Canvas Skies (Reliance on Citizens Makes Us Great!) (22 page)

I returned to the living room and sat down
with my bottle of wine. “Brody?” I inquired, lifting the bottle to
my lips.

“Yes, we had a nice dinner. How was
yours?”

“Don't ask.”

She stared at the bottle in my hand. “That
bad, huh?”

I nodded. “Aimee?”

“Yes?” She closed the magazine and set it on
the coffee table.

“You know you can have guests over.
Right?”

“I know. I did.”

“I mean, Brody can stay.”

“Maybe I don't want him to.” Aimee looked
out the window.

“Why not?”

“I don't want to talk about that.”

“Why not?” I repeated. “You're my sister! My
best friend! If you can't talk with me then...”

“I can,” she interrupted. “Just not about
that, not with you.”

“But.”

“Enough!” She stood, and I could see she was
shaking. “I'm going to bed. I'll see you in the morning.”

As she brushed past me, I tried to take her
hand but only succeeded in grabbing the sleeve of her pink pajamas.
She pulled away. Moments later, her door closed with an audible
click as the latch fell into place.

I got up and turned off the lights before
moving closer to the window. Gazing at the stars, I tried to clear
my troubled mind. A year ago, on vacation at the Falls, Guy had
pointed out various constellations. I tried to find them now, but
it was no use. I set the empty bottle of wine on the coffee table
and stretched out on the couch. The stars became blurry, and I
reached up to wipe away my tears. Lying back against a pillow,
still searching the glittering nighttime sky, I fell asleep.

My eyes snapped open. A silhouette in the
darkness moved toward Aimee's room. I squinted. It wasn't her,
didn't move like her. Had I set the alarm? I couldn't remember.
Freelancer!

He was almost there. I rolled off the sofa
and reached for the empty wine bottle, the only weapon close at
hand. Staying low, I moved through the darkness like a cat tailing
a mouse.

He was in her room now. I had to move fast,
be unexpected. I lunged with my arm held high. The bottle swooped
down and collided perfectly with the intruder's head. The man
grunted softly and slumped to the ground. I dropped the bottle next
to him.

“Who's there?” Aimee bolted upright in
bed.

“Get the light, will you?”

We blinked in the sudden brilliance, and I
rolled the man onto his back. His black clothes and long black hair
stood out against the cream colored carpeting of the bedroom.
“Bring the straight backed chair from the living room, the one with
arms.” I checked for a pulse. He was alive.

Aimee arrived with the chair.

“Help me lift him.”

Once he was seated, I put him in a neck
hold. It kept him from sliding down and ensured that I would have
the upper hand if he came to before we had a chance to secure him.
Meanwhile, Aimee went to my room for some rope I had stored in the
closet. Working together, we bound the intruder's wrists and ankles
to the chair. I used the last length of rope to pull his chest
against the back of it, propping him in an upright position. His
head lolled forward, and his long black hair slipped down over his
face.

I looked at Aimee. “Go make sure the alarm
is set. I'll try to wake him up.” I slapped at his face a bit. It
didn't work.

Aimee returned with my transceiver. “Should
I call Eberhardt?”

“No, he's staying at his other place
tonight. Guy needs him early. We won't bother them with this, not
unless we have to.”

I sat on the floor and leaned against the
bed. Aimee did the same. Floral sheets and a pink blanket slipped
down behind us. I pulled the blanket around my shoulders.

“Who do you suppose he is?” Aimee asked.

I shrugged. “No idea.”

“So this is what you do?”

“Some of the time.”

“I like my job better.” She rested her head
on my shoulder.

We waited in silence. Eventually, the man's
eyes fluttered open. They were an inquisitive blue, not dark with
anger like I'd expected.

He looked from Aimee to me and then spoke.
“You're Kendra James?”

“Who wants to know?”

“Kendra James doesn't exist.”

“But I'm right here.” I smiled.

“No one in Vanover knows who you are.”

“Someone sent you all the way to Vanover?
Who?”

He closed his eyes, and his head rolled to
one side.

Aimee pushed off the ground and moved
forward. She lightly brushed some hair away from his face. “He's
out again. I think you really hurt him.”

“Why don't you get him some water?”

While Aimee went in search of a glass, I
went to the bathroom and returned with a cold wet cloth. I pressed
it against the back of the man's head and neck. A small lump had
already begun to form on the back of his skull. Aimee returned and
set a glass of water on the dresser.

When the intruder came to once again, he
looked at us in confusion and said, “You hit me!”

I tossed the green washcloth to the floor.
It landed next to the wine bottle.

“You're here to kill us, aren't you?”

He smiled. “No, I'm here for tea.”

I raised my eyebrows but otherwise did not
respond.

“I'll just wait until they arrive,” he
said.

Aimee and I looked at each other in
surprise. I asked, “Who are you expecting?”

“Whoever you called to take me away.”

“And you're not worried? Your employer must
be influential.”

“Maybe I'm just a man who shows no
fear.”

“I doubt it. Everyone shows fear.” I grinned
at Aimee on my way out the door. “Give the man some water. I'll be
right back.”

I located my Resistance pendant and put it
on. Then I found my favorite dagger, the shiny silver one.

I returned and moved behind the stranger.
Aimee once again sat against the bed. The water glass was empty. I
grasped the stranger's long black hair, pulled his head back and
slowly lowered the dagger to his throat.

Aimee gasped.

“Who said we called anyone?”

The man held still, but his eyes widened.
“You're not Kendra James.”

“Who are you working for?” I asked.

“I don't reveal sources.”

“And I've been known to kill intruders.” I
pressed the dagger against his throat. A thin red line of blood
appeared.

Aimee whimpered. “Don't. Please don't. Not
again.”

“Who?” I whispered into the man's ear.

He flinched. “Adira Armstrong.”

I pulled the dagger away and stepped back. I
looked at Aimee. “Doesn't surprise me. You?”

She shook her head and pulled her knees up
to her chest. Before resting her chin on them, she murmured, “She
is such a bitch.”

The stranger chuckled. “That she is.”

I moved around to face him, and he let out a
low whistle. “The Resistance, huh? How do I join?” He was staring
at my pendant.

I raised an eyebrow. “You want in?”

He nodded. “I do.”

“What's your name?”

He flipped his hair out of his eyes.
“Viktor.”

“You're not from around here, Viktor.”

“Nope. I'm from New London.”

“Nice city. What's your connection to
Adira?” I asked.

He shrugged. “No connection exactly. She was
willing to pay.”

“And why should we trust you?”

He looked pointedly at me. “Because
Freelancers don't turn on each other.”

“Not usually, but there are exceptions.” I
thought about the attack at Brody's while I studied the man in
front of me. I shook my head. “You'll have to give me more.”

He paused for a moment and then said, “I
know the family, sort of. They've hired me before, and although
it's been a fun ride, I prefer to play for the winning team.”

I didn't respond. Neither did Aimee.

Eventually Viktor continued. “Word on the
street is that big changes are underway. Rumor is Guy Bensen and
Keira Maddock will lead us to victory. Isn't that
right...Keira?”

I thought about my recent conversation with
Guy. Could Viktor be an asset to the cause? We could use support in
other communities, and New London would certainly be a good place
to start.

“Why should I let you go?”

“I have connections, a lot of
connections.”

“What will you tell Adira?”

He shrugged again. “Why should I tell her
anything? Let the bitch squirm.”

I looked at my sister and nodded. “Now you
can call Eberhardt. Our guest is going to need a ride home.”

“Come here and read this,” Mr. Beckett
orders.

He's pointing to a piece of paper. What is
this all about? I reach across the desk for the paper, but he
gently rests his fingers upon it and indicates that I'm to come
around and stand next to him. As I move closer, my fingers trail
along the richly polished desktop. I take a deep breath and look
down at the paper. What could be so important? I turn and look into
his stormy grey eyes. He tilts his head toward the paper and
smiles.

He's obviously not going to let me pick it
up, so I lean down to get a closer look. It describes everything
he's going to do. My eyes widen, and he chuckles. His hand is no
longer on the paper. It's behind me now, touching, probing. Warm
fingers against my skin.

I gulp. “Please don't.”

“Oh yes, plead some more.”

He's standing behind me now, pressing
against me, forcing his way into places he has no right to be.
Tears stream down my face. I scream. It only urges him on. Nothing
will make it stop.

***

I made it to the bathroom just in time. This
nightmare caused me to lose my dinner. I shook my head to clear the
images and moved to the sink. Taking a shaky breath, I tried to
regain a sense of calm. I picked up my toothbrush.

Guy was staying over again. It was the third
time this week. The noises were getting to me, playing with my
head.

I turned off the bathroom light and made my
way back to the living room. Where is it? I thought she left it on
the coffee table. There! I picked up Keira's transceiver and walked
over to the window. The only light, a crescent moon, low on the
horizon. I stepped back and let the darkness surrounded me like a
warm blanket.

“Hello?”

“Brody, it's me.”

“Are you alright?” He sounded a little
confused and slightly alarmed. Maybe this had been a mistake.

“Yes...no...” I looked at the clock. It was
just after 2 A.M. “You said I could call anytime. Did you mean
that?”

“Of course.” It sounded like he was sitting
up, stretching maybe. “What's going on?”

“Nothing, I just...could you come over and
pick me up? I can't sleep,” I finished lamely.

***

As I exited the building, I tried to become
one with the night by pressing my back against the smooth bricks of
the apartment complex. The cool temperature seeped through my thin
spring jacket and caused me to shiver.

I watched in silence as Brody's black
convertible pulled up to the curb, quiet, wraith-like. I picked up
my small bag and hurried to the vehicle. I'd left a note on the
dining table. It simply told Keira that I would see her later at
Art Fantastique.

The roof was up, and I felt safer within the
enclosed space. I leaned my forehead against the passenger side
window and watched the city sleep. Even the homeless were
motionless grey mounds in doorways. I turned to look at Brody. He
noticed and smiled. He'd come to get me, no questions asked.

When we arrived at the gallery, I let us in,
locked the door behind us and reset the alarm. I motioned for Brody
to follow me into the windowless back room. Once the door was shut,
I tuned on the lights. We both blinked in the sudden
brightness.

I laughed a little and took his hand. “Thank
you for coming to get me.”

Brody nodded, but he wasn't seeing me. He
was looking over my shoulder, studying something.

“Aimee, why did you bring me here?” he said,
his voice tense.

I turned to see what he was looking at. It
was the portrait of Hisoka. I dropped Brody's hand and hurriedly
threw a drop cloth over the sketch.

“That was just an art lesson. It doesn't
mean anything,” I said.

“Doesn't it?” He was looking at me now.

I shook my head. “No, but this one does.” I
directed his attention to the painting of the three apple trees.
“This is us,” I said quietly. “My brother, my sister and me.”

“I know this place...”

“Yes.”

“Our lunch date?”

I nodded. “Our first date.”

He studied the painting for a few minutes.
He leaned in close and then backed away. “They'll never find you.
The wanted posters are all wrong.”

“Yes, well...Keira knows people who are good
at tampering with that sort of thing.”

“Why am I there?” He pointed to the figure
in shadow.

“I didn't really know at first, but now I
think it's because you're watching over me, protecting me.”

“Why did you call me tonight?”

I looked away. Breathing became difficult.
Could I tell him? Did I have the strength?

“I needed to get away.”

“Away from what?”

I looked at him again. “My past.”

“Are we going to be here awhile?”

“I don't know. Maybe.”

He shrugged off his coat, revealing blue and
green checkered pajamas, then sat directly on the floor. He set his
coat down and leaned against the wall. “Okay, I'm ready.”

I pulled my coat tightly around me. It
covered my pajamas, sunshine yellow sweatpants and a white t-shirt.
I sat cross-legged, faced Brody and took a deep breath.

“My real name is April Maddock.” I began
with what he already knew, but he didn't interrupt. He let me tell
it all from beginning to end: my parents' senseless deaths when I
was only six, living with Aunt Cady, Scott and Keira each being
kicked out at the age of Eligibility, Scott to join the military
and Keira living on the streets. Then, my employment, the beatings,
the humiliation. I ended with the injection, my flight to Parisio
and the baby. When I paused to think, he waited. He didn't comment.
He didn't touch me. He just listened.