ARC: Crushed (23 page)

Chapter 29

They listen to me long enough to admit that we should maybe not continue a loud, screaming argument at the scene of a homicide with a dozen or so guards at the door. We head back to Armand’s place. Upon arrival Jo drags me into Armand’s bedroom, leaving him exiled in the living room. It would have made more sense to use my room, but Jo’s mama-bear rage doesn’t allow her to stop and ask for directions in her mission to separate him and me.

Jo left Chi back at the school. He didn’t want to stay, but agreed it would be better to have someone keeping an eye on events there in case I, or the map, were found. Now that she has found me, there isn’t any reason for him not to join us. That is, reasons other than his almost-certain death, but that’s never really bothered Chi. Besides, Jo and he have a pact where they’re not allowed to exclude each other from dangerous situations. They made the agreement so Chi wouldn’t baby Jo because of her leg, and I know Chi loves being able to turn it around on her. Jo, on the other hand, is not so happy. Her knuckles are white where they wrap around the cheap little burner phone. She clicks it closed.

“He’s only a few hours away. I texted him when I realized you were making your move.”

“Texted. Wow, Jo, You sound almost modern.”

She wrinkles her nose. Then her face gets serious and she sits next to me on the bed. There’s a long pause. Long enough for me to get nervous. “Meda, there’s something I need to tell you.” Her almost-gentle tone tells me what she’s going to say before she gets the chance. My heart seizes painfully in my chest. “It’s about Luke. He…” She doesn’t finish the sentence, just lets it trail to a quiet death. She, too, must know the rule of leaving terrible things unspoken.

Terrible things left unspoken, like creeping through a dark hospital, the weight of my betrayal heavy in my hands, and yet unable to stop myself from approaching a friend’s hospital bed. Terrible things, like standing in the shadows listening to the
k-shhh
,
k-shhh
of the machine that helps him breathe and looking upon a damaged face, sickly green in the glow of a monitor. Standing there for one minute, then two. Then creeping off, rage filling the tattered hole where other things used to be.

Terrible things like not getting to say goodbye, because your friend’s soul is already gone.

Yes, all that is better left unspoken. Even to one’s self.

I look out the window, but the black night offers no distraction from my memories. With Armand, I could hide in the blood and the guts, expend my rage on wicked creatures in dark street corners. I could bury my loss under a pile of frantically stacked bodies, steal some of Armand’s contagious glee to patch over the hole in my own smile.

But Jo knows. And her wordless sympathy pulls liquid from my eyes like some kind of sadness-absorbing sponge.

“It’s not goodbye, Meda,” she says softly. “Crusaders never say ‘goodbye’. Did I ever tell you that? Only ‘see you later’ because it’s never goodbye. Not forever. Not for us.”

We sit silently, pretending not to hear all the things we don’t say.

Finally she clears her throat. “I’m sorry, but we can’t leave
him
,” she jerks her head towards the living room, rising, “alone. We don’t know what he could be plotting.”

I stay seated. “Jo, he’s not our enemy.” She gives me a disbelieving look, but I can tell she’s as relieved by the topic change as am I. We’re both more comfortable arguing. “At least, not in this. Besides, we need him. Armand’s lived in the DC headquarters since he was thirteen. He knows his way around; he’ll know where they’d keep it.”

Jo shakes her head. “Meda, we can’t tell him what we’re planning.”

“But–”

“We can’t trust a demon!”

“We have no choice!” I snap, just as harshly. “What’s our other option? Stroll through demon headquarters? Knock on doors? Ask for directions, perhaps?”

She glares at me.

“You don’t think they’ll notice when a Beacon walks right into their lair? It might take them some time to find me on the Beacon Map, but I’m pretty sure I’ll catch their eye when we waltz right into headquarters,” I add.

Her face loses color. “You’re right, you can’t come with me.”

“No, Jo. I can,” I say it in a totally faked calm. Absolutely, completely faked. “I’ll be the diversion. But we need a plan – one to get us in and out with the map before they catch me.”

She opens her mouth to argue, but closes it. She’s nothing if not practical, and a diversion makes sense. The plan’s already impossible enough.

And as for me, what do I have to lose? If we don’t get the Beacon Map, I’m dead anyway.

“Jo,” I say, sensing her weakness. “We need his help.”

When she doesn’t immediately deny it, I walk towards the door. Jo stands slowly after me and then, as if something occurred to her, she casts a look at the rumpled bed and all the male-things scattered around the room. “Meda, just how close are you guys?”

“What do you mean?” I stop with my hand on the knob.

“I mean, did you guys… ah…?”

“‘Ah’ what?”

Jo blushes.
Blushes
. “You
know
.”

A suspicion creeps its way into my mind. “Jo, are you trying to girl-talk with me?”

She gives me the evil eye.

“You are; you’re trying to girl-talk.”

“I just wanted to… get a better understanding of the situation,” she says, too polite.

“A ‘better understanding’?”

“Alright, fine,” she admits grumpily. “I’m worried about the hold that… creep has over you. If you want to talk about it, I just want you to know I would listen. But nevermind, forget I said anything.”

“No, no, let’s girl-talk,” I release the doorknob, and grin evilly. Really not the time, but who knows when I’ll get another window like this? “You first.”

“This isn’t about me. It’s about you and that… thing.”

“Na-ah.” I shake my head. “Sharing goes both ways. You first.”

“First what?” She asks sourly.

I wiggle my eyebrows.

She rolls her eyes, but she really must be worried about Armand and me because she actually answers. “You know we haven’t.”

“But
why
?” I lean in like a giddy gossip.

“Not until marriage,” she says primly, sitting far too stiffly.

“So get married.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, we’re seventeen.” She pauses, then quietly, “What if we change our minds, later?”

I shrug. “So get divorced.”

“Ugh, Meda, really? And, anyway, Crusaders can’t get divorced. Don’t give me that look. I mean it literally. Because marriage turns someone into a Crusader, it’s not something to be taken lightly – so it can’t be. There are even limits to how far you can be separated from each other and for how long. Even if you end up hating the person.” She shudders. “You’re trapped with them forever.”

I shrug again “So then we’ll just kill him.”

“Meda!”

“Kidding, kidding.” I tap my chin. “I bet God already has that escape-route covered, anyway.”

She winces. “He does, actually. It’s not… pretty.”

I don’t ask for details. I don’t think I want to know. “Are there any booby traps to pre-marital sex?”

She narrows her eyes at me. “I should tell you there are. But no.”

“Then why wait?”

“I am not talking about this anymore.” She cuts me a look. “So did you?”

“No,” I say shortly.

Her mouth falls open. “Unbelievable!”

“What, you wish I had?” I dig my elbow into her ribs, then pull it back before she tries to break it.

“Of course not! I just can’t believe you tricked me like–” but she cuts herself off. Of course she believes it. And anyway she looks relieved that he and I haven’t gotten that close. “But why?” She mocks me.

“Armand is one of my many arch-enemies. It seemed like a bad idea,” I answer easily.

“Oh good, it’s nice to know you still think some things through.”

Now I roll my eyes. “I do, Jo. And it’s that same thinking thing that’s telling me we need his help if we’re to break into the Acheron and steal the Map.”

She whinges but doesn’t disagree. Taking advantage of her weakness, I call Armand in. His gaze goes first to where Jo’s hand still grips mine and his lips thin. Jo sticks up her chin and grips harder as if to prove a point. Armand’s eyes narrow, and I tug – jerk – my hand out of Jo’s and take a step away from her – just in case she decides to pee on me next.

She seems to have a hard time remembering that we need Armand’s help.

Of course, when I step away, Armand smirks as if he won. Better not get too close to him either, especially as boys have much better range.

“Hey, guys,” I say. They ignore me, too engaged in a staring contest. Jo’s face radiates a blistering hatred, while Armand smugly smirks.

“Yo,” I try again. Nothing.

I can’t help but wonder who would win if I let them at it. Jo’s meaner, but Armand has an obvious size and leg advantage. He’s quite clever as well, and fairly sneaky, but I think Jo has a more developed killer instinct, at least where demons are concerned. She already shot him, after all. Armand kills for fun – he’s more of a hobbyist. It’s a tough call, really.

“Fighting out of the red corner, standing six feet tall and weighing in at one-hundred ninety-pounds, this man is a half-demon known for disarming his victim with a single, blinding smile. From of Washington DC: Armand ‘I-Eat-People’ Delacroix!”

Big breath. “Aaaaaaaaaaaand…”

“Fighting out of the left corner, standing at five feet nine inches and weighing in at one-hundred and forty pounds, this woman is a black-belt in kicking ass and taking names. The reigning, defending, champion of the woooooooorld: Jo ‘Don’t-Mess-with-Me’ Beau-re-gaaaaaard.”

I’ve daydreamed too long; they’ve crept in a few feet and are now actively snarling in each other’s faces.

“Hey!” I say and clap my hands. They turn in sync. “Focus!” I step forward and shove myself in between them. When they still don’t part, I lose my patience.

You want to know what has two thumbs and would win if a fight breaks out? THIS GIRL.

I elbow Jo hard enough to make her grunt and when Armand’s smile widens at her discomfort, I give him a hard shove and he stumbles backwards, landing on a chair behind him.

“We have important things to discuss,” I say now that I have their attention.

I fill Armand in on everything – hiding the Beacon Map, the fact that I am a Beacon (I was right, he couldn’t tell – and the look on his face is priceless. Apparently he didn’t have me figured for a saint).

I wrap up with our plan – and his part in it. It’s not like I was expecting a relaxed shrug and a “sure, we can do that,” but his outright laughter is a bit too far in the opposite direction.

I glare at him until he gets himself under control. “You’re insane,” he says when he can catch his breath around his hysterical laugh.

“I don’t have a choice, Armand. I can’t fight off both the Crusaders and the demons. Not forever.”

“You have a better plan?” Jo snaps.

Armand gets a calculating expression and, I’m not gonna lie, I get a little excited at the thought of another option. He opens his mouth, but then his eyes go to Jo and he shuts it. Armand looks to me and his eyebrows raise a hair,
I do, actually,
they say. He holds my gaze until I get it. It’s the light in his eye, a gleam, that finally tips me off.

Hope shrivels and dies.

Join the demons
. I can’t fight both demons and Crusaders, and the Crusaders no longer want me.

The demons
, Armand’s eyes say,
do
. The victory in them is almost painful. But then it fades, drains away like blood from a mauled corpse, as my eyes hold his. Maybe as recently as an hour ago I would have agreed with him, accepted it as inevitable. But things have changed. I’ve changed.

Jo changed me.

And Armand is now realizing it. “No!” he snarls, leaping to his feet, leaping at Jo. I’m faster and slide between the two of them, my hand on his chest, shoving him back.

“Armand, no.”

“You can’t be serious!” He shouts into my face. “The demons will kill you! And for what? The Crusaders?
They want to kill you, too!
”

“Be quiet!” I snap.

“I won’t be quiet,” but his tone drops a few decibels. “Not while you make plans to kill yourself. I won’t sit back and watch.”

“I don’t want you to.” I force a half smile. “I want you to help.”

He jerks back and pulls at his hair, with a sharp barking laugh. Then he stomps the ground with a garbled swear and another crazed laugh. “Why?” He looks at me. “
Why?
”

But how can I explain it? Or rather, how do I explain it in a way he’d understand? I’m barely human enough to understand and I’ve had humanity spoon-fed to me all my life. Hell, who am I kidding – ever since I met Jo, I’ve been beaten over the head with it.