by T. M. Catron
“Is that your supper?”
She grinned self-consciously.
“Where are you going to cook it?”
“I heat water in the coffee pot.”
“Oh.”
Why had their circumstances changed? They hadn’t seemed destitute in Marseilles. I opened my phone to order a company car, thought better of it, and ordered a taxi instead. “Let me take you to dinner.”
“Oh. I don’t want to impose on you again.”
“Again? You’ve never imposed on me.”
She smiled for the first time. “Dinner would be nice.”
“Should we wait for Charan?”
“He won’t be back until late. I’ll bring something back for him.”
She gestured for me to sit in the chair.
“No, thanks. I’ve been in an office all day.”
“So, your friend helped you get the job?”
“Yes. What are you going to do when Charan finds a job?”
“I’ll find one too. Maybe you can put in a good word for me where you work.”
My heart stopped. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.”
“Why not? Because I am an illegal alien?”
I smiled. “No, because where I work would not be a good environment for you.”
She raised an eyebrow. “I told you not to try to protect me.”
“I’m not. Well, I am, but it’s really not a good idea for you to work there. They’re not pleasant people.”
Why didn’t I just lie and tell her there weren’t any openings?
“So why are you working there, Morse?”
“Don’t have a choice.”
“What makes you think I do?”
I stared at Toral. She was right. I was starting to sound like an arrogant bigot.
In the absence of anything to say, we sat waiting for the cab in silence. The quiet was unlike the companionable silences between us before. Something was interfering. I just didn’t know what.
“Is it okay that I’m here?” I asked after a bit.
She smiled a real smile that reminded me of Marseille. “It is okay.”
“Even though we’re alone in your hotel room?”
“Considering the neighborhood, I do not think anyone will complain, Monsieur Morse.”
“You can just call me Morse.”
Toral smiled.
“But I meant is it appropriate for me to be here?”
“I know what you meant,” she said, regarding me with amusement.
When the cab honked, Toral grabbed a small purse, and I opened the door. A couple of men stood smoking at the top of the stairs. Toral moved closer to me.
“Have you had any problems?” I whispered.
“No.”
They didn’t bother us, but I was again reminded of Toral and Charan’s situation. What had changed so drastically since Marseille? In the car, I gave the driver our destination and then sat back next to Toral.
“What’s changed?” I asked.
“Sorry?”
“At Marseilles, you were different.”
Toral turned to look at me. She waited to answer as if she wasn’t sure how much she should say. Finally, she said, “I am worried about my brother. We were not planning to stay in France. We weren’t even supposed to go to Paris, but he insisted. And now here we are.”
“Why didn’t you go back with Hiraani?”
“She is staying with her sister-in-law. There is not room for me.”
“I didn’t know she was married.”
“Her husband is dead.”
“Oh. And you can’t get a job in India?”
“You think I should go back?”
Yes.
“No, I’m glad you’re here.”
The mood shifted. Toral relaxed a little, even daring to lean on my arm. My right one.
The restaurant we went to was small, not in high demand. But the food was excellent. And we didn’t have to wait for a booth.
Toral smiled again, more relaxed this time. “You forgot, didn’t you, that you promised to have lunch with Charan and me in Marseille.”
“So that’s what’s bothering you. I’m very sorry, Toral. I got a call and had to catch the first train to Paris.”
“You didn’t even think to call our hotel?”
Oh! Of course, she was angry—angrier than I’d thought she’d be. I reached across the table and took her hand. “It’s not because I didn’t think of you.”
How could I explain? I searched around for the right words, the right lie. But I had nothing. “I don’t have a good excuse. I just thought I’d never see you again.”
“So why did it matter?” Her eyes narrowed. I thought she would pull her hand away, but she didn’t.
“Forgive me? Please.”
Her gaze softened, and suddenly she was the Toral I had met that day on the beach. “You did come find me tonight,” she said. “Maybe I won’t be too hard on you.”
I smiled. “Thank you.”
I ordered enough food for four people. We split everything, with me eating more than my share. My appetite was back. When we finished, we boxed up the rest of the food for Charan and went for a walk. The evening was still early. Paris was brilliantly lit.
“Anywhere you want to go?” I asked.
Toral took my hand and hummed. “Right now, I just want to walk.”
“Okay.”
We didn’t talk for a while, the silence between us comfortable again. During dinner, she hadn’t mentioned anything of Charan or his predicament. She didn’t know. If she did, she wouldn’t have talked to me this evening at her door. Or she shouldn’t have.
I knew that what I was doing was wrong. I was a hybrid, not a man. And so far, I’d been able to maintain a hold on my mission. But whenever Toral was near, I rejected the idea that the mission was my sole purpose in life.
At the same time, I knew that it was. I was sliding downward, had been from the moment I went to her hotel. But I couldn’t stop myself. I looked at her beneath the city lights, smiling as we walked, swinging my hand slightly as she held it, and I didn’t want to stop myself.
“Toral.”
“Whenever you say my name like that, Morse, I get worried.”
I laughed. “Am I that predictable?”
“Yes. But what were you going to say?”
“Please let me help you find a better hotel.”
“We haven’t had any trouble where we are.”
“But you could.”
“My brother would never accept help.”
“Isn’t there a way around that?”
She blushed. Her scar did, too. “We cannot afford it, Morse. And I don’t know why I am telling you that. I don’t want a handout.”
“Okay, I get it. But when Charan gets a job, will you let me help you find something better?” Hopefully, when he got home, Charan would tell Toral about his new job. Hopefully, he would have the sense not to tell the truth about it.
“I will think about it,” she said.
19
Date
Charan did tell Toral about his job, but not about where it was or who he worked for. He didn’t even mention seeing me. Toral didn’t bring it up to him. I’d asked her not to.
“If he hasn’t told you by now, he doesn’t want me to see you,” I’d said.
Charan was actually working in the Tower as a courier. I saw him from time to time, but after his reaction to me in my office, I left him alone. He seemed alright. And I didn’t have any reason to interfere.
Every morning, I went into the office after a breakfast big enough for three men. I listened to conversations, ran background checks on EW’s high-level connections, and generally made myself useful. The man had said barely five words to me since I’d arrived. Since I kept everything working smoothly, he had no reason to say anything at all.
Every night, I picked up Toral for dinner. We ate at any restaurant I thought wouldn’t attract attention. Nothing that EW or Armelle migh
t stumble into. After dinner, I would take her back to the hotel and make sure she got in safely. I hadn’t entered her room again like I had the first night. I always saw her to the door and then waited for her to lock it after it closed.
A week after I began seeing Toral, I arrived at her hotel a few minutes earlier than usual. I knocked, and when she didn’t answer, I leaned against the doorjamb to wait.
I waited an hour. Finally, Toral came up the stairs. She wore her yellow sari again. She’d been wearing Western clothing on our dates.
“Sorry I’m late, Morse.” She smelled of grease and spices—curry.
“Everything okay?”
“Yes.”
She unlocked the door and motioned me in. The room was clean. The furniture was the same, except they’d brought in another chair. Toral gestured for me to sit in it. She sank down in the other one with a sigh.
“I got a job,” she said to my unspoken question. “At an Indian restaurant in the city. Six days a week I greet customers, but also, they want me to help with their accounting. All off the books, of course.” She smiled.
“Where?”
“No, I am not telling you where. You already worry too much about me as it is.”
“I don’t worry about you.”
She stood and shot me a look that said she knew I was lying.
“Is it somewhere I should be worried about?”
“No, nothing like that.”
She really didn’t want to tell me. I could respect that.
“I would have called you, but you conveniently have not given me your number. You just show up at my door.”
I sighed. I hadn’t given it to her because I didn’t want anyone to know we were connected in any way. Hybrids, EW, anyone. For her sake… and mine.
“Are you married, Morse?”
The question caught me off guard. I laughed. Really laughed. So hard my eyes watered.
When I got control of myself, Toral was frowning.
“No, you’re right,” I said. “It’s not funny.”
I suppressed another laughing fit and stood up to move closer to her.
She stood too and moved out of the way. “And yet you didn’t answer the question.”
I lifted my hands in surrender.
“No, I’m not married. Of course not.” I sighed again. What to tell her without giving too much away? I looked around the room, but its dismal appearance didn’t bring any inspiration. I decided the partial truth would be the best.
“It’s because of where I work. You know that new job?”
She crossed her arms. “Yes.”
“Some of the people I work for aren’t angels. And I would rather not involve anyone that I care about in their web of lies.”
She still didn’t relax, her stance unmoving.
“Look, I’ll show you to my apartment if it makes you feel better. No wife, no kids, nothing fishy.”
Except that I’m part alien. No big deal.
“So now you’re inviting me to your apartment?”
I smiled. “I’m not hiding anything from you about this.”
“About this.” She uncrossed her arms. “I suppose I don’t have a right to ask.”
I put my hands on her shoulders. “You do have a right to ask, and I’m not lying to you.”
Unless you count lying by omission.
I had a strong urge to kiss her, but something told me this wasn’t the right moment. Perhaps it was the way she examined my face as if to find out for herself if I were lying or not.
Toral patted my hand, and I let go of her. “Still feel like dinner?” I asked.
“Yes, but I need to shower and change.”
“I’ll leave.”
“No, stay.”
She gathered some clothes hanging on the rack and walked into the tiny bathroom. I tried not to think about Toral in the shower. Or if she would ever consider me seriously. The rebellious human inside me insisted I had a chance. The part of my brain which still had some sense, the Condarri part, said it was never going to happen. What was I doing here?
I sat there, fighting myself over a little, weak, human emotion. For I’d finally recognized it for what it was. Just emotion. Nothing more. And maybe lust. Was it lust? I’d meant it when I told Toral I cared for her.
Hybrids aren’t supposed to care about humans. They aren’t supposed to care about anything but pleasing their masters.
The familiar urge to harm myself grew. My arm had just healed. I didn’t need another wound. Or maybe I did.
I stood to go outside, reminding myself why I never went into that room. It was too private, too intimate. Dinner and a walk, that was our routine. There wasn’t a place for anything else.
The door clicked as someone put a key in the knob. I tensed automatically, ready to deal with trouble. A moment later, Charan entered the room. He frowned when he saw me, standing rooted in the doorway as if he had been stuck to it. At that moment, Toral came out of the bathroom, hair wet, wearing jeans and a long flowing top. It was the first time I’d seen her in pants. I tried not to stare at her as Charan tried not to choke out a question that would not offend me.
He nodded. “Mr. Morse.”
His eyes were full of fear and anger, trying to work out why I was here. He glanced at Toral.
“We’re going to dinner, Charan,” she said. “Are you hungry?”
He found his voice. “So, you are seeing him. That’s where the food came from the other night.”
Toral blushed, but only slightly.
“You’re welcome to join us,” I said, keeping my voice casual and even. The invitation wasn’t genuine, but I didn’t want him to know that.
“No,” he said.
“Charan—” Toral began.
“I don’t want you to go, Toral,” he said, keeping his eyes glued to me.
So, he did have a spine. Good job, Charan.
“Why not?”
“It’s not… decent.”
Toral scoffed. “We are not in India anymore, Charan.”
“That doesn’t change the fact that you are going around with a man you know nothing about.”
I cleared my throat. “Charan, this is just dinner. Whatever you think my motives are, you are mistaken, I swear. It’s just dinner.”
I could see he didn’t believe me. I wouldn’t believe me, either, in his position. “Eat with us, then. I’m paying.”
Charan shifted on his feet. “I would rather not owe you any more debt, sir.”
I shook my head. “It’s not a favor. Just friends going to eat.”
Toral grabbed her purse and checked it. “I’m going, Charan. Stay or go, it doesn’t matter to me. Morse has been nothing but kind. But I’ll call you from the restaurant if it’ll make you feel better.”
Charan glanced at me, then his sister. Clearly, he wanted to shout out to the hotel about who I really was. But he remained afraid enough of me that he feared what I would do if he exposed me.
Toral didn’t give him any more time to think about it. She kissed him on the cheek and opened the door for me.
The taxi dropped us off at a pizza place.
“What did my brother mean about not owing you more debt?” Toral asked as we looked at the menu.
I shrugged. “The food?”
“Hmm. Maybe.”
“Seemed more than that, didn’t it?”
“Yes,” she said without looking up. “But he’s been under a lot of pressure the past week. His current job keeps him busy, but it doesn’t pay much, so he had to get a second one.”
EWF wasn’t paying Charan at all, probably. He was working off debt, not making a living. I made a mental note to check on that. “What’s he doing, again?”
“He’s a courier for one of the companies here in the city. A random office. He rides a bicycle all over Paris, though.”
“Is he going to create a problem? Am I causing you problems?”
Toral finally looked up. “Let me worry about Charan. What are you g
etting?”
A man laughed from over in the corner. I glanced over, distracted by the noise. He and another man were sitting at a table looking at us. Or rather, looking at Toral’s face. He leaned across the table and spoke to his friend. “Ugly, isn’t she?”
The other man turned to look our way. “In the dark, she’s probably fine.”
They both laughed again.
I clenched the menu until it crumpled. Toral looked at me, then glanced over at the men. She turned back to say, “It happens sometimes. Don’t let it bother you.”
“Do you think he did it?” one of them whispered.
My blood boiled in anger. I swallowed it down and said, “You’re used to people talking about your scar?”
“Yes. They are rude. Ignore them.”
“Did you hear what they said?”
“Not exactly, but I caught the look. It’s not the first time.” Toral looked up again. “Morse, really, let it go.”
I put down my menu and caught the server’s eye so we could order, but I was having trouble letting go of my anger like Toral suggested. “We can go somewhere else.”
“No, I like pizza.”
I willed myself to ignore the men and turned my attention to Toral. She wasn’t looking at me, but out the window to her left. She caught me staring and smiled. “You must be doing okay at your new job, to be taking me out to eat every night.”
“Getting tired of me?” I teased.
“Not at all.”
The men in the corner snickered some more, but I deliberately didn’t listen in to their conversation. For a moment, I wished Toral would see herself home so I could have a word with them—outside in the alley. Where I might break their faces in.
Instead, I said, “How about we get the pizza to go?”
Toral nodded. “Sounds good.”
Later, we walked along the Seine eating our pizza out of the box. When we finished it, I threw it in a bin and leaned against a guardrail. Toral hoisted herself up and sat on it with her back to the water. “So, where’s your apartment?”
“One of the buildings in La Défense. I work in the building. The place comes with the job.”
“I bet it’s nice.”
“It’s okay. Do you really want to see it?”
“Charan would be mad. But I thought you didn’t want me near your work?”
