Chase

by Francine Pascal

  In spite of all the hatred she felt, a huge lump welled up in Gaia’s throat. She swallowed it back, ashamed of herself for displaying any kind of emotion at Loki’s bedside. The nurse looked at her with pity in her eyes, and Gaia wanted to shake her and tell her the sorrow wasn’t for Loki. No one should ever be sorry that this man was near death.

  Okay, you’ve seen him, Gaia told herself. Now go.

  “Talk to him,” the nurse said softly. “It’s okay.”

  No! Just leave! Gaia thought. But her legs wouldn’t obey. As always, she was inexplicably drawn to Loki. And seeing him here like this . . . it somehow made her feel closer to her father.

  The nurse slipped out, closing the door behind her and shutting out the light from the hallway. As soon as she and Loki were alone, Gaia’s stomach clenched down to the size of a gum ball.

  Swallowing hard, Gaia placed her bags down on the chair next to the door. She made her feet take the few necessary steps to the bed and stood there, her abdomen pressed into the metal railing that ran all around her uncle’s resting place. He looked so vulnerable, lying there. Yet her fingers itched to circle his throat and squeeze out whatever life he had left. After everything this man had done to her and her family, he deserved to never wake up.

  Like Dad, Gaia’s mind blurted, as much as she tried to stop the thought from taking form. Loki and her father had always had that weird twin connection. They’d both fallen into comas at the same time. If it was really true that her father was dead, shouldn’t Loki be, too?

  Gaia’s thoughts and emotions overwhelmed her. She pulled the second chair over to the bed and sat down, her knees weak. This was crazy, coming here. She should have known better. She should have left when her instincts told her to. But now it was too late. Everything she hadn’t wanted to think about was hitting her full force.

  Her father, her mother, Natasha and Tatiana’s betrayal, her loneliness, her confusion, the fact that the only blood relative she might have left was not only evil but half dead in the bed in front of her. And the fact that it was now confirmed: She and her father had a new enemy. Someone other than Loki was out for their blood, and the only people who knew who that enemy was were Natasha and Tatiana. Gaia was back at square one.

  “I don’t know what to do,” Gaia said, her throat dry but her eyes full of tears she refused to shed. “I don’t know what to do anymore.”

  The heart monitor bleeped away, and Gaia stared across the bed toward the shuttered window. Suddenly she laughed at herself. What was she doing here?

  Gaia looked at his monitors. Lines peaked and dropped, dots jumped around. It all meant nothing to her. Nothing except that Loki was still breathing. And her father, for all she knew, was not.

  “He’s probably dead, you know,” she heard herself say. Her gaze flicked toward Loki’s face. “That should make you happy. I mean, that’s what you always wanted, right? To kill your brother? To get your revenge? Well, I’m sorry you didn’t get to do it yourself.”

  She glared at his face, waiting for a reaction she knew would never come. There was nothing more unsatisfying than trying to pick a fight with a guy in a coma. For once Gaia had nothing to punch, nothing to kick, no one to accuse. She had no recourse. And suddenly she felt very, very tired.

  Gaia leaned back in her chair until the back of her head was resting on the top of the vinyl-covered cushion. It was warm in the hospital room, and the rhythmic beeping of the monitor was mesmerizing. Gaia could feel herself starting to slip into sleep and told herself to get up and go. She wouldn’t keep vigil at her uncle’s bedside.

  But she was so tired. And she had no place to go. And this chair was a hell of a lot more comfortable than that awful bench she’d slept on the night before. Maybe if she just took a little nap, she would wake up refreshed and be able to think more clearly.

  Gaia had hardly even decided to let herself go when she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

  No Loki in Loki

  GAIA AWOKE WITH A START. SHE looked around the hazy hospital room, momentarily confused but searching for the cause of her sudden consciousness. Her heart was racing from being jarred out of a resting rhythm, and she felt like someone had shouted in her ear or shoved her to wake her up. But there was nothing. Nothing but a prone Loki.

  Gaia sat up and stretched, letting out a wide yawn and enjoying the feeling of her muscles awakening—her joints cracking. However long she’d been out, it had been a good sleep, and as she blinked away her grogginess, she realized it was time to blow this Popsicle stand. Now that she was certain Loki was no threat to her and her father, she had to focus on Tatiana. She had work to do.

  Standing up, Gaia started to gather her bags, but then she saw something that made her stop short.

  Loki’s fingers moved. Gaia took an instinctive step back from the bed. Her eyes darted to the monitors, but as far as she could tell, nothing had changed. Maybe she’d just imagined the movement.

  I did. I just imagined it, she told herself, watching the display of Loki’s heartbeat as the line jumped and squiggled and faded away.

  “G-Gaia?”

  A sizzle of anger ran over Gaia’s skin the moment she heard his voice. He was awake. The rat bastard was awake. And he was saying her name.

  “Gaia . . . where . . . how did you . . . ?”

  And then he started coughing.

  At first Gaia simply stood there, but the longer she did, the hoarser his coughing became. It racked his chest and sent his pulse skyrocketing. When he reached shakily for the protective bar around his bed, Gaia snapped to and rushed out the door.

  “Hey! I need some water in here!” she shouted, causing the nurse to jump out of her chair.

  Gaia waited for the nurse to scurry into action, then returned to Loki’s room, watching as the coughs shook his body and praying that he wouldn’t choke before she had the chance to tell him how much she hated him.

  The nurse rushed in with a pitcher of water and poured Loki a cup. She leaned over the bed and helped him drink, supporting his head with her hand. Gaia cringed just watching someone else touch the bastard. If only this woman knew what he had done.

  “Better?” the nurse said when Loki had downed the water.

  Loki nodded and lay down again weakly.

  “His throat will be very dry,” the nurse said, turning to Gaia. As if Gaia cared. “All those days with nothing to moisten it.”

  “Right,” Gaia said. “You don’t seem that surprised he’s awake.”

  “Well, there have been indications in the past few days that something like this might happen,” the nurse said. “More color in the cheeks, strengthening of the brain waves.” She turned around and smiled at Loki, who was staring up at the ceiling with a confused expression. “But I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re the reason he’s coming out of it now,” the nurse continued. “Familial support has a very powerful effect on coma patients.”

  How about the familial support from the niece who wants you dead? Gaia thought.

  “I’m going to go alert his doctor,” the nurse told Gaia, handing her the water pitcher. “You should talk to him, but try not to excite him. He’s still very weak.”

  Then, with a joyous I’m-so-happy-for-you glance, the nurse hurried away.

  “Gaia,” Loki croaked the second the nurse was gone.

  Gaia didn’t move. He turned his head and looked up into her eyes. Gaia didn’t want to look at him, but something in his face made her pause. She couldn’t tear her gaze away. It seemed like his eyes had softened. The hard, sadistic laughing that had always been present was gone. He gazed at her with admiration, with love. At that moment there was no Loki in Loki.

  It’s just the medication, Gaia told herself, turning away to place the pitcher on the nightstand. He’s totally drugged, that’s all.

  “Well, you should get some rest,” Gaia said, wiping her sweaty palms on her cargo pants. “I’ll just leave you alone.”

  “Gaia, wait!” he exclaimed in his hoarse v
oice. “Why am I here?”

  The sizzle of anger returned, this time heating Gaia’s very veins. “You were in a coma. You woke up,” she told him, grabbing up her bags. “The nurses will fill you in.”

  “But I . . . I don’t remember anything,” he said, blinking rapidly. “I don’t . . . understand. How did I get here? When?”

  After you tried to kill me and Heather and my father, Gaia’s inner voice shouted.

  “Look, you were in a coma,” Gaia said bitingly. “It may take you a little while to remember some things, but you will. Take care.”

  “But Gaia—”

  “I am not going to help you. Not this time,” Gaia said, her eyes flashing dangerously. “Not after everything you did. And don’t give me any of that ‘But I’m your uncle’ bull, because I’m done falling for it.”

  She turned to leave and had her hand on the door handle when he spoke again.

  “But Gaia, I am your uncle. It’s me, Oliver!” From the sound of his voice he was near tears. Gaia’s heart pounded in her chest. “Please don’t leave me here. I don’t understand what’s happened!”

  He collapsed in another coughing fit. Gaia turned slowly to find him reaching out for the water, unable to grasp it from his position, his arms shaking from the strain of stretching them. She narrowed her eyes.

  Don’t believe him, she told herself. Believing him has gotten you into trouble so many times . . . .

  But then, from what she understood about human physiology, any trauma to the brain can change a person’s emotional makeup. And a coma can cause trauma to the brain.

  It can’t be, Gaia thought.

  But what if he was just Oliver? If he really was Oliver, she couldn’t just leave him here to rot alone. If he really was Oliver, maybe he could help her.

  Gaia dropped her things and poured him another glass of water. He drank it thirstily and collapsed back into his pillow. As he fought for his breath, Gaia watched him carefully. Loki was, after all, a fine actor. He’d fooled her many, many times. And Gaia didn’t want to be fooled again.

  “Gaia, please don’t leave me here,” Oliver said, his chest rising and falling fast. “Take me home with you.”

  Gaia crossed her arms over her chest and dug her fingers into her biceps. “I don’t have a home.”

  His eyes traveled past her then, and he seemed to notice her bags for the first time.

  “But . . . what about your father?” Oliver asked.

  Gaia’s jaw clenched and her eyes stung. How was she supposed to answer that question? Especially when she didn’t even know who she was talking to—someone who would rejoice in the news or someone who would be devastated?

  “He’s . . . missing,” Gaia said finally.

  Oliver quickly looked away, blinking rapidly as he stared up at the ceiling. Because of the line of work Tom was in, the fact that he was MIA wouldn’t come as too much of a shock. But to a brother, if that was who he was, it was still upsetting.

  If he’s Loki, he deserves an Oscar, Gaia thought.

  When her uncle turned to look at her again, his expression was resolved. “Where . . . what city are we in?” he asked.

  “New York,” she replied.

  “I have a place, then,” he said. “A place we can go.” His frail fingers grasped at the metal guardrail closest to her. “I can’t stay here, Gaia. I don’t trust hospitals.” He swallowed with difficulty and pulled in a breath. “Ever since I was a little boy . . .”

  Gaia felt an infinitesimal tug at her heart. She knew the feeling. And she knew what Oliver had gone through as a boy—all that time in and out of medical facilities, all those tests. If he was Oliver, he had every right to be petrified.

  Still, how could she even think about taking him out of here? If he was actually Loki, she’d be unleashing some major evil.

  “I know you have no reason to trust me. I don’t remember what got me here yet, but I do remember the things I’ve done to you in the past . . . as Loki,” Oliver said. “But I’ll prove to you I’m not Loki . . . somehow. And if I don’t prove it, you have every right to kill me.”

  Damn straight, Gaia thought.

  She took a deep breath and looked into the man’s desperate, scared eyes. Suddenly she knew she was going to do it—she was going to break Loki or Oliver, whoever he was, out of here. Maybe it was a serious lapse in judgment, but the fact remained that whichever personality had emerged from the coma, he was still the only person she knew who might be able to help her find her dad. If he turned out to be Loki, well, then, he was right—she would just have to deal with him.

  Gaia walked over to the door, opened it a crack, and glanced out. Another nurse had taken charge of the desk while the first woman was off paging Loki’s doctor. There was a doctor talking to a harried-looking couple outside another of the rooms. It wasn’t Fort Knox, but it wasn’t going to be easy. She closed the door again, silently.

  “They’ll never let me take you out of here in this condition,” she said, glancing skeptically at his frail body. “We’re gonna have to run.”

  Dead Ahead

  TATIANA STILL COULDN’T GET USED TO seeing all those dark strands of hair blowing in front of her own face. Every other time the wind kicked up and tousled her wig, she flinched. Not exactly the nerves of steel required for the spy game. But she’d been following Gaia all day, and since the girl seemed to be able to function indefinitely without food, Tatiana hadn’t eaten, either. She leaned her shoulder against the big blue mailbox next to her and tapped her fingers on the dented metal, her stomach letting out an irritated growl. She was starting to get a little antsy.

  “What the hell is she doing in there, having that long overdue personality change operation?” Tatiana muttered, glancing away from the hospital entrance long enough to check her watch. Gaia had been inside for more than two hours. A new record of stagnancy for the day. Maybe Tatiana could just duck into that bagel place and—

  There she was. Not coming from the entrance, but from around the far corner of the hospital. And she was hustling. She was hustling with her arm around someone. Someone who was stooped over and shielded from view. Tatiana stood up straight, pulled her dark sunglasses down to the end of her nose, and narrowed her eyes.

  Who the hell was Gaia smuggling out of the damn—

  The patient glanced in her direction, only for a split second, and Tatiana’s knees almost caved in. Tom Moore? Gaia’s father? But how had she—? How had he—? She’d thought he was—

  Then it hit her, and a dry heave caught in her throat.

  It wasn’t Tom. It was Loki, obviously. Tatiana and her mother had known for a while that Loki was being held in one of the city’s many hospitals, but the name of the exact hospital was kept on a need-to-know basis. And even though it made absolutely no sense for Gaia to smuggle Loki out of the hospital, it made more sense than the idea of Tom being in New York. Tatiana knew for a fact that Tom was nowhere near the United States.

  This can’t happen, Tatiana realized, her heart racing. If Gaia and Loki had decided to team up, there was no telling what they might be able to do. And if the two of them compared notes, it wouldn’t take long for them to figure out who Tatiana and Natasha were working for. Once they figured that out, Tatiana was as good as dead. Especially if she could have done something to stop it.

  Gaia and her uncle scurried across the avenue and headed toward Tatiana but on the other side of the street. Tatiana ducked behind a lamppost, seething, swearing under her breath.

  “I’ll kill them,” she said. “I’ll kill them both.”

  Gaia and Loki turned a corner and started up the street toward the subway station, their backs to Tatiana. Suddenly a sleek black sports car pulled up to the curb right next to Tatiana’s feet and the engine died. Tatiana squared her shoulders, walked around the front of the car, and waited for the driver to open the door.

  A coiffed businessman of about thirty stepped out onto the street, his back to Tatiana. She reached around him, took his
keys from his hand, and, before he could utter any sound of surprise, grabbed him by his jacket lapels and flung him to the ground.

  As she sat behind the wheel and locked the doors, Tatiana absently noticed that now her hands weren’t shaking. They weren’t shaking as she inserted the key into the ignition. They weren’t shaking as she cut the wheel and peeled out, slicing through four lanes of heavy New York traffic.

  The driver stood up and yelled after her; countless cars screeched to a stop; curses were flung out like yesterday’s meat loaf. But Tatiana didn’t hear them. She didn’t see them. She saw nothing but the tall blond girl and the sickly, stooped man, who were so helpfully stepping off the curb and into the street dead ahead.

  SAM

  You know what’s unhealthy? Giving up stuff for a girl.

  Like when I was in high school, my friend Frank quit the spring play because his girlfriend, Lily, was jealous because he had to kiss Maria Viola. Then five days after we all watched Frank’s understudy, Calvin Carmichael, knock over the set and pass out from an asthma attack in the middle of act 2, Lily broke up with Frank for some kid from the debate team. Frank never acted again, never trusted women again, and took his first cousin Agatha to the prom. I haven’t spoken to him since, but I’m sure he’s still a shell of his former self.

  It’s because of the Frank and Lily story that I’m in New York at all. I had a girlfriend in high school. An amazing girlfriend. Her name was Anna, and she was perfect–smart, funny, legs that went on for miles. We always used to lie around and talk about what it would be like to go away to school together, live together, and all that stuff. But Anna wanted to go to Notre Dame more than anything. Her whole family went there. Their den was like a shrine to the place, with pennants and jackets and photos, pillows, blankets, and mugs. I applied there, but I knew that I didn’t want to stay in the Midwest. I knew I wanted to go to school in a big city, see new things, get the heck out of small-town USA.