by Lin Lustig
“Aren't we all,” Glen said without emotion.
Azami shot John a glance, her curiosity and confusion vivid as she raised her shoulders a fraction.
“He doesn't like me.” John stage-whispered to her.
“That's not fair.” Glen set his phone down.
John took another bite, chewed, swallowed, then let his frustrated helplessness get the better of him. “He was Licia's favorite until I came along.” He knew he shouldn't provoke him, but he wanted him to squirm. Not just him, John wanted someone to hurl insults and call him what he was: useless.
Glen stood. “You're vain and short-sighted. She's more powerful than any of you and she deserves to be put first.”
“I hope someday someone cares for me like that.” Azami popped her hand over her mouth, just as surprised by saying that aloud as John was hearing it.
Glen glanced at her awkwardly. “I didn't say that to make you feel—look. You're very pretty. I'm sure someone will think about you eventually.”
Azami raised an eyebrow. “Thanks for the vote of confidence?” She had an edge to her voice. John couldn't ever remember seeing her stand up for herself and grinned. Glen really stepped in that one. Oh, and he knew just how to make it worse.
“At least he said you're pretty?” John offered, not at all trying to hide his grin.
“As if my appearance has anything to do with being loved.” Azami stood, sending Glen an impressive glare. “Excuse me.” She marched down the hall with her head held high. John wanted to applaud.
“What did you do that for?” Glen flicked his arm out.
“I didn't do anything. You were making a mess of that just fine.” The irritation hadn’t soothed. Being called names and pissing Glen off hadn’t helped. He’d have to face that this feeling wasn’t going to resolve until Tarrah was freed.
“So, since you hate me, they all need to?”
John rolled his eyes. “I don't hate you. But you do piss me off. It never hurts to have someone on my team.”
Glen's expression turned frosty. “Then I guess there's an opening for Emerson to be on mine.”
John gritted his teeth but refused to rise to the bait. “We’ll have to agree not to let our petty thing over Licia impact getting Tarrah out and stopping Jammers.”
“Agreed. But there's no stopping them. All we can do is understand and counteract them.”
“Then what do we need?”
“We need to know the names of the patients being used to make them. We know Tarrah, and probably Azami, but we need confirmation and we need to know the third. Once we know who and how, then we can try and come up with a way to negate them.”
“Give me your honest opinion. Why do you think GANF has become publicly involved?”
Glen licked his lips and crossed his arms, then let out a huff. “Because the Jammers will give them something they want. With Abnormals outed, my guess is they want to put Pandora back in the box.”
“I don't think that's how that works.”
“Then for once you get it, but your wife holds too many cards. If she wanted, she could out you as one of them. Your plan to just saunter on up to her is idiotic.”
“It's the only way we can get information on Tarrah. I'll deal with Aubrey.”
Glen took off his glasses and massaged the bridge of his nose. “You're not the only one she could out. If she connects the dots with Licia then you better have contacts in witness protection.”
He had a point. “If Aubrey figures out Licia is here and how powerful she really is, then we need to make friends with an undertaker, not law enforcement.”
Glen paled.
CHAPTER 43
John
Licia didn’t come back to the condo until Friday. If it hadn’t been for her finally responding to his multitude of texts, he’d have thought she found Aubrey on her own and tried to end things. Again.
Emerson was still distant and barely spoke to him, until he insisted on going back on duty as John’s bodyguard. John wasn’t going to complain, though he didn’t get his hopes up that the offer meant anything.
That evening, John changed for his final Broadway performance. Emerson resumed his place, taking him and Prisha to their show, but he didn't offer his hand. At times Emerson seemed almost normal, then other times he was a stranger. John couldn't keep track anymore.
Once they picked up Prisha, Emerson cleared his throat and glanced at them both.
“Prisha.” Emerson's voice was cautious. “About protection at the gala—”
“I always keep condoms in my purse.”
Emerson's lips flattened.
Prisha adjusted her braid. She looked both comfortable and sleek in her relaxed street clothes. “Okay, not in the mood I see. What were you going to say?”
“I think you should take Henry.” Emerson kept his eyes on the road, but his mind seemed far away. John reached towards him automatically, letting their skin touch. Emerson turned towards him with his brow furrowed and John pulled away. He really needed to adjust to this distance between them. Emerson wasn’t his to touch anymore.
Prisha sighed. “I know that you have military training and a badass background, but did you know I trained in Krav Maga for four years? Plus, mixed martial arts and a dozen different dance styles and gymnastics. I know how to move and defend. It's one night, one event. I'll keep his ass intact for you.”
They pulled up to the staff entrance door of the Hayes Theater.
“But we can take Henry if it helps you feel more comfortable,” John offered. Prisha gave him a look, but he ignored it. He might not be able to touch Em anymore, but he could still show him he listened to him.
“That would be better, yes. Thank you. And Prisha, I do trust you.” Emerson looked back at Prisha with a reassuring smile.
“Me too,” John pitched in.
“Don't get all sappy on me just because it's the final performance.” Prisha nudged them both.
“Shut up and let me love you guys,” John said and froze. Bad word choice. The mood in the car shifted like a song skipping halfway through into another. “Come on, we've got a job to do.” John practically ejected himself from the car and refused to look back, even though he was pretty sure Emerson was watching him.
Twenty minutes before curtain call, John examined his stage makeup for any flaws and put on the last of his wardrobe. This was it, the final night, but all he could think about was Sunday.
What Glen had said wriggled into his brain with alarming discomfort. If he was right—and he had to admit Glen was intelligent if not desperate—then why hadn't Aubrey outed him? She could easily use the information to force him back into her manicured claws. Which meant in the all-too-near future, he could be outed as Abnormal.
He cringed. The more he used that word the more it felt like scraping pine bark along his soul. It used to give him a sense of pride, like somehow, they were above the normal population, but now he realized the media was using it to denote something entirely different.
The option to stay hidden might not last, but he'd protect what little of it he had left. He'd prepare for the world to find out what he was—sooner than later, thanks to Aubrey.
Fuck that woman, and not in the fun way.
A knock at his door pulled his thoughts back to here and now.
“Yeah?” he called, checking just as Prisha poked her head in.
“You ready?”
“Mostly.”
She eyed him with concern along her painted lips, then flowed through the partially open door like smoke. “What's up?”
“Nothing. Some unexpected fallout from supporting Abnormals is all.” He used the public term for ease, but it felt so wrong.
Prisha pursed her lips, her eyes uncomfortable and tense, then said, “Screw them. If the public can't handle it that's their problem. But I can handle you—grumpy you, sexy you, stuck-up you, all of you. They can all flit away, but I'll still be here.” She took his hand, interlacing her fingers with his. A pres
sure in his chest eased, that lump at the base of his throat a little less prominent, though the vibe in his abdomen increased with her silky touch. She continued, “People will always fear the ferly.”
“The what?”
“The strange and wondrous? Sorry, Maa raised me on a lot of historical novels, that's probably not a common word.”
“I like it.” A lot. That’s what they were. The Ferly.
A chime sounded and Prisha jumped, yanking John up with her. “Time to shine.”
He cupped her jaw, guiding her slightly down to meet his lips. It was a more tender kiss than they usually shared, but he needed the touch to express all the things he couldn't say. Thank you for accepting me. Thank you for being with me. Thank you for being you.
They pulled back a couple of inches. She searched his expression, a flicker of humor and amazement settled in her surprised eyes. He grinned at her. The pressure of his effervescence begged to break free, but he kept the moment clean and pure. This woman was a missing piece to his soul, and he wouldn't let someone like that slip away. Someday he'd have to come clean with her, too, but for now, their friendship was an anchor.
“Alright ass-chaser, let's get out there.”
“And there she is,” he laughed and followed her out.
After the show, a group of fans collected on the sidewalk outside the theater. Except instead of brandishing headshot photos and pens with screams for signatures, men and women held signs, howling in protest. Their slogan of choice: freak fucker. If they only knew. Emerson ushered them towards the car, shoving back the encroaching line of haters.
The crowd yelled and spat. He could smell the acidic sweat coming from a group of men who spilled into the street, blocking traffic. All this just for supporting his kind?
He and Prisha shared a worried look. She bobbed her head at him, then softened her stance and moved more like a wrestler looking for an opening. They stayed in Emerson’s shadow.
A jolt of movement made John duck, but not fast enough. Something small and heavy struck his shoulder. Prisha spun away as something streaked past her, then she and Emerson grabbed him. Something else was lobbed at them, but Emerson knocked it aside. His movements sharpened. John could feel a subtle pull on his energy. Good. Emerson could suck the whole crowd dry for all he cared right now—he just needed out of there.
Emerson forcefully shoved John into the back seat. Prisha was already slinking in on the other side. She breathed heavy, adrenaline making her pupils huge. Emerson darted into the driver's seat and started the engine. The protesters moved in, pinching their escape, but when Emerson revved, the crowd parted.
“I admit, that was scary,” Prisha said as they pulled away.
John rubbed his face, then examined his shoulder the best he could. “I'm sorry you're tied up in this because of me.”
She gave him a half smile and pulled up the back of his t-shirt, her cool fingers prodding around the sore spot. “I'm more afraid for you than myself. You're the one out on a limb. I don't want the branch to break.”
He'd be lucky if it were only the branch. Now that his fans were turning on him, he was more worried the whole tree would go up in flames.
Her cool fingers were soothing and now that they were off Broadway, John breathed a little easier. He made eye contact with Emerson in the rear-view mirror and it was like plugging a live wire into his chest. Emerson looked scared—for him.
CHAPTER 44
John
The condo was alive with conversation when they returned home. His shoulder ached, the final show had ended in a mob, and now he heard urgent tones coming from his living room. His anxiety shot up again and he rushed in to find Glen, Azami, and Licia crowded around Glen's phone.
“What's going on?” John rubbed his shoulder. Emerson gave him a look, but he shook his head. The others didn’t need to know about the mini mob.
Licia let out a long breath. “Nothing good.”
Glen tapped the screen a couple of times. “We finally got the chemical breakdown of Jammers. The sources are coded. One is from the patient, Tarrah, but the other....”
“We confirmed they’ve been combining other sources with mine.” Azami spoke up. She stayed on Licia's side as far from Glen as she could get, but her voice was anything but weak. “They couldn't cure anyone with what they preserved from me, so they used the samples in other ways.”
Glen's attention touched on her, then back to John. “We need to know who the other source is. There could be someone else being held against their will.”
That would require getting inside, and out of all of them, he might be the only one who could manage it. “I'll go,” John said and the room went silent. It was only a matter of time before he had to face down this nightmare anyway.
Emerson pulled forward the rolling desk chair, pushing it towards John. He sat, a little bemused at the unsaid order. “Do you want to go inside?” Em asked.
“I don't see how else we'll get the information.” This could work. He’d planned to approach Aubrey anyway. He could convince her to show him the facility. Or seduce her into it.
“That's a shit idea.” Licia crossed her arms, which made her look curvier. Strange thing for him to focus on now. He needed to get rid of some excess vibe. “Going inside is like feeding an alligator. Their jaws will snap shut the moment you pass the threshold.”
“The only person UHP doesn't have a clue about is Emerson, and he’s built like a tank.” Glen sized him up.
“Absolutely not. We're not exposing him.” John's voice took on a subtle threat. He surprised himself. He was also back on his feet, though he couldn't remember moving. Emerson stepped up and gave him a settle-down look. John sat back down.
“I can do it,” Emerson said.
“Did you not hear me? No. As your employer, I forbid it,” John snapped.
Emerson chuckled dryly. “Did you really just say that?”
“Shut up,” John said, but it lacked any bite. “Look, Glen, we need to get Tarrah free, first and foremost. There's bound to be some other way to figure out what the breakdown means later, but let's focus on the girl.”
“Seconded.” Licia leaned against the back of the couch.
“The way to get her out is for us to get in,” Emerson argued.
“Go in and you're not coming back,” Azami said and sank further away from everyone's raised voices. He needed to stop this before it spiraled.
“Okay enough.” John used his height and towered over them all. He held gazes until they all eased into nearby seats. He had to take charge and lead them, even if he was just leading himself into a shallow grave. A coil of power wrapped around his chest, but instead of constricting his breath or influencing his fears, it felt like the power hoisted him up. He stood taller. “Tarrah and any other patients are our priority. If we remove the sources, then we stop Jammers before they reach production. No one is going into UHP alone.” John felt a jolt of adrenaline and an idea sparked. “I'm going to call my lawyer. Sunday night, at the gala, I’ll present my wife with divorce papers and I can use that as an in.”
“I wouldn't,” Glen said. That guy could not keep his mouth shut. “We still don't know where she's keeping Tarrah.”
“I thought it was the D.C. headquarters?” Licia scrunched her brow at him.
Glen cleared his throat, not quite meeting her eyes. “She was only visiting the headquarters. She’s in New York.”
Everyone cringed back as a flash fire full of fury rippled through them. Azami whimpered and the rage immediately iced. The emotional whiplash gave John a headache. He liked to imagine Emerson's expression reflected concern, but he knew it was wishful thinking.
When the fury petered out, John continued, “I’m only going to gather information and use the documents as leverage.”
“I’m going, too,” Licia said. John was surprised her words weren't accompanied by a lick of emotional pressure. She had cold ice in her eyes and rage in her voice, but he felt nothing from her. Th
ey shouldn’t have kept Aubrey’s general location from her, but no matter how much he cared for Licia, she was dangerous.
“No. I need this to be quiet. It’s a masquerade. No one will know I’m even there.”
“I can make everyone ignore you while forcing Aubrey to spill her secrets.” Licia didn’t back down. It reminded him of the last time they faced Aubrey.
John shook his head. “No. This is a public event, full of UHP and GANF staff. We can't afford to let them find out someone like us is living up to their fears. We have to guide public opinion on this, and you're the last person for that job.” The words came out harsh, but there was no affront leaking into his emotions from her. She crossed her arms and didn't reply, but her cloudy blue eyes were electric.
Yeah, he'd pay for that later. But he was trying to protect them—and her. If they were going to look to him for guidance, then he couldn't let UHP get their hands on Licia, for all their sakes.
“John, I can't let you go to the gala alone, especially if you’re going to confront your wife.” Emerson eased back into his seat, but his face still betrayed tension.
“The gala will have a swarm of in-house security, plus I'll have Prisha and Henry.” It felt like a string drew tight between them. There was no hope at returning to what their relationship had once been, but maybe they could still make something different work. John offered his wrist. Emerson looked away but grabbed on. He wasn't delusional enough to believe there was still hope as lovers, but at least he had this.
John cleared his throat. “I'll use Aubrey's attachment to me. I'll make this work.” He met Emerson's deep brown eyes. “And I'll make this right.” Or very, very wrong.
CHAPTER 45
John
Halloween, the most mischievous and best day of the year—except now it was marred by the bruise on his shoulder and the preparations to keep his identity hidden at UHP's annual gala. Paparazzo had captured their urgent escape from the crowd at his final show, and now there were photos of him being hit in the shoulder by a blurred projectile—most likely a rock or chunk of brick. The photos were raising sympathy in his corner, but the fire that started in that crowd was still spreading. More and more of NNN was dedicated to similar protests across the country and, worse, around the world. Luckily the Ferly—man, he loved that term—were difficult to find and blended with the Normies.
