sucks air through her teeth. “My thigh.”

Rushing her to the couch, he lowers her carefully. He drops to one knee, a hand on her shoulder, the other hovering over the blood on her jeans. She holds the side of her leg and rocks back and forth.

Let her be okay. Let her be okay
. I lean over the back of the couch. She reaches for my arm and holds tight. My chest constricts. “Is it bad?”

“Well, she’s
shot
, isn’t she?” Jamie says, his face drawn, a red gouge on his cheek. I wait for recriminations, for him to shout that I should have waited, thought things through. How could I be so careless? This is my fault. I did this to Kitty.

He looks back over his shoulder. Benjamin lies unmoving on the floor. “Ethan! We need you!”

“They got Aiden,” Kitty says. “He’s bleeding too.”

Aiden steps close to the end of the couch, cupping his bloodied shoulder. “It’s just a graze, Kit.”

Stiffening, Jamie turns on him with black eyes. “You need to step away. Right. Now.”

“Leave him alone,” Kitty groans.

Jamie ignores her. “Ethan!”

Staggering, cradling his arm, Davis comes from the kitchen first, his lip swollen and bleeding. Tesla follows, holding his gun. He pauses at the edge of the living room, sees Aiden, and acknowledges him with a brief nod. Of course, Aiden has no idea who Tesla is, but watching them makes me hold my breath.

“What the hell?” Davis says.

“Sit.” Tesla points Davis to a spot on the floor by the wall. “Aiden, can you hold this?”

Aiden blinks at the gun and looks reflexively at Jamie.

With a grunt, Davis jerks his head up. “Are you kidding me?”

Rising quickly to his feet, Jamie turns to Tesla. “Really? We – we’re
arming
the Stray now?”

Davis leans to see up the hall and produces an almost comedic gape at the sight of the lowered stairs. “The scanner showed no heat signatures!”

Tesla shoves the gun into Jamie’s chest. “Shall I see to your sister or confirm the Deactivation first?”

Flustered, Jamie fumbles to get proper hold of the gun and train it on Davis. “Um, my sister, please. Thank you.”

“Felicity,” Tesla says to the older woman, who still huddles in the corner guarding the Proxy, “no one will hurt the girl. Can you please fetch the first-aid kit?”

Felicity turns to the Proxy, whose whimpering has not let up. “You are safe, child. I’ll be right back.”

The Proxy doesn’t seem to hear her but presses her fists to her mouth.

Kitty turns but can’t quite see the girl and looks to me in question.

“I’ll explain later.”

Tesla kneels beside Kitty and I pat her hand. “It’s okay, Kit, this is …” I cut off. What do I call him? “Ethan. He’s …” What is he? I can’t say “my dad” and he’s not exactly “a friend”. “He’s good at this sort of thing.”

He gestures at the blood-soaked hole on the outer seam of her jeans.

She flushes and nods and pulls on my arm, screwing her face up, turning away as Ethan rips the hole in her jeans open. “Is it bad? It’s bad, isn’t it? I can’t look.”

“It’s all right, Kit,” Jamie calls, gripping the gun, shooting anxious glances at the couch. “You’re going to be all right.”

Ethan meets my gaze and raises his eyebrows.

“It feels like it’s on fire.” Kitty cringes. “Is the bullet still in there?”

I lean to see the wound and the iron clamp on my heart detaches. Almost giddy, I shake my head. “No, the bullet’s not in there.”

“Good.” She collapses back on the armrest, still gripping me, her face turned away. “I don’t think I could stand that. If it’s stiches, I’m going to need more than Fretizine. That’s what they always give Evie and it never makes any bloody difference.”

Ethan’s mouth compresses and he curls his fist over his lips to hide a smile. “Fretizine will not be necessary and neither will you need stitches.”