FoM02 Trammel (25 page)

“You’d better become a hermit, then.” Kristan looked almost sympathetic. “Or you could hire out the dirty work.” She winked at him.

Lindsay couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re welcome to it.”

“We’ve got the van here.” Patches came out in the shadows with the hush of fabric against the floor.

She was wrapping herself in a dark cloak that hid her pale, patchwork skin. “Let’s go and get our young friend.”

As he pulled his illusion back from the juvenile detention center, Lindsay was sure that the only things keeping his feet on the ground were his grief over losing Cyrus and his fear for Dane. He wished they could have been present to see his success today. Both of them would have understood what it meant to him to watch Patches’s people deliver a sleeping boy into her arms.

The boy, barely in his teens, looked worse for wear with a black eye and a split lip. He was safe now, though, and Lindsay had helped make that happen. Sitting across from Patches in the old RV she used as a mobile headquarters, he opened the bottle of water she’d offered him earlier and took a drink to loosen the tightness in his throat.

If Cyrus could have saved me...he might not have. Not until he was ready
. That was true enough.

Cyrus was—had been—an enigmatic and unsentimental old man. It was only now, in the lull as Lindsay watched Patches gently washing the boy’s face, that the differences between his situation and Zoey’s began to surface.

Maybe he tried so hard to save her because of what happened to me.
That thought had him nearly inhaling the next mouthful of water. He had to stifle his cough so as not to wake the boy. Until today, he never would have imagined that his experiences would have pricked anyone’s conscience except, perhaps, Dane’s.

When they returned to Apollo 11, Patches startled Lindsay by kissing his cheek before she disappeared deeper into the space under the restaurant, with the boy carried along in the arms of one of her bouncers.

“Harem,” Kristan said, disguising the word behind a cough. Lindsay glared at her and she laughed at him. “No, it means you did good. Come on. We’ll grab something to eat here and then see if your boy is home yet.”

His...yes. Noah
was
his. It felt good to hear Kristan say it—without her usual sarcasm, no less. Like it was a fact.

As the rush of accomplishment faded, something else took its place like a weight at the edges of his mind. The sensation was familiar and not, at once. He felt along the threads of tension but stopped when he realized it wasn’t Lourdes at the other end. Someone else was out there. Maybe someone harmless, but Lindsay didn’t want to take too many chances.

He wanted to get back now, but he knew he had to eat, and Noah had made it sound like the work would take a long time. He added another layer to the illusion he’d put in place to hide them from Lourdes, then followed Kristan to a table by the coffee bar and let her order for both of them. If Dane wasn’t there to make sure he ate, he’d have to be extra careful.

Apollo 11 wasn’t just a safe haven, the food was really good, and Lindsay was surprised to find he was starving. The mushroom and Swiss cheese omelet tasted like heaven, and instead of toast, there were hot, buttery English muffins. Real coffee too. Lindsay felt guilty for having so much and not sharing it with Noah, but he’d make it up to him somehow.

It was strange to be with Kristan like this. He hadn’t had anything like a friend since childhood—not that they were actually friends but at least they weren’t at odds anymore. They had a huge loss in common

Anah Crow and Dianne Fox

now. He’d told her about Cyrus while she was teaching him how to use the gun. She’d taken it hard, but in that cold, sharp way he’d come to expect from her.

They came back to an empty house. Kristan muttered something about being up all night for all the wrong reasons—belatedly, Lindsay realized she must be exhausted—and disappeared into her room.

Lindsay was left to wander the house until he found copies of
The New York Times
and
The Washington
Post
that Kristan had brought back earlier. He’d been hoping to find something to tidy, but it was all done.

He found a pencil in a backpack in the front hall and gave up on doing anything constructive. He’d wait for Noah in bed as he read and did the crosswords to pass the time.

His mind wandered horribly. When he wasn’t trying not to think about Dane and Cyrus, memories of Noah bubbled up.

It had been sweet and unexpected, both the sex in the night and Noah sucking him off that morning.

Suddenly, he remembered the incident with Kristan, and Noah saying he would never disrespect his beloved wife. Lindsay knew—without knowing how, except that it was impossible to imagine Noah otherwise—that Noah loved her as much now as before. That Noah had asked Lindsay to be his lover, though... Lindsay wanted him to come home.

Noah would come back, and they would go find Ylli and Zoey. They would find Dane, and they would go home to Vivian. Lindsay clung to the thought as he gave up on the crossword and curled in on himself, tugging a blanket up and letting his eyes close.

A sound woke him and the watery gray light in the room told Lindsay that it was nearly morning. He froze, wishing he’d thought to bring the gun to bed with him. With Dane missing and Cyrus...gone, he felt infinitely vulnerable.

Low voices filtered through the thin walls. A brief bubble of laughter, something like a shoe hitting a wall, and a door closing—Noah was back, and he’d come in through Kristan’s window. The way they had to lock the door made it impossible to get in at the front.

Noah
. Lindsay felt like he’d been holding his breath all night. Noah passed the bedroom door and started down the stairs.

“Noah.” Lindsay was out in the hall before Noah was halfway down.

“Did I wake you?” Noah had a rucksack over his shoulder and a map in one hand. He gave Lindsay a brilliant smile. Seeing him whole hit Lindsay with an unexpected surge of desire. “I think I know where we’re going, but we’ll need to travel at night. I’ll use the time to double-check my work.”

“Great.” Lindsay’s brain tried to catch up with what Noah had said while he was wrestling with how gorgeous Noah was now. He’d always been attracted, but... “Anything you want.”

“I want to get Dane back.” Noah’s smile faded and his jaw tightened. “But we’ll do this first. Do you want me to get your breakfast before I set up?”

“No, I can do it. I’ll go pick something up for all of us.” It would keep Lindsay’s mind on task. “But thank you for asking. Do what you need, and get some sleep before we go.” He wasn’t going to forget that Noah was freshly back from—literally—the brink of death.

“As you will.” Noah gave him that smile again, just a flash, and he went on his way downstairs.

I want to get Dane back
. So did Lindsay. But, at the same time, he was incredibly grateful for what he still had. Moreso all the time.

Chapter Twelve

Noah spent the morning working on things Lindsay couldn’t understand. Pins, playing cards, mirrors, a Chinese coin on a string—it was all beyond him and he couldn’t help. Noah’s concentration was so intense that Lindsay knew he would be in the way just by being in the living room with him, so he and Kristan packed their few belongings for the trip. They’d leave nothing behind.

“They don’t make these in kids’ sizes, but this’ll have to do.” Kristan stood in the doorway of his bedroom, swinging what looked like an oversized belt from one finger. When he straightened and tossed the folded sheets into his bag, she threw it to him. “If you think you’re gonna need to shoot someone, get your gun out straight up. I’ll show you how to draw properly later. We need way more time for you to be any good, but at least I know you’ll actually pull the trigger.”

Lindsay stopped trying to work out how to put the holster on—he’d figured out that it was a shoulder holster, at least—and gave her a curious look.
How...?
He would, he knew it, but Kristan didn’t have reason to think so.

“I’m not stupid, Lindsay.” She shook her head as she turned away. “I wouldn’t waste my time teaching you if you wouldn’t shoot someone with it,” she called over her shoulder.

Lindsay pulled on the holster and pulled himself another step closer to the man his father had wished he’d become. The man Lindsay had been certain he would never be. A man like his father, who wore a gun, who went to war and never regretted what he’d done. Well, this was war now.

He loaded his gun, then slipped it into place in the holster. He felt a little better, having it right there.

Kristan had bought him a jacket, an old suede thing that looked like it was from the seventies. When he put it on, it covered up the gun, and even in the heat, he didn’t mind an extra layer. When he stepped into the bathroom, someone he didn’t know looked back at him from the mirror, a stern, thin man with hard gray eyes and fine white hair, a tight mouth and a smudge of pale stubble on his jaw.

He looked like a survivor. In the moment before he recognized himself, he saw it clearly. He could do this.

They
could do this. Kristan was downstairs talking to Noah. Even if they failed to save anyone else, the three of them would survive together. Maybe even get strong enough to make Moore regret being born.

And that idea made him feel more secure than he ever had, at a time when he’d expected to feel utterly lost.

“Yes, you’re pretty.” Noah’s low voice shook Lindsay out of his haze, and he realized he’d been staring through himself in the mirror, imagining all the things he’d like to happen to Moore.

“Hush.” Lindsay made a face at Noah. “Are you going to get some rest now?”

“Only if you come with me.” Noah leaned on the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. Lindsay didn’t pretend he was going to resist.

“There’s no bedding,” he warned, “but go lie down. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Noah went obediently, and Lindsay was left to shrug out of jacket and holster. When he came into the bedroom, he hung them on the back of the door as he closed it behind him. He couldn’t help Noah work out where they were going, but he could do this.

Noah was lying in bed, using the bag of bedclothes as a pillow, and Lindsay crawled in beside him.

Wordlessly, Noah rolled into his arms and Lindsay held him close, pressing a kiss to his softly fuzzy head.

“Sleep sweet,” Lindsay ordered. He had no idea when the joy of having Noah whole and well would fade.

“Make me.” There was only a little challenge in Noah’s voice, and Lindsay could hear the ache under it. He didn’t know what had caused it—Noah had a wealth of reasons—but he didn’t question. He let a web of magic drift down over Noah and wrap him up in sleep.

They left the house as the sun was setting. Kristan brought the car around to the alley so they wouldn’t draw attention out on the street. When Noah took the keys from her, she opened her mouth to protest, but shut it just as fast. She gave Lindsay a questioning look, and he only shrugged. He trusted Noah. To his surprise, Kristan got into the backseat without comment. It was time to go.

Noah pulled in at the last coffee shop before they cleared the outskirts of Detroit, and Kristan slipped out to get three cups for the road. Lindsay flailed at the map Noah handed him, trying to fold and settle it in his lap so it wasn’t obscuring the windshield. He still had only the vaguest understanding of what Noah had done to figure out their destination. The map was marked with symbols he couldn’t decipher, even once he had it properly folded and oriented.

“We’re here.” Noah held his hand over the map and a tiny drop of flame fell onto the paper.

Lindsay startled, ready to slap out the fire, but the paper didn’t burn. Instead, the droplet cracked like a minute egg, turned inside out, and became a tiny, tiny snake. It was only a half-inch long, but Lindsay could see that it had scales and pinpoint bright eyes, and a flicker of a tongue. It raised its head, testing the air, and settled itself along the highway that led out of town, wriggling impatiently.

“Oh.” Noah never ceased to amaze him.

“It’ll show us where to go.” Noah sounded distant, but Lindsay let him be. He was doing enough already.

Now they knew how to get to where the “old ways” predicted Cyrus would tell the others to meet them. They were finally on their way to finding Ylli and Zoey. As long as Cyrus had managed to tell
them
where to go before he died.

“Coffee for you two.” Kristan passed them through Noah’s open window. “I’m going to sleep. Some of us didn’t get a nice cuddle this afternoon.”

Lindsay rolled his eyes at her and busied himself putting his coffee where he could get at it without disturbing the little snake. Once they were on the road, everything was dark and quiet. He sipped his coffee and tried to make himself ignore Noah’s tension. He did well enough for about twenty minutes, when he finally cracked.

“Are you sure you want to drive?” Even in the dark, he saw how tense Noah was behind the wheel.

Kristan could drive if she had to.

“Yes.” Noah reached for the coffee waiting for him in the cup holder, but stopped and put his hand back on the wheel. It was the third time he’d done it, at least that Lindsay had seen. “I can feel it better if I’m controlling our movement. If I have to stay on the road, I’ll find the way by the road. Otherwise, we’ll be trying to find the closest road and guessing all the way there.”

“All right. Then drink this.” Lindsay brought his own coffee cup to Noah’s lips. He held it carefully, so he wouldn’t spill and Noah wouldn’t have to take his eyes off the road or hands off the wheel to drink.

“You don’t...” Arguing about it was going to spill things. Noah shut up and took a drink. “Thanks.”

Lindsay heard him hold his breath as he stopped white-knuckling the wheel to touch Lindsay on the thigh, a light touch that was gone as soon as it came. “I need to get back to normal. To feeling normal.”

“Good fuckin’ luck with that,” Kristan mumbled sleepily. She was supposed to be asleep, but apparently she couldn’t resist being smart-mouthed.