“It’s like, one hundred ten degrees outside. Why encumber ourselves with a disguise? Why lie more than we have to? This isn’t Syria or Iraq. From those pictures the drones sent back this looks like our Morocco, which is a moderate Muslim country that depends on the tourist industry. Let’s just be ourselves—if we weren’t Citadels, I mean.”
“Fine. It’s your call,” Levi says in a monotone.
“Wow. I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but I think I prefer aggressive-aggressive over passive-aggressive. If you’ve got something to say, say it.”
Levi closes his eyes for a flicker of a moment and seems to shrink somehow, become smaller. “I don’t have anything to say, Ryn. I’m tired. I’m in the middle of the fucking desert. I was shot a couple hours ago, after which I had to deal with two of you. We came here looking for answers and all we’ve gotten so far is about a hundred more questions. I just want to rest.” He’s right. I’m pushing. Levi is so great at not showing weakness that I forgot momentarily what he’s just been through. He lost an awful lot of blood, even for us. I need to get him out of the sun.
“Okay. Let’s walk into town and check into a hotel,” I say as I quickly redo the topknot in my hair. “I can get on the computer there, and you can get some sleep.” I pause and bite down on my lower lip. “I’m sorry. I’m not used to seeing you at a disadvantage. I don’t know a weak version of you. It’s weird. So I got a little ahead of myself. It won’t happen again,” I tell him as I reach for his arm—and pull away, because the Blood Lust is still there, unpredictable as ever. And I really don’t want to fight.
Levi opens his mouth like he’s going to say something, but he just closes it again. I’m not sure there are words for the emotional landscape we are mining now. We aren’t adversaries. We aren’t friends. We care about each other, but we don’t particularly like each other, although that feeling, too, even with the bickering, is beginning to shift the more time we spend together.
Levi and I don’t say a single thing on the walk into town, which is fine because I’m used to spending a lot of time on duty in absolute silence, and because we both need to preserve our energy. Unlike some teenage girls, I don’t feel awkward when it gets quiet. I don’t have the need to fill up the air with small talk or silly stories so that I don’t come across as weird or boring. You can’t really stand guard and be deep in conversation.
The sensuits are covering our uniforms. I have chosen to dress modestly, in a long maxi dress, covering my shoulders with a thin cotton scarf, which I can pull up to cover my hair if I feel like it’s necessary. Levi, as a man, has more freedom. It looks like he’s wearing jeans and a T-shirt. Instinctively, I balk at this covering up. I get that it’s a religious thing, and as I’m in a Muslim country, I will respect it. Still, regardless of theology, I feel less than equal to Levi. I feel at a disadvantage, which even I recognize as stupid. Just because I’m wearing a dress doesn’t make me any less of a soldier, it just makes me look more feminine. Then again, there aren’t a lot of pop culture references to feminine warriors, with the exception of my beloved Buffy of the vampire slayers of course. But that show is like thirty years old. How can we have come so far and yet there are billions upon billions of Earths where “fighting like a girl” is an insult? It makes me want to get a pretty manicure and fight like a girl up and down someone’s face. Hard.
We continue to walk into town at a decent pace, and find our way into the city center. I have never been to Africa. I don’t know what I was expecting. I guess I sort of thought it might be dirty and smelly, but I am entirely wrong on that front. Marrakech is loud, teeming with people and colors. But it is clean, much cleaner than a big American city like New York, and the smells are divine, rose and jasmine. It is exotic here and exciting. It’s doubly exciting knowing that Ezra might be close, and even if he isn’t, this is where his family is from. He makes more sense to me somehow after seeing this city. The ache I feel in missing him is visceral, spreading wide behind my breastbone.
“Let’s see how well these SenMach computers work,” I say as we pass by an ATM machine and double back around.
“We’ve got money, you know. All we have to do is find an exchange place,” Levi counters.
“Yeah, but what if the one thing that’s different on this Earth is that American dollars are blue instead of green? Besides, we don’t have a credit card. We’re going to have to throw down some serious cash to act as a deposit in a hotel.”
“Fine, go ahead,” Levi says, throwing up his hands.
“Hack into this ATM,” I tell my cuff in a quiet voice. “Make it give me the maximum limit for this machine.” Levi stands behind me with his arms folded blocking what I’m doing, which is, well, let’s face it: On top of everything else, I’m a thief now. I pull the scarf over and above my head so that if there are cameras, no one will be able to see my face. Inside of two seconds the machine starts spitting out dirham. I swipe the money quickly and we both move on. I suppose that this first step in what might be the beginning of our international crime spree should feel a little exciting, James Bond–y even. It doesn’t. It just feels like stealing. I’ve never lifted so much as a lip gloss from a Walgreens. I don’t like having to do this, but I like Levi’s pale complexion and the purple bags under his eyes even less.
We walk about half a mile away to a coffee shop and sit outside so we can use one of the tables. I put the computer on my lap so that it’s not in plain view and look for a hotel for us to stay in. As young backpacking travelers, we can’t exactly stay at a five-star resort, but I find a location with help from the computer that is nice enough for us to get a decent night’s sleep and a good meal. It only takes us about fifteen minutes to walk there.
We check into the hotel, explaining that our credit card was stolen, but we give them enough cash that they work around it. We hand the concierge our Canadian passports. We have a slew of foreign passports thanks to ARC. Levi and I both agree that regardless of how moderate this country is, being American is a risk we don’t need to take. Here in Morocco my name is Gabrielle Henderson, and Levi is now Cameron Greene.
A bellboy offers to take our bags, but we politely decline, keeping our voices level, though our fists tighten around our packs. I don’t want to get separated from them again. It’s too risky, for us and for others. He shrugs it off, and we follow him out of the lobby and through a quaint courtyard, which has an ornate fountain in the middle. This isn’t really a hotel so much as a riad, the kind I’d seen in the Village’s Marrakech neighborhood back home in Battle Ground. All the hotel’s rooms surround the courtyard in a square. Long ago the fountain would have had practical uses. In the desert, it would have been the building’s main source for clean water.
We walk up two flights of stairs and arrive in front of a brightly painted cobalt-blue door. The bellboy unlocks it and shows us inside. It’s pretty swanky, with a tiled floor and a low bed bedecked in a myriad of colorful pillows. Levi tips the bellboy and we are left alone.
I open the carved lattice shutters and smell orange blossoms. In the distance, the call to prayer begins. I sigh. It somehow feels totally foreign but completely familiar. It’s peaceful here. And although the threat of whatever may be chasing us and Ezra hovers, I can fold it up and put it aside for a moment—a small relief.
“I’m going to take a shower. Are you going to check for an e-mail?” Levi asks.
“Yeah,” I say as I clear my throat. “I just wanted a minute, to take it all in, you know?”
Levi leans against the doorframe. He puts the sensuit back in the cuff and starts to unzip the top of his uniform. I don’t bother to look away. I’ve pretty much seen Levi naked now, and I’m too tired to care.
“I don’t get you,” he tells me as he stops the zipper, right above his groin. My eyes settle there because his abs are just downright distracting. They don’t even look real. My gaze thankfully snaps back up once he begins to speak. “One minute you’re insanely desperate to see him and th
e next you need a minute to take it all in? Don’t you want to find him?”
“Of course I do!” I find my voice rising. Why is he putting me on the defensive? Why am I getting defensive? “I just wanted, like, five friggin’ minutes to listen to the call to prayer and catch my breath, okay?” The truth is, I don’t know why I didn’t check my e-mail back in the desert as soon as we got here.
Except really, I do.
Because I was focused on what Levi needed. Rest. A bed. A meal. I didn’t put Ezra first and now I’m feeling guilty. If he is here and in some kind of trouble, I’ll feel even more guilty, and honestly, I don’t know how much more guilt I can take. So, yeah, maybe I’m stalling a bit. Levi and I just stare at each other. We have an eye showdown for at least twenty anxious seconds. Then he just says, “Whatever,” in a tone that is meant to sound indifferent, but he doesn’t quite pull it off. He’s confused or annoyed. Probably both.
I exhale loudly once he closes the bathroom door. I peel off my uniform and then, because I can—and because I’m a cheese ball—I ask the sensuit to dress me in a long, flowing caftan. I stand there by the window, listening to the muezzins from different mosques sing up to the heavens, finishing their prayers. The tile feels wonderfully cool on my bare feet. I know I should open up my computer and check for an e-mail from Ezra, but I can’t seem to make my body move. I just need . . . nothing. No plans, no conspiracies, no shooting, no noise.
I know that I’m a Citadel. I know that I’m a woman of action, but my skin feels like it’s been put on too tight. My head is buzzing with dozens of scenarios and agendas that I mentally bat away because I really do just need to calm down.
I let the perfumed air fill my lungs. In and out. In and out. I let my conscious breathing do the work until I feel myself settle.
My shoulders drop. They had been somewhere around my ears. I don’t know how long I continue to stand there, but it’s long enough for Levi to finish in the bathroom.
He comes out in his boxers. “Nice outfit,” he blurts sarcastically when he sees me. Then he drops to the bed in a whoosh. The pillows go flying.
“Oh, Levi,” I sigh without even bothering to look at him. “You always know exactly what to say.”
“Sorry. You’re right. That was rude, and you look really pretty.” I don’t even bother to answer him. He’s exhausted. I can’t tell if he’s still being shitty, so there’s no need to get into it. I leave him swallowed by the rainbow bed and make my way into the bathroom. I get undressed and into the shower, standing under the large brass showerhead for a long time, letting the water run against my scalp. There’s blood caked in my hairline and underneath my nails. I brush my teeth, and it takes more than ten minutes to get the tangles out of my unruly hair before I throw it up in a bun again.
I emerge from the bathroom in another caftan. This one is much less ornate, just plain ivory cotton. I really don’t care what Levi has to say. I like these things. They are somehow both utilitarian and dreamy, which is a bonus for me personally. Unsurprisingly, Levi is asleep on the bed. I sneak in beside him and pull out my laptop. No more stalling. It’s time to find out if Ezra is here or if he’s at least been here before moving on. I log in to our e-mail and find one from him. Immediately my heart starts to hammer. I purposely exhale slowly, knowing that overreacting won’t do anyone any good. I think about giving Levi a good shake, but then I decide against it after reading the message, which says only:
FNLY DCODE EDO’S PRVTE FILES. ROONES NOT WHT THEY SEEM, AM BEING FLLWD BY UNKWN, 27 RFTS SO FAR-KEEP GOING
I close the laptop and hug it to my chest and think.
The key thing: Ezra is alive. He may not be totally safe, but he’s alive, and then I think, What is going on? Who is following him? The same person who shot Levi? Probably. There’s also a large statistical probability that we are now on the same course. That’s two Earths in a row we’ve both been to. We’re on the right trajectory to Ezra.
I feel a sudden twinge to go after him right away, but then Levi shifts, oblivious, and I remember we need to wait. He needs to recuperate if we’re going to go after who or whatever this threat is. We can Rift out tomorrow. Levi must get his full strength back, and I could use at least two hours of sleep and some food. Who knows where we’ll end up next.
I put the laptop down and get under the covers. The lamps in the room are hammered brass with Moorish cutouts. They throw a fantastic kaleidoscope of patterns on the walls around me, which grow longer every second I’m awake. I just need a little nap. A few minutes of rest and then I’ll be ready to go.
I’m asleep before I can make any more promises to myself.
When I awaken, it’s full night, and the soft strings of some kind of guitar float up through the open window. The bed is empty beside me and there’s a knock at the door. I rub my eyes, a little disoriented.
“I’ve got it,” Levi says, moving to open the door, and quickly accepting a tray. He’s ordered food. Fantastic. I’m still a bit out of it, but I’m also starving. Levi walks past me holding the large room service tray in his hands and I notice he’s wearing only jeans. Maybe his sensuit can’t make shirts or something . . .
“Come on,” he calls to me as he walks through what I had assumed was just a window out to a small patio. The patio is only large enough for a small table with two chairs. There’s a view of the courtyard, which has been set up for a dinner service. Other guests are eating below, enjoying the music I’d been hearing.
Levi lifts the lids off of two bright orange tagines and the food smells amazing—lamb, I think, with saffron. As we dig in, I tell him about Ezra’s message.
“Hmmm,” Levi says quietly.
“‘Hmmm’? That’s all you have to say? Ezra was here. And he’s being followed. He’s decoded Edo’s computer. You don’t have a single opinion on any of that? Nothing but ‘hmmm’?” I ask, even as I practically inhale a mouthful of food.
“No. Mostly I’m just surprised you didn’t wake me up right away so we could Rift out to find your . . . Ezra.” Well, at least I know that something I’ve said along the way has taken hold. He isn’t leering or sneering and he caught himself before he called him my boyfriend.
“You were shot. You needed to rest. Neither one of us will be of much use to Ezra if we’re too exhausted to fight.”
“Okay.” I can tell that he’s got more to say on the subject but is withholding. I’m relieved. I don’t want to go into the specifics about why today—tonight—I am choosing our welfare over Ezra’s. It is the more strategic move, to be sure, but such a conversation would likely meander into murky psychological terrain. Levi continues to stare at me. It’s unnerving.
I can taste cumin on my tongue. The night’s heat has made me sweat. The cotton fabric of my caftan is sticking to my chest. I’m beginning to wonder if that whole “professional and personal” speech I made to Levi was just as much for my own benefit as for his. It is absolutely true that he needs to stop thinking of Ezra as some goofy, helpless boy who did something wrong. And, it’s also true that the way Levi is looking at me right now makes me want to clutch at the sides of this chair. I know I should say something, because the silence is pulling itself back as tight as a slingshot. I rack my brain for some innocuous comment to say, something safe. Kittens. Babies. No! Not babies. Babies are made . . .
With the sex.
It’s Levi who speaks up first, saying the one thing I kind of want him to and also the thing I was praying he wouldn’t, given my current mood and the fact that this is literally the setup for a super-hot love scene in basically any movie I’ve ever seen. “As long as we’re going to be here for a few more hours, I’ve taken a couple more red pills. Hope that’s okay with you?”
“Fine,” I say quietly.
I look down at what’s left of my meal and begin to eat. I don’t know what’s coming next, but I do know that I won’t let this awesome dinner go to waste because I’m about to deprogram Levi. Best-case scenario I walk away feeling confused
and/or guilty and with no appetite because of it. Worst-case scenario I don’t get to eat . . . ever again. So I refuse to let ARC deny me the pleasure of this meal.
“You cool?” he asks almost lazily. I’m sure it’s the pills. They don’t get you high, but they do help you let go. It’s the only way the deprogramming will work. You have to be open.
“Yeah,” I respond, and then take a big drink of water. “I’m just wondering how we got here. I mean, I know how we got here . . . well, actually, no, I don’t even really know how the getting here works. I just . . . don’t know. I. Don’t. Know. Anything. Sometimes I feel like I’m not even here, that this all must be a dream.” I run my fingers through my hair and lift my chin. “The only time I feel like I have any sort of clue is when I’m fighting. I thought we’d be doing more fighting. I didn’t count on having to spend so much time in my own head.”
“I feel like that, too,” Levi admits with a smile. “Only, I don’t know how to say it because I’ve been brainwashed and I have a penis, so that often prevents me from being able to articulate deep reflection.”
I chuckle. “The Dalai Lama has a penis. Kinda throws a wrench in that argument,” I tell him cheekily.
“Ah, yes, but he hasn’t been brainwashed.”
“That you know of.” I raise an eyebrow and we both smile. “I’m going to go put my uniform on.” Levi just nods and stays where he is. I put our guns away, in the safe, because a handy firearm is an added concern that I don’t want to have to think about on top of everything else. I get my sensuit to cuff, and I realize that I am almost naked, with Levi just a few feet away. I also realize that I don’t care all that much. It’s just my body, and he’s already felt a fair bit of it. I slide my uniform on and tell him he can come in.
“What do you want to use?” I ask. “We can turn the TV on. Maybe some music?”
“I think this music will be okay,” he says softly, gesturing with his thumb out the window even as he walks toward me.
The Rift Frequency Page 19
