Blacklisted

by Gena Showalter

  "Don't hurt my friend," I said. "Please. She didn't do anything wrong."

  No one replied.

  I focused on Erik, but his familiar face didn't give me comfort. He was frowning and I could see sparks of anger in his brown eyes. Would he let them hurt Shanel? He might. Really, what did I know about him? The boy I'd always imagined kissing wouldn't have taunted me with a blank napkin.

  "Please," I found myself saying anyway.

  "How did you get past the guard?" Half-Mask asked. His metallic amber eyes seemed to glow, hypnotizing me.

  "I walked?" I said, the words more of a question than a statement. Right then, I wasn't sure of anything. Dizziness hit me and I moaned. With every second that passed, I became colder and yet my arm burned hotter.

  I wanted to curl into a ball; I wanted to scream.

  I wanted my mom.

  "I do not tolerate insolence, little girl." Reaching up, Half-Mask removed the black material covering the lower part of his face.

  When his appearance registered in my mind, I cringed, unable to stop the automatic reaction. His skin was puckered and colored in varying shades of red and black. He didn't have a mouth, just a gaping hole, as if someone had taken a knife and sliced him open.

  "How would you like this face to be the last thing you ever see?" Those manmade lips didn't move, and it was a wonder his words were so clear, so crisp, much less understandable. "Bad little girls who sneak into places they aren't wanted earn all kinds of punishment."

  "No," Erik said. He sounded as pissed as he looked. "No need for that. She's with me."

  Everyone, including myself, eyed him with shock.

  "You told us you told her to leave, that her kind wasn't welcome," Silver said, speaking up for the first time.

  Erik's mouth edged into a tight smile; there was no amusement in the expression. "I told her to leave because I didn't want you to know I was seeing her."

  "No way." Silver again. He shook his head, blue hair dancing over his forehead and temples. Then he glanced over at me, studying me with unwavering intensity. "Why would you date her?"

  Erik shrugged, the action stiff. "Why does any guy go out with a particular girl?" His tone was dry and mocking this time.

  For the second--third?--time that day, tears burned in my eyes. I let my head fall into the crock of my uninjured arm. He was letting them think he was dating me--no, sleeping with me. To save me? If so, great.

  However, his attitude cut as deep as the Lancer. He spoke like I wasn't good enough to be in the same room as him. Like I didn't deserve to breathe the same air. Like he was using me.

  "I just wish the sex was better," I mumbled, pain giving me courage.

  Erik blinked down at me. Silver lost his shocked expression and grinned.

  "I do not like this," Half-Mask growled. "You know better than to bring a girlfriend to our business meetings, Erik."

  "I'm sorry, sir." Erik didn't sound like the boy I often overheard in the halls at school. He sounded like a grown man, respectful but in no way submissive. "I should have realized she'd follow me."

  "I should kill you both," the man muttered.

  "I'm your best employee," Erik replied without emotion. "But more than that, her disappearance would cause unwanted media attention."

  Half-Mask sighed and replaced the material over his face. "You're right. Just...get her out of here. Take her through the back; I don't want anyone to see her injury. If she talks..."

  "She won't." Erik leaned down and wound his arm around my waist, careful not to touch my wound. He hoisted me up. "I'll make sure of it."

  Unable to hold back my whimper this time, I swayed against him. Blood trickled down my arm, my body weakening with every second that passed. A tear finally spilled over and ran down my cheek.

  "Come on," he said, leading me forward.

  "Wait." Even though I was eager to escape, I dragged my iron-heavy feet. "What about Shanel?"

  A muscle ticked below Erik's eye. He flicked a glance to Silver. "Will you make sure the friend gets home?"

  "Safely," I added, not that anyone paid me the slightest bit of attention.

  "Not the redhead who always stares at me," Silver said on a groan. "Anyone but her."

  "She's the one," Erik said. "Please."

  An exasperated sigh. "Yeah. Sure. Whatever. Just warn me the next time you start seeing one of the Invisibles."

  "Safely," I insisted.

  "Yes," Silver replied, rolling his eyes. "Safely."

  Erik started walking forward again. No longer protesting, I gave him most of my weight. A strange fog was working its way through my mind, leaving a thick, black web behind.

  "Erik," Half-Mask called.

  We stopped. The abrupt action jolted me and I hissed. "Sorry," Erik muttered to me. Then, "Yes?" he said to Half-Mask.

  "I would be very disappointed to become the focus of A.I.R. scrutiny. And you know what happens when I'm disappointed."

  "You have nothing to worry about, sir. I have as much at stake as you do."

  "I'm a vault," I said weakly. "Secrets are safe with me." I closed my eyes and my head lolled against Erik's shoulder. I think an eternity passed before we stepped out of the building and into the night. Warm, clean air brushed against my bare skin, against my arm, and I wanted to scream at the sharp ache it caused.

  "Which one is yours?" Erik asked.

  I grit my teeth to cut off a moan. "Not mine. Shanel's." I don't know why I felt the need to point that out. Like he cared who the car belonged to. "The black sedan."

  "Do you have any idea how many black sedans there are?" He growled low in his throat, exasperated, irritated, clearly pissed. "Open your eyes and at least point me in the right direction."

  I did, on both counts, then closed my eyes again. How could such a small injury be so painful? How had such a promising night morphed into such a nightmare?

  He led me to the car and held my hand out for fingerprint ID. My arm was so shaky I couldn't hold it up on my own.

  "Now tell it to open," he commanded.

  "Open," I said.

  Nothing.

  Erik uttered another of those menacing growls. "Is it programmed to accept your voice?"

  "Yes."

  "Then speak as strongly as you can, so the car recognizes you. Standing out here in the open is dangerous."

  I forced a rush of air from my lungs and said, "Open!"

  The car door popped open and Erik settled me into the passenger seat. "Tell the driver door to open now."

  "Open," I said, even weaker than before. That door, at least, obeyed and soon Erik was settled beside me. "Accept new voice," I commanded before he could instruct me. I wasn't a complete idiot. Most days.

  "Start," Erik said, and the engine instantly roared to life. He programmed in a destination and we were off.

  As the car rolled along the streets and highways, heavy silence surrounded us. I was finally alone with Erik Troy, just like I'd dreamed. Yet I'd never imagined these circumstances. Me, injured and covered in blood. Him, both my tormentor and my rescuer.

  "That was cruel," I said.

  "What?"

  "The napkin."

  He didn't reply.

  His silence hurt. Would it have killed him to apologize? To explain?

  I kept my eyes closed and my head against the seat rest. A little while later, the whoosh of fabric cut into my thoughts, and then I felt something cool pressing against my arm.

  My eyelids sprang apart and I gasped. Erik was leaning toward me, doing something to my wound. "Stop that," I commanded. "Whatever you're doing, stop."

  "It needs to be done," he said flatly. "You're still bleeding."

  He had taken off his shirt--and was bare from the waist up--to apply pressure to the injury. I wish I'd had the presence of mind to enjoy the sight of his tanned skin, hard muscles, and a black cat tattooed on his roped stomach. As it was, I would have rather been lying on a gurney, an IV in my vein.

  "Are we going to the
hospital?" I asked hopefully.

  "Hell no." He scowled at me. "Do you have any idea what you've done? Do you have any idea what you could have ruined?"

  His face was red with anger, his eyes bright with fury. I didn't know what I could have ruined, no, but I knew I didn't like being the target of that gaze. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean--"

  "'Sorry' doesn't fix the damage you've caused. I was this close. This close to success, and in less than two minutes you managed to destroy all my work, making these last few months a waste."

  Rather than shrink from this conflict, my normal defenses fell away and I snapped, "I'm dying, and you're yelling at me? I said I was sorry, okay? You're the one to blame here anyway. If you hadn't given me that napkin, I wouldn't have followed you."

  A moment passed in silence while he ground his teeth together. Then he pierced me with a fierce stare. "One, you're not dying. You'll live. Two, once again, your 'sorry' doesn't mean shit. But it's not entirely your fault that tonight happened the way it did," he conceded. "My past finally caught up with me and things would have gone badly with or without your interference."

  That mollified me, but only slightly.

  "Having said that, however," he added, a steely edge to the words, "I'll tell you point three. Even if I'd given you a bag of dog shit, you should have stayed at your table. You almost blew my cover with--" He stopped himself. Frowned. "Never mind."

  I blinked in surprise. "Your cover? What, you're undercover? You're a cop?"

  He tangled a hand through his hair, muttering, "You wish."

  "You're what, then?"

  "Just drop it, Camille."

  It was the first time he'd said my name. I shivered at the sound of it on his lips. "Are you A.I.R.?" It was the only other agency I could think of, and since they specialized in Outers and the Morevv had been there...

  Erik snorted. "I'm A.I.R.'s worst nightmare, sweetheart--and now I'm yours."

  4

  I took a moment to digest his words.

  "Ni--nightmare?" I sputtered. There was an unholy gleam in Erik's eyes, darkening the brown irises to a frightening, ominous black. He didn't look like an innocent teenager just then. He didn't look like the boy I'd crushed on for months. No, he looked mean and hard and capable of any evil deed.

  A shiver moved through me, and this one wasn't pleasant like before.

  "I--I don't understand," I managed to say.

  "You don't need to understand," he said darkly. "All you need to know is that I've done bad things, and I'll continue to do bad things to meet my goal."

  Tendrils of surprise blended with my fright. Was he threatening me? A cold chill swept through me. "I don't understand," I repeated stupidly. Surely I was mishearing, I thought, as the car hit a bump, jolting me up. I gripped my arm, trying to protect it from the stinging aftereffects.

  "Like I said, I wouldn't worry about understanding. I'd worry about staying alive." He turned away from me, then, and faced the front window.

  "You're just trying to scare me."

  "There were A.I.R. agents in there, Camille. Remember the group of tough-looking girls?" He didn't wait for my answer. "They're after me."

  "After you for what?"

  "They're determined to catch me," he continued as if I hadn't spoken, "and they saw me give you that napkin. They had to wonder what was on it. A code? Information? Unless every single one of them is blind, they saw you follow me afterward. They probably think we planned the meeting and now assume you're involved with me. A.I.R. is going to be after you, as well."

  A.I.R. agents. The media was fond of calling them the most feared people on the planet, saying they killed predatory aliens without thought. Without concern. Without remorse. And without a trial.

  I pictured the girls, the hard gleams in their watchful eyes, the way they'd stood out, unconcerned with everything around them. The way I'd been singled out by the gorgeous Asian. Yeah, I could easily imagine her as a killer.

  Don't worry. You didn't do anything wrong. "I'm innocent," I told Erik, my voice trembling. "And neither one of us is an alien. A.I.R. won't care what we did."

  "They don't just hunt aliens. They hunt humans who help aliens commit crimes."

  "But I didn't help anyone commit a crime, alien or not."

  Erik just flicked me another of those hard glances.

  I blinked in shock. "You helped an alien commit a crime?"

  "Yes."

  "And then they saw me follow you with that stupid napkin," I said weakly, having trouble catching my breath. "So they think...they assume..." Oh, sweet baby Jesus, as Shanel would say.

  "Yes," he said again. "They think. They assume."

  "How could you have done that to me?" I gasped out.

  He shrugged. "I wanted them to go after you rather than me."

  My shock doubled. "What?"

  "They would have caught you, interrogated you, found the note blank and you as innocent as you appear, and then they would have let you go. Knowing me as they do, they would have figured out that I'd tricked them. But noooo. You had to follow me as if we'd planned it, making you look guilty as hell."

  "You...you...bastard!" What he'd described did make me look guilty of something.

  "I do whatever I have to do." Erik pinned me with his stare, holding me captive with its intensity. "Always."

  I thrust my chin forward in determination. "Well, I'm going to go to them and explain what happened."

  "Like they'll believe you now."

  "They will."

  "Whatever you say. I mean, you know how they operate, I'm sure."

  My stomach churned with nausea. "I'm still going to talk to them. I did nothing wrong."

  "You go to A.I.R. headquarters and you'll be beaten for information and locked away, just like me."

  "You're lying."

  "Only one way to find out, I guess."

  My nausea intensified.

  He sighed. "What if they didn't get your name? What if you're in the clear? Still think it's wise to turn yourself in?"

  I experienced a ray of hope. "No."

  "I didn't think so. Who knows? Because of this, you might even be able to wheedle a vacation out of Mommy and Daddy, hiding out just in case."

  My mouth dried. My parents. I couldn't tell them what I'd done, what had happened. I just couldn't. I'd have to admit that I'd lied and they would be disappointed in me.

  I couldn't stand their disappointment.

  I was their only child, their "precious baby." I didn't want that to change. Really, one watery look from my mother and I'd want to cut out my heart. One "I thought I taught you better than this" from my dad and I'd sob.

  "What if A.I.R. does know who I am?" I asked softly.

  "They'll hunt you down, so be prepared. They'll interrogate you, asking you easy questions at first. Your name, your age. Then they'll get harder. What were you doing at the club? What did the napkin say? Why did you follow me? Have you ever dealt Onadyn and if so, who'd you get it from? Don't give them the answers they want and," he shrugged, "you'll suffer."

  "Onadyn?" Feeling like I was falling deeper and deeper into a nightmare, I shook my head. Like vampires needed blood to survive, some aliens needed Onadyn. Without it...because of my dad, I'd seen pictures of an Outer who'd died from lack of Onadyn. The body had been contorted, the face so pain-filled it hurt me now even thinking of it.

  Legally, humans were never supposed to touch the stuff. They used it to get high and often died from an overdose, so it was strictly regulated. Selling it was punishable with a life sentence.

  "I have never, in all my life, even been around it!"

  Erik ignored me, continuing, "They aren't bound by normal laws, so A.I.R. could even kill you if they wanted."

  "But why?" A sense of hysteria built inside of me and I straightened. Hunted, interrogated, maybe killed. Surely he was lying. Exaggerating, at the very least. I was innocent, damn it.

  "You're now linked to me, Camille, and I'm a suspected Onadyn dealer."


  I wanted to block the words from my mind. I couldn't. They were too ominous. "But I did nothing wrong," I insisted. How many times would I have to say and think it? "I can't be linked to that."

  "You knew the code that got you into the back of the Ship, something A.I.R. has to know is used for dealers."

  "No. No, no, no. They can't find me guilty." I shook my head again, even though there were doubts in the back of my mind. "When I show them the napkin, they'll believe me."

  "Or they'll think you destroyed the original and replaced it with a blank one. You've had time."

  Damn him. I gripped my knees, nails digging into skin.

  "I didn't ask you to follow me, Camille."

  "No, you just singled me out," I said bitterly.

  He flicked me a narrowed glance. "If there'd been another way...but I honestly expected you to leave the club. I expected you to be hauled in, questioned, and released."

  That didn't excuse his actions. "Why would you get involved with something like this?" I asked. "Why?"

  "I don't have to explain myself to you." His hands tightened into fists. "I hear the disgust in your voice. But guess what, Miss Innocent? Sometimes there are good reasons to do bad things."

  "My dad is a lawyer, and I've heard him talk about some of his cases. Everyone has a 'good' reason for the bad things they do, but at the end of the day, other people get hurt because of those very things."

  "Don't preach to me. I'm past the point of caring."

  "After what you did to me, I'll preach to you if I feel like it." The car hit another bump and my arm throbbed all the more. Tears again burned in my eyes. I gazed down at the wound. Blood had already soaked through Erik's soft T-shirt.

  God, could this night get any worse?

  Erik sighed, losing all hint of his anger. "We need to patch you up."

  "No. I just want to go home," I said softly. "That's where we're headed right?" Please, please, please.

  Wait, I thought a split second later. If he took me home, my parents would find out I'd lied. There'd be no getting around it.

  I could ask Erik to take me to Shanel's.

  Nope. That wouldn't work, either. She was supposed to be staying with a friend, as well. Damn, damn, damn. What was I going to do?

  A muscle ticked in Erik's jaw. "Drug dealer or not, I'm your only lifeline at the moment. I take you home now, and your wound will become infected. I doubt your parents know how to treat the damage a Lancer causes."