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Shade 01 - Shade

Page 19

by Jeri Smith-Ready


  And from the ghosts them­sel­ves. Do­zens con­ver­ged on me, blur­ring in one gi­ant vi­olet mass. From a dis­tan­ce, the sha­de be­gan to scre­am.

  I tur­ned and cal­led Zac­hary’s na­me. The mo­ment he duc­ked thro­ugh the do­or of the of­fi­cers’ qu­ar­ters, the ghosts va­nis­hed and the sha­de was si­len­ced.

  “Whoa,” I bre­at­hed.

  “It wor­ked aga­in, then?”

  “It wor­ked. Oh my God, that’s ama­zing!” I bo­un­ced over to whe­re he sto­od ne­ar the sta­ir­way, fe­eling light for the first ti­me in months. “How do you do that? Can you te­ach me?”

  “I don’t do anyt­hing.” He spre­ad his arms. “I just am.”

  “Sin­ce when?” My mind ra­ced with the im­p­li­ca­ti­ons.

  “Fo­re­ver, I think.”

  “Why?”

  “I dun­no,” he sa­id with a to­uch of amu­se­ment.

  “What’s yo­ur ran­ge? How clo­se do you ha­ve to be to sca­re the ghosts?”

  “Clo­se eno­ugh for them to see me, I think. What are you do­ing?”

  I fro­ze, my hands aga­inst his sto­mach. What was I do­ing? I was pat­ting him down li­ke a ro­okie cop ma­king her first ar­rest.

  “Lo­oking for ob­si­di­an?” The last word squ­e­aked, but I didn’t let go.

  “No ghostp­ro­of vest, if that’s what you me­an.” Zac­hary’s vo­ice lo­we­red. “I’ve got no­ught on un­der he­re.”

  My fin­gers qu­ive­red aga­inst the wo­ol of his dark gre­en swe­ater. “May­be it’s part of you.”

  “The ob­si­di­an? That’d ma­ke me a bit in­f­le­xib­le.”

  One cor­ner of his mo­uth twitc­hed, and I sta­red at it, thin­king abo­ut fle­xi­bi­lity.

  I inc­hed my hands over his rib ca­ge to­ward his si­des, pinc­hing a lit­tle to test that it was truly his flesh un­der the swe­ater. “To me you se­em pretty, um, so­lid.”

  His eye­las­hes flic­ke­red in the low light, then he to­ok my el­bows and eased me away from him. “Don’t you be pla­ying with me, now. Not on my bir­t­h­day.”

  “I’m not pla­ying.” I cut the dis­tan­ce bet­we­en us back to ze­ro. “And it’s my birth­day too.”

  The hu­mor in Zac­hary’s eyes fa­ded, and he se­emed to co­me to a de­ci­si­on, one that I had ap­pa­rently al­re­ady ma­de.

  He cup­ped my chin and whis­pe­red, “Then happy birth­day to us.”

  I clo­sed my eyes as Zac­hary le­aned in to kiss me.

  “Ho­ward, it’s al­most din­ner­ti­me!”

  The scol­ding fe­ma­le vo­ice from abo­ve was fol­lo­wed by the thump of a man’s dress sho­es on the sta­irs be­si­de us. I ga­ve a si­lent cur­se as I pul­led away from Zac­hary.

  “Mar­gie,” the man sa­id, “I pa­id my ten dol­lars, I want to see the who­le ship. Now get down he­re.”

  “Be ca­re­ful,” sa­id the wo­man, stan­ding on the le­vel abo­ve us. “Go very slow.”

  I lo­oked up at Zac­hary, stif­ling a la­ugh. “Go­od ad­vi­ce.”

  “Bol­locks.” He to­ok my hand, wit­ho­ut glo­ves now, and led me over to one of the small por­t­ho­les.

  Mar­gie ca­me down the sta­irs, huf­fing her exas­pe­ra­ti­on. Her sho­ela­ces car­ri­ed jing­le bells, which ma­de me want to gig­gle. Or may­be my gid­di­ness ca­me from the fe­el of Zac­hary’s body clo­se be­hind me as I sto­od be­fo­re the port­ho­le. My hand ting­led, en­ve­lo­ped in his, my skin sen­si­ti­ve from to­uc­hing not­hing but not­hing for so many we­eks.

  The co­up­le wan­de­red aro­und the lar­ge open area, exa­mi­ning the ham­mocks. Des­pi­te the­ir bic­ke­ring, they we­re hol­ding hands too.

  “They’re so cu­te,” I whis­pe­red.

  “Mm.” Zac­hary’s thumb tra­ced a circ­le in my palm. “They’d be even cu­ter if they bug­ge­red off right abo­ut now.”

  I la­ug­hed, til­ting back aga­inst his chest. He to­ok my ot­her hand and slid both arms aro­und me from be­hind. I res­ted the­re, sa­vo­ring his stur­di­ness.

  “Aura,” he whis­pe­red in­to my ha­ir. “You don’t know how long I’ve wan­ted to do this.”

  I didn’t want to gu­ess. I only wan­ted to fe­el his so­lid body press aga­inst mi­ne and he­ar him spe­ak my na­me. “Can I ask you so­met­hing im­por­tant?”

  “Anything.”

  “What’s yo­ur fa­vo­ri­te song?”

  He he­si­ta­ted. “Anything but that. Not now.”

  “You can tell me yo­ur de­epest sec­ret, but not yo­ur fa­vo­ri­te song?”

  “I can tell you my fa­vo­ri­te song, just not now. Ask me so­met­hing el­se.”

  I tho­ught of anot­her tac­tic. “Do you want to kiss me?”

  “Easy one. Yes.”

  “Then tell me yo­ur fa­vo­ri­te song.”

  He la­ug­hed softly in my ear. “That’s yo­ur pri­ce, aye?”

  “Aye.”

  “Hmm.” His vo­ice ma­de his chest vib­ra­te gently aga­inst my back. “Is that just the pri­ce to kiss yo­ur lips? What abo­ut ot­her pla­ces?”

  I tur­ned my he­ad to press my che­ek aga­inst him, unab­le to spe­ak, sin­ce that wo­uld’ve re­qu­ired bre­at­hing.

  As the co­up­le mo­ved on, Zac­hary swept my ha­ir over my left sho­ul­der, ba­ring my neck. His lips brus­hed the cor­ner of my jaw, just be­low my ear. My kne­es tur­ned to ho­ney.

  Zac­hary’s arms sud­denly tigh­te­ned aro­und me. “Uh-oh.”

  I ope­ned my eyes. He po­in­ted stra­ight out the brass-rim­med por­t­ho­le.

  Be­yond the smudgy glass, three DMP agents sto­od on the docks, the­ir whi­te uni­forms gle­aming in what was left of the af­ter­no­on sun. We­apons we­re hols­te­red in wi­de black straps over the­ir sho­ul­ders.

  “What are they do­ing?” I whis­pe­red.

  “Lo­oking for so­me­one.” As the dum­pers rus­hed up the Con­s­tel­la­ti­on’s gangp­lank, Zac­hary drag­ged me to­ward the sta­irs. “Lo­oking for us.”

  “How do you know? May­be they’re lo­oking for that sha­de.”

  “Re­gu­lar dum­pers don’t hand­le sha­des, and tho­se guns ha­ve re­al bul­lets. Co­me on, we can’t get past them.” He ges­tu­red for me to go down first. “We’ll ha­ve to hi­de.”

  We clim­bed down to the lo­west le­vel, but the wi­de-open en­gi­ne ro­om of­fe­red no sa­fe pla­ces. Our last op­ti­on was the kitc­hen, off-li­mits for res­to­ra­ti­on.

  Zac­hary step­ped over the yel­low KE­EP OUT ta­pe. “Per­fect.”

  I fol­lo­wed him. A lar­ge wo­oden box sto­od at the far cor­ner of the kit­c­hen.

  “Po­ta­to bin.” He lif­ted the hand­le and le­aned the open lid aga­inst the whi­te wall. I pla­ced my hands on his sho­ul­ders so he co­uld lift me in­to the bin with mi­ni­mal no­ise. On­ce in­si­de, I scrunc­hed my body over to ma­ke ro­om. At its hig­hest ang­le, the top of the bin ba­rely cle­ared my skull.

  Zac­hary jo­ined me, then lo­we­red the lid. We sat with our sho­ul­ders cram­med to­get­her. The com­part­ment smel­led of dust and mil­dew.

  So­on I he­ard the rap of hard-so­led sho­es abo­ve the kitc­hen’s ce­iling. The tho­ught of fa­cing re­al DMP agents ma­de my kne­es sha­ke. Gi­na had told me night­ma­re ta­les of pe­op­le get­ting “dum­ped,” de­ta­ined for qu­es­ti­oning. I didn’t want to sha­re one iota of what I knew-abo­ut myself, abo­ut my mom, abo­ut Zac­hary.

  Then the flo­or vib­ra­ted from the im­pact of he­avy fe­et. The dum­pers had en­te­red the kitc­hen. I sud­denly had to pee re­al­ly bad.

  “Check every inch.”

  I al­most jum­ped out of my skin when the de­ep vo­ice bar­ked the or­der.

  “This is the last ro­om,” the man sa­id.

  I held back
a shud­der. The­re was no way we co­uld’ve got­ten out wit­ho­ut pas­sing them, and they knew it.

  The agents split off, ope­ning and clo­sing squ­e­aky com­part­ment do­ors.

  “Watch it!” the le­ad agent sa­id. “If we bre­ak a pi­ece of a his­to­ric land­mark, I’ll be up to my ass in pa­per­work.”

  The agents ca­me clo­ser. Zac­hary ten­sed be­si­de me. Did he plan to fight his way out of this one?

  Ra­dio sta­tic squ­aw­ked, and the le­ad agent cur­sed un­der his bre­ath. “Rey­nolds.” He pa­used. “You’re kid­ding. Which way?… But we had re­ports that-yes, sir. We’ll be right the­re.” The ra­dio chir­ped, then he sho­uted, “Mo­ve out! Now!”

  A com­part­ment slam­med shut. One of the agents as­ked the le­ader, “What hap­pe­ned?”

  “Com­mand has con­fir­med that the su­bj­ects left the ship at six­te­en-thirty. They’ve be­en spot­ted at the Hard Rock Ca­fe in the Po­wer Plant bu­il­ding.”

  “But how did-”

  “What’s it mat­ter? Just go!”

  “Yes, sir.”

  In the dis­tan­ce the sta­ir­way cre­aked with the we­ight of the agents, and then all so­und ce­ased but our bre­ath.

  We sta­yed fro­zen-li­te­ral­ly. The ship wasn’t he­ated, and we we­re sit­ting ne­ar the outer wall. A bi­ting wind se­eped thro­ugh the hull and the tiny cracks of the bin.

  Zac­hary’s te­eth chat­te­red. So much for his rug­ged he­ri­ta­ge.

  When I co­uldn’t fe­el my butt any­mo­re, I squ­ir­med and whis­pe­red, “I think they’re go­ne, but the­re co­uld still be agents out­si­de the ship.”

  Zac­hary grun­ted as he mo­ved his legs. “Too bad I didn’t find us bet­ter ac­com­mo­da­ti­on.”

  I ro­ta­ted my ank­les to wa­ke my sle­eping fe­et. Pins and ne­ed­les pric­ked my cal­ves.

  “I fi­gu­red they we­re watc­hing us,” he whis­pe­red, “but that was ble­eding in­sa­ne. They we­re ar­med.”

  “The DMP do­esn’t mess aro­und. But what did we do to de­ser­ve that? You think they knew what you did ups­ta­irs, sa­ving me from that sha­de? May­be anot­her post-Shif­ter was wat­c­hing.”

  “The­re was no one el­se ne­ar our age on the who­le le­vel. But may­be the DMP has ways of de­tec­ting the­se things.” Zac­hary shif­ted aga­in, his le­at­her jac­ket rust­ling. “If an­yo­ne ever finds out, my li­fe as I know it is over.”

  “I pro­mi­se I’ll ne­ver tell.”

  “Don’t pro­mi­se that,” he sa­id in an ult­ra­se­ri­o­us vo­ice. “If they try to hurt you and the only way to pro­tect yo­ur­self is to tell them what you know abo­ut me, then you tell them. Stra­ight off, okay?”

  “No.”

  “Pro­mi­se me.”

  “No!”

  “I will pos­sess yo­ur he­art.”

  He­at fla­red along the back of my neck. “What did you say?”

  “My fa­vo­ri­te song. ‘I Will Pos­sess Yo­ur He­art.’”

  “By De­ath Cab for Cu­tie?”

  He snor­ted. “No, the lit­tle-known T.I. hip-hop re­mix. Yes, De­ath Cab for Cu­tie.”

  I smi­led at the cu­te way he sa­id “cu­tie.” “Re­al­ly?”

  “Why? What’s wrong with it?”

  “Not­hing, but it do­esn’t se­em to fit you. It’s kind of a sad song.”

  “No, it’s pu­re con­fi­dent. It’s not ‘I want’ or ‘I ne­ed,’ no­ne of that crap.” He slip­ped his hand over mi­ne. “It’s ‘I will.’”

  A ner­vo­us la­ugh bub­bled up. “You will, huh?”

  His fin­gers brus­hed my che­ek, then slid in­to my ha­ir. “I will.”

  So­me­how, in the dark­ness, his lips fo­und mi­ne.

  I sho­uld’ve be­en re­ady. We’d be­en dan­cing aro­und each ot­her for months, and we we­re, af­ter all, in a si­tu­ati­on of for­ced snug­gling.

  But my inexp­li­cab­le surp­ri­se kin­da ma­de me blow in­to his mo­uth.

  “Oh my God.” I tur­ned my fa­ce away in em­bar­ras­sment. “I can’t be­li­eve I just did that.”

  He la­ug­hed. “Ame­ri­can girls are so kinky. And over­ra­ted.”

  “Hey.” I grab­bed his he­ad with both hands and pul­led him back to kiss me.

  This ti­me it wor­ked. Holy Fat­her with a fla­meth­ro­wer, did it ever work. We fit to­get­her li­ke we’d be­en kis­sing for ye­ars in so­me pa­ral­lel uni­ver­se that had sud­denly in­ter­sec­ted with the one we we­re li­ving in now.

  After the exp­lo­ding-co­met im­pact, Zac­hary kis­sed me ca­re­ful­ly, li­ke every mil­li­me­ter of my mo­uth de­ser­ved its own exp­lo­ra­ti­on. Li­ke the bot­tom lip wo­uld’ve be­en je­alo­us if the top lip had got­ten mo­re at­ten­ti­on. And the ton­gue that had gi­ven me a tho­usand sub­li­mi­nal licks at the so­und of his vo­ice? It was mi­ne now.

  He cup­ped my sho­ul­der bla­de and pul­led me clo­ser. I slid my hands to the back of his neck.

  Wow. I’d for­got­ten how soft a guy’s ha­ir co­uld be. Lo­gan’s usu­al­ly had so­me kind of gel to ma­ke it spiky.

  But re­mem­be­ring Lo­gan ma­de my gut clench in sud­den lon­ging. For we­eks I’d wan­ted to kiss and to­uch him aga­in, al­most mo­re than I’d wan­ted my next bre­ath. And now, the me­mory of Lo­gan and the re­ality of Zac­hary we­re te­aring my he­art in two.

  My grip tigh­te­ned with the for­ce of my gri­ef, pul­ling Zac­hary in­to a de­eper kiss. A lit­tle no­ise ca­me from the back of his thro­at, ma­king his lips tremb­le aga­inst mi­ne.

  I let myself fall in­to the abyss of the kiss, let it swal­low all tho­ughts of the past and fu­tu­re. I he­ard not­hing but the rush of blo­od in my ears, felt not­hing but the warmth of Zac­hary’s mo­uth, and in the to­tal dark­ness I saw not­hing but the ima­ges in my mind. Ima­ges of to­uc­hing, pres­sing, lying down.

  Which exp­la­ins why ne­it­her of us he­ard the fo­ot­s­teps.

  The lid of the bin pop­ped open. I jum­ped away from Zac­hary and shi­el­ded my eyes from the light. Fe­ar jol­ted thro­ugh me at the sight of the stran­ge man in a dark su­it and tie lo­oming over us. I wa­ited for him to pull out a we­apon and po­int it at our he­ads.

  Then Zac­hary let out a he­avy sigh. “Hi, Dad.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Well.” The man stra­igh­te­ned up and cros­sed his arms. “Go­od to see you’re ma­in­ta­ining ab­so­lu­te vi­gi­lan­ce.”

  Zac­hary ext­rac­ted his arm from be­hind my back. “Aura, this is my fat­her, Ian Mo­ore. Dad, this is-”

  “I know who she is, son.”

  “I know you know who she is,” Zac­hary sa­id with a slight ed­ge. “I’m just be­ing tho­ro­ugh.”

  I smo­ot­hed my dis­he­ve­led ha­ir. “Ni­ce to me­et you.” I didn’t know what el­se to say af­ter be­ing ca­ught ma­king out by an in­ter­na­ti­onal man of mystery.

  “Li­ke­wi­se.” He arc­hed a gray and black eyeb­row. “Per­haps you’d li­ke to be get­tin’ out of the­re now.”

  “It’s sa­fe, then?” Zac­hary hel­ped me to my fe­et.

  “I to­ok ca­re of it at the di­rec­to­ra­te le­vel.” Ian of­fe­red an arm to ste­ady me as I clim­bed out of the po­ta­to bin. “Spent a li­fe­ti­me’s worth of po­li­ti­cal ca­pi­tal on this one.”

  “Thanks.” I brus­hed a cob­web off my sle­eve, then chec­ked my butt for damp­ness. “Do­es that me­an we can le­ave?”

  “It me­ans we must le­ave. And then go so­mew­he­re pri­va­te whe­re no one will he­ar the scre­ams when I kill you both.” Ian stro­de to­ward the kitc­hen do­or.

  “He’s kid­ding.” Zac­hary ges­tu­red for me to pre­ce­de him. “I think.”

  We fol­lo­wed Ian up three le­vels, all of which we­re vo­id of the li­ving and de­ad, un
­til we re­ac­hed the Con­s­tel­la­ti­on’s top deck. It was al­so comp­le­tely aban­do­ned. Even the uni­for­med to­ur gu­ides we­re go­ne.

  They’d eva­cu­ated the en­ti­re ship on our ac­co­unt. Oops.

  But what was the big de­al? What co­uld Zac­hary and I ha­ve do­ne this af­ter­no­on to piss off such po­wer­ful pe­op­le?

  I had to trot down the gangp­lank to ke­ep up with Ian’s pa­ce. We pas­sed thro­ugh the empty gift shop on our way out, and Ian gla­red when Zac­hary slo­wed down next to a disp­lay of pi­ra­te hats.

  Out­si­de, half a do­zen po­li­ce of­fi­cers wa­ited, hol­ding back the og­ling crowd. The of­fi­cers nod­ded to Ian as he pas­sed, as did anot­her man, who­se dark glas­ses and co­at scre­amed fe­de­ral agent. Sung­lass Man pul­led out a wal­kie-tal­kie, then hur­ri­ed past San­ta’s pa­vi­li­on to­ward the busy traf­fic of Pratt Stre­et. We fol­lo­wed him.

  As we ap­pro­ac­hed the ro­ad, a black car with tin­ted win­dows pul­led up to the curb. The car bloc­ked the right la­ne’s traf­fic, so a po­li­ce of­fi­cer step­ped out and di­rec­ted the angry dri­vers aro­und it.

  The un­na­med agent ope­ned both pas­sen­ger-si­de do­ors. Ian sto­od at the front. “Get in.”

  I he­si­ta­ted, re­luc­tant to en­ter a car with stran­gers, even if they all had bad­ges. Es­pe­ci­al­ly if they all had bad­ges.

  “It’s sa­fe.” Zac­hary’s vo­ice held a to­uch of ple­ading as he put his hand on the back do­or. “Trust me.”

  “You first.”

  I fol­lo­wed Zac­hary in­to the car and sat be­hind his fat­her. The se­dan’s black le­at­her se­ats we­re se­duc­ti­vely soft, li­ke they wan­ted me to sink in­to them, clo­se my eyes, and for­get all my very sen­sib­le fe­ars.

  “Se­at belts,” Ian sa­id crisply, then told the man be­hind the whe­el, “Just dri­ve, ple­ase.”

  “Whe­re are we go­ing?” I as­ked him.

  “Now­he­re.” He ro­ta­ted in his se­at to fa­ce Zac­hary. “Now what the blo­ody hell we­re you thin­king?”

  Zac­hary lo­oked sul­len. “When?”

 

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