Allie's War Season One (31 page)

“Any food with you? Fruits or vegetables?”

“No.”

“Weapons?”

“No weapons. Only clothes.”

“Why no headsets?” He pointed at Revik’s ear. “No phones?”

Revik smiled, glancing at me. “We wanted to go without. Vacation. Is that a problem?”

The guard frowned again. He stepped closer, looking at both photos, then back at mine. I felt more than saw Revik’s fingers stray to his boot. The man’s eyes were dark blue, kind, a little sad. I didn’t want Revik to hurt him.

“We’re visiting my friend,” I blurted out. “My best friend from school. She married a mountie, can you believe it? He’s got a horse and everything...one of those hats! I couldn’t make the wedding, but the pictures were hilarious, so...” My face warmed. “Well, not to you, I guess.” I laughed, blushing deeper. “Well, I promised we’d visit, but my boss is a dick...you know how it is. I didn’t want him to be able to track us to see if I’m really sick, so I talked Roy here into leaving our ‘sets, and...hey, I hope that wasn’t rude, that thing I said about mounties? They’re just so cute in those red jackets. I didn’t mean anything, honestly...”

The guard’s eyes flickered in surprise.

Revik stiffened, his hand now on my thigh. His fingers gripped me tighter, wanting me to be silent, but I kept my smile on the guard, seeing his blue eyes soften.

“No, ma’am...no offense taken.”

“Do you ever ride a horse?” I asked ludicrously.

“When the mood takes me, sure.” His smile relaxed, his eyes on mine, and now warm with a different kind of interest. He gave Revik a regretful look. “Well, be careful then.” He tipped his hat. “You tell your friend congratulations for me.”

“Thanks!” I beamed. “And you...get some hot chocolate or something. You look like you’re catching a cold.”

He chuckled again. “I’ll see if I can’t do that, ma’am.”

Revik glanced at me. I saw a smile on his lips just before he stuffed his dark head in the helmet, laying his hands on the handles. The guard stepped closer, not looking at Revik at all now. I took the passports and zipped them up in my jacket pocket. I stuck my head in my own helmet. As we pulled away from the booth, I saw the guard looking after me. He raised a hand in salute and I waved back, then clutched at Revik in alarm when he gunned the accelerator.

“Don’t push it!” he said loudly.

I laughed and, wonder of wonders, felt him smile.

He hit the gas harder and the bike leapt forward.

By then, the sun had dipped below the horizon. Fire-red clouds spread out over the ocean, and the sky behind them was dark indigo, almost the color of the Barrier.

HE BANKED A few hours later, pulling us off a Vancouver city street and onto a small highway. He took another ramp just before the fork to Lions Gate Bridge.

I glimpsed a sign pointing to the forested dark of Stanley Park.

Exhausted, I gripped him in a desperation borne of fear that I might loosen my hold at a critical moment and fall off. He bumped us over the grass to meet the bicycle and footpaths near the water and turned off the headlamp, so we were riding in the dark. My eyes, stinging from fatigue, glimpsed dark trees to our left, a curve of bay and bobbing masts from the boat harbor on our right. Skyscrapers rose behind the docks, curved cylinders of glass that lit up the water, like a wall of green-blue eyes, staring into the mouth of the ocean.

We rounded the peninsula and a shock of cold air hit as wind gusted into the bike, forcing Revik to correct before he gunned it again. Water flew by in a blur, the image vibrating. As the bike’s tires rose to meet the sloping footpath, I saw a small lighthouse with its light off and a swath of moving darkness behind it, broken by reflected glows from slow-moving ships. I could just make out the white paint with the red horizontal stripe across the lighthouse’s base.

Revik parked the bike below two sets of stone stairs that met under the lighthouse itself. Before I realized we were stopping, he’d already turned off the engine, leaving us in an eerie quiet with only wind and lapping waves.

Unfastening the chin strap, he tugged off his helmet. Spikes of sweat-wet hair stuck up over his head.

Using a foot to dislodge the kickstand, he climbed off. I watched him walk directly to the stone base of the lighthouse. By the time I made out the square, metal panel, he was already kicking it in with his booted heel.

Seeing where this was headed, I took off my own helmet and climbed off, shocked when my weight on my legs sent pain from my tailbone all the way up to my shoulders. My arms hung like dead weight and I stood there for a moment, clenching and unclenching my hands inside the leather gloves, trying to get the feeling back.

I watched Revik finish knocking in the panel.

Then he turned, his face a stark white after being behind a tinted visor all day. Behind where he stood, a three by three hole gaped in the cement.

“I suppose a hotel is out of the question?” I said.

Walking back to me and the bike, he opened the motorcycle’s seat storage, pulling out a small, blue backpack and blankets, then a cheap, battery-powered lamp. Igniting the last, he set it down just inside the hole in the stone wall and crawled through, pushing the backpack and blankets in front of him.

Inhaling a last gulp of salty sea air, I crawled in after him.

Once inside, I turned around in the surprisingly large space, and leaned against a curved cement wall.

I watched in disbelief as Revik crawled back to the opening climbed back out of the hole. He lay the metal panel back over the opening...and I had a sudden vision of him hammering it back on, trapping me inside.

“Hey!” I said, close to a yell.

He bent his knees. He met my gaze, visibly startled.

“Where are you going?” I said.

“To hide the motorcycle.”

“Oh.” I exhaled in relief. Then I was embarrassed. “Oh, okay.”

Seeming to feel one or both, he straightened, then disappeared.

I just sat there while he was gone, numb with fatigue. I was starting to nod off when he climbed back through the rectangular opening.

After rearranging the panel door behind us, he sat on the opposite side of the lamp as me and began pulling off his leather gloves. In the yellow lamplight, dark circles shadowed his light eyes, which were glassy with fatigue.

I reached over his lap for a blanket, trying to ignore the faint reek from the empty beer bottles and trash littering the dirt where we sat. I eyed a used condom just past the circle of electric light and unzipped my jacket, running fingers through my matted hair.

He hooked the backpack with one hand and set it by my leg.

Feeling him waiting, I realized that had been a courtesy of sorts, too.

Hesitating only another half-beat, I unzipped the main compartment of the backpack and groped inside, knocking my hand into water bottles before closing on something squishy in a plastic bag. I made an involuntary face.

“Food,” he said.

“Could you be more specific?” I sniffed the contents, grimaced. “Jeez Louise...”

Leaning over the space between us, he took the backpack from me.

“You are used to human food,” he said.

“Do you always have to eat something different?”

“Yes.” Pausing, he shrugged. “Well, no...sometimes.”

Remembering he’d tolerated human food for me on a number of occasions, I nodded, biting back my complaints. Following his lead, I unwrapped one end of what looked like a seaweed burrito and took an experimental bite. I gagged, then forced myself to chew. Even as hungry as I was, it tasted like moldy dirt.

He watched with impassive eyes, then surprised me by smiling.

“Good?” he said.

“No,” I blurted.

His smile became a suppressed laugh. “You’re doing it wrong, Allie.”

I let my hand with the green wrap sink to my lap. “Want to enlighten me? Or are you having too much fun smirking?”

His smile evaporated.

“That was a joke,” I said, feeling my face warm.

His eyes shifted away. “You should be able to feel your light without using the Barrier.” He cleared his throat. “Try with me. It’s easier with someone else.”

He held out a hand towards me.

I stared at it. “Explain more.”

“The sense of motion. Of light. Try to feel it.” His voice remained casual, but a faint tension grew audible as he offered his hand again.

Realizing I was in danger of causing another scene with us, I clasped his fingers. His were warmer than mine.

“Light has a component that is nearly physical,” he said. “It has dimension. It is subtle, but you should be attuned to me, so—”

“I think I get it.” My skin was starting to warm. I wanted my hand back, but I didn’t want to offend him.

“I feel different than you?” he said.

“Yes.”

“Other than skin?”

“Yes.” I gently dislodged my fingers. “I get it, Revik.”

He released me with a shrug. “Then eat.”

My hand continued to tingle after he let go. I lifted the wrap, tried to concentrate on that feeling of motion as I bit down, especially around my lips and tongue.

I was chewing for a few seconds before I could pay attention enough to notice it really did taste different. Well, not taste exactly—although a subtle array of textures lived under that bitter, damp smell. The real difference felt more like touch, but so infused with my other senses it blurred them together, making them hard to pick apart. Absorbing the plant’s light was like inhaling gentle breaths of deliciously scented air.

The feeling was nearly...sensual.

“Don’t go too far into it, Allie,” he warned.

I watched him relax as he chewed, like someone getting a massage. His pale eyes flickered to mine, as if he’d heard that, too.

“I had to learn to eat blind when young,” he said. “To blend with humans.” He swallowed what was in his mouth. “It is not uncommon for the Council to require service of seers born of certain castes. My parents were asked to give one of theirs...as an infiltrator.”

He returned my blank look, coloring slightly.

“Given my blood type,” he plowed on. “I was the logical choice. The food was of particular issue to me. I would fight them on it, which angered my father. He did not want me embarrassing him in front of the Council. I was already...” He paused, then shrugged again. “...It is complicated. I was not his blood child, and moreover, he did not favor me. Raising me was his duty. He was adamant that I do mine.”

I took another bite of the plant burrito, if only to keep my face from showing a reaction.

“That sucks,” I said, awkward.

We continued eating in silence. Finishing the wrap, I rolled the plastic into a ball and stuffed it back in the backpack, grabbing a bottle of water and twisting off the cap before I drank.

“There is more,” he commented. “If you are still hungry.”

Nodding, I finished the water and leaned back, sliding around to avoid sharp spots with my shoulder blades. I closed my eyes.

He cleared his throat. “You cannot sleep,” he said.

Realizing he was right, I felt my heart sink. Sleep sounded heavenly, even on condom-strewn dirt.