by Robin Benway
I could feel Roux’s and Jesse’s and even Mathieu’s eyes on me as I turned the lock one half turn to the left. If this didn’t work, we were screwed. There was no Plan B, no other location, no backup situation. We either got in or we didn’t.
With a loud popping sound, all four locks clicked open.
We were in.
I sat back on my heels, letting out a whoosh of air and feeling my heart pound. Behind me, I heard Roux let out a whoop before Jesse shushed her, then she shushed him right back. I was exhausted and starving and emotional, but at least the lock was open. Once again, Angelo had been right.
“C’mon,” I said to them, “let’s go in.”
Mathieu handed us our bags, then went back to the driver’s seat, ready to bid us good-bye. He idled at the curb until I waved him away, and then he drove off, leaving the three of us alone for the first time since the attack. “What is this place?” Jesse asked.
“I have no idea,” I told him. “But we’re going in.”
The door was surprisingly heavy, and when we opened it, we were in a dim hallway, lit by a single crystal chandelier. There was a table against one wall and a mirror above it, almost like the lobby of an apartment building. “Is anyone else getting The Shining flashbacks?” Roux whispered. “Just me? Okay then.”
There was an elevator at the end of the hall and we went in. It was old, too, and creaky, a lot like the one we had in our loft.
I pulled the gate shut and pressed the up button. “It’s probably just an empty building,” I told Roux and Jesse, trying to convince all three of us. “Angelo has places like this all over the world. Probably.”
Neither of them replied. They didn’t have to.
The elevator came to a sudden, jolting stop on the second floor, and we carefully climbed out. There was a door waiting for us and when I turned the knob, it opened without any trouble. My heart was pounding faster than it had been downstairs when I worked on the lock, and my hands were definitely shaking now. I could hear Jesse’s raspy breath behind me, and I couldn’t hear Roux at all.
The door opened into an apartment, all warm light and wooden parquet floors and crystal chandeliers. There were several gray couches and a loveseat, and raw silk curtain framed the windows and flowed to the floor. Bookshelves lined the wall behind the dining room table and I caught sight of a Gauguin painting on one wall.
Angelo, I knew, loved Gauguin.
“Well,” said a voice from the living room, and Roux, Jesse, and I all tiptoed forward to see a guy and a girl standing there. “Took you long enough.”
They were probably only a year or two older than us, but they looked amused, even almost surprised that the three of us had managed to get into the apartment. He was pretty average height and had on dark jeans rolled at the cuff to reveal thick-sole boots. He wore a black sweater with holes in the wrists and elbows, only they look artfully arranged, not moth-eaten. She stood next to him in leggings and ballet-style shoes and an oversized Rolling Stones T-shirt, her dreadlocked hair piled into a dark jumble on top of her head.
“It is nice to finally meet you, Maggie,” the girl said, smiling at me. “We have been waiting for you.”
Chapter 28
Roux, Jesse, and I stood in the doorway, not moving.
“We weren’t sure you were going to be able to open the lock,” the guy said. His English had a heavy Australian accent, and I realized that his thick, black-frame glasses had no glass in them. “We heard you struggling with it.”
“Thank you so much for that,” I said. “How do you know me?”
“Angelo sent you here, yes?” the girl said. Her voice had a French accent, but not as thick as his Australian one. “He said you would be arriving.”
“You talked to Angelo?” I said. “Is he here? Where is he?”
“Not here,” he said. “I’m Ryo, by the way. This is Élodie.”
She waved a little. “Hi.”
“I like your hair,” Roux piped up behind me.
“Thank you.”
“Wait a minute,” I said, waving my hands in front of me. “Let’s back up a few steps. Who are you?”
“Ryo and Élodie,” Ryo said again, pointing between them.
“No, I mean, who are you?” I said, gripping the back of the chair for support. “What are you doing here? How do you know Angelo?”
“What, you think you are the only young person in the Collective?” Élodie said, a smile playing at her mouth.
“You’re in the Collective, too?” Jesse asked, and Élodie smiled at him.
“You’re Jesse,” she guessed. “And Roux.”
“Hi,” Roux said. “Nice place.”
“It’s Angelo’s,” Ryo told us. “We use it sometimes for … refuge.”
“Refuge,” Jesse repeated. “Are you on the run, too?”
“Not exactly, mate,” he said. “At least, not right now. Who knows? Tomorrow is a brand-new day.” He smiled at Élodie. “Right?”
She grinned back at him, then turned to us. “Are you starving? Do you want some food?”
“Wait!” I said again. “Back to the topic at hand. Where’s Angelo? Where are my parents?”
Ryo and Élodie glanced at one another. “We don’t know,” Ryo said, his tone cautious. “We just got a call from Angelo saying to meet you here.”
“Mags,” Jesse said behind me. “You should sit. Or eat something.”
He was right, of course, but I ignored him. I was starting to shake again, the exhaustion and stress of the past day making its way through my bones. “I want to talk to them,” I said. “Call Angelo right now. I want to talk to them.”
“We cannot do that,” Élodie said. “He calls us. We don’t know how to find him.”
“Then why are we here?” I yelled. “Get him on the phone right now! I want to talk to my parents! I want to know they’re all right!”
I don’t think I had ever thrown this loud of a temper tantrum in my life, but I certainly was now. I felt Jesse try to grab my arm, but I shook him off and stalked around the table into the living room, planting myself directly in front of Ryo and Élodie. “You need to tell me right now if my parents are dead,” I said, tears building up in my eyes. “And if you lie to me, I’ll kill you myself.”
“They’re not dead,” Ryo said. “I promise, Maggie. They’re not dead. We wouldn’t lie about that.”
I looked at both him and Élodie, looking for any sign of treachery. Their faces were honest, though, and a little sad, and that’s when I burst into tears. “I want to go home!” I said. My voice was choked and I didn’t sound like myself, which only made me cry harder. “I’m out, I’m done! I don’t want to do this anymore!”
Jesse’s hand was on my waist, reeling me back. “Mags, c’mon,” he was whispering, and I tried to shove him away, but he was stronger than me. “It’s okay, we’re okay.”
“It’s not okay!” I cried, and the full truth of the words slammed into me. “It’s not okay! Nothing about this is okay!”
Despite my struggles, Jesse managed to pull me into his arms. He still smelled familiar, like home, and I buried my face in his plaid shirt and started to sob. “I’m sorry!” I wept. “I just want …”
“I know,” he whispered, his mouth close to my ear. “Nothing to be sorry about.”
The tears were so strong that they almost hurt, racking my ribs and lungs as they tore their way to the surface. Everything ached and I was so tired and jetlagged and I missed my parents so much that they felt like phantom limbs, parts of me I could no longer find.
Jesse was still there, though. His hand cupped the back of my head as he held me, his fingers smoothing over my tangled hair, and I could hear the rumble of his voice in his chest. He was talking to someone, maybe even me, but I couldn’t understand the words. All I could do was cry.
After a few minutes, I felt him gather me up and start to guide me out of the room. I was still a sniveling, teary mess as I stumbled along with him, but he held on to me
so I wouldn’t fall. “C’mon,” he said soothingly. “Let’s lie down.”
“I’m not tired.” I sniffled.
“You’re such a liar,” he said, but his voice was affectionate and warm. “You can be stubborn tomorrow, okay? Let’s take a break for now.”
I could hear Élodie talking as we walked down the hall and into a bedroom. It was plain, just a table and mirror and a bed covered in a white duvet, with one window that showed the stormy skies outside. Jesse pulled back the covers and set me down on the bed, then tugged my shoes off before pulling off his sneakers and wriggling out of his hoodie. “Here,” he said, slipping it around my shoulders. I pulled it around me and clung to the sleeves as I lay down and scooted over to make room for Jesse.
He crawled in and pulled the duvet over us, wrapping me up in his arms. I was still hiccuping a little and Jesse’s shirt was cold and wet from my tears, but it felt good to be in a real bed with someone who loved me. “Go to sleep,” Jesse whispered. “It’ll be okay, I promise.”
“You don’t know that,” I said. My throat was scratchy and sore and my chest hurt, like someone had stepped on it.
“Of course I do,” he murmured, resting his chin on top of my head. “Things always work out when you’re around. Haven’t you noticed?”
I was quiet a long time, thinking about that. Jesse’s heartbeat was slow and steady in my ear, a tiny measure of time, our breathing soft and even. “Jess?”
“Hmm?”
But I was already asleep.
Chapter 29
When I woke up, the sky was gray and the room was dim. I still had Jesse’s hoodie, but it was tangled around my waist. When I went to reach for him, his side of the bed was empty but still warm, like he had just gotten up a few minutes before me. I felt better, though, almost satiated. I had been running on fumes and when they gave out, so did I.
I looked out the window for a few minutes, seeing only the sky and the old pale Parisian buildings across the street. Their windows were arched and wide, just like the ones in Ryo and Élodie’s—or Angelo’s?—apartment, and I saw figures moving past the window, winding up their day, living their life.
The bedroom door opened and I looked over to see Roux peeking her head in. “Hi,” she whispered. “Are you awake?”
“Mmm-hmm,” I mumbled, stretching my arms over my head, and Roux took that as an invite to plop herself down next to me.
“So,” she said. “Better?”
I nodded as I sat up. “How bad is my hair?”
“Atrocious,” she replied cheerfully, which made me smile.
“What time is it?”
“Almost six thirty. At night,” she added. “Jesse just got up a little while ago, too. He’s talking with Ryo and Élodie. They’re pretty cool. Élodie’s going to dye my hair for me.”
Called it.
“Are you hungry?” Roux continued. “There’s food. And coffee, of course.”
“There’s always coffee,” I said. “Wait, though. Are you okay?”
Roux just shrugged. “Yeah. Yesterday wasn’t exactly my idea of fun, but we’re okay now. And I like it here. I like Paris. I mean, I haven’t been outside yet, but I still like it. What about you? Are you okay?”
“I think so,” I said. “Just needed to have a psychotic breakdown, that’s all.”
“I highly recommend them.” She grinned at me. “Next time, though, definitely break something. Otherwise you just look like an amateur.”
“Noted,”I said. “Maybe smash a plate?”
“A plate, maybe a few glasses if someone else will clean up the mess.” Roux’s eyes gleamed wickedly in the dark room. “I’ll show you a few things when we get back to New York.”
“So you’re not mad that we had to leave?”
“What, and leave behind a bunch of people who called me names and two parents that wouldn’t know my name if they saw it on my birth certificate?” Roux rolled her eyes. “The world’s bigger than one city, right? It’s just nice to be doing something for once, rather than sitting around and waiting for someone to do something to us.”
I smiled back at her. “So it’s better than SAT prep?” I teased.
“So much better.” She laughed. “At least this will be useful in life. C’mon, let’s go eat. There’s cheese!”
After she left, I went into the bathroom and washed my face and brushed my teeth using one of the new toothbrushes that was laid out next to the sink. The water was surprisingly cold and it made me shiver, but it woke me up, too, and I finger combed my hair before padding down the hall and into the kitchen.
Ryo, Élodie, Roux, and Jesse were all around the large wooden table. There was a French press in the middle of the table, half-full with coffee, and some bread and cheese and cold roast chicken and figs. “She’s alive,” Ryo said when he saw me.
“Nice hair,” Jesse added, winking at me. I had it coming after all the grief I had given him about his curly hair, though, and I smiled a little as I slipped into the chair next to his.
“Sorry about … that,” I said, waving my arm back toward the living room. “I was just tired. And stressed. And pissed. And I won’t kill you, Ryo.”
“I wasn’t worried,” he said. “And don’t sweat it. No one’s dead, so it’s fine.”
“You should have seen me after our last debacle,” Élodie said, rolling her eyes to the ceiling. “Ask Ryo, I was a mess. But then he fell apart after—well, we are getting ahead of ourselves.”
Roux shoved some cheese at me. “So good,” she said, her mouth full. “Try it.”
I took it, then poured some coffee into a chipped china teacup. It was strong and hot and made me feel more like myself.
“I know I asked this earlier,” I said, “but I probably missed the answer if there was one. What do you do? Who are you?”
“We should wait for Ames before we explain,” Ryo said. “He’ll be here soon. It’s somewhat easier to explain with him here.”
Élodie laughed under her breath and said something to Ryo in French before grinning at him. He smiled back, but what was surprising was that Jesse smiled, too.
“Wait, Jess,” Roux said. “Did you understand that?”
His eyes widened in realization. “Wait. No. Wait, say something else in French again.”
Élodie rattled off a string of words that I didn’t understand, but to my absolute amazement, Jesse responded in perfect French. “Holy shit!” he cried, then looked at me in surprise.
“You speak French?” I cried. “Since when?”
“Since I don’t know!” he said. “I mean, I’ve been learning French since kindergarten, and I know that I like to go with mes amis to la plage and drink limonade, but I thought it was just stupid things like that. Wow, my expensive education actually works!”
“Drink lemonade with your friends at the beach,” Élodie scoffed. “Tell me, do you see a beach around here? What do they teach you in those textbooks?”
Jesse was still laughing to himself, though, not listening to Élodie at all. “I can’t believe it!”
“I wonder what I can do if Jesse can speak French,” Roux mused. “Does anyone have a ninja star I can throw?”
“No,” we all said immediately, but it did nothing to squash Roux’s enthusiasm for Jesse’s newfound talent. “You should totally take AP French when we get home,” she told him. “You’d smoke everyone in that class.”
“Good plan,” I said. “Now I have a non–language related question. How’s Ames going to get in the front door? He can’t crack the lock.”
“Of course he can.” Élodie shrugged. “We all can. It’s easy.”
“Easy?” I cried. “I almost lost a finger trying to get that thing open! I’ve been practicing for nearly six months and it was still difficult.”
“Ames made a tool that makes it simple,” Ryo said. “And besides, that’s how we know someone is worthy of getting in. If you can’t do the lock, you don’t deserve to be here. Lucky for you, you passed the tes
t.”
“Luck had nothing to do with it,” I said. “More like blood, sweat, and tears. Literally.”
“Well, that sounds like a party!”
We all turned to see a guy walking through the living room into the kitchen, a huge grin across his face and a motorcycle helmet under his arm. He wore a leather jacket and his boots were heavy on the parquet floors, and he had the sort of flushed cheeks that made him look like he was perpetually embarrassed or pleased.
“Oh,” I heard Roux murmur behind me.
“Howya?” He nodded at Ryo and Élodie, dropping his helmet down on the table and giving Élodie a kiss on the top of her head before doing the same to Ryo. “Someone said something about blood? Who are these strangers? Why haven’t we boiled them in a pot yet?” He winked at me. “Just kidding. I’m a vegetarian. I only eat my enemies. For breakfast.” His Irish accent was broad and deep. Roux hadn’t stopped looking at him.
Ryo gestured to me, ignoring the guy’s bravado. “Ames, this is Maggie.”
Ames’s face split wide open in a smile. “Maggie,” he said. “We’ve heard so much. How’s high school? Waste of time, yeah?”
“My own personal hell on earth,” I said. “I’m sorry, how do you know I’m in high school?”
“We were waiting for you to explain, Ames,” Élodie said, patting the chair next to her. “Way to take your time, by the way. We love waiting for you.”
“You know what I like best about you, Él?” Ames said, and Élodie wrinkled her nose at the nickname. “You use sarcasm to hide your true emotions. It’s so human.” He looked at Jesse. “You must be the boyfriend. Falling in love with a criminal, yeah?” He winked at Jesse in a knowing way. “It’s great craic.”
Jesse looked a bit confused but still shook Ames’s hand. “Hey,” he said.
“I’m Roux,” Roux said, offering her own hand, and the Ames Charm Tour came to a halt when he took her hand in his. The two of them froze for only a second, but it was clear that something had changed in the room. Roux’s shoulders, which were always somewhere around her ears due to her constant nervous energy, fell a little, and the blush in Ames’s cheeks grew a little, along with his smile.
