Fake (11 page)

At least tomorrow she'd be with Skyler and it would be spring again. Even if just for one day.

From:
[email protected]

To:
[email protected]

Re:
Be careful!

Dearest D.,

Is everything all right with you? I know it's been a few days since I last wrote and I'm sorry. Please tell me everything is okay. Are you still enjoying the farm? Is everyone still treating you well?

If anything at all has gotten you down, let me know. I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to you. Promise me you'll be careful. Promise you'll tell me if anything upsets you.

I love you, D. Take care of yourself. Always watch out for anything suspicious. You are so innocent, you may not realize how dangerous and insane a place the world can be. All we can do to cope is to look out for each other.

I'm sorry I can't be there in person. I'll join you again someday. Just stay safe and hang on until I can get things straightened out here.

Love always,

Gaia

His body language had all the characteristics of someone seriously contemplating self-flagellation.

Perfectly Horrible

THE DOOR OPENED ONLY AS MUCH AS
the chain would allow. Through the crack Jake could see Suko's narrowed, disapproving eyes, focusing on Jake like two black missiles, ready to strike.

“Hello. Is Gaia here?” he asked, trying not to sound too eager. Suko had that all-knowing air about her. Her intense stare seemed almost capable of administering a long-range, wireless polygraph.

“It is eight-fifteen on a Sunday, very early to be visiting,” she said reproachfully.

“Yes, I know. Sorry.” No need to tell her that was the plan. Get here early before Gaia had a chance to slip through his fingers again. “If Gaia is still sleeping, I could wait outside on the porch until she wakes up.”

“She is not here.”

“What?” Jake shouted. Stern furrows erupted around Suko's eyes and mouth. “I'm sorry,” he added, returning to a meek, Beaver Cleaver tone, “I just don't understand why she wouldn't be here. Did she not come home last night either?”

“She came home.”

He waited for further elaboration. When none came, he asked, “Did she get my message? I told Zan to tell her to call.”

“You will have to ask Zan.”

Again he waited, staring at her scowl through the narrow rectangular opening. “So . . . could I talk to Zan?”

“She's sleeping.”

Jake reached up and grasped a handful of his spiky, unwashed hair. “Can I ask,” he began, carefully blockading his frustration, “where Gaia is now?”

“She is not here. She left at eight o'clock.”

Damn!
He'd just missed her! After thirty-six hours of frantic searching, he'd come within fifteen minutes of meeting her face-to-face. He'd lost Gaia
twice.

He almost wished he hadn't come so close. He almost wished Suko had said she'd never come home—
almost.

“You should leave now. As I said, you are here too early. Also, you should know that you are not allowed to visit her here.”

“Look,” he said, opening his arms in a gesture of surrender, “couldn't I just wait here for her?”

“No. Now please leave.” Suko nodded toward the sidewalk, a shard of anger in her typically smooth tone.

“What if I just waited until Zan wakes up and asked her some questions?”

“No!” Suko hit a volume level Jake hadn't thought her capable of. He got the distinct feeling few people had ever heard it—or lived to talk about it. “If you do not leave now, I will call 911! Do you understand?”

“Yes,” he said with a resigned sigh. “Sorry.”

But Suko had already shut the door. Jake could see the nearby curtains flutter. Her sharp black eyes appeared in a corner of the front window, watching him.

I'm going. I'm going.
He loped down the front path, beaten and disgraced, like a mangy dog that had strayed onto Suko's well-kept lawn. If he'd had a tail, it would have been tucked between the legs of his faded blue Levi's.

So it was official. Gaia was definitely ignoring him. She had returned home and didn't even bother to call. At this point she must have gotten the six or seven messages he'd left on her cell phone or at least heard from Zan that he'd stopped by. Obviously she had no desire to talk to him.

If it was only a cold-shoulder treatment, that would be one thing. Jake could handle a brush-off. But he knew it was much worse than that. Gaia was in trouble. Oliver sure sensed it, and even he—lamest of all investigators—sensed it, too.

Jake ambled down the block until he was certain he was out of Suko's monitoring range. He leaned against a brick wall surrounding a small park and playground and closed his eyes, feeling simultaneously restless and weary.

Where to now? Where could Gaia have gone so early?

A sudden, pulsating sensation emanated from the
left side of his waist. Jake jumped sideways and pawed at the throbbing area. His hands closed around the boxy, alphanumeric pager clipped to his pants. A loan from Oliver.

Jake hit the display button and read Oliver's brief, irritable-looking message:

Report in.

Beautiful. Now he had to go face the man he admired above all others and admit that he was a total failure. The perfect cap to this perfectly horrible weekend.

Sherpa

GAIA STARED AT SKYLER AS HE STOOD
in the subway aisle, rocking sideways with the rhythmic motion of the train. Just like in the cab the night before, Gaia noticed he looked out of place among all the other subway riders. A descended demigod among mere mortals.

It wasn't just his custom-made shirt or his sharp, patrician profile. Nor did it have to do with that über-confident, almost overly erect way he stood. It was something more . . . metaphysical.

Skyler Rodke, Gaia noticed, had an unmistakable energy that extended beyond his corporeal borders. At
times she imagined she could see it gathering, nimbuslike, around him. It was evident in the way his blond hair seemed to give off its own light, in the way his blue eyes flickered like gas jets, and in the magnetic tug she felt in his presence. He was a walking power source. A gas giant who had pulled her into his orbit.

She wasn't the only one who sensed it, either. As they moved through the subway, she'd watched the other riders instinctively make way for him, like peasants for a passing king.

Gaia wondered if by being around him, she could absorb some of that energy, increase her own stores of confidence. She had to admit it was already working. Whenever she was with Skyler, she didn't feel quite so adrift. And then there was that kiss. . . .

Even if it hadn't meant something bigger than friendship was brewing between them, it had been beautifully meaningful—a physical manifestation of the incredible connection they shared. She now knew that his feelings for her matched the depths she felt for him, whatever those emotions happened to be.

Skyler caught her staring at him and smiled. She smiled back, blushing slightly, then stared out the window into the dark tunnel. She still wasn't bold enough to meet his eyes for long.

“You ready for breakfast?” he asked.

Gaia shrugged. “Sure.”

“I know a great place. I'll take you there.”

The subway was slowing down, and people were pressing in around them, making for the exit. Skyler pointed to the doors, as if indicating that this was to be their stop. Gaia slipped her bag over her shoulder, holding tight to the strap, and joined the traffic jam of people.

As soon as the glass-and-metal doors opened, Gaia was bounced in every direction. It suddenly seemed like the entire train was disembarking. As the people surged forward, she kept her eye out for Skyler's white blond hair but couldn't see him anywhere. Had he already gotten off? Or was this not the right stop after all?

Eventually she reached the exit. She stood in the doorway, scanning the train platform for Skyler as more people pushed past her, getting on and off, a few yelling at her to move out of the way. But there was still no sign of him.

Gaia frowned. Should she go back and check the subway car? Or should she get off?
Don't panic,
she told herself. She didn't want to spin out of control again. Not here. Not without Skyler.

“Hey, Gaia!”

She glanced in the direction of the voice. The crowd was dispersing, hurrying toward the street exits, and Skyler was becoming visible near the front of the platform.

“Over here!” he shouted as he jogged toward her, waving his left arm as if directing a 747 toward the runway.

Just then the train hissed loudly, releasing its brakes. As Gaia made to step onto the platform, the door snapped shut. Its thick rubber edges closed around her bag, wrenching her right arm backward. She scrambled about, pulling as hard as she could to free herself, but with one arm effectively tied to the train, she couldn't get up enough leverage.

Finally, by pushing her left leg against the side of the train, she managed to squirm back and forth, tugging her bag out from between the rubber grips. Little by little she could feel the strap give way until the bag popped out from between the doors, freeing her.

The force sent her forward into Skyler's waiting arms, and they tumbled back onto the concrete platform in a heap. A second later the train pulled away in a tirade of hisses and squeaks.

“Good catch,” she said, laughing nervously.

Skyler sat up and grasped her hands, pulling them both to their feet. “Are you hurt?” he asked, looking her over.

“No.” She rubbed her shoulder distractedly. “Not really. I'm just . . . in shock, I guess.” She stared over at the now-empty track, dizzy with disbelief. She hated to think what would be happening to her right now if she hadn't gotten loose. Would anyone have noticed?
Or would they have found her at the next stop, splattered all over the glass doors like some overgrown insect?

“Yeah, you must be pretty freaked,” Skyler said, throwing his arm around her and guiding her toward the staircase. “Come on. Let's go.”

“Hey, Skyler.”

He paused and looked at her. “What? What's wrong?”

“Nothing, just . . . thanks for being here.”

He smiled magnificently. “My pleasure.”

Gaia settled into his half embrace and let him maneuver her through the crowd.

She liked this feeling, having someone at her side, her very own Sherpa guiding her through the treacherous city. It was a feeling she could get used to. Real fast.

Mummified

LOKI WAS STANDING IN FRONT OF
his window, meditatively rolling a coin in his left hand, when suddenly he heard his front door buzzer.

It was surely Jake. He could almost tell by the way he buzzed—weak and fitful, like the drone of a dying mosquito.

As Loki undid the bolts on his door, affixing a calm, questioning expression onto his features, he concluded that things had not gone according to plan. Jake would have surely contacted him with news of any success, eager for his pat on the head. The fact that he had not heard from the boy since sending him on his mission could only mean trouble.

Had Gaia argued with him? Had she been restrained in some way? He had much to ask. Even small details Jake would consider unimportant could provide them with the most valuable clues.

He undid the final bolt and pulled open the door. Jake leaned against the frame, looking bent and shriveled, almost mummified with guilt. His body language had all the characteristics of someone seriously contemplating self-flagellation.

This could be worse than I thought
, Loki worried.

“Jake,” he greeted warmly, pulling the door wider. “Come in. Sit down. Would you like something to drink?”

“No. Thank you.” Jake dragged himself across the room and dropped into a leather armchair, slouching so far down, his long legs barely bent.

Loki took the chair across from him. He sat back casually and smiled at Jake, taking in the boy's rumpled shirt and unkempt hair, not to mention the lawn of whiskers across his cheeks. “So . . . ,” he began,
“what sorts of things have you found out about my niece?”

Jake closed his eyes. A faint line appeared on his forehead, cleaving it in two. “Nothing,” he said almost noiselessly.

Loki steadied his breathing before speaking again. “What do you mean by ‘nothing'?”

“Exactly that,” Jake mumbled, meeting Loki's gaze. “Nothing. I haven't even seen Gaia since I left you. I couldn't find her.”

“You
what
?” Loki growled, sitting forward in his armchair, ready to pounce. His right hand opened and shut reflexively, as if grasping for a weapon.

Stupid infant! Amateur!
He'd been a fool to place any faith in the boy. It was one thing to have failed to reason with Gaia—he himself had stumbled in that regard. But to let her remain out of their sight for almost two days? That was inexcusable.

By now anything could have happened to her. Judging by her actions before disappearing, she'd been in a most vulnerable state. She would have been Silly Putty in the hands of someone skilled enough to exploit her.

Jake had tensed considerably, his limbs bending inward in a protective stance. He watched Loki warily with sunken eyes.

Enough,
Loki scolded himself. He shouldn't risk scaring the boy, even if he was a useless pile of tissue
and testosterone. He had to keep him on his side in case there was still a chance of getting through to Gaia.

He hastily transformed his features into those of a stricken uncle. “I've just been so worried,” he agonized, holding his head in his hands. “After so long . . . you'd think there would be some breakthrough.”