Chapter Text
Their screams ended abruptly. Silence stained the alley, dampening the sounds of a city in distress.
Should I take a look? Should I just stay here?
A scuffling noise made me flinch hard against the dumpster.
Rats.
Enquiri watched them scurry around, brave as only city-living can make them, then looked back at me.
If he's not a sign then I'm not a man. I carefully stood up, my joints creaking in protest. Limping, I gritted my teeth against the pain, restless beneath the muffling blanket of painkillers.
Bodies are sprawled boneless, steaming slightly in the cool air. They looked much smaller now that life is trickling out of them. Their heads...
I backed away.
I understand now.
“Jim,” I whispered, “I know we're men and we do manly things but fuck it, man, I'm going to talk about my feelings. First, I'm not the Blair from four years ago. Back then I was desperate to prove myself to you. To show I can be responsible and that I'm not extra baggage. This-” I swept my arms out, needing to do something physical. “-whatever this is, being a human bait-thing or whatever, is not working for me. I know that back then this was exactly what I wanted, to be useful; in the know, if you will. I'm not like that anymore.”
Steel and glass and marble highrises towered over this tiny alley with many decent vantage points for a Marine sniper.
The bodies are voiding themselves now, muscles unclenching. I took a shallow breath, grounding myself in this ugly place. “When I see you next -- And this is the important part, man. -- I want to know what the plan is. Everything. Okay?”
A toneless, “Blair.” cut through the ringing echo.
“I'm going to take that as a yes.”
All guides are emphatic, kind of like organic radios, picking up sentinels everywhere we go. I'm one of the few who only has one channel. Pat will never be my sentinel the way Jim is. Though most of my educated guesses about Jim's well-being is through this method, like anything that doesn't get used often this ability deteriorates.
I didn't help the situation any by being indecisive and Jim's –- Growth? Maturation? -- changed him just enough over the years that I'm not quite in tune with him anymore.
So that voice I think I'm hearing? He's not anywhere near me. I can, almost, guess what he's doing right now, just like how he can predict what I can do next, and is why he's able to string me along like this.
“Blair.”
Painkillers are the best thing Man's ever made in my humble opinion and adrenaline is a glorious thing, indeed. Then it wears off. Being conscious really sucks right now.
“I know I made you constantly reconsider every time you thought about trusting me. I was a selfish little prick –- I still am, don't get me wrong! -- but at twenty-six, man, I only wanted you to look at me. I even understood I was putting you in danger when I refused to stay out of the line of fire and forcing you to divide your attention. I want to say I'm a little more secure these days but that'd be a big, fat lie. So I'm asking for your patience. I'm learning things all over again.”
No answer. Not even a hint of black roses against black fur.
“Because in the end I only want to be with you.”
-----
Enquiri is perched in a window next to a fire escape. Emergency sirens are just around the corner.
The police will do a building-to-building search, cordoning off the area, looking for the perp. I need to find a bolt hole.
He chuffed. I backed up then ran and leapt for the lowest rung. The clanging-clattering of metal on metal is loud. Itself a type of alarm, alerting folks in the adjacent buildings.
I climbed quickly. The window is open and I'm inside even as blue and red lights splashed luridly through the alley.
I looked at Enquiri, “Is my wolf leading Jim?”
Enquiri didn't bother acknowledging me, nearly disappearing into the gloom. Only glinting eyes allowed me to follow.
I'm in a dim, wide hallway. Only sunlight illuminated either end through the windows, one of which I'd climbed through. A few wall sconces still worked but it only made the darkness...deeper.
The black panther ghosted up the staircase. We passed several floors before he stepped out into a hallway. He stopped then passed right through a door. I made a face. He poked his head out, eyes narrowed to blazing slits.
“It's unlocked.”
He can read my mind but I can't “read” or “hear” him unless he talks to me first. That sucks even worse.
Once in the apartment I looked around. A studio apartment. Nothing personal to identify who stayed here or if they're even male or female. I managed three steps in before I'm partially inside the shower stall. I slipped into the kitchenette where I had to make like a ballerina and turn around on my toes, sucking in my stomach.
Shit.
When the built-in bed folded into the wall the space below revealed a (very short) desk and more storage. I carefully pulled the bed down. Enquiri immediately took ownership.
In his position I can cook food without having to sit up at all.
“Change.” He waved his tail at a built-in dresser across from the bed. Its top was half of the kitchen counter space.
The only way to open the bottom two drawers is to fold the bed into its niche again.
Enquiri leapt onto the desk.
“Who am I robbing?”
“Do you really care?” He flicked his tail dismissively. “They will fit. Don't forget your shoes and sock.”
I opened several drawers and found jeans, t-shirts, a few sweaters and socks, all rolled neatly away. I randomly grabbed one of everything, not touching the boxers. I had to get back into the shower to change.
One black ear perked up, swiveling. “Police. K9 unit.” I was startled by the letter and number popping into my thoughts. “Smarter than their handlers give them credit for, and it's a lot, but very disciplined.”
Enquiri is very amused by this for some reason.
The picture of anticipation, he oozes down, passing me and was partially through the door when he thoughtfully ordered, “Stay. I will distract them.”
“Woof.”
A frozen glare then he was gone.
I pulled the bed back down and sat, fiddling with my belt. Everything is a little too tight except for the shoes. The belt's not needed. I put it on anyway, unable to leave the last piece of my second chance behind.
I poked through the kitchen, rifling through every nook and cranny. Built-in bookshelves covered the walls and over the bed. Even the kitchen wasn't spared. The space between the cabinets and ceiling is stuffed full of more books. I found a couple of 7-UPs in the fridge. The freezer held some chicken, some beef and a frozen pizza.
I stopped when I heard barking and muffled commands. Very close. I looked at the single window but didn't dare get closer. The door's not locked. I was about to lock it when someone knocked.
I nearly fell over in a panic.
The knocking came again but I'm frozen in the shower stall. I can't even make myself look through the security hole.
“Blair,” came the same toneless, shapeless sound.
Jim.
The doorknob turned without my help.
The wolf came in first, a thing of smoke and fog, a shaggy creature with my blue eyes.
Jim looks the same. A ridiculous thought. It was barely two hours ago when I last saw him.
He had to close the door or he'd have to talk to me through it. His blue eyes gleamed in the muted light.
“Ji-”
Eyes narrowing a sharp, “What happened?” interrupted me.
“I ran into a moving car,” I replied, suddenly impatient and dismissing the bloody, painful mass that's my current existence, “but that's not important right now.”
Both of his brows shot up.
“You drugged me!”
“You know,” he said after a moment, “I'm regretting not using something more potent.”
“You-!” I'm so angry I can barely breath. “You are a world-class jerk, you know that?”
“We've established that.”
“Not to my satisfaction!”
“Really? You're in the middle of several international kidnapping attempts and you want to argue about this, right now?”
“YES!” I wanted to howl but Jim re-introduced reality to me when he touched my swollen jaw.
Flinching away I sat abruptly on the bed – and, oh, I regretted that too - holding what's left of my face together. My entire right side felt like several very hot balloons stuffed inside one another with my bones grinding against each other in it.
Jim rummaged through the freezer, found some ice, a shirt, and with a more thorough search, a hammer. He cracked a few ice cubes, scooped the chips into a plastic bag and wrapped the shirt around it. He handed the entire thing to me. No comment necessary.
I agreed.
I just sat there trying to remember my native language is American English and not every swear word in every other language I knew.
Why didn't I think of doing that when I first came here?
I took the shirt-covered ice gingerly.
“Got a cellphone on you?” Jim tossed a silvery rectangle towards me. I caught it, muttering, “Thanks.”
I'm crowded towards the wall when he sat down on the bed. I glared at the tiny thing in my hand instead of the real source of my irritation. “Untraceable?”
“Disposable.”
“Aren't you curious about who I'm calling?”
“No.”
“I want confirmation about everything.”
“Have fun.”
“Buntu and his men disappeared into the International District,” I mused, ignoring the fact that he can barely choke out a conversation with me. “There's really nothing the police can do since the parade is in full swing.”
The Seattle PD doesn't have the best public image right now. Sparking off a race riot is probably not at the top of their To-Do list.
Jim said, “Ellison Investments is backing the Dukkha and their Mucilinda. Using them.”
“Gerald,” I stopped, hissing when the pain from the phone's piercing ringing momentarily swamped me, “thinks it's the other way around.”
Jim's smile is quick and vicious.
I slid the ice over my throbbing eyes and held the phone to my ear.
“Blair-”
“Speak up,” I interrupted. “That creepy monotone is weirding me out.”
Jim stayed quiet for so long I lifted the ice to see if he's still there.
“Can I touch you?” He finally asked.
I thought about it for a bare second. “'Kay. Don't put any pressure anywhere or I will kick your balls out your nostrils.”
Whoever designed this apartment apparently never envisioned two full-grown men in it. All Jim had to do was stand on his toes and he could flatten his palm against the ceiling. I may be compact but I'm not skinny or narrow and with Jim's six feet of muscles, it took some (very painful) maneuvering to fit us both on the bed.
A phone connected. I spoke before the other person could, “Hey, Jack. It's me-”
“Blair,” said Professor Stoddard, “where are you?”
Jim reached down, running his fingers over my skull, nails scraping carefully through my hair. I shivered. His fingers tightened.
“And hi! How are you doin'? It's been years to you too!” That's right, Jim mentioned Jack and the Professor were traveling together. “Where's Jack?”
“He's...busy.”
“But okay?”
“Yes.”
“That's good, I have questions-”
“Where are you?”
“-about this guide ambush tonight. Did you hear anything about this?”
“No. However, Patrick Stanley is accusing you of trying to make trouble.”
“Really?” I damned near sang, “How interesting. You mean Stanley, head of ACSS, right?”
“Yes.”
“Thanks for the heads up.”
“Where-”
“Gotta go. Bye!”
I snapped the phone shut then looked at Jim. “So Pretty Stanley's in charge of this shebang and he's got them.”
Jim was still looking out through the slit in the curtain windows. “I don't know who fired those shots at Buntu's group.”
How do you know Buntu's posse was the target then?
He continued, “We haven't found the shooter back at the shop either.”
Nice, typical of us to have two or three conversations at the same time.
Instead I asked, “Pat's not the sniper?”
“No.”
“You do know he's my chauffeur, right?”
“Yes.”
“Where ever we're going, I want Jack and the Professor with us. We need to get them.”
“And how are you going to do that?” Jim laughed. “You won't even save yourself.”
“I'm following you now, aren't I?”
“Are you?”
Anger propelled me up. The sudden motion almost made me pass out. “MOTHE-aarghhhhmmmmm!”
Jim sat up slower. I can feel him and despite my dimming vision, I turned, “I'm sorry, okay?”
“Are you going to do exactly what I tell you?”
“No,” I replied reluctantly. “How could I when you don't tell me anything useful? You give directions and orders, or maybe, if you're feeling nice, a destination. What the fuck is that, Ellison?”
“Stress.”
“Damn it, man, my wolf even came to you and showed you where I am. I'm cooperating.”
Jim looked at me, the beam of sunlight coming through the window sliced his face in half. “My street contacts,” he said slowly, “never lost sight of you.”
In the silence I hear helicopter rotors.