Mortal Danger

by Ann Aguirre

  HOME IS WHERE THE HEARTACHE IS

  His dark hair fell over one eye. In the half-lighted forest, the copper streaks were muted. But his face retained the haunting beauty that made my chest hurt, like it was too much to look directly at him. I wondered if he ever tired of that; if he’d made the wish young and now he wished to be a little more ordinary. Otherwise, how could he be sure it wasn’t always his face people wanted and not who he was inside? Or maybe he didn’t care. What did I know about him, after all?

  Kian made no allusion to the kiss, the smoking-hot, life-changing, why-doesn’t-he-do-it-again-right-now kiss. “Did you enjoy the SSP?”

  “It rocked. I learned a lot. Made some new friends.”

  “And got used to the new you?” That had been the point.

  “I think so. It feels a bit more natural now.” I still wasn’t used to the way guys watched me, or how they tried to help me with things I was capable of doing myself.

  “Then let’s get you home.”

  My heart dropped a little in disappointment. “I have a couple of questions.”

  You do? Really? My brain was surprised to hear that. But I couldn’t just let him dump me off. I hadn’t seen him in weeks; I wouldn’t see him until I was ready to ask for my next favor, and I had no idea when that would be.

  “About the deal?” he asked in neutral tones.

  “Of course.”

  “Have you had breakfast?”

  I shook my head.

  “Let’s go, then.” To my surprise, he pushed out of the leaves.

  I followed. “But this is business-related, can’t you hitch us somewhere?”

  “I could, but every expenditure is tracked. I’d rather not risk running over my monthly power allotment when there are decent places to eat nearby.”

  “You’re not the one hauling luggage,” I muttered.

  “I am now.” He took my wheeled suitcase and backpack before I could protest. “Is this all you bought?”

  “Yep. I’m a simple girl.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  I eyed him. “Like you know me.”

  “Don’t you think we study a person before they reach extremis, Edie? I know exactly who you are … and what you’ve been through.”

  A shiver went through me. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. Exposed, certainly, but there was warmth, too. With Kian, I didn’t have to pretend I wasn’t a screwed-up mess with a head full of payback plans. He understood. And I’d never face a moment like the one with Ryu, where I realized I was keeping the ugly bits hidden away.

  “Okay, I take it back. Thanks for carrying my stuff.”

  “Edie?”

  Before turning, I recognized the voice. Ryu stood forty feet away, looking shocked. Kian and I weren’t touching, but he was carrying my luggage in a fairly purposeful way.

  “Just a sec,” I said.

  Jogging, I closed the distance between us. “What’s up?”

  “Who’s that?”

  Awkwardness jittered over me, making me shuffle my feet. Kian’s gaze bore into my back, but it was impossible to explain him in a way Ryu would understand. Our summer thing might’ve ended last night when we said good-bye, but I got how he felt. Sort of damn, it’s the next day … she didn’t like me at all. I didn’t want to leave him with that impression.

  A few deep breaths allowed me to be cool, outwardly at least. Inner-Edie was banging her head on a wall. “Kian, my ride. You want to meet him?”

  Ryu registered that and relaxed. “I’m on my way to the airport, but I have a minute.”

  “Did you want to get breakfast with us?”

  “I don’t have time for that … but thanks.” He was smiling now. Relieved, even though he didn’t want me to know it.

  But factoring in this summer, I’d still spent more time watching people than talking to them. My school survival had depended on reading situations correctly and knowing when to get the hell out. I led him over to where Kian stood, waiting with one hand on the handle of my suitcase. His face gave more neutrality; his bearing radiated snow and Switzerland. Still, he waved, as if anything about this was normal.

  “Ryu, Kian.”

  They exchanged some kind of palm-slap, fist-bump thing. We made small talk for a few moments; Kian wasn’t rude, just … reserved. I couldn’t read him, and Ryu didn’t seem notice anything off. Soon, Ryu’s cab pulled up to the curb. He leaned down to kiss me good-bye—and I didn’t have to ask. I gave my response just enough warmth to send him off happy and he got in with a promise to e-mail me.

  “Summer boyfriend?” Kian guessed, as the taxi pulled away.

  “Yeah. I needed to date a nice guy before taking on the alpha assclown at Blackbriar.”

  “Good call.”

  “Why did you give me that T-shirt anyway?” I didn’t think he’d pretend not to know what I meant.

  He tipped his head back, gazing up at the tangle of green leaves overhead. “My boss told me to.”

  “Did he tell you why?”

  “He said it would put you on the right path.”

  “That’s cryptic. I was supposed to meet Ryu?” If I believed half of this bullshit, it could drive me crazy in short order. “Why does your boss care who I date?”

  His eyes went flat. “There’s a café down the road, is that okay?”

  He totally just changed the subject. He doesn’t want to talk about it. It was stupid, but a spark kindled inside me, racing through my veins with irresistible warmth. Though I knew perfectly well Kian meant to keep his mind on business, maybe I didn’t. Maybe I wouldn’t.

  “Yeah, fine.”

  Jeannine’s was nicer than an IHOP, but still reasonably priced, which made sense since they served the kind of food drunk students loved to eat and could afford. The sun was bright, the sky pure azure. I enjoyed the walk, though it passed in silence. I liked physical activity more now. The runs with Seth, three times a week, had given me a taste for it, and I’d keep it up after I got home. Along the way, I pondered why Kian’s employer cared about my social life.

  Kian didn’t speak again until we settled into a booth. “You said you had questions?”

  “Sure. Are you on the list of people your boss wants me to date?” Straight up, put yourself out there. But it wasn’t like I was totally exposed. As far as he knew, I might be asking out of intellectual curiosity.

  I wasn’t.

  “As of now? No. What else?”

  I thought fast. “You said I have to use the last two favors within five years. Is that the only caveat? Does there need to be a time lapse between them or can I ask for both together?”

  “Within five years. That’s all.” His jade-and-amber gaze sharpened. “You expect me to believe this is why you wanted to delay the trip home? You could’ve asked that on your doorstep. You said questions. Plural.”

  Do you ever think about kissing me? Did you miss me? But those weren’t business-related, as I’d claimed this was, and I wasn’t nearly brave enough. It would take more than the SSP to give me that kind of confidence.

  Luckily I had another concern. “The guy who had my slot broke his leg. Did you have anything to do with that?”

  Kian didn’t deny it. “I told Wedderburn I needed you enrolled as part of your favor. He handled things from there.”

  Damn. So his boss made it happen. Somehow. That’s … alarming.

  “He doesn’t care who gets hurt?”

  “Wedderburn’s definition of harm is different from ours. ‘The leg will heal in six weeks’ and to him, that’s no time at all.” I could tell Kian was quoting his employer. “If you’re asking if I knew, I didn’t. He never shares his plans with me until it’s too late for me to do anything about it.”

  He seems so sad. I wonder how many of us he juggles. Unease trickled down my spine, shadowing a bright and sunny morning. So I changed the subject.

  “One last thing, I’m worried about the repayment plan … it’s just vague enough to make me nervous. Can you tell me h
ow it went for you?”

  He thought about it, as if going through a mental rulebook in his head. “Actually, I can, as long as I don’t give you specifics about anything else.”

  “Then tell me, please?”

  Before he could, the waitress came back. I ordered a high-protein scramble while Kian chose blueberry pancakes with extra whipped cream. Made me wonder if he’d wished for the ability to eat everything and not gain weight. Is that even possible?

  Once the server left, he murmured, “Okay. Well, I was fifteen when I hit extremis. And I used all my favors within a year.” Faint regret threaded his words.

  “Why so fast?”

  His silence said he had no intention of telling me that. Fair enough. God, I wished I knew why he’d been so unhappy. This wasn’t fair; he knew everything about me. But then, we weren’t friends. Had no relationship apart from the deal.

  I delved elsewhere. “You look so young, it can’t have been long before they called for repayment.”

  “Are you asking how old I am?” He sounded amused.

  “It doesn’t matter.” Except to satisfy my curiosity—and he obviously wouldn’t.

  “I’m not supposed to share personal information.”

  “I bet you weren’t supposed to kiss me, either.” My gaze flew up, unable to believe I’d said it out loud.

  “If anyone had been monitoring us then, I’d have been removed from your contract,” he said quietly. “And … penalized for misconduct.”

  I didn’t want that. “I’m sorry. Why did you do it, then?”

  “You know why.”

  I wasn’t sure enough to go there, no matter what I hoped. “Can you tell me about your … what? Recruiter? Handler?”

  “We’re called liaisons. And that depends on what you want to know.”

  “Name, how you met. That kind of stuff.”

  “His name was Raoul, and we met at my uncle’s fishing cabin.” By his expression, that reply skirted the edge of what he was permitted to tell me. It didn’t encourage more questions about what happened that day.

  “Did you like him?”

  Half smile. “I didn’t ask him to kiss me, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

  “Are you still in contact with him?”

  His smile faded. “No.”

  “What was he like?”

  “You’ve seen Highlander, right?”

  That was a rhetorical question; I could see that he knew I’d watched it a hundred times and owned the director’s cut DVD. But I nodded anyway.

  “Ramirez. He was like Ramirez.”

  I pictured a rugged guy with silver hair and a salt-and-pepper beard, clapping Kian on the shoulder and telling him to stop whining. “It must’ve been … epic.”

  “It kinda was.”

  “No wonder you took the deal.”

  Our food arrived then. We ate in silence while I mulled a loophole that would let him spend the day with me—without burning another favor. I wasn’t that dumb.

  “Most people do,” he said eventually.

  “What’s the most common favor requested?”

  “Money.”

  “I should’ve guessed. What if I need your help to research a potential request in ways unavailable to me? Is that allowed?”

  He leveled a long look on me. “Edie … don’t rush the other two favors. Seriously.”

  What are you trying to tell me with those eyes? I held his gaze, unable to access higher logical functions. When he went back to eating, I felt like I’d been freed from a spell. Kian casts level 50 hotness. Failed my saving throw.

  “I won’t,” I said, low.

  “But…” He hesitated, as if weighing what he was about to say. “If you need help with something contract-related, I’ll provide it. Part of the job.”

  “It could take all day,” I said.

  This is a bad idea trembled on the tip of his tongue; I saw it hovering and then he said, “My schedule’s clear.”

  “You have other clients?”

  “Never more than five at a time.”

  I squirreled that away with the small store of information I’d gleaned. So he had four people, like me, who had been saved in extremis. I wondered how many favors they’d requested, how old they were, how often he saw them, and if he’d kissed any of them. Likely, there was a confidentiality clause; he seemed constrained by all kinds of rules.

  “Before, you mentioned monitoring? How often—”

  “I don’t know,” he cut in. “And that’s sort of the point. It’s meant to keep me honest and on task.”

  “Is it like when you call the phone company and they tell you your call may be recorded for your protection and in order to provide better service?”

  “More or less.”

  This was frustrating. I wanted to get to know him, but he’d already said he wasn’t permitted to share personal information. I didn’t want to get him in trouble, or worse, removed from my contract. That meant I’d never see him again. And he must feel the same or he wouldn’t be cooperating, especially against his better judgment.

  “If I’m pushing, just tell me. I won’t break.”

  I did once. It won’t happen again.

  “It’s not that,” he said quietly.

  His gaze slipped to his watch, which was unlike any I’d ever seen before. The face sparkled with an unusual crystal, and there were multiple buttons along the side. I could tell I was meant to take a cue from the significant look, so I studied it, but no immediate answers came to me. Then I dug into my backpack for pen and paper. I didn’t know what form the monitoring might take; there was a guy on my block who was convinced the government could eavesdrop from space via satellite.

  I wrote, What does the watch have to do with how they track you?

  Kian leaned over, read, and then replied, It logs everything. They can use it to listen in, anytime they want. It also records my power usage, and there are accountants who resolve my output against the favors I’ve granted.

  That sounded horrible. Can you take it off?

  Face grim, he shook his head, and then told me with a tilt of his head to put the paper away before someone got curious. We had been quiet too long. Before, he’d mentioned his headquarters, but claimed he didn’t want to take me there because it might freak me out. I was starting to understand why. The shadowy people Kian worked for—with their incredible power and oppressive control—didn’t sound like they offered severance packages, unless you meant head from neck.

  I realized I might be endangering him with my pursuit, and that shook me. So I finished my food while asking harmless questions about the deal. Relief warred with regret in his expression. Futile wishes rode high in his eyes as he paid the check. With an inner twist, I slid out of the booth.

  “You can take me home. My questions didn’t take as long as I thought. And I need to think before requesting my next favor.”

  “Are you sure?” he asked.

  While he might be willing to gamble that he wouldn’t get caught bending the rules, I wasn’t. I nodded. “Thanks for breakfast.”

  Kian led the way from the restaurant, and like before, he found a quiet alcove, where he took my hand. The world skipped, like we were moving too fast for me to see, and I had that same sense of velocity in my stomach, when I stuttered back into existence in the alley a few blocks from my apartment. He still had my things, so I reached for them. I didn’t want to let go of his hand because I didn’t know when I’d see him again, but I made myself uncurl my fingers.

  He pressed a square of paper into my palm, but he didn’t acknowledge the move verbally. “Can you manage your stuff from here?” Polite tone, professional.

  “Yeah.”

  “Then I’ll see you.” As farewells went, it was anemic and lackluster, but his eyes said other things.

  Or maybe I just wanted them to.

  Stop it, I told myself. You had that one kiss, and that’s the end of it. You’re lucky he didn’t get caught.

  I took
two steps out of the alley, and when I glanced over my shoulder, he was already gone. It was just as well; I had a lot on my plate. School would be starting in ten days. I had new uniforms to buy, supplies to acquire—then I stopped because I couldn’t bullshit myself for another second. I had to read the note he’d written.

  Don’t trust anyone but me. I’ll contact you soon.

  Maybe he was trying to spook me into asking for another favor? Protection against his psychotic bosses, perhaps. I wasn’t entirely sure I should trust Kian either, regardless of how beautiful or tortured he might be. It didn’t hurt to be wary.

  And I had to plan, now, for the life I hadn’t expected to possess, come fall. Not every kid would receive a magical lifeline, though. As I walked toward the brownstone, I wondered whether I could volunteer at a hotline or something, share my experiences with people who weren’t as lucky. Probably I had to be at least eighteen or receive some special training, so I deferred the idea. I could make time during my freshman year of college to pay it forward.

  Nerves crept up from my stomach as I got closer to home. I’d only talked to my parents twice this summer, plus a flurry of e-mails and text messages. To preserve my independence, they’d set up an it’s-really-you code word that I used to close all my texts. That way, they didn’t have to worry that I’d been kidnapped and my captor was using my phone. My parents watched too much Criminal Minds, maybe, but the system worked without a lot of phone chatter, and it was easier for them to respond on the road. Last time I heard from them, they said they’d be back a couple of days before me.

  Wonder how they’ll react to the new me.

  They’d be surprised … for so many reasons. I told myself it wouldn’t help to put it off, so I climbed the stairs to the apartment. After taking a deep breath, I got out my keys and unlocked the door. They weren’t in the front room, so they must’ve slept in … and were lingering over their oatmeal in the kitchen.

  “I’m home!” I called.

  Both my parents came to the kitchen doorway, then drew up short. Their faces reflected pure shock—and in my dad’s case, it rapidly faded to horror. “Edith…?”

  “How was your summer?” I asked, playing it like I didn’t notice their reactions.