The Alignment (21 page)

Chapter 25

Trey

I
get home in
time to get a fire started before she arrives. When she walks into the room, I hand her the Kung Fu shoes I bought her today.

“Slippers?”

“I thought they’d suit you better than the combat boots. We need to take advantage of your light step and agility. Those boots will just weigh you down in combat.”

She drops them to the floor and wiggles her feet in. “Nice,” she says, grinning. Her hair looks different, lush, a little wild. I reach out to take a strand in my fingers.

“The weather. Moisture curls my hair even more. It looks weird, I know.”

“It looks…nice.” An understatement.

I’m not going to last. My armor of control is paper thin. We need to go to Virginia and get this over with so I can put Kate and everything related to her behind me. Then there’s Aaron—he needs to come live with me, away from them and their lies. He’s a young man now. He can make the decision for himself, and Liv and I could get him out if they try to stop him. Although he’s probably just like them. He’s lived his whole life with Kate, if not with them then around them enough to absorb it all.

But so did I.

“How would you feel about living with a teenager?” I ask her before I lose the inspiration. There’s no way to know how much of their influence he’s had, but I know they’ve probably had a tight leash on him. They’d never have allowed my son to grow up free.

“What do you mean?”

“If I can convince my son to come home with me. Would you be okay with that?”

She lays her hand on my arm. “I would be more than pleased to help you bring your son home.”

“Space would be tight. We could build some walls or finish the basement or something.”

She searches my face, and I wonder if she’s reconsidering.

“We could move to my house. I have two bedrooms. If you’d want to, that is. Or I could just move back myself so the two of you have more room here.”

It pains me to think of her leaving. “You’d move back to your house, by yourself?”

“I…” She drops her eyes briefly. “Would you want me to continue living here?”

I opt for complete honesty. “I don’t care where you live as long as it’s with me.” There. All laid out.

“You don’t want to wait and see what happens with your wife?”

“No. Nothing could happen to change my mind. She’s out of my life.” I squeeze both thumbs in each of my fists. Any harder and I’d break them. It’s not hard enough.

She sits on the couch. “I don’t think it’s fair to you to make any plans until you see her.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m ready for all of it to be over. We need to test your sparring.” I look around. “There’s just not a lot of room here.”

“We could go to my house. My living room is twice this size. And I have an open, flat back yard.”

“I’d have to ask River to scout miles around. I don’t want them seeing your new abilities. Although they probably see the whole thing coming.”

“They can see the future?”

“It’s hard to know what they can see. We can’t let that limit us though. We should carry on as if it doesn’t matter they know.” I sit on the couch next to her. Now. I have to do it now. “I have to explain something to you.”

She sits up straight, obviously sensing something is up. “Good or bad?”

Now there’s a question. With a different answer for each angle you look at it. “For you to determine.” Because there is no answer that simple. “Remember how I told you about their prophecy? The one about me?”

She closes her eyes to think for a moment. “Yes. Your heir will bring their destruction.”

“Exactly. There’s a little more to it than that.” I pause to collect the words. “The exact prophecy reads, ‘The Alignment of the Two will create the Catalyst to our Destruction.’”

“So what does that have to do with you?”

“It goes on to explain that the Catalyst comes in the form of an heir, a direct heir of a person whose bloodline mirrors mine. My father made them go through rigorous testing to make sure it was me.”

She nods, waiting for me to continue.

“Let’s say we believe their prophecy. Let’s say we believe it is me, that the Catalyst is my heir. That leaves the Alignment.” I wonder if there’s a gentler way to put it. Decide it doesn’t matter. “The Alignment is you and me.”

She doesn’t speak, and she doesn’t look away. She merely watches me, as if I’m still talking.

“I wasn’t certain of it until the other night, on the bluff.”

She makes no sign she understands.

“The beach,” I clarify.

“That’s…interesting,” she says, still watching me.

She wants more of an explanation, but I’ve got nothing I could put into words. Maybe I should have rehearsed this. “I just thought you needed to know.” I stand, not sure what else to do with myself.

“Wait.”

I turn to face her.

“So…” She speaks slowly, thoughtfully. “The heir, the one they are worried about, was never your son at all. That’s why he’s alive. That’s why you’re still immortal. They are waiting for a specific heir.” She swallows. “An heir coming from you and a different woman.”

“Yes.” My blood races through my veins as if this moment needs some physical action. Some proof of my words.

“Me.”

“Yes,” I repeat, crossing the room to put space between us.

“And it could have already happened,” she whispers, almost to herself.

“Yes.” My pulse is heavy in my neck.

She goes into the bedroom and shuts the door. I fall into the chair, lean my head back and close my eyes, listening to the rhythm of my breathing, the rhythm of my heart, gradually decreasing both until I feel calm. I stare at the wood in the ceiling and analyze every knot.

Finally, she comes out of the bedroom and stands in front of me. Now that the story is out, our connection, our desire, is an unstoppable force, a tangible object hovering in the room with us. Impatient and undisciplined. Eager to exploit its freedom.

“How do you know it’s me?”

It’s a struggle to hear her over the static in my mind, the pulsing of my blood, the frenzy of my heart. I stand and walk past her into the kitchen and take a drink of scotch from the bottle. She enters the kitchen on my third belt.

“I looked it up,” I say. “The night I fell, the alignment of the stars and planets was exactly how the prophecy said it would be.”

“So that’s what they mean by Alignment.” Her calm can’t be shaken. I could tell her the world is ending and she wouldn’t even flinch.

“Partially. It also refers to our alignment. It references the text that explains the human magnetism. And when I was in your mind. I just knew.” Should I shut up? Should I go on? “This whole time I thought it was me and Kate. But Kate and I…Kate has
nothing
on this.”

I take another drink and she steals the bottle from me and sets it on the counter behind her. I already know what she’s going to say.

“So it’s inevitable?”

“No. Nothing is inevitable. We just have to be in total control.”

She looks out the window. “What if it already happened?”

“Then we have a war on our hands. They’ll be relentless. And won’t give up until they destroy…you think it’s bad now?” I laugh bitterly. “They’ll send an army. We’ll have to leave, and live on the run.”

“I could always…” She clears her throat. “We have options.”

“Options?” Then I realize what she means. She can’t expect me to make that decision. “That would have to be your call. But not out of fear. It’s not hopeless.” I shouldn’t have scared her. I need to think before I open my mouth. “I won’t allow them to get to us. They blindsided me the first time because my guard was down.”

“But if it did already happen, that means they can kill you now.”

I’m at a loss. I don’t know what to say. “It didn’t already happen. Everything will be fine.”

Her eyes lower and settle on my thigh. I can prove it didn’t happen. I can show her my healed wound. I unbutton and unzip my jeans and they drop to the floor.

She gasps, I look down.

Ribbons of flesh lie open and exposed; the entire length of my leg is red and running with blood. I can’t believe I didn’t notice this. I pick up my pants and sure enough, there’s a large stain of blood, but it’s not obvious on my dark jeans.

Liv’s hands are covering her mouth, and her eyes are full of tears.

“It means nothing!” I toss my jeans on the floor. “I was too careless on the Ninja. It opened again.” I step toward her and grab her shoulders, leaning down to her level. “This happens all the time. It just opened again, that’s all.” I wipe her tears with my thumb. “It just needs some stitches. I’ll sew it up right now. It will be healed by the morning.”

“No, it’s been too long for stitches. I’ll pack it and wrap it. It will give me something else to think about.”

She leaves to get the bandages and I wet some paper towels and start wiping off the blood. My sock is saturated too. She returns and puts the kettle on the stove. I take the bottle of scotch and sit at the table.

“You’re going to kill yourself with that stuff.” She shakes her head weakly. Drained. Missing her spark. She cleans the wound and holds a bandage over it, waiting for it to stop bleeding. When she releases the pressure, no blood comes.

“There are two cuts here. I’m going to have to do them both.”

“Have at it.”

She looks at me. “I have no anesthetic.”

“Won’t be the first time.”

“Tough guy.” She starts ripping a pillowcase into strips. “Don’t look at me like that. This is what we use when we have no gauze. You need to buy some gauze.” She goes for the kettle. “And a new pillowcase.”

I’ve never had open wounds packed with pieces of pillowcase but when she’s finished and wrapping my leg I decide next time I should opt for bleeding to death.

“Not a peep. I’m impressed.” She seems happier.

“I have a high tolerance for pain. Goes with the lifestyle.”

She sighs. “I’m not going to worry. I’m putting it out of my mind.”

“Good.” Relief swells inside me.

“But tomorrow morning, we’re pulling off that bandage, and it better look pristine.”

“It will.” I give her my most confident nod.

“I’m holding you to that.” She begins to clean up and I get up to help her. “Can you please just sit, tough guy? For the rest of the evening? For me?”

It would be nice to keep myself busy, but it’s hard to say no to her. I pick up the newspaper and lie down on the couch, but soon drop it on the floor next to me. I try to plan our strategy but quickly get lost in a maze of my own thoughts. Things have gotten too complicated. An asskicking run would put everything in place right now, but I’m sure she’d kill me.

“So you’re just going to lie around in your boxers?”

I guess I forgot to put on some clean pants. “Yes. I didn’t think you’d mind.”

“Not at all actually. But you’re not helping our situation.” She lifts my feet and sits underneath them on the end of the couch. “I know you’d be pissed if I walked around in
my
underwear.”

“Completely different.”

“Sounds like a double standard to me.”

I snort, trying to ignore her proximity to me, and the image of her in her underwear.

“So what do we do now?” She looks at me, and I realize I’m staring.

I rip my gaze away.

I sense her staring at me, so I look back at her.

“Sorry.” She slides out from under my feet. “This is bad, right?”

I don’t answer. She moves to the chair. I sit up.

“Can you get some time off work?” I say.

“I’m sure I can.”

“How about we take next week off. We can leave this weekend.”

“Is that enough time to be ready?”

“Hopefully. Because I’m just going to have to call it. I can’t last like this much longer.”

She knows what I mean. It’s impossible for her not to feel it too. Without warning, Shawn pops in my head, and I start to think of different ways I could kill him. With my bare hands. A weapon would make it too easy. She’d be mad at me, though, and I don’t want that. I wonder if I could get away with it without her knowing, but I don’t want to lie to her either. The thought of lying to her makes me feel physically sick.

“What are you thinking about?” Her question interrupts my thoughts like a twenty-man ambush.

“Nothing important.”

“You look like you’re about to spring off the couch.”

I lean back, making an effort to relax. “We’ll leave this weekend. We’ll fly to Richmond and pick up a car. There’s a specialty car place there. We can get something fast.” It’s short notice, but I’m sure they can find me a new model. This is a perfect excuse to waste some money. “It’s a couple hours from Richmond. We can pick a nearby town and get a room somewhere. The next day, we’ll pay our visit. Shouldn’t take long. We’ll return to our hotel, and then leave the following morning.”

“I’m not killing anyone,” she blurts out. “I just—”

“You won’t need to. We’ll be on our best behavior. If anything gets out of hand, I’ll take the lead, and you’ll cover me. You’re not opposed to me killing anyone, are you?”

She pulls her knees up, hugging them to her chest. “It’s a little late to be asking me that now.”

She has a point.

“Our strategy is purely defense. It won’t be like the last time I was there. Although that’s what they’ll expect as soon as they see me.”

“What will they expect?”

“They’ll think I’m coming for another killing spree. And I’m not. I just want some answers. I want to talk to my son. And when I’m done, we’ll leave. No harm done.”

“But if Aaron decides to come with you…”

“If Aaron decides to come with us, it’s hard to know how they’ll react. We’ll just have to be ready for anything.”

Chapter 26

Liv

A
powerful thought wakes
me in the middle of the night. Rapid healing and a packed wound probably don’t go well together. I need to get that homemade gauze out of his leg now. When I open the bedroom door, I see a light on in the living room. I grab the tweezers from the bathroom on my way.

He’s beaten me by about thirty seconds—he’s sitting up unwrapping his leg. We must be on the same dream wavelength.

He glances at me. “This is the most uncomfortable shit I’ve ever—”

“Just let me do it.”

He falls back on the couch. He’s snoring before I’m finished. What results is a healthy wound and fresh bandage, but we’re not in the clear yet.

I wake again but this time it’s morning. Too early to get up, but too late for my curiosity. I tiptoe down the hall. I have to see his leg.

How strange I’m using a man’s healing wound as my own pregnancy test.

I kneel on the floor next to the couch and gently start working at the corner of the bandage, trying not to tug his skin. He jolts upright, his eyes fly open, and his arms flex as he pushes his weight up. He scans the room fiercely, poised to leap into action.

“I’m so sorry!” I whisper. Regular speaking volume doesn’t seem appropriate in the dim light of early morning.

He slams both hands onto his head and leans back. “Shit.”

“I couldn’t wait any longer. I have to see. Just go back to sleep.”

He groans and closes his eyes. He settles back in, sighs. “Too late. I’m up now.”

“No you’re not. Just go back to sleep.”

“How about if you go back to sleep? Then we can both go back to sleep.”

I start working at the bandage again. He reaches down and roughly rips it off. I cringe with the sound of dried blood tearing out hair at the root. I squint at the wound. “I have to turn on the light.”

“You’re really pushing it,” he grumbles. But I know he doesn’t mean it.

I flip on the light, and he covers his face with his arms. I sit on the edge of the couch.

“It’s perfect.” The ripped flesh of yesterday has been transformed into a closed, clean pink seal.

“Didn’t I tell you it would be?” he says into his arms.

“Look!”

He exhales loudly and lowers his arms. “Yes. Beautiful. Turn off the light.”

I tap along one of the pink lines. “Does that hurt?”

“No.” He would never say yes. “Turn off the light and come back here.”

“Why?” I eye him.

“Because. I have to ask you something.”

I get up and turn off the light. I park myself on the edge of the couch. He pulls me on top of him and rolls so I’m pinned between him and the back of the couch. His lips touch my ear and brush along my cheek to the corner of my mouth.

“I thought you wanted to ask me something.”

“I changed my mind,” he says against my cheek, a tease in his voice.

I snuggle into him and sense his restraint. He is working hard to be good. I could make it much more difficult, but I decide not to. This is just too nice.

He slides his hand between my body and the couch, running it down my backbone to the small of my back where it hesitates before planting itself firmly against my skin and pressing me against him. My heart thuds, swollen and hot. He’s making it a challenge for me to uphold my decision, but I know if I don’t, he will end this now. This intimacy, this pleasure, will end if I make the slightest reaction.

I’m only able to relax when I feel his body surrender to sleep. We doze together until I hear the alarm clock going off in the bedroom.

“I have to get up.” The statement is futile. His warm skin has fused to mine. I could die here, completely content.

“I know, I do too. Do you have any idea how bad I want you right now?”

My desire for him surges. “Do you have any idea how bad I want
you
right now?”

“You’re not supposed to agree. You’re making it worse.” He untangles his body from mine.

I struggle to keep my arms from reaching for him, knowing it would cross the border into territory we’ve just managed to avoid. With no help from him. He must like to push things. But why? To flex his control over his life, or to torture himself?

He takes a shower and I make breakfast.

“You still have to take it easy today, okay?” I say when we meet again in the kitchen.

He leans down to pull on his boots. “Come straight home after work.”

“Excuse me?” I laugh. “That’s a little controlling, don’t you think?”

His head snaps up at me. I wasn’t referring to anything specific, but from his expression I can see he thinks I was.

“Oh come on, Trey.”

“You’re going to get that guy killed.”

“Me?”

“Yes.”

“You’re so full of shit. And a savage. No wonder you walk around half naked all the time.”

He stands and pulls on his clean shirt. I take our dishes to the sink, and when I turn back around, he’s still standing in the same spot, his eyes far away, watching something play out in his mind.

“You okay?”

He fills a thermos with coffee and takes his jacket off the back of the chair. Pausing in the doorway, he turns to me and says, “Home after work,” and leaves before I can respond.

I wonder how much of him wants me home because he wants me with him, safe and accounted for, and how much of him wants me away from Shawn. Even when there’s no competition, he creates one. This behavior would have been appalling to me a few weeks ago, but now, it’s endearing. I’m warped, but not by him this time. By something else, beyond us.

The first thing I do when I arrive at the clinic is find Dr. Wu in his office. I knock on the partially closed door, and he tells me to come in.

He’s pecking his computer keyboard with his right hand while his left index finger skims an open page of a medical journal. An asparagus fern on the corner of his desk trembles from the rapid tapping. “What can I do for you, Liv?”

“I know this isn’t the best timing, but is it possible I could have next week off? I need to take care of some things, back home.” White lies never hurt anyone. And I can’t possibly tell him the truth anyway.

He stops typing and swivels his chair to face me. “Absolutely. Take all the time you need. Abby was asking for some more hours anyway, so she can take your shifts. Just be sure to come back.”

“I will. Thanks, Dr. Wu.”

The day’s pace is steady. There’s enough to keep me busy, but not enough to keep me from thinking about what Trey’s planned for tonight. At the end of the day, I’m running a little late. I catch a glimpse of Shawn talking to Rachel at the front desk, so I grab my things and slip out the back. It’s not that I don’t want to see him. I just don’t want to have to come up with an excuse, or have to let him down once again. I wish I could hook him up with someone so he and I could be friends.

My gas tank is low but I can’t waste the time. If he’s not home when I get there, I’ll have to reorganize the whole house just to stay occupied until I can see him.

But it’s not his driveway I end up on. It’s mine.

The charred corpse of my jeans is a dark blemish on the gravel. I drive toward it. My tires thump hard over something in my path. I can’t remember how I got here. I don’t recall taking the turn after the bridge, but here I am as if there’s something I need. The note is gone, the jeans no longer recognizable. There isn’t anything else for me to destroy.

I park and walk behind the car to investigate the bump in the driveway—a line of rocks placed about a foot apart. I follow the line into the front yard and down the side of the house where it continues around the back and up the opposite side. It’s a perfectly rounded circle.

Perhaps I shouldn’t, but it’s too late—I’ve already picked up the rock near my shoe. I turn it over like I know what I’ll see. On one side is an engraved design of a circle with a triangle in the middle, its three sides concave as if being pulled toward the center. The others have the same motif, although slightly irregular. Crudely carved by a human, not a machine.

This must be Trey’s doing, and it must have taken days unless he keeps a stock of these in that basement of his. I return the rocks to their positions and when I look up, there’s an audience of five coyotes about twenty feet away. All eyes trained on me, and no River to be our liaison. Time for me to leave. Whatever drew me here will have to wait.

I try to go the speed limit on the way to Trey’s house, but my foot keeps pressing the gas harder all on its own. The sight of his truck produces a tug in my belly and a gush in my chest. If I was hooked to a monitor my heart rate would give me away. God, I’m so in love with this guy.

He’s out back, taking dried herbs from the eaves.

“Were you at my house?”

He doesn’t look at me. “You shouldn’t go back there alone.”

“Those coyotes—”

“They won’t hurt you. Come inside.”

He sets his herbs on the counter and I follow him into the living room, where he dumps a shopping bag out on the couch. “You need to get geared up so you can get used to the feel of it. Go put on the pants and shirt we bought.”

I head to the bedroom and put on the black cargo pants, the black tee, and the boots. I gather my hair in a tight ponytail and pin my bangs to the side.

“Perfect,” he says when I come out. He starts putting hip holsters on me, one on each side. Halfway through, he stops. “Do you prefer regular draw or cross draw? Maybe we should try both.”

I think for a second. I know what that means, but I don’t know what I prefer. “Yes, let’s try both.”

He positions the holsters for regular draw, and holsters two Glocks.

I draw, one at a time. “Something’s not quite right.”

He repositions the holsters for cross draw. I already know it’s better even before he holsters the guns. I draw one and he smiles. “Much better.”

“Definitely.” There’s something so desirable about him when he’s in the zone like this.

“That’s funny.” He looks like he has more to say.

“Funny? Why?”

He shrugs. “That’s my preference too. Could be a coincidence.”

“Or?”

“Or it’s because you know everything I know. Most of what I shared with you involves cross draw.”

He goes to change his clothes while I sift through the pile of gear on the couch and find two sets of drop-leg holsters. How I recognize them in the jumble is another surprise. I unfasten the ones I’m already wearing and put one on each leg.

He comes back dressed like me only without shoes. “Nice. I like how you think.” He straps on his gear in the same configuration and holsters two guns.

“None of these are loaded, by the way. I don’t want any more bullets in me. But with this, you’ll have to be careful.” He lifts my foot onto the couch, slides my pant leg up, and fastens a sheathed knife at my ankle.

Once it’s secure, I draw the knife. It’s a double-edged dagger with a shiny steel blade and a marble handle.

“This is too beautiful to be a weapon. I hope you didn’t buy this just for me.” I turn it over in my hand and see the initials L. G. engraved on the blade. My breath turns my chest raw, threatening to breach the cry zone. There are no tears in my eyes when I look at him so I swallow hard, hoping they’ll stay back.

“Sorry I didn’t know your middle name,” he says, dropping his eyes.

Suddenly
I
don’t know my middle name.

He takes it out of my hand and sheathes it back on my ankle. “Let’s go.” He crosses the room, expecting me to follow. “No jackets. It’ll be chilly at first but we’ll warm up.”

Outside, my muscles seize in the cold.

He laughs at my rigid stance. “Come on, soldier! Man up!”

I punch him in the stomach. He actually looks surprised.

“No rules. Just try to kill me before I kill you.” He sprints around the house out of sight.

He can’t be serious. I hug myself, trying to conserve the little body heat I have, and begin analyzing ways I could hide. If I could reach the woods without him seeing me, I could use the cover of the trees to get around the house. But he may not be back there anymore.

I sense movement to my right, and I instinctively crouch. Still under the cover of the porch, I know I’m out of his sight. I sneak away from the house. There’s a shuffle on the roof. I spin to face it, drawing my Glock as he appears on the roof above me, aiming his gun my chest.

“You’re dead.” He holsters his gun. “You didn’t even leave.”

“Nope. Just waiting for you.”

He flips off the roof, and I take off for the woods. I hear one hard thud of his boots against earth followed by pounding footsteps, faster than mine. Pushing more power to my legs, I crash through underbrush. Stealth won’t help me—I need speed. My good head start is being devoured by his extra long legs and machine-gun power. And running with a pistol in my hand is slowing me down. I run toward a large fallen tree and as I get near it I leap over, throwing my legs out sideways as my body aligns itself against the side of the tree and the ground. When he comes over the log, I’m aiming right at his head.

“Shit!” He offers his hand. I wait for him to soften his expression before I take it. He pulls me up. I holster my weapon. Our mutual stare becomes a standoff. As soon as he moves, I jump, avoiding his leg as he tries to knock my own legs out from under me.

“Hey!”

“Don’t worry, I was going to catch you.” He grins. “But I didn’t need to.”

He moves again, lightning fast, grabbing me and turning me around in one smooth, unstoppable motion. His index finger mimics the slicing of my throat from artery to artery as if it were a knife.

“Sorry,” he whispers in my ear. Mocking me only puts him in worse danger.

His clutch eases, and I know he’s about to turn me to face him. But as he does, he starts a step sideways which throws off his balance. I take hold of his arm and crouch, pulling downward with all my strength to flip him over my back. I roll aside just before he lands flat on his back, cursing.

“Oh my
god
!” I fall to his side. It worked too well. I don’t want to give him head trauma. He’s had enough of that lately.

“Perfect. Time for me to up my game.” He gently taps my chin with a boxer’s right. “It’s going to take a lot more than that to hurt me.”