by Cole Gibsen
I clapped my hands in mock delight. “You mean to tell me that a secret agency is watching my every move? I feel better already! Not to mention I’ll never shower naked again.”
Kim made a face. “Rileigh, it’s not like that.”
“Then what is it like, Kim?”
He took a deep breath before answering. “Most people, when experiencing some form of awakening, are confused and scared, wouldn’t you agree?”
I shrugged.
He continued. “There are people in the Network who have access to the patient records of doctors, psychologists, sleep clinics, and so on. They will flag anyone in the system who’s showing … symptoms.”
“Symptoms?”
“Sure. The symptoms can range from a person having constant dreams of places they’ve never been to a sense of familiarity with a culture they’ve never known. Or, like in your case, unexpected … talents.”
“And how do you find all of this stuff out?”
Kim fidgeted in his chair. “It’s not like we have cameras in people’s homes or anything like that. We have highly classified computer software—developed by the military.”
I could only blink. This was a lot heavier than I thought. Kim opened his mouth, but I cut him off with a wave of my hand. “I don’t think I can handle anymore about the Network right now. Just tell me what we do in the meantime.”
“Well.” He folded his arms. “It’s your choice, but I would really like it if you stayed with Michelle.”
“I don’t know.” I liked her, but didn’t know her well enough to be comfortable. “Why can’t I stay with Q?”
“Your friend from the hospital?” When I nodded, he said, “We don’t know who’s after you, Rileigh. I think until we know more, it would be best if you stay with experienced fighters. If you don’t want to stay with Michelle—” he shrugged—“you can always stay here.”
“Uh, that’s okay.” I had to get away from Kim and fast. Last night proved that the closer we were, the better the chance of a Senshi takeover. It was a risk I couldn’t afford to take. “I’ll stay with Michelle.”
Kim looked relieved. “Good. When you’re ready, I can drive you home to pack a bag.”
I rolled my eyes. “I can drive myself.”
Kim made a face.
“I promised to meet Q for lunch.”
“Fine,” Kim said. “I’ll follow you to your house. I’ll go once I’m certain you’re safe. After your lunch, drive straight to the dojo.” His tone left no room for argument.
I poured coffee into a mug and held it up to my nose and cringed. It smelled like nail polish remover. “Is all this really necessary?”
“Unfortunately, yes. I won’t gamble with your life.”
I took a sip and struggled not to choke. They didn’t make battery acid that strong. It took me several tries before I was able to swallow, but once I did, I asked, “So we don’t do anything? I go stay with Michelle and … that’s it? That’s the whole plan?”
“For now,” Kim answered. He reached behind him and pulled a coffee mug off a hook beneath the overhead cabinet. He turned and pointed the mug at me. “But I promise you this. I will find the person who has been targeting you.”
“What if you can’t?”
Kim snorted as he walked past me toward the coffeepot.
“Okay. So you find the person, then what?”
“I’ll deal with them as necessary.”
I drummed my fingers along the mug. “What’s that mean?”
Kim ignored the question by taking a sip of coffee. He dropped his gaze into the mug as he inclined it toward me. “Did anyone ever tell you, you make a great cup of coffee?”
I grunted and poured the rest of mine down the sink.
Later that morning I was home again, stuffing my gym bag with the toiletries I would need for a week-long stay at Michelle’s. I didn’t want to think about packing for longer than that. I called Debbie at work to tell her that I would be staying with a friend over the weekend. To my surprise, she sounded disappointed.
“Oh no, Rileigh! Jason is going to be so upset. He owns a timeshare at the Lake of the Ozarks and seemed really adamant about the both of us going down there for the weekend. He made such a big deal about wanting to get to know you. I think it’s so sweet that he’s involved, don’t you?”
I rolled my eyes. “I guess.”
“Are you sure you won’t reconsider? We can go jet skiing and lay out by the pool. Lord knows you could use a little color on your skin.”
“Can’t, Mom. Some, uh, other stuff came up.” I glanced at my pasty arm. But now that she mentioned it, if I made it out of this alive, a little more vitamin D was definitely in order.
“Well, that’s too bad.” But then she giggled, a sound in all my seventeen years I’d never heard before or cared to hear again. “I guess Jason will have to deal with having me all to himself.”
Ew. I wanted to hang up the phone right then, but an uneasy feeling came over me, like a fly that insists on buzzing in your face even after you’ve swatted at it. “Are you sure this is such a good idea, Mom?”
Her voice dropped. “What do you mean?”
“It’s just that you’ve known him less than a week. He could be a psycho killer.”
She laughed. “Please, Rileigh, you’d be amazed how well I know Jason.”
Double ew. The uneasiness I’d felt moments ago was buried by a tidal wave of nausea. As if my stomach hadn’t been victimized enough by the strong coffee at Kim’s. “It’s just that Dr. Wendell is a far cry from the underwear models you usually date.”
Debbie sighed. “And that was the problem. You have no idea how refreshing it is to go out with someone whose IQ isn’t less than or equal to a box of Pop-Tarts.”
I didn’t know what to say to that.
Debbie continued. “I love you, Rileigh, but sometimes you can be a drama queen. Someday you’ll understand what true love is, and you’ll know that how a person looks and how much time you’ve spent with them has nothing to do with it.”
I bit my tongue so hard that my eyes watered.
“Anyway,” she continued, “have a good time with your friend, and I’ll see you Sunday night. Okay?”
I sighed. At least with her out of town she would be safe from whomever was lurking around here. “Okay.”
“Good girl. Hugs and kisses.”
“Bye, Mom.”
I hit the end button and began searching the kitchen for junk food to bring along. After all, what good is a hideout without chocolate? Unfortunately, my search of the cabinets turned up nothing snack-worthy. And the fridge only held a carton of eggs, a tub of margarine, and a months-old carton of Chinese food. Forget it. I slammed the fridge and sat down in a nearby kitchen chair.
My house didn’t seem like the cozy fortress it once had. It had been violated. I had been violated. I hugged myself to suppress a shiver.
I looked around at the various oddities I’d left lying around the kitchen. A People magazine, an ink pen, a dying cactus. Did Devil-boy touch them? Did he go through the cabinets? What if he came back during the night? What if he was hiding in my room right now? I jumped from my chair, knocking it over, and ran to my bedroom and flung the door open. I squeezed myself tighter. It looked like the same mess that I’d left last night, but I couldn’t be sure.
I snagged an outfit out of my closet and changed out of last night’s workout clothes. Then I began cleaning. It took several hours to straighten up my room after its ransacked makeover, and the entire time I bagged, folded, and sorted, I couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. When I finished, I sat in the middle of my bed, hoping to relive the feelings of security I’d felt inside my bedroom walls growing up. Despite all the tokens and reminders that I’d once had a normal life, comfort didn’t come. I reached to my nightstand and picked up a picture of Quentin and me laughing at last year’s Mardi Gras in Soulard, running my finger along the frame. We wore matching pink feathered boas along with hundre
ds of beads. Quentin had done a lot of flashing that year.
A tear splattered onto the glass, startling me as it blurred out Quentin’s face. I hadn’t even realized I was crying. I flipped the picture over and laid it down. Time to move on.
After wiping the remaining tears away, I finished packing my bag and prepared to leave. Outside, I paused midway to the Fiesta and gave the house one last look. There it stood, small and blue. It used to feel so safe and cozy, but there was a darkness to it now. I sighed. Why did everything have to change?
I climbed into my car and drove away. It was hard not to look back when the danger lay in the past.
32
Before I could go to the dojo, I had to talk to Quentin. The hard part was getting ahold of him. I couldn’t call the salon because I’d told them I was sick. I hoped he’d answer his cell.
He picked up on the second ring. “Ri … .” His voice wavered. “An!” he finally finished.
“Ryan?” I asked.
“Ryan, how good to hear from you. Have you heard our dear friend Rileigh is sick? Tsk tsk.”
I could take a hint. “Jeannine’s standing behind you, isn’t she?”
“Why yes! Yes, she is,” Q answered, sugaring his words. Jeannine would be ticked if she knew Q was talking to me on the phone when I was playing hooky. “So what’s up, man? I’ve been meaning to call you.” I heard him cover the phone with his hand and say, “It’s my cousin.” Jeannine must have given him a questioning look.
“Q, are we still on for lunch today?”
“Well, you know what, Ryan? Today is your lucky day because I just had a cancellation. Can you be here in like fifteen minutes?”
“I assume that when you say ‘here’ you mean Bread Company?” I asked.
“That’s right, Ryan.”
I shook my head. “Q, I think you should stop saying ‘Ryan.’”
“Whatever you say, Ryan.”
I groaned. “You’re going to get both of us fired. See you in fifteen.”
It was a little before eleven when I walked into the crowded café. Bread Company was a relatively safe place to meet, since we’d never seen Jeannine binge on anything other than greasy fast-food burgers and fries.
“Ri-Ri!” I heard him call my name but couldn’t see him over the crowd of customers. I did, however, see a long arm raise a Styrofoam coffee cup into the air. “Got ya your fix!”
I laughed and worked my way through the suits standing in line. When I reached Quentin, I gave him a giant bear hug.
He pushed me back and gave me a horrified face. “Ri-Ri!”
I didn’t bother to hide my hurt feelings. “What?”
“You smell like,” he put his face close to my ear and whispered, “you’ve been macking with somebody.”
I gasped and stumbled back. How did he know?
“Oh my God!” He clapped his hands in delight. “I was just joking.”
Crap! I’d played right into his hands. “It’s not that big a deal.” I lifted my chin indignantly.
“Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God,” Q repeated as he tugged me over to a corner table. He shoved me into the booth before settling in across from me, his eyes dancing the entire time. “Tell. Me. Everything.”
I groaned.
Q clapped his hands. “It was that Asian guy, wasn’t it? I could feel the heat coming out of the sink room all the way to the dryers. That’s why all the drama, right?” He made a show of fanning himself.
“Enough, Quentin!” I reached across the booth and grabbed his shirt collar, pulling him forward and forcing him to sit up straight.
He was undeterred. “I want to know what happened, where, and when.”
“I’m not going to tell you that!” My cheeks burned.
“Hmpff.” He sat back against the booth with his arms crossed. “You’re no fun.”
“It’s just that I don’t really feel good about the whole thing.”
“Oh, don’t tell me.” He stuck out his bottom lip in a pout. “Bad kisser?”
“Not at all. In fact—” I stopped myself when I realized he’d tricked me again. “Quentin!” I grabbed a couple of sugar packets off the table and threw them at him. “Be serious!”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He laughed as he plucked my discarded ammunition from his chest. After placing them back on the table and dusting himself off, he cleared his throat. “I am now serious.”
“Yeah, right,” I told him, grinning. “And I am now Miley Cyrus.”
He stuck his tongue out.
“Whatever.” I waved my hand in the air. “I just think the whole thing was a giant mistake.”
He blinked, waiting for me to continue.
“It was too soon,” I went on. “I have a lot going on right now. I’m still dealing with all these … changes. Plus there’s Whitley … as if trying to date one guy isn’t hard enough! And then last night, I don’t know what happened, I was upset with Kim one minute, and the next we were all over each other.” I shook my head. “But then I found out that he lied to me—again.”
“Oh, Ri-Ri!” He threw his arms on the table and collapsed on them dramatically. “Do you have to overanalyze everything?”
“I’m just telling you how it is!” I cried. “I can’t have a relationship with two guys—especially if one is a liar.”
Quentin smiled. “Well, actually … ”
I narrowed my eyes.
He threw his hands in the air. “All right! Calm down. This is all really simple.”
I waited.
“Who do you like better?”
I gave an exaggerated sigh. “It’s not that easy. Whitley is so nice and drama-free. But Kim, the way I feel around him … it scares me. It’s like gravity ceases to exist and he’s the only thing I can hold on to.”
Quentin put his hand under his chin. “That is hot.”
“Yeah, well.” I rolled my eyes. “It may be hot, but it doesn’t change the fact that I can’t trust Kim. Yeah, part of me is drawn to him, but that doesn’t mean I like it.”
“Because you’re scared. You’ve never been in love before.”
I almost choked on my coffee. “And I’m not in love now.”
He smiled and shrugged. “All right, you can keep lying to yourself.”
I folded my arms. “You don’t get it. Even if I could trust Kim, I don’t think he likes me for who I am. I’m pretty sure he thinks I’m somebody else.”
Quentin’s smile faded, and he collapsed his head back onto his folded arms. “Are you kidding me?” he asked.
“What?”
He sat up. “This is your problem? Kim doesn’t like you for who you are? Who does he think you are?”
“Some kick-ass fighter chick,” I told him.
“Okay, and why did Whitley ask you out?”
I thought about how excited Whitney was when he mentioned the story of my fight in the parking lot. “Um, because he thinks I’m some kick-ass fighter chick.”
Quentin cocked an eyebrow.
“Bah!” I waved my hand. “Then I guess neither one of them really knows me.”
“That’s one answer. Here’s another: I think the only person who doesn’t know you is you.”
I glared across the table at him. The last thing I needed was another person telling me who I was.
“Listen, Ri-Ri. When I found out you were part Bruce Lee, I wasn’t really that surprised. You’re an incredibly strong, confident girl. Your mom really did a number on your head if you can’t see that.”
His insight brought goose bumps to my skin. Wasn’t that exactly what Kim had said? This life had locked away my inner warrior, and the awkward, uncertain girl was left holding the key. “Q,” I whispered. “There’s more.”
He settled himself against the back wall, smiling. “Ooh details, bring ’em on!”
“Not about that!” I swatted his arm. “This is serious.”
He ran a hand over his face, pretending to smooth his smile into a frown.
My t
hroat went dry. This was it. But what if it was too much for him to handle? Would I lose the best friend I ever had?
He cocked his head at my hesitation and then placed a reassuring hand on my arm. “Ri-Ri.” His tone was quiet. “Whatever it is, you can tell me.”
“You’re going to think I’m crazy.”
“Not an issue. I already do.”
I smiled, despite myself. “This has to do with Kim.”
He clapped his hands together.
I ignored him. “Anyway, it turns out that I knew him in a past life.” I stopped and waited for a reaction. I didn’t get one, so I continued. “And it’s not so much that we knew each other, but apparently, we were pretty heavy.” Still no reaction. I talked faster. “Not only that, but we were also samurai!” I sat back, bracing myself for the worst.
He folded his arms and leaned back against the wall. “I don’t believe it.”
I dropped my eyes to the table. I figured this was how it would go.
“This has to do with the attack, doesn’t it?”
I wasn’t sure how to answer that question. I opened my mouth to ask, but he cut me off.
“You awakened that night, didn’t you?”
I blinked several times before I answered, sure I hadn’t heard him correctly. “How—how do you know about that?”
He inched closer to me so that he could whisper. “Remember Dillon? That guy I met when my parents took us all to Jamaica? He told me all about it. He said he was an Arabian concubine in a previous life.” He wagged his eyebrows. “Very exotic.”
“You believe me?” I couldn’t have been more surprised if the President of the United States walked into the café and did his own personal rendition of Lord of the Dance.
“Honey,” he scolded, “you should know me better than to think I’d ever judge anyone. If you say you’re a samurai,” he shrugged his shoulders, “then you’re a samurai.”
“Okay, so you’re not judging me. But I need to know, do you believe me?”
“Truthfully,” he began, “at first, when Dillon tried to explain things to me, I thought maybe he’d spent too much time smoking up. But after getting to know him, the things that he knew and the dreams he had, it was impossible to argue. And you—” He laughed. “Who can argue after seeing what happened to those muggers? It makes perfect sense. What I can’t believe is that you didn’t come to me sooner.”
