by Linda Grimes
“Lily-Ann,” I said, wiping the blood still dripping out of my nose on my sleeve.
“Lily-Ann! Hey, kid, you did good. But what gives? I thought all you rich bitches knew kung fu, and shit like that.”
I laughed, touching my nose gingerly. “Guess I wasted my time on yoga.”
* * *
Itchy and I were taken to the clinic, where our injuries were seen to by a nurse practitioner who probably hadn’t been surprised by anything since sometime in the last millennium. She asked what happened. I glanced at Itchy (still glaring at me malevolently) and told the nurse I fell. The bored guard didn’t contradict me.
The nurse nodded and smiled wryly. “Slippery floor in there.”
After she set my nose and put a splint on it (not something I ever want to do again), she gave me two painkillers and what looked to be a set of orange scrubs with “L.A. County Jail” printed across the back of the shirt and down one leg of the pants.
Yeesh. And I’d thought yellow was bad. I’d hate to see what this color did to my primary aura.
Thomas, as good as his word, got me a private cell. It was small and cold, and a guard came by to check on me every thirty minutes or so, near as I could tell. There wasn’t a clock in view.
The mattress was covered in green plastic and there was no pillow. One of the guards brought me a rough green blanket when he saw I was shivering. I thought that was nice of him, and sincerely hoped he wouldn’t expect payment.
The stainless steel toilet and sink were right out in the open. Apparently, modesty was a privilege not permitted to prisoners. I very quickly learned to pee fast, right after the guard’s rounds. Hadn’t been caught so far.
There was a small, white desk—more of a deep shelf attached to the wall—and a round stool in front of it, also attached to the wall. No paper or pen on it, though. No books, no TV or radio, no entertainment of any kind.
So I had plenty of time to worry about what would happen when Billy and Mark saw each other again. Which wasn’t a lot of fun, but at least it took my mind off how much my face hurt.
* * *
I was roused from my sleep way too early the next morning by a sardonically cheery female voice.
“Rise and shine, buttercup.”
I opened my eyes. Make that “eye”—my left one appeared to be swollen shut. Lovely.
Since I’d been wearing Lily’s aura when I was hit, the bruising and swelling would be showing up just fine. And since I was always me beneath a secondary aura’s surface, I’d have to remember to adapt the injuries away if I didn’t want them to show when I was myself again.
The new guard on duty was a slim, older black woman with super short salt-and-pepper hair. She winced when she saw my face, so I imagined I looked pretty impressive. Didn’t know for sure, since the accommodations didn’t include a mirror.
“Damn, buttercup. Who’d you piss off?”
“I fell,” I said, pushing myself to a sitting position. I slipped my feet into the prison-issue sneakers.
“Right. I see you’re a fast learner,” she said, and looked at me thoughtfully. “You know, if somebody went after you, you can tell me. You’re a ‘keep away’—they won’t put you back with anyone who might hurt you again.”
I yawned, remembering halfway through to cover my mouth with my hand. “What’s a ‘keep away’?”
“If they put you in orange, it means you’re to be kept away from the rest of the population, for either your protection or theirs. From the looks of you, I’m guessing it’s for yours.”
“Thanks,” I said. “But let’s keep it at ‘I fell.’” I’d always heard snitches didn’t fare well in prison.
She shook her head. “Whatever you say, buttercup. Your lawyer’s here. If you don’t trust me, maybe you can tell him.”
Crap. If Thomas saw me like this …
Nothing I could do about it. If I’d been thinking, I would have adapted away the ravages before they bloomed, but now that I’d been seen it would be too obvious. Nobody heals that fast. I did reduce the “swelling” in my ankle, though. I was going to pretend that was all better, since nobody here would be likely to notice.
Nigel’s face was usually hard to decipher—like most good lawyers, he was adept at bland neutrality of expression when he needed to be—but there was no mistaking the anger on it when he saw me. I smiled ruefully and shrugged, but didn’t say anything until the guard left us alone.
“What happened?” he said, his voice tight.
“An unkempt woman objected to my presence in the holding cell. Don’t worry—I won.” I tried to wink, and realized I already was. Stupid shiner. But at least I could open it partway now, if I really tried.
“Are you all right? Have you been seen by a doctor?”
“Yes and yes. Only … how does my nose look? Can you tell if it’s straight under this splint?” It should have been the least of my worries, I knew, but I’d really hate to have to spend the rest of my life adapting away a bent nose.
He swallowed, looking positively bleak. I’d been expecting the anger, but this looked like something more.
“Thomas?” I whispered.
He shook his head, once.
“Nigel?”
Another shake.
Uh-oh. “Limburger?” I said.
He nodded, clench-jawed.
“What are you doing here? Did you find Gunn? Did he confess?”
“Mark is following a new lead. He and Laura are working it.”
“Mark is here?” Duh. Stupid question. He’d just said as much.
“He got on a company plane as soon as Thomas contacted him.”
“Not that I don’t appreciate your keeping me in the loop, but shouldn’t you be out there helping them?” I said.
He pushed a small button on the inside arm of his chair, lifting himself to a standing position, and rolled over to the door. He looked out the window, both ways down the hall. Wheeled himself over to me, keeping his back to the window, took my hand.
“No.” I tried to pull my hand away.
Too late. He was already Lily-Ann, bruises, squinty eye and all. Wow, I really did look horrible. He already had Lily-Ann’s aura, but he needed to add the swelling and bruising in the exact configuration I had. It would take a minute or so to set.
“Start unzipping, cuz. I’m sorry, but I’m gonna need that nose splint, too. Snap-snap!”
He held on to my hand as he undid the straps holding his knees to the chair.
“Billy, stop it. We don’t have time for this.”
“It’s happening, cuz. And if you’ll be so kind as to tell me who did that to you, I will see that they never try anything like it again. On anybody.”
“You can’t. I’m in a cell by myself, perfectly safe.” I bent over and unzipped as much as I could without letting go of Billy. “Which is why this is unnecessary. And stupid. Stoo. Pid. Somebody could see us.”
I leaned down and carefully untaped the splint from my nose, sucking in my breath as I pulled it free. The anger pouring out from Billy through Lily-Ann’s eyes intensified.
“If you think I’m leaving you in a place where somebody beat the shit out of you, you’re stupid.” He let go of my hand. “There. I think I’ve got it.” He continued disrobing, holding Lily-Ann’s new facial features without difficulty. He’d always been a fast absorber.
Now that he didn’t need to touch me, I popped into my tiniest aura, slipped my hands out of the cuffs, and finished stripping. “If they catch us—”
“Hurry the fuck up and they won’t,” he said, and put on my discarded clothing.
“Why in the hell does Nigel have to wear a suit every single freaking day?” I said, buttoning the dress shirt as fast as my fingers—well, Nigel’s now—would move. “Hey, can you help me with this tie?”
“Sure, just a sec.” He slipped the prison shoes on, then reached for the expensive blue silk dangling from my neck. “I can’t believe you haven’t learned to do this properly yet. You
have three brothers, for God’s sake.”
I slapped his hand away. “Never mind, I’ll do it myself. You get those cuffs on.”
“Let me get you strapped into the chair first.”
I yanked on black socks and slipped my feet into black wing tip loafers before I backed up to the chair. “You realize I have no idea how to drive this thing.”
He finished stabilizing my legs and pointed to the controls on the arm of the chair. “This is up. This is down—yeah, go ahead and lower it. You’ll feel more stable sitting. Think of this little lever as a joystick. Push it whichever way you want the chair to go.”
“How did you get here? How do I get back?” I said as I grappled with the tie. Wasn’t as good as Billy’s knot had been, but it would do. “Where the hell is Nigel, anyway, and how’s he getting around without his chair?”
“There’s a black van with a driver parked in one of the handicapped spaces near the entrance. The driver will see you coming and take it from there. Nigel is at home, staying out of sight,” Billy said as we settled ourselves into the proper places. Seconds later, the guard’s face appeared at the window. His eyes flitted over us, and he left.
“That was cutting it close,” I said, matching Nigel’s inflection precisely. “If I hadn’t already had Nigel’s aura, we would have been caught.”
“I knew you had it.”
“How, huh? How could you be sure?” I was a little disgruntled at being rushed into the switch before I was convinced it was necessary.
“You told me after you showed Nigel and Lily how adaptors worked.”
“Okay, well … it was still stupid. And dangerous. My God, Billy, what if Mark and Laura don’t find Gunn? Or what if they do find him, and he still won’t confess, huh? Are you going to sit in jail forever?”
He leaned forward. Tried to reach for me, but was held back by the handcuffs. “No. Only until Nigel and Thomas get Lily acquitted.”
“And what if they don’t? They’re good, yes, but they’re not infallible.”
“In that case, I’m a lot better suited for prison life than you are. In fact,” he said with a cocky tilt of Lily’s head that was painful to watch, “you never know, I might even enjoy life in a women’s prison.”
“Stop trying to make me laugh. It’s not going to work this time.”
“Fine, sourpuss. Then get out of here and go help the others get me out of here.”
Chapter 27
Nigel was waiting for me in his study, with the curtains drawn. He sat in an older-model wheelchair, still motorized but not self-rising. He looked very glad to see me.
“Thanks for the use of your aura,” I said.
“It was the least I could do. How’s Ciel? Is she holding up okay?”
I dropped his aura and got myself out of his chair. “I’m fine, thanks.”
I was, of course, keeping my injuries hidden. No reason for him to feel bad about something he’d had no control over.
“Where’s Mr. Doyle?” he asked.
“Billy decided he was better suited to stay than I was.” To forestall the questions I saw bubbling behind his eyes—lawyers are so inquisitive—I added, “So, can I help get you back to the cool wheels?”
He accepted the change of subject with grace. “No, I can manage.”
He rolled the chair he was in until it faced the one I had vacated, and locked its brakes. Using only the strength of his arms, he levered himself up and over, moving his hands from the arms of one chair to the other, deftly twisting his body around, like a gymnast on the parallel bars, until he could lower himself into the new seat. He adjusted his legs and fastened the straps with quick and easy motions that spoke of years of practice.
“Wow—impressive!” I said, hoping I wasn’t being rude.
He smiled, and maybe even blushed a tiny bit, though that might have been from the exertion. “Thanks. I work out.”
“Well, unless you have any news for me, I guess I better go find my brother. I only came by to drop off your chair and let you know I didn’t do anything too embarrassing while I was you.” Unless, of course, you count almost running over a law clerk as I exited the building, but no need to bore him with the details.
“If you don’t mind waiting a few minutes, Thomas will be here. I’ve asked him to be an official consultant on Lily-Ann’s case. That way he won’t have to use my aura to visit the jail. Not that I mind, but I realize it can be a pain to get around in this fine set of wheels”—he smiled that Clooney smile—“if you’re not used to it. We’re going to discuss the best way to proceed if Gunn can’t be persuaded to do the right thing.”
“Let’s hope it won’t come to that,” I said. “Have you heard from Lily? Is she all right?”
“Actually, I got a cryptic text message last night from someone named Cody. Anyone you know?”
I’d given Dave as a contact at the ranch when I’d told Nigel where we’d stashed Lily-Ann. “Cody’s my security-guard-slash-ranch-hand. What’d he say?”
“‘LA is fine. Hates pony.’ LA is obviously Lily-Ann, but I’m not sure about the second part. From what I can tell, she loves all animals, so I think it might be code for something.”
* * *
I rose from my spot on the sofa when Thomas entered the room with Laura. I’d changed out of Nigel’s suit into some of Lily’s clothes. Too long for me, and a little too hipster-ish, but otherwise fine.
“Hey, new sis!” I said. “How’s the—” I stumbled over my words when I saw who else was with them. Mark.
Thomas gave me a big bear hug. I tried not to flinch when my face hit his shoulder. “Ciel? What are you doing here? We were supposed to meet Billy.”
“Um, Billy insisted on trading places. Don’t worry—we were careful.”
I glanced at Mark. I’d added the last part so he wouldn’t get mad at us for risking exposure. He kept his face carefully composed.
Thomas was immediately suspicious. “He had to know it wasn’t safe to make a switch in that room, or else I would have done it myself. He was only supposed to check on you, and tell you the reinforcements had come. What made him change his mind?”
“Well, um…”
“Sugar, are you all right?” Laura said. “You’re looking a little squinty. And your nose is bleeding.”
Crap. I wiped my nose with my hand—it was only a few drops, thank goodness—and concentrated on opening my eye more.
Mark finally approached me. “Drop it, Howdy,” he said quietly.
“I don’t know what you—”
“Cut the crap and show us. Now.” Mark again, more firmly.
I stopped the cover-up. Laura gasped. Thomas and Mark turned into twin thunderclouds.
“God damn it!” Thomas said.
Nigel, the sensible one, called his aide for ice. “You should have told me at once, Ciel. I’ll contact my doctor immediately.”
“No,” I said. “I’m fine. Really. The nurse at the jail fixed me up.”
“Your nose…” Laura said delicately.
“What? Am I still bleeding?”
“No. It’s a little … off center,” she said.
“Call your doctor, Nigel,” Thomas ordered. After a look from Laura, he added, “Please. If you don’t mind.”
While we waited, I explained what happened in the holding cell after Thomas left the day before. I downplayed it, making Itchy sound less frightening than she had been, and more like a pathetic vagrant who’d gotten in a lucky punch.
“I don’t think she was all there, if you know what I mean. Took me by surprise, is all. Once Billy got a gander at me, though, he was Lily-Ann before I could stop him, and I had to change fast so we wouldn’t get caught. Frankly, I think he’d be more useful with you guys on the outside.”
Mark had stared at my face the whole time I was talking. “He did the right thing.”
Thomas concurred.
Laura looked at me curiously and asked, “You get in any punches?”
I grinned. “Yea
h. I won. Kicked her legs right out from under her. It was kind of awesome.”
She held her hand up for a high five, which I proudly gave her.
“Stop looking at me like that, Tom,” Laura said. “Girls can kick ass, too.”
“And get their asses kicked,” he said.
“And get their asses kicked,” she agreed. “Ciel, how would you feel about some serious ass-kicking lessons? From one sister to another.”
“Hell yeah!” I said.
Thomas shook his head and sighed, but didn’t raise any objections. Man, I was going to love having Laura in the family.
The doctor arrived before I had a chance to ask what was up on the Gunn front. She was every bit as friendly and efficient as she’d been when she’d examined my fake sprained ankle when I was being Lily-Ann. After a little probing, she said she thought it was uneven swelling that was making my nose look skewed.
“Have it checked by your own doctor in a week or two, when the swelling goes down. I’ll apply a splint for now. Be careful not to run into any more doors,” she said.
I looked at Nigel. He shrugged. Guess he thought telling her I’d been injured in a prison fight would have scared her.
“I’ll do that,” I said, and thanked her.
After she left, I started asking questions. “Anybody gonna give me an update? Have you found Gunn? Is he going to confess or what?”
“I’ve put men on watching the Conrads,” Mark said. “I think you might be on to something about the connection there. We’re monitoring all of their homes, and the office where Conrad does most of his company-related business. If Gunn tries to contact them, we’ll know it.”
“What if we show the Conrads the video? Surely they’d see it as a motive for him to hire a hit man. Maybe we could get them to help us,” I said.
Mark nodded. “Might be worth a shot. Nigel, can you set up a meeting?”
“It would be my pleasure. Especially if I can be there to watch.”
* * *
The collective horror on the faces of Mr. and Mrs. Conrad was a thing of beauty to behold. Not that I didn’t pity them as the parents of a murdered child, but it was difficult not to feel a touch of schadenfreude, especially when the schaden boomerangs on people who’ve dealt out so much of it themselves.
