Mr. Real (Code of Shadows #1) (32 page)

Crouching there beside her, he touched his thumb to her cheek and wiped off a tear. “It never had a chance, that’s all. But it was always enough. It was always perfect.”

“No,” she whispered.

He pulled her up, kissed another tear off her cheek. “You’re perfect.”

She sniffle-laughed. “Stop it.”

He kissed another tear off her cheek. “And beautiful.”

“Paul.”

He pushed his shaking fingers into her pink hair, cupping the back of her head, looking into her amber eyes. “You were always perfect.” Then he leaned in and kissed her.

He felt her grab on to his shoulders.
Yes
, he wanted to say,
grab on to me.
He kneeled just a little, to get to her height, then get in closer, tighter. She felt so good and warm against him and she tasted salty sweet. He pulled her body harder to his as he deepened the kiss.

She seemed almost to melt into him, breasts pressed against his chest. He dragged his lips across hers, coaxed open her mouth, tasted her more deeply.

She pushed her fingers under his belt.

God, he wanted her. He loved her and he wanted to tell her so. He wanted to give her everything. He kissed her hungrily, then slowed. He couldn’t give her everything. Sir Kendall was like a stain that poisoned what he had to give.

He pulled away. “I’m going to handle Sir Kendall.”

She panted, regarding him wildly. “What?”

“Trust me.”

She looked confused—reeling from the kiss. “But you want him gone.”

His heart pounded. He wished he could say
no, it’s not true,
but it was true. “We’ll help him together,” Paul said. “I need to spend time with him.”

She squinted. “Was the kiss supposed to change my mind?”

“The kiss made me more resolved, Alix. I’m going to make this right.”

“Well, you can’t be his new best friend. The answer’s still no.”

“And it’s still not up to you.”

She frowned. She couldn’t stop him, and she knew it.

And with that they turned back.

Paul showered and changed. When he got down to the kitchen, Alix was standing over a kettle of popcorn. Sir Kendall relaxed at the small table in the corner, smiling mysteriously.

“Do I smell popcorn?” Paul asked.

“Indeed you do, old chap,” Sir Kendall said.

Alix turned to him. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“Yeah, right here.” Paul opened the refrigerator, pulled out a beer, and twisted off the cap. She bit her lip. The kiss was thick between them now. He wondered if Sir Kendall could tell. “What’s the movie?”

“Porn,” she said. “You’re not invited.”

He smiled. “Nobody makes popcorn for porn.”

She turned back to the stove, but her dimples were showing. He turned to Sir Kendall. “You don’t mind me joining you, do you?”

“By all means,” Sir Kendall said.

“Thanks for the ointment, by the way. Amazing stuff.”

“Always worked for me. On the more persistent injuries. It’s from a little apothecary in the highlands. Recipe passed down and all that.”

Paul nodded, wishing Sir Kendall just wasn’t so….Sir Kendall-ish. He grabbed the bag of red-hots from the counter. “How’s about a refresh on that Denali?”

“Don’t mind if I do.” Sir Kendall held out his glass. Paul topped it off, as though the man was a friend or neighbor, and not a disturbing doppelganger who embodied Paul’s worst nightmares, a man who besmirched all goodness with a dark stain. He would get to the other side. He had to.

“We really did get off on the wrong foot,” Paul said, screwing the cap back on. “I want things to be different.”

“You can’t always get what you want.” Alix said.

Paul continued to address Sir Kendall. “I feel like we could get to know each other and find some sort of common ground.”

Sir Kendall shrugged. “I’d hear what you have to say.”

I’d hear what you have to say.

Alix seemed to bite back a smile at Sir Kendall’s imperious tone.

Paul nodded.
Act sane, dammit!
“I appreciate that.”

“This is already delightful,” Alix said. The popcorn pops slowed. Alix gave the pot a shake, then dumped it into a big green bowl.

The three of them moved out to the living room.

Sir Kendall settled himself next to her on the couch. “You’ll forgive me for finding the idea of common ground a bit, oh, dubious.”

Paul’s heart raced. He leaned forward and took a handful of popcorn. “I don’t know anything about you, that’s all. Seems silly to be at odds.”

Sir Kendall seemed to find this amusing. “Old chap, my divulging information isn’t quite my idea of finding common ground.”

Paul focused on chewing, on the taste of the salty kernels, determined not to give in to the hatred. “I don’t mean information as in spy stuff,” Paul said. “I mean regular stuff. Normal things.” What was he asking? He didn’t know. He needed to stay open to possibilities, as Veecha had taught him.

Sir Kendall narrowed his eyes, smug and assessing.

Paul took a ragged breath. He was practically prostrating himself to the man! “I’m only trying to transform our relationship here.”

“Suddenly be on my side,” Sir Kendall said.

“Yes.”

“Give me something real on Hyko and I might be inclined to believe you.”

“I don’t know about any Hyko,” Paul said.

“Pity.”

“Maybe we could help each other on a personal level. I mean, look at us. We’re identical in so many ways…”

Sir Kendall smirked. “You were thinking to give me some pointers, perhaps? Comportment? Manners? The ways of the world?”

Paul hated the sound of Sir Kendall’s voice, hated the smile in it. Hated him. Maybe he couldn’t do this. He stuffed a handful of popcorn into his mouth. “There’s no butter on this popcorn.”

Alix snorted. “And that’s just a small sampling of the valuable information Paul can give you. Time for our main feature.” She grabbed the remote and clicked on the TV.

Sir Kendall seemed intrigued by the TV.

“Maybe you could come out and take a run with Tonio and me tomorrow. We found a great route over the ridge. Or you could teach me something about jewels or whatever.”

“We’ll see about that, old chap.” Sir Kendall sounded amused.

Paul gritted his teeth, held up his hands in a sort of surrender. “Maybe we just share popcorn and watch a movie together. Can we start with that?”

Sir Kendall shrugged.

Paul forced his attention to the TV, frustrated. It was as if Sir Kendall was deliberately provoking him. And then it came to him: Sir Kendall
was
provoking him; he wanted him angry. Paul found the idea to be liberating. He would not give Sir Kendall what he wanted.

When the previews were over the movie itself came on.
Dumb & Dumber.
Paul widened his eyes at Alix.
That’s
what she chose?

She caught his look and smiled at him broadly, giving him a little shrug of the shoulders as if to say, what the hell else was she supposed to pick?

Two imbeciles outwitting a criminal.
Paul lifted his eyebrows, as if to say,
really
? He saw the minute it occurred to her that Sir Kendall might take it in some weird way—she twisted her lips to one side, turned her eyes to the other.
Uh oh.

Paul wanted to laugh. He loved the way her faces formed a running commentary on every incident. He enjoyed this expression, though his favorite was her look of daffy surprise, where she’d part her lips as if in shock, curling her bottom lip a tiny bit over her teeth, and her eyes would be dancing with humor.

And he loved how most people in her situation would’ve stressed over the perfect movie to show and come up with something serious and informational for the betterment of Sir Kendall. But not Alix. No, she chose the fun movie She smiled at him again.

And he loved how terrible she was at holding a grudge. And how her body had felt against his. He watched her watch the movie.

A funny Jim Carrey moment came on. It made her laugh, but Sir Kendall looked perplexed. He didn’t see the humor, but Alix did, and she laughed like the wild, free flower that she was.

After the thing was over, Alix disappeared into the kitchen for dessert.

Paul stood and went to her shelf of DVDs. He wanted to see her music and books and movies. Alix liked comedies. And romantic comedies. Sir Kendall remained on the couch, but Paul could feel his stare.

“What kind of movies do
you
like, Sir Kendall? I don’t mean specific titles,” he added quickly, remembering Alix saying something about his scant pop culture memory. “But, are you more of a man for tragedies, or adventures, or documentaries?”

Sir Kendall rose and strode over to where Paul stood.

“If you have a specific question, Paul, why not just ask me outright?” Sir Kendall’s eyes twinkled merrily.

“I don’t have a specific question.”

“Oh, come now,” Sir Kendall said.

Paul didn’t like the triumphant twinkle in Sir Kendall’s eyes.
He’s trying to provoke you,
he told himself.

“You have questions about Alix,” Sir Kendall added.

“No, I don’t.”

“I can tell you, you’re not missing much.”

Paul looked at him straight on. “I’m not asking you about Alix.” What he meant was,
don’t talk about her.

“Word to the wise, old chap,” Sir Kendall said lazily, “I find if you spin her around and take her from behind you can ignore what a desperate and ridiculous whore she is.”

In a flash, Paul had Sir Kendall up against the bookcase by his collar.

“Laughable, really, that you think you can understand me.” Sir Kendall spoke in a low voice. “You’ll continue to underestimate me and my resources at your own risk. I have you beaten in ways you can’t even begin to understand.”

Paul tightened his grip on Sir Kendall’s collar. “You’ve got nothing.” This was all wrong, but he couldn’t stop himself.

Sir Kendall’s laughter felt like a blade in Paul’s belly. “I daresay not.”

“No, it’s true,” Paul continued. “You have no idea how
nothing
you have. How utterly nothing. In fact, your position is so completely that of having nothing that even if you were told the truth, you wouldn’t be able to comprehend it—your mind literally wouldn’t be able to grasp the level of nothingness that you are.”

Sir Kendall laughed. “Or you could try a paper bag over her head while you fuck her. Makes her seem less the tart.”

Paul tightened his grip.

Sir Kendall’s eyes looked bright, as though he was bracing for a blow.

Paul froze. He knew that look—he knew it from the inside out. He’d
worn
that look. The bright stare. A look that said,
go ahead, you can’t hurt me.
A look that lied.

“She’ll let you do most anything,” Sir Kendall continued. “There is that.”

Paul just stared, consumed with a new emotion—a flash of…what? Pity? Compassion? When he tried to catch it, it was gone.

But he’d had the scent of something, and that was enough. Some kind of weird connection. He loosened his grip, straightened Sir Kendall’s collar. “Forgive me,” he whispered. “But you should keep those thoughts to yourself.”

Sir Kendall watched him, amused.

“What are you boys up to?” Alix beelined in with three bowls of ice cream.

“Discussing your wares,” Sir Kendall said.

“You have an awesome selection of movies.” Paul said as Sir Kendall settled himself gallantly back onto the couch.

Something had happened, shifted. Paul didn’t understand it, didn’t even know if it related to the
‘getting inside’
business, but it meant something. He was sure of it.

He could do this.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

At three-thirty a.m. Sir Kendall was still working feverishly to assemble the primitive radio from the parts he’d bought at various stores. He trusted none of the off-the-shelf technology here. Even the computer at the coffee shop—nothing had come of his entreaties. Phone calls, emails…it was as if he were trapped in a closed-communications biosphere. Almost as if he were on another planet.

Or worse.

Sir Kendall pondered what Paul had said:
“Your position is so completely that of having nothing that even if you were told the truth, you wouldn’t be able to comprehend it—your mind literally wouldn’t be able to grasp that level of nothingness that you are.”

Sir Kendall had laughed loudly at that, but the laugh hadn’t been real; his soul had simply needed to make some sort of loud sound.

In truth, he felt more desperate than ever, especially in the face of Paul’s desire for connection. Lord, a connection with Paul was the last thing he needed. It was as if Paul’s very presence was sapping his strength—the pain, the dread…of what? And this strange sense that Paul was blameless. Paul made him weak. It’s why he had to kill him.

He put down the needlenose pliers and rubbed his eyes.

And then there was his increasing understanding of the ways in which he wasn’t like them—Paul, Alix, Karen. The sisters. He had no childhood memories, no stupid nonsense to embrace, no real relationships. He had relatives, but they seemed theoretical, at best. It made him feel curiously hollow.

His gaze fell upon the magic book he’d taken from the box under Alix’s bed while she and Paul were out walking. Spells transmogrified to computer code. He’d spent time with the Sicilian cabal of witches, had run-ins with the Voodoun of Jacmel. He’d seen magic move through people—why not computer code? Had Hyko used the book to do something to him?

He’d made some progress working out the magical mechanism of the code earlier tonight; it was only a matter of time until he worked it out completely. But if the book was as potentially powerful as it appeared to be, why hide it in such a foolish place?

This radio would reach overseas to a ham operator in Mumbai. A man he could trust. He needed one point of reference, just one point of familiarity. Was it possible he wasn’t where he thought he was? Or who he thought he was?

Could he be the clone?