Both Ways

by Ileandra Young

  “But those people…the nest.”

  I sit on the bed. “Think about it, Rayne. This has only been allowed to happen at all because Mikkleson is in Vixen’s pocket. Do you really think he’ll allow me out to catch her? She’d be executed without doubt and he’d lose everything.”

  “But—”

  “I gave everything to become a SPEAR. When I was little, I’d watch that fantasy TV show about the vampire hunter and all her friends in high school. Just silly American teenage stuff, but it meant something.”

  “Danika.” Rayne clings to the bars, her expression haunted.

  “Girls at school decided I was weird and made those years hell for me. Didn’t help that I wouldn’t play the chase-and-kiss games with them. Or that when I did, I only wanted to kiss the girls.”

  I drag my hands through my hair. “Mum wanted me to do ballet and horse riding, can’t tell you how much we argued over that. So I got a paper round and bought taekwondo classes. Then kendo. Then capoeira.”

  “You’re amazing.”

  Though the words are probably supposed to comfort me, they only make it worse. “I’ve put everything into this job, my body, my mind, my soul. I’ve been bitten, scratched, crushed, stretched, and stabbed. I learned six dead languages just to communicate with edane civilians. I even accepted I was never going to have a family, not the way I was always raised to know it. And now, because of Vixen and Mikkleson and everyone else, I’ve lost it all.”

  “So you’re giving up?”

  Loud shouts from beyond the door save me from having to answer.

  There’s something familiar about the voice, the high, slightly manic screeching of it.

  Rayne gives me a panicked glance.

  I shrug.

  She bends her knees, then vaults upward out of sight.

  Again I try to place the voice.

  Ah. Of course.

  Two seconds later the door to the holding area opens, and there’s my mother, fighting off the desperate grip of a pair of officers.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  “You can’t stop me seeing my baby—how dare you. Do you know who she is? My Danika is the best SPEAR in the country, and you’ve locked her up like an animal.” When one of the officers opens his mouth, Mum bulls straight over him. “Get me your supervisor. The sergeant or the inspector. I want to speak to someone in charge right now and—”

  “Mum?”

  She pauses mid-rant, one arm raised high. “Danika! Look at the state of you. What happened?”

  “Bad night.”

  “Why are your eyes red? Have you been smoking?”

  I can only imagine how I look: unshowered, bleary-eyed, and blood splattered. The back of my top is shredded too, thanks to that crazed werewolf from City Hall. And there’s my bandaged hand.

  “Smoking? Seriously?”

  “Have you?”

  “No. I’ve been working.”

  She swells; it’s like watching a balloon inflate. “Working. But you’re covered in blood. And what about your clothes, did you get mauled? Why is your hand bandaged like that?”

  “Mum, calm. You sound like Pippa.”

  “Because I’m worried about you,” she snaps.

  “I’m fine.”

  “No, you’re not, you’re a state. Have you eaten?”

  I have to think about that. “Not for ages, I—”

  She yanks a plastic box from her handbag and shoves it sideways through the bars. “Here.”

  One of officers tries to intercept, but the look she gives him makes even me draw breath. His companion drags him off to the side, and both stay well back.

  Inside the box, two foil wrapped packages and a plastic bottle of something red and thick.

  For one horrified moment, I wonder if she’s brought me blood. Then I pop the lid and the scent of cinnamon drifts out. And cloves. Ginger. Hibiscus flower. And…rum?

  I stare.

  She winks.

  The first square of foil contains chicken, seared crispy and still warm. The taste, as I sink my teeth in, is heavenly, all chilli spice, black pepper, and jerk seasoning. My third present is a serving of fritters—delicious salty cod fried in batter, studded with red peppers, onions, and even more seasoning.

  I could cry.

  Of all the meals and snacks Mum makes from her time before reaching England, this is my favourite.

  “Dani?”

  I choke on a lump of chicken and swallow hard to get it down. “Pip?”

  She’s standing in the doorway, small and wary, watching me eat. I hadn’t seen her arrive. Though Mum does have a tendency to steal the show.

  “I’m sorry, I tried to keep her away, but—”

  “It’s okay. I should have known.”

  A pause. “I fed Norma. She’s fine but worried about you. She flew out the door and took off before I could catch her.”

  “Bloody thing.” I roll my eyes. “Hope she’s okay.”

  “Are you okay?” A small step closer. “Upstairs they said…” Tears glisten in her eyes. “Assault?”

  “Would it help if I said he deserved it?”

  “A little.” She smiles, though the tears don’t stop and her shoulders buck. “What’s happening? Jack rang me a while ago, he was so upset and—”

  “He’s upset?” Half chewed fragments of cod fly from my lips. “He’s part of the reason I’m in this mess.”

  “No.” Mum cuts across me. “Don’t you dare blame him for your mistakes.”

  I freeze, mouth full. “But—”

  “No.” She extends her finger, not quite pointing, but using it like a baton. “You think I don’t get it? I know you, baby, and while I don’t understand why, I know relationships frighten you. But throwing around dangerous accusations to avoid him is low, even for you.”

  “Mum—”

  “I thought I’d finally found someone for you. Even you couldn’t possibly find fault with a local MP and respected chemist. But now you have this mad conspiracy theory about vampires and blackmail?”

  “It’s not a theory.”

  “Do you have any idea what you’ve done to Phillipa? Jackson’s her boss, in case you forgot. She’s been up all night and most of the day, worrying about you, feeding your disgusting lizard pet. How can you be so selfish, with her in such a fragile condition?”

  “Fragile? From a cold?”

  “You are so—”

  Pippa darts across the room, hair bobbing as she swerves around the table. “It’s okay, Mum.”

  “It isn’t. How’s she going to be a responsible aunt if this is how she acts?”

  The food slips from my hands. “What?”

  Mum glares. “I thought this might help you grow up, but apparently not.”

  Questions dart through my mind, faster, faster, and the whole time, Pippa stands in front of my cell, clinging to the bars with tears streaming down her cheeks.

  Even the two officers are frozen, watching us from the corner like a live episode of some tacky soap.

  “What the hell is she talking about? Pip?”

  “I’ve tried to tell you. I nearly did when you came for your shots.” She lowers her head. “It’s why I suggested dinner, but I was too ill to go. Then I was going to tell you at breakfast, but you never came. I would have told you on the phone, but I wanted to see your face when you heard the news.”

  My knees feel like whipped cream. “You’re pregnant? When?”

  “Three weeks. I found out two days ago.”

  “Pip.” My voice cracks. “That’s amazing.”

  Her head snaps up, face brightening. “Really?”

  “Yeah, it’s what you want, isn’t it? This is good news?”

  A nod.

  “Then, yes. You’re going to be a fantastic mother.”

  She sighs, and only then is it plain how scared she’s been. “That means a lot.”

  I want to hug, her but the bars and my knees have other ideas. I perch on the bed and give my first real smile in h
ours. “Of course. How the hell could you be anything but incredible? You’re such a kind and amazing person. Do you know what it is yet?”

  “At three weeks?” She giggles.

  “So, no?”

  “Adam doesn’t want to know and I agree. We want the surprise.”

  “Smart. That should stop your crazy friends from burying you in blue or pink babygrows.” I rub my nose on my sleeve. “You do know I’m going to buy this kid the most badass outfits I can find? None of that fluffy bunnies and squishy elephants shit. This kid is getting skulls, crossbones, and a sword as soon as I can get Link to craft one the right size.”

  Pippa laughs.

  Mum glowers. “So you do care about family.” Her voice is glacial.

  My heart twists and the tiny hairs on the back of my neck lift in response.

  In that moment, I’m nine again, listening to her lecture me about low grades and fights with the girls in my class. And the boys. Fast-forward a few years and that same tone would remind me how weak I was compared to men, and that women don’t fight. Mothers shouldn’t risk themselves day and night fighting monsters. I could never be a SPEAR.

  But I’m not nine any more.

  I measure my tone to match hers. “I’ve always cared about family.”

  “Could have fooled me. You’ve done nothing but resist since you were a teenager, ignoring, insulting, or injuring every young man I find for you. Don’t you want to be happy?”

  My ears prickle with heat. “Of course I do.”

  “Then let me help. Find a nice man, get out of that cramped flat, and be the best you can be.”

  I grit my teeth. “I don’t need a man to be the best I can.”

  “It will help.” She waves a hand to indicate my whole body. “Phillipa never put me through this. She found Adam without my help and now she’s expecting a baby. What have you done?”

  “Me? Let’s recap.” I hold up my hands and tick off points on my fingers. “I’ve hunted vampires, tamed werewolves, and negotiated peace deals with ancient daemon tribes. I’ve sweated, cried, and bled for Angbec, which would probably be some dark nightmare apocalypse town if not for me and my agents. I’ve travelled to lost temples, abandoned cities, and cold ruins for the sake of research and knowledge, the stuff that keeps people like you alive. I’ve given everything to protecting the people from the dangers all around because I’m one of the few that can. I’m pretty happy with that. What the hell have you done?”

  Stunned silence.

  Soft, sibilant breathing from Pippa. Her eyes are round and wild, as if she knows what’s coming. She shakes her head, mouthing, “No, no, no, no,” under her breath.

  Mum glares, jaw tensed and tight. “But you’re capable of so much more. With a husband you could—”

  “I don’t want a husband.” My voice rises. I can’t believe she’s doing this again. Now of all moments.

  Snort. “Of course you do. Every young woman wants a nice man. Why should you be any different?”

  “Because I fuck women!”

  This time the silence is thick enough to become its own entity. I can feel it beside me, tall, wide, and heavy.

  “Mum…” Pippa tries to cut in. She grabs Mum by the arm and tries to steer her away from the cell bars.

  I shake my head. This has been too long in coming. “I’ve told you a dozen times. It’s not a phase, Mum. I’m not testing or exploring anything. I know full well who and what I am. I like girls.”

  “But…”

  “But what? I’m human and red-blooded, and one of those men would have caught my interest by now.”

  She looks like there’s something stuck in her throat. Something thick, spiky, and bitter. “That’s not possible.”

  “Mum, calm down. Think this through.” Pippa still clings to her arm, still fights to get her away from the cell.

  I sigh. “Pip, it’s okay.”

  She frowns. “It’s not—”

  “You said all along I should put my foot down.” A shrug. “You know I like to pick my moments.”

  “You?” Mum’s voice hits new levels of shrill. She whirls on Pippa with her hand raised, and for a terrifying second, I’m worried she might slap her. “You encouraged this?”

  Pippa stutters, one hand wrapped about her middle, the other clutching her throat. “I…it…there’s nothing to encourage. It’s the truth and—”

  “The truth is that your sister is a sexual delinquent and you should be helping me fix it.”

  Boy, these bars are cold beneath my hands. Immovable. Probably for the best, given the itching in my knuckles. “I don’t need fixing.”

  Mum steps sideways, away from Pippa. And me. “Family is all we have. You said you wanted a family.”

  “I still do.”

  “And how will you do that with—” She slaps both hands to her mouth. “Have you had sex with a woman?”

  “Yes, I have.”

  I can all but see her mind skimming through Bible passages, picking out the ones telling me how deep into hell I’m about to fall.

  “How many?” Her nose wrinkles.

  I try to count and fail after thirteen. “A few.”

  Mum starts to pace. Her hands are shaking, her shoulders stiff, every step rough and jerky. “I can’t believe this. How can this be? I did everything right, I gave you everything, all the love I had. How could you end up…”

  “Gay? Mum, it’s not a crime, it’s not a reflection on you. It’s what I am.”

  “What you are is deluded. I should have known. You took it so badly when Charles died. You were never the same after that. Is it because you were lacking a strong father figure? Did you need that masculinity in the house?”

  “Mum—”

  “I should have tried harder. There were plenty of nice boys at that church back in Cipla, maybe they could have caught you before you became this…this—”

  This time when I slap the bars, the loud clang cuts her off.

  “I didn’t become anything. I’ve been telling you for years, but you won’t listen. I may have taken a few years to figure it out, but I was born this way. You don’t spontaneously convert after a traumatic life event.”

  “I think we need to calm down and take a breath.” Again Pippa tries to intervene. “Mum, why don’t you—”

  “You.” Mum points a trembling finger at Pippa. “This is as much your fault as it is her insanity.”

  “Hey.” I punch the bars this time. “Don’t you dare talk to her like that.”

  “Why? She’s as bad as you. She’s—”

  “She’s the only person who ever listened to me after Dad died.” The words are on my lips and gone before I can catch them, but now that they’re free, a weight seems to lift off my chest. “All you cared about was family, but you don’t know what family is.”

  “I’m one of six children.”

  “It’s not about how many brothers and sisters you have, or how many children you squeeze out before your ovaries shrivel.” I grip my hair. “Family is sharing. Listening. Loving. Family is putting up with crazy phone calls at two in the morning to talk about the latest martial arts movie. It’s supporting, even when you don’t understand why. Family is standing up for your sister. Family is believing your daughter when she says, This is me.”

  Pippa hurries back to my cell. She shoves her hands through, and I copy, flinging my arms around her the best I can manage. It’s a cold, strained, and awkward hug around those wrist-thick bars. It’s also the most loving I’ve ever experienced.

  “I love you, Dani.”

  I smile. Squeeze her shoulders. “You are my family, Pip, and I love you, so, so much.”

  We pull away, tearful and sniffing, each reaching out to wipe the other’s eyes like when we were kids. Like when we stood beside Dad’s closed casket, longing to open it, but afraid to try.

  “I love you too, baby.” Some of the ice has melted from Mum’s voice. Her expression remains stony, but there’s sadness too. “It’s love that
makes me want the best for you.”

  “Best for me isn’t what was best for you.”

  “But—”

  “No. This is what I am: a foul-mouthed, gun-wielding, high-kick-flinging SPEAR agent who happens to dig chicks. Accept that or don’t, but stop saying you love me. Show me.”

  Silence but for shuffling from the two officers at the back of the room.

  “Fine.” Mum squares her shoulders and tilts her chin. “Fine.” A sharp spin on her heel and she’s marching away.

  I flinch. “Mum?”

  She doesn’t stop, or even turn. At the door, after a fractional hesitation, she stalks through.

  “Shit.” My eyes tingle again. “Oh God. No, no, no, what have I done? Pip?”

  She touches my fingers through the bars. “What you should have done years ago. I’m so proud of you.”

  “But Mum—”

  “Will get over it. However it feels right now, she loves us.”

  I nod, like a bloody puppet. “Her eyes…she hates me.”

  “Never.” A last, reassuring smile. “I’ve got to go after her. See you soon, okay?”

  I open my mouth, but the words are stuck, leaving me to watch my sister hurry across the room and out the door.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  After the officers leave, Rayne drops from the ceiling. Her eyes are wide and round, her lips slightly parted. “Are you okay?”

  “I don’t know.”

  The remnants of my chicken and fritters lie beside the bars of the cell. The bottle close by.

  I open it and try to avoid the wave of familiar scents. No use. The smell and everything about it speaks of home. I drink anyway, three long swallows that burn my throat.

  My head spins. The sorrel is strong and sweet, laced with more rum than I’m used to.

  Perfect.

  “I’m sorry, Danika.”

  I lower the bottle. Burp.

  Angry responses hang on the end of my tongue but I drag them back. Can’t keep using her as a punchbag for my emotions.

  “You’re hurting,” she murmurs.

  Shrug. “Nothing new there.”

  “You don’t have to pretend with me. I won’t judge you for a moment of vulnerability.”