by Sonya Clark
The crowd ran, and he ran with it. Feet pounding. Gut churning with a mix of adrenaline and nausea. Maybe he had been riding a desk for too long. This shit used to be fun. Now he just wanted a shower.
Or maybe it was just no fun without Mrs. Jones by his side.
Rocks and other debris flew through the air. Fires dotted the streets and sidewalks, small ones contained in whatever anyone could find. The smoke both helped and hurt, obscuring the vision of the police as well as of everyone else. Even the din couldn’t drown out the squawk of the loudspeaker as one of the large armored vehicles made its lumbering way through the streets.
Hayes cut into an alley and leaned against the wall, breath coming in heavy gasps. What little skin he’d left exposed felt raw. His eyes were watering from both the tear gas and the smoke. He pulled off one glove and got out his phone. The magical-energy readings were all over the place, from nonexistent to red spikes and everything in between. He swiped to another app specially designed for Rangers and tuned in to the police frequency.
Two minutes of nothing special, then excitement. He brought the phone closer to his ear and pressed the volume button higher.
...motorcycle...
...off-zone magic...
...three motorcycles...
...now five...
...eight...
...all magic...
...all units converge on the scene...
Bingo. He waited for a location. Once he had it, he left the app running and opened another, this time maps. His team had used tunnels on the Paris assignment, and in other cities as well. It would be something Tuyet was comfortable with and would explain why he kept losing her. The subway system, the sewer system. He had maps of both. According to those maps, access was strictly limited to city workers. Hayes swore. Locations without CCTV cameras would be ideal for an illicit activity.
He blinked sweat out of his eyes, fighting the urge to rub them. What other tunnels could the city have? This kind of research had never been his thing. He used to joke about being a point-and-shoot kind of guy. Somebody else would point and he would take care of the shooting. He was good at it, the shooting and blowing stuff up and retrieval assignments. Stealing, as Tuyet used to call those. He didn’t care. It was fun, as long as he didn’t think too hard about his orders. It wasn’t his place to question orders. He’d accepted that easily until he ran his own team. Working with Tuyet and Halif had made him question nearly everything.
So what questions would they be asking right now? Figuring the magic for a diversion was the easy part. The cops were being led to one place, but he refused to believe it was any kind of ambush. Tuyet was no terrorist. So the point was to lead the cops away from whatever important thing was happening elsewhere.
New Corinth had taken a lot of damage in the early days of the Magic Revelation. It had been a much smaller city then but wound up a target of various kinds of violence and terrorism anyway. Including, as he recalled from the boring briefing materials he’d read on the flight down, an attack on the city’s subway system.
He typed pre-magic subway system in New Corinth into the search bar of the phone’s browser. An old map was one of the first results. In seconds he had it downloaded and entered into the magical energy app along with the current street map of the city. He widened the app’s field and waited for the programming to adjust.
A nice bright pocket of magical energy lined up with what had been a subway tunnel decades ago, near the river and ten blocks north of where cops were converging. Hayes smiled under the wet bandana. It might be nothing. He could be completely wrong. And even if this did mean something, there was no guarantee that Tuyet would be there.
Every instinct humming in his body told him otherwise. He pocketed the phone and took off at a run.
Chapter Six
Six cell phones and two tablets lay carefully nestled in plastic packaging inside the small box. Tuyet stared, unbelieving.
“How did you manage this?” Connected to the darknet via her own far-less-impressive phone, she’d met her contact in one of the underground’s chat rooms.
“The usual way. Whole lotta money.” His avatar, a motorcycle helmet styled like a mirrorball, lit up in waves of color.
“They look like they’re direct from the factory.” This kind of electronics, with magic tech apps and programs, was pricy in witch-friendly nations and outlawed in the U.S. To get away with having it, a person would either have to be very, very rich or carrying the right kind of badge. Anyone who didn’t fall into those categories would be looking at years in prison. It was a huge risk to have them in New Corinth, but hopefully worth it.
“Best thing about them, they look just like the nonmagic model,” he said. “A Normal would have to really get into the apps to tell the difference.”
“Or have DMS or Ranger tech that could read magical energy.” She knew Hayes would have that capability, on his phone if nothing else. It was standard procedure for Rangers to have the special apps on their phones and watches.
“You sound worried.”
She’d been debating how much to tell him, not that she really knew much. He might as well know. “Hayes is here.”
The mirrorball helmet flared bright white. “Huh. Have you seen him?”
“Once. And no, I didn’t talk to him much so I don’t know why he’s here.”
“Did you sleep with him?”
“Of course not! Not that it’s any of your business.” Why did her male friends turn into meddling aunts when it came to her love life?
“Did you beat him up?”
Tuyet sighed. “Yes.”
“You beating him up was always like foreplay to him. He’ll be back for more.”
“Oh, God.”
“Seriously. Give that poor man what he’s been dreaming of since the day you met.”
“Shut up.”
“Hit it, Caron. Hit it like a screen door in a hurricane.”
“Aren’t you at all concerned that he’s here?” Not that she suspected he would help Hayes, but she didn’t like his nonchalant attitude.
“The only thing I’m concerned about right now is how washed out your avatar looks and how hard it is to hear you. You are dangerously close to fried, Tuyet. You need to power down for a while and get some rest.”
What he said was true, though she hated admitting it even to herself. Too much physical, emotional and magical strain had her run-down and exhausted. But she had too much to do to take any downtime. “I’ll be fine,” she said. “Talk to you soon.”
She dropped out of trance a little too quickly, not wanting to give him a chance to respond. The transition caused a brief wave of dizziness. She focused on a spot on the wall to ground herself, then started unpacking the box.
The makeshift door rattled as someone pushed it open. Calla stuck her head around the battered wood, purple hair glowing under the witchlight that served as the only illumination. “Everything cool?”
Tuyet held up one of the phones. “Better than cool. Here, one’s for you.”
“And it’s not even my birthday.” Calla wore a broad smile as she entered the tiny space. She leaned against the wall and knelt by Tuyet, taking the proffered device like a kid offered candy. “I cannot wait to get into you.”
“We should split everything up. What do you think of leaving one with Jason?”
“Oh, yeah.” Calla already had the phone powered up and was flipping through menu screens. “He’d love it. So they have to be calibrated or something, right? Because I’m not getting anything fun so far.”
Masculine voices sounded from beyond the door. Nate’s steady baritone managed to sound calm even though he was obviously threatening someone. Then the other voice chimed in louder. Not so steady. Just enough whine in it to make Tuyet want to kick someone.
�
�I’m telling you, she’ll talk to me. I know she’s here. Just tell her I’m here, and I know she’ll agree to see me.”
Calla raised her eyebrows. “So. Friend stopping by?”
Tuyet gritted her teeth.
Nate said, “Shut up or I will shut you up.”
“Just tell her—oh, fuck it.”
The sounds of a scuffle came through the door. A body slammed into the wood, nearly shaking it off the makeshift hinges.
Calla jerked a thumb in the direction of the fight. “Should I be concerned?”
“Vadim told you, didn’t he?”
“Something about an ex. He was vague.”
Fists connecting with flesh, muttered curses, groans of pain—it sounded like quite a fight. And not the kind Hayes considered foreplay. Nate was at least two inches taller and had quite a bit more muscle mass, but Hayes was a Ranger and they had training average grunts like Nate had been could barely imagine.
Tuyet stood. “I’ll go break it up.”
She opened the door as Hayes fell to the ground. He looked up at her, his head inches from her boots, and winked. Blood trailed from his nose and smeared across his mouth. A damp bandana hung around his neck and his clothes were filthy. His dark blond hair stuck up at random angles and he had a bruise on his cheek from their fight the other day. And he’d winked.
Tuyet tried and failed to ignore every memory of everything she’d ever liked about him.
Hayes scrambled to his feet, coming up swinging. Nate blocked the punch with one arm while throwing one of his own with the other. It hit the smaller man’s jaw with a sickening thud. Hayes crumpled to the ground like a sack suddenly emptied of its contents.
“That’s enough!” Tuyet threw a warning hand up at Nate.
“You know this guy?” He flexed his hand, the skin of his knuckles ragged.
Hayes answered. “Yes, she does.” He swept one leg out and took Nate down hard, then jumped to his feet.
Tuyet smacked the back of his head. “Stop it, both of you.”
Hayes spun around, his face inches from her. “Then talk to me!”
“You don’t give me orders anymore.”
“I have been beat up, tear gassed, pepper sprayed. And that’s just tonight! I’ve been trapped behind a desk for three years because of you. Had my career and my reputation destroyed because of you. Not to mention the fact that you shot me! You shot me and you stole my bike, God damn it. Three years, Snow! I’ve been waiting three years for a chance to see you again and you are going to fucking talk to me.”
The pleading in his eyes belied the harsh words and stilled the sharp retort on her tongue.
Calla pushed past her before she could gather her wits to say anything. “Whatever’s going on with you two, take it elsewhere.” She held up Nate’s phone. “We need to go. Cops are tearing up Rock and DMS agents are being called in. They’re gonna toss FreakTown next.”
That meant a check to make sure everyone supposed to be inside the zone was actually there. Nate and Calla had to return via the tunnels quickly.
Nate coughed and spit blood onto the ground. He locked eyes with Tuyet and said, “You okay?”
She nodded. “Yeah, go. Get home as fast as you can.”
Calla handed her two of the phones and patted the messenger bag she wore slung around her shoulders. “We’ll stop at the safe.” She had the box and planned to lock it up in the underground dorm.
Tuyet knew it was the best option, especially with Hayes being an unknown quantity. “Get out a message when you can, so I know you guys got home okay.” She stowed the phones in various pockets.
“Send up a flare if you need help.” Nate glared at Hayes.
Calla tugged at Nate’s hand. Tuyet nodded reassurance once more and the couple left.
In the distance a drone engine and a police loudspeaker could be heard, punctuated by sirens and screams. Below that was the soft lap of the river, water slapping at the debris-strewn narrow shore a few yards away. The old subway tunnel used as a drop-off and pickup point lay half-buried under rubble and hidden by magic. She didn’t have to ask how he’d found the place.
The only real question was why.
“Alone at last.” Hayes wiped blood from his face with his sleeve, wincing at the contact.
“Pepper spray on your clothes?”
“Shit, I forgot.” He laughed, the sound oddly relaxed and carefree in the midst of everything else. “I need a shower.”
“You’re the one that stinks this time.” She tried to laugh, but it came out choked and flat.
A spotlight from the police drone cut bright lines through the dark. They needed to get out of the open. Tuyet took a step.
Hayes caught her arm. “Don’t run away again. Let’s go somewhere and talk.”
She owed him that much, she felt. And she wanted to know why he was here. “Is the address of my apartment in some report now?”
He shook his head, his hand slipping from her arm down to her hand, clasping it in his. “No. No reports of any kind. It’s just me, Snow.”
The old nickname tugged at all the secret parts of herself she’d worked so hard to keep hidden, even from him. The part that was tired of being strong, tired of being the tough soldier. The part that wanted to walk away from New Corinth and FreakTown and all the desperate need all around her. Walk away and maybe even take him with her.
She’d asked him to do exactly that once and he’d refused. She wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.
With that knowledge and a shake of her head, Tuyet armored herself against the desire for things she couldn’t have. “Let’s go.”
Her apartment was not only intact, he’d cleaned up the mess their fight had caused. She didn’t know how to thank him, so she handed him a towel and pointed at the small bathroom. “The hot water only works part of the time.”
He took the towel. “My clothes have chemicals all over them.”
“Wash them in the shower and hang them up in there to dry. I’ll find you something clean to wear.”
“You know how much I love anything pink and frilly.”
“You’ll probably have to settle for black sweatpants.”
He had to walk past her to get to the bathroom. They backed away from each other, awkwardness churning in the air between them. It was too quiet in the small space, too confined. Too much just the two of them alone. Tuyet longed for the chaos and mayhem of riot police at her door.
Even with Hayes in the shower, the apartment still felt too small. She set about searching for something he could wear, coming up with only a spare blanket. The awkward sensation pecking at her nerves got exponentially worse.
She could hear him humming over the sound of the running water. Irritation coiled tight in her belly.
Food. They needed to eat. It had only been a couple of days—surely everything in the small fridge was still good. She went through it and the meager items in the cabinet then set about warming some canned soup. It would have to be enough. No way was she going back out tonight.
While the small pot simmered, she hopped up to the counter and stuck a hand in the top level of the cabinet, feeling around for something she’d hidden. There was nothing.
God damn him. He’d stolen her chocolate stash.
The bathroom door opened. Tuyet dropped to the floor, ready to argue. Steam floated out of the bathroom. Hayes strode through it, wearing a thin towel wrapped around his waist and his signature grin that tended to get him either slapped or laid. Tuyet’s palms itched, eager to make contact. Bruises made a patchwork of his face. His eyes were bloodshot from the tear gas exposure and the upper part of his face looked pink and tender from pepper spray. The scar from an old knife wound ran down the left side of his chest, too close to his heart for comfort. She’d been there for that, ha
nds slick with his blood as she kept pressure on the wound. He might have been sitting behind a desk for the past three years, but it was clear he could still pass the demanding Ranger physical. Sleek muscle hugged his frame. Droplets of water slid down his skin. His bottom lip was slightly puffy around a fresh cut. His beard scruff was darker than his hair, with a few spots of gray.
And there was another scar, one she’d never seen before but knew she’d caused, on his upper-left arm. Guilt twinged in her gut over that.
Her eyes skipped all over his body, the wall, the floor, his body again. Finally settling on his face, meeting the startling blue of his gaze. Moments ago she’d had a litany of complaints and curses to hurl at him. Now she held her breath, waiting. For what, she didn’t know.
Maybe for the past three years to disappear in smoke.
He licked his lips. She blinked away a vision of herself climbing him like a tree and licking his lips for him. He said, “I think it’s time we had that talk.”
Chapter Seven
The shower had helped clear his head a little. Not enough. Looking at her still put him off balance. He wanted some answers before he arrested her, that was all. One conversation. He didn’t believe in closure, but he wanted something.
She stared, her eyes focused on his lips. His mouth dried and he very badly wanted something more substantial than a towel covering him. “Dry pants,” he stammered.
“What?”
“I need some dry pants. We need to have a serious conversation and I can’t do that with you while wearing a towel.”
One side of her mouth curled up. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
Heat flushed through his body. “That was a debriefing after a mission. And there were other people there. So it really doesn’t count. You know, as the same thing.”
“I don’t have any clothes that will fit you.” She walked to the small bed against the wall and hefted a folded blanket. “This is the best I can do for you.”
At least it looked heavier than the towel. He took it and tried to unfold it and drape it around himself, nearly dropping the towel in the process before he got himself covered. Eyes carefully averted, Tuyet moved to sit on the floor. He took the bed, perched on the edge with the blanket wrapped around him, feeling ridiculous.
