Mr. Real (Code of Shadows #1) (22 page)

“Let me ask you, where the hell did Sir Kendall learn those languages?” Karen asked. “Does he do a Greek dance on the commercial? He has insight into people, but as you say, he’s only been around humans for three days. He seems uncannily intelligent. Where exactly did he come from? What’s up with that weird charm of his? Even I wanted to fuck him, and he’s totally the opposite of my type. I think Sir Kendall could pose a supernatural level of danger. Worst case scenario, Sir Kendall is a kind of super-being. Or a monster.”

Alix stared at her, stunned. “He’s not a monster.” Though she couldn’t help but flash on the handcuffs, the tickling. But was a man not entitled to mistakes in a new land? “He’s not.”

Karen crossed her arms. “The writer E.M. Forster has this theory of Homo Fictus. It goes like this: fictional beings are not human beings. Fictional beings don’t sit and watch TV, or go to the dentist. They don’t buy soap. I mean, James Bond, he’s not cleaning the lint out of his belly button. He has super-skills in action, relationships, fighting, danger. Sir Kendall gets into a bloody fistfight, but he looks great for the party. Fast healing is a quality of a fictional being. And let’s not forget he appeared out of thin air.”

“He’s not a monster,” Alix said.

“What he’s
not
,” Karen said, “is human He’s not
human
. He makes veiled threats, too.”

“He’s a spy, Karen. That’s what his commercial is all about, all cloak and dagger. It’s all he knows. I want him to have a chance to learn how to be human.”

“I think it might’ve been better if he’d died when he drank Denali.”

“Like hell!” She lowered her voice. “I can’t believe you. He’s different. He doesn’t get how this world works. And suddenly he deserves to be killed?”

“He may not even be killable.”

“Jesus!” Alix whispered.

Karen held up her hands. “I’m just saying.”

“He’s stuck here now because of me. And I’m not killing him. Plan B is to help him get along in this world. And you need to trust me.”

Karen raised her eyebrows. As though to say,
really
? As though the idea of trusting Alix was humorous.

It felt like a punch in the gut. “Yeah, guess not,” Alix snapped.

“Oh, come on,” Karen said. “Joke.”

Alix sniffed. Sir Kendall needed her. He needed her to show him things about life. He had nobody else to do that.

The idea terrified her. Would she mess it up? Was he dangerous? But what was the alternative? Kill him? Let him loose as a super-spy?

“Stop it. I’m sorry. Damn.” Karen pushed off the counter. “I have to get ready for my flight. But I changed my mind about telling him.
Don’t
tell him. Don’t let him know he’s different. If he’s a powerful and dangerous super-being, it’s better to keep that information away from him for as long as possible. Assuming he doesn’t know already. And we need to think about your safety.”

“He’s not a monster.”

“Don’t be mad. I can’t help where the information took me. Come on.”

Alix walked Karen to the door, where Paul still stood. The delivery boy had left. “So what were you going to tell me?” Karen asked Paul. “What was Sir Kendall doing?”

“Sir Kendall was tickling me,” Alix said.

“Handcuffed. Don’t forget that part,” Paul said. “And the blood-curdling screams.”

Karen raised her eyebrows.

Alix felt the heat invade her face. She glared at Paul. “This from the most un-objective person on the planet.”

“I’ll take care of her,” Paul said to Karen.

She didn’t miss the look Karen gave him. The look that said,
Yes, help her!
Anger speared through Alix’s chest.
Help the screw-up, take care of the screw-up.
Like she was this imbecile.

She gave them both the finger, one for each.

Just then, Sir Kendall came strolling into the foyer. “They tell me my twin brother has arrived. What a capital surprise!”

A deadly look appeared in Paul’s puffy eyes.

Sir Kendall beamed, but it was false, somehow. Overconfident. Alix had watched those commercials enough times to recognize when something was off with Sir Kendall.

This realization stunned her. It was just a flash, but she knew what she’d just seen. He seemed…bewildered. Was it because Paul had shown up? Was he surprised by Paul’s still-battered face? The way they were surprised by his healed one? Was he starting to intuit that everyone was against him? Here he was in a strange land. Of course he was bewildered.

He turned to Alix. “I’ve spoken with your mother, Alix, and she’s invited Paul to stay over in your sister’s room.”

“Paul’s leaving,” Alix said.

“Not gonna happen,” Paul said.

“Well,
I’m
leaving.” Karen made her goodbyes. She grabbed Alix’s hand and kissed her on the cheek. “Call me.”

“Yeah, yeah, you have a good trip.” Alix kissed her back. She could never stay mad at Karen for long.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Paul gritted his teeth as Sir Kendall pulled him into the living room and introduced him as poor long-lost Paul, his twin brother.
Be cool,
he told himself. Alix needed to see he could be cool.

After introductions, Sir Kendall, who was going by the name of Sir Langley for whatever reason, ensconced himself in a couch, where he was immediately surrounded by the Gordons’ friends and neighbors. Paul stood back and watched Sir Kendall charm one and all with tales of Livinio, the ski instructor he’d had as a boy growing up in the Swiss Alps. The guests, including Alix, laughed uproariously.

And she’d been sleeping with him.
The thought made him queasy.

Sir Kendall droned on. The story was far-fetched, but it was Sir Kendall’s injury-free face that was messing with Paul’s mind. Paul knew how hard he’d hit the man, knew what he should look like. He’d heard of people on drugs being able to perform superhuman feats, or mothers able to lift cars to rescue their babies. Maybe there was some crazy-man metabolism at work. He wouldn’t accept that it was magic. He couldn’t.

He needed to talk to Tonio about it, see if Tonio had ever heard of such fast healing.

Alix caught his eye from where she sat on the couch. She looked beautiful tonight. Her dress was short and black with a glittery horse head right on the front. Not only did she look incredibly hot in it, but it was the kind of dress that said,
I’m here to have fun.
He remembered how he’d loved that about her.

And he remembered how she twisted him up inside because she was twisting him up inside again. He wished she could trust him enough to let him in. She wasn’t crazy—her wit was too quick, the intelligence in her eyes blazed too brightly. And most of all, he
felt
her—felt her rightness in a way he couldn’t articulate. Like the rightness of sunshine.

Which made the fact that she carried on the charade, threw the magic bullshit into his face, all the more awful. Was it a way of holding him off? Was she trapped? Embarrassed? He hoped very badly she hadn’t encouraged the man to alter himself to look like that.

Fake Sir Kendall continued on. “…
I say, old chap,
I told the man,
whatever you do, don’t go into the truck driver training business
…”

Old chap
. The phrase catapulted him back to a time when he was small and vulnerable, helpless with fear and rage, cowering under Gene and Gary’s blows, pain exploding in his face and body, wanting to hide and kill all at once. The fight or flight urge mashed into an unbearable lump of hell. He could feel the bark gouging his back, the ropes cutting off his breath, being forced to talk like Sir Kendall, with Gene and Gary mocking him and beating him more.
We didn’t hear you, old chap…

Sir Kendall droned on “…and I said, I daresay, Lavinio, old chap…”

Paul gripped his beer.
You’re at a party. You’re safe.

And Alix needed him.

It was a one-in-a-billion fluke that they’d come into contact again—he didn’t understand it. Had he sensed she was in trouble in some primal, intuitive way? That was all he could think of to explain it.

Except magic.

Well, he didn’t have to explain it—he’d arrived, and hell if he’d let her down. He’d let down his mother, running away and leaving her like he had. He’d never forgiven himself for not going back and rescuing her; he wouldn’t repeat the mistake now. There was so much to be ashamed of. But he was a man now, powerful and effective. He’d fought the Sir Kendall impersonator once already, and won. He was in charge here, he told himself. He’d protect Alix, get her away from this guy.

Old chap.

It was like this guy was saying it repeatedly on purpose, like he knew how it affected Paul. It made Paul feel like a dumb brute, but what could he do? He couldn’t attack the man. He couldn’t run. So he took it. Powered through it.

He walked over to the little table and grabbed another beer from the cooler. He just needed to win her trust and cooperation.

One positive thing: he and Sir Kendall and Alix would all be occupying separate rooms—
You three will be in the three girls’ rooms,
Alix’s mother had said. The parents seemed a bit religious; half the pictures on the walls had Bible passages printed on them. The Midwest. You didn’t see so much of that in L.A.

Alix came over, grabbed her own beer from the cooler, and stood next to him, giving him one of her smirks. This was a girl who would have fun anywhere.

“You sure he’s not wearing make-up?” Paul said.

“You wish. Wouldn’t he be so mockable, then?”

“He’s mockable without makeup.”

“He heals fast. According to Karen, as a fictional character, he would heal quickly.”

“You’re telling me Karen’s on board with this? I thought she distrusted Double-O-freakshow as much as I do.”

“But not for the same reason. She distrusts him because of his non-human origins.”

“So she won’t be ordering a hot life-sized sex slave of her own, anytime soon?”

“You go ahead and joke all you want,” Alix said.

Calls went up for Denali. A portly, red-nosed man came to the little table and grabbed a bottle of the stuff. “Replenishments for the troops!” He smiled apologetically, then marched back to the group, waving the new bottle over his head.

Paul rolled his eyes. “Of all the sex slaves you could’ve had…”

She shot him a look. “Shut it.”

“Alix.” He caught her eye. “
Alix
. I have one word for you.” He paused. “One word.”

She was trying not to smile—he could tell from the dimples on her cheeks. She knew exactly what he’d say. “Screw you.”

“
Denali
. He drinks
Denali
.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she said.

“The real thing drinks beer, you know.”

Alix raised an eyebrow. “Jealous?”

“Have you ever tasted that shit? Because I have. I hate to break it to you, but it’s kind of like peach schnapps. Worse than that—it’s a
liqueur
based on peach schnapps. And he puts away one after another. Like it’s Jack Daniels or something.”

She shook her head, but the little indents in her cheeks deepened. “Shut it,” she said.

“
Denali
,” he whispered.

Alix snorted. “Look, I know you hate him,” she said. “I got it.”

“I don’t hate him,” Paul said, surprising even himself.

“You want to pummel him.”

“Fair enough.” Paul sucked down some beer. “And you’ll be good for your word? You’ll come through?”

“That is my one and only thing right now, Paul. To come through on fixing this.”

“Funny, that’s my thing, too.”

Alix grinned. “No, it’
s my thing
,” she said, in her bright, sassy way.

He laughed. “No, it’s my thing.”

“Sor-ry, but no.” Alix swigged her beer. “My thing.”

Paul smiled. He couldn’t take his eyes off her, and he felt so light in that moment, laughing and joking. Even with this lunatic just across the room impersonating Sir Kendall, saying Sir Kendall things, he felt okay. She’d calmed him. He could feel the darkness bearing back down even now, but for one quick second, it had been okay. He hadn’t felt this okay since he’d quit the Denali commercial. It was kind of amazing to know it was possible again.

He was more determined than ever to help her now. He could never live as a happy person or be in a relationship—it was too late for him, and the stain on him seeped too deep. He’d settle for basic survival at this point, but he could make sure Alix was all right. He didn’t know what that meant yet, but he’d figure it out. He’d figure it all out.

They talked about the house a bit. Alix told him about her bed and breakfast plans and different projects she’d undertaken. She made funny stories out of her failures, her do-overs, her dread of cleaning out the carriage house. He marveled, not at her ineptitude, which seemed to be the point of her stories, but at how she found humor wherever she looked. The way her brightness lit even the gloomiest corners. She told him about her attempts to learn about her mysterious aunt, and how that had led to her getting the magic computer program onto her machine. She made a big deal out of the things she’d learned about the woman, telling him that her aunt collected sword and sorcery books and 3D wildlife art.

Eventually, Alix rejoined the party. He watched her laugh with her sisters, josh her parents. Her family was so different from her—awkward and serious. Alix seemed to be the fall guy, in a way. The clown. The butt of jokes. She would never have had a chance to soar in the shadow of those over-achieving sisters. But Paul had the intuition that the little family would’ve been lost without her. That friend, too—Karen—she needed Alix in a way Alix would never understand. Alix was the kind of girl who created a lively spark for calm, sober types to react to. Jarred them out of their monotony. Alix made people feel alive.

Paul spoke with a few more people as the night wore on, mostly about the twins-separated-at-birth business fake Sir Kendall—Sir Langley—had filled their heads with. Paul hated the sham. This was a nice group.