Allie's War Season One (88 page)

The boy met his gaze, and smiled.

5

DISTRACTION

I JERKED AWAKE, half in a panic.

It took me another few breaths to realize why. I’d dreamed that he’d gone...that he’d left me again, before I even saw him.

I stared up at a wooden ceiling supported by thick crossbeams. I lay curled into a half-moon, wedged in a cushioned seat next to a window with no glass. Galaith’s journal lay open by my hand, where I’d let go of it when my fingers loosened in sleep. I wondered how long I’d been lying there.

Monkeys screeched from tree branches that sagged and swayed under their weight. Meanwhile, seers play-fought in a stone and crabgrass courtyard a few hundred feet below my window. I saw my adoptive brother Jon there, standing with lingering awkwardness among a crowd of seers, watching them fight, eyes serious as he studied their moves. He’d been a fourth degree black belt in Choy Li Fut in San Francisco, but here I knew he still felt kind of lame. Even apart from his hand, seer fighting arts included a lot of work with sight capabilities that he simply couldn’t do. I recognized the look on his face as he watched them scuffle, though; he wanted to be in the middle of it.

“Yes,” a voice said behind me. A soft clicking sound punctuated the quiet, low enough to be a purr. “...It’s all right now. I need exercise...” The voice grew lower still, until I couldn’t make out words.

I held my breath.

It affected me more than even I expected. I recognized his deep voice...probably would have even without the German accent...but he wasn’t talking to me. In fact, we hadn’t exchanged a single word yet.

Cass met me at the helipad again that morning. She and I had gone to Seertown market, wandering through the maze of booths where humans and seers hawked blankets, clothes, prayer beads, handheld mechanical prayer wheels and Tibetan momo, a stuffed dumpling to which I was fast becoming addicted. Cass bought a scarf and a pair of earrings. She and Jon were doing pretty well here, in terms of money. Both worked a few hours a day, teaching English to seers.

By the time I came back to the compound, most of the seers had finished their morning rituals of chai and meditation and socializing in the wide gardens below the complex. Jon refused to meet me on the platform, convinced I had turned suicidal in my sudden need to see the front lines “every damned day” as he put it. I think Jon was really angry because he’d expected it to stop as soon as Revik got back...which he had, the night before.

Admittedly, Revik was part of the reason I’d decided to go that morning.

They’d drugged him for the flight, which was standard in security transports...but he hadn’t woken up when they expected. They timed that kind of thing to the minute, especially where infiltrators were involved, and I’d already been told that Revik had the opposite tendency, meaning he was more likely to wake up early from a dose than late. In fact, they had to calibrate personalized doses for him, to make sure he slept at all.

I worried that they’d given him too much, but the seers attending him said no. They explained that he had suffered some sort of “hit” during the last leg of the flight...meaning he’d been tagged in the Barrier by another seer, or seers.

Whoever had done it, they drained his light almost to a dangerous level.

I don’t know how Revik would have felt about me being absent when he woke up. But it bothered me a lot more that he was still asleep when I got back.

They told me he was fine. His vitals had stabilized and he was replenishing light normally again. I tried lying next to him, thinking I might be able to speed that process along, but with the separation pain being what it was, I only lasted about ten minutes before I retreated back to the window seat. I’d already spent most of the night there, anyway, head propped on a cushion to stare out the window while I waited for him to wake and told myself I wasn’t nervous.

I must have fallen asleep myself.

He also had company. Vash must have come in while I slept.

Listening to the tone of their voices, I found myself wishing I’d slept somewhere else. I didn’t want to interrupt, though, even to leave.

The old seer’s voice grew audible. “...I am so sorry, my son.” I heard him say more, but I lost his words in the emotion I felt around them.

Revik answered him, but not in a language I knew.

Vash moved on the bed, making the springs creak. “...is it true what they tell me? That you remember more now?”

I swallowed, wishing more than ever I’d slept in the other room.

I didn’t want to overhear anything he wasn’t ready to tell me himself, but it was hard not to strain for his answer. Revik had most of his memory wiped when he left the Rooks. Now, reading Galaith’s diaries, I had a better idea of what those years had looked like for him. I was also increasingly wondering if his memory loss had been such a bad thing.

He’d been married in that life. To someone else, I mean.

In their case, though, it had been more what I’d call a “real” marriage. Meaning, at some point, he’d asked her what she thought of the whole marriage business, she’d told him she was into it, they’d expressed love and mutual affection, followed by some kind of ceremony with family and friends to commemorate that fact.

I’d even seen the tail end of that ceremony from the Barrier, thanks to Galaith, and Revik looked pretty damned good in a tux. From how happy he’d appeared in my one glimpse, he seemed pretty into the whole thing, too.

In other words, his marriage to Elise hadn’t consisted of a night where two near-strangers got too immersed in each other’s light and accidentally started the energetic bond that formed the first stage of seer marriage. Nor had it likely then been followed by a few weeks of anger, misunderstandings, friendship, no sex, a request for divorce, and finally...infidelity.

No, that had been his marriage to
me.

Through the window, I watched the seers continue to scuffle as their dirt ring turned to clomping damp patches, then to mud. They seemed oblivious as they faced off against one another, sparred, clinched, repositioned, faced off again. Laughter rolled up when the smaller of the two swept the other’s leg, landing him on his back.

I tried not to hear the emotion that clouded Vash’s words.

“...I should never have let you go. You were so determined that it be you...”

Revik answered, his voice too low for me to make out words.

He lay wrapped in furs, propped up on pillows. Feeling glimmers of his light, I realized again how long it had been since I’d seen him, and how short a time we’d had together then. At Gatwick Airport in London, right after everything had gone down, we’d only had about ten minutes alone to say goodbye before the infiltrators took him away.

That had mostly involved us kissing.

He’d asked me to wait for him, though...which was the closest he’d ever come to telling me anything, in terms of the two of us.

I got to India via plane and train, on a roundabout trip through Eastern Europe. Revik, on the other hand, traveled most of the way by cargo ship, going all the way around Cape of Good Hope at the southernmost tip of Africa and up the Suez before being transported by land to Cairo.

It took four months. They’d promised me it wouldn’t be more than three. I found myself remembering the look on his face as they had led him away.

I was still staring down at the sparring seers, not seeing them...

...when the door shut softly behind me.

I stopped breathing again, but for a long moment, there was nothing.

I wondered if he was waiting for me. A part of me even realized how ridiculous it was that I was hiding there. Not quite feigning sleep, but shielding to buy myself time...and to avoid finding out if he actually wanted to see me.

I steeled myself, trying to decide if I should speak.

“Allie?” His accent was stronger.

I took a breath.

I had a whole thing I was going to say, assuming he even wanted to talk about it. I felt pretty strongly that the conversation needed to happen...but I knew enough to know that whatever he might say in the next few minutes could derail me completely. I kept my aleimi wound tightly around my physical person as I slid off the window seat, letting my bare feet touch the floor.

Even so, seeing him awake...and sitting up...made me pause.

His black hair had been cut. It was short, maybe shorter than I’d ever seen it. Shorter than I’d realized when his eyes were closed and not open to stand out on his pale skin. He still looked thin, although the bruises on his face and neck were mostly gone. I saw scars too, and not all of them were old. A faint, reddish ring was still visible around the base of his neck, and it was more than a fading bruise; it looked almost like a burn.

But it wasn’t really the differences that threw me...it was where he was the same.

His pale, almost colorless eyes studied mine expressionlessly. His narrow face didn’t seem to move, never seemed to age even though his cheekbones stood out more than they had before he’d been imprisoned by Terian. The lines of his jaw and the outline of his face appeared even more angular, but his narrow mouth looked the same. He wore the soft gray t-shirt he’d been wearing when they brought him in, and his arms looked smaller but the same as well, sinewy and somehow less young than his face.

I took a few steps in his direction and stopped. I folded my own arms.

I knew it probably came off as kind of aggressive to do that, but it felt defensive...especially since I couldn’t think of a single argument I’d won with him in the year plus I’d known him.

“Are you okay?” I hesitated. “Do you need anything?”

I saw him wipe his eyes with the heel of his hand, and swallowed, realizing it hadn’t only been Vash who’d been crying. Damn it. I felt myself soften, more than I should have. Gently, he patted the furs next to where he lay, his eyes carefully on mine.

“Can we talk?” he said. His voice was polite, like always.

I shook my head, exhaling in a kind of humorless laugh.

“No. No way. Not yet...not like that.”

“You’re angry,” he said.

“No,” I said truthfully. “Not angry.” I paused, thinking about my words. “...I just need a minute, I guess. And we should talk, yes, but I’d rather do it from here. If that’s okay.”

He nodded, leaning against the wall. He seemed to have expected this, too. Or maybe he was reading me. It was so hard to know with him.

“You want to talk,” he said. “Is it about the divorce thing, Allie...?”

His words hit like a blow. I swallowed, looking away. Reminding me that the last time I’d been with him for any amount of time he’d asked me for a divorce, then decided to sleep with a human and throw it in my face made it a lot easier to focus on the reality that was us. We weren’t a couple. Not really, anyway.

I saw him realize his mistake.

Hesitating, he folded his arms, shifting his weight on the bed. His eyes narrowed up at mine.

“Then what?”

“Look.” I bit my tongue.

I hesitated for a minute, trying to recollect my thoughts, which had pretty much scattered as soon as we were face to face. I looked away, refolding my arms tighter. “I don’t want you to think things with us are just going to...”

I stopped, rethinking that approach.

“I don’t know what you want...or what you think I...”

I stopped again, rethinking that approach, too.