Keystone (38 page)

“Garrett said you two were going on a road trip,” Zane says. Robin is in the back seat and I climb over Zane to land with a thud next to her. I mean, I might not be a full-fledge Contego yet, but I know I’m not helpless anymore. “We wouldn’t wanna miss out on another ambush.”

“Or seeing you kick the snot out of Frangere,” Robin says.

Milo limps to the van and Garrett stands aside so Milo has to get in first.

“I didn’t think it was such an insult.” Milo shrugs at Garrett.

“No?” Garrett quirks an eyebrow as Milo slides onto the seat. “Maybe it’s because you just don’t
get her
.”

“You sure you actually know where this place is?” Shred asks when Milo points out another turn. We’re in an apartment complex- the most complex one I’ve ever seen—where the apartment buildings each look like a huge, dirty house with battered apartment doors on all four sides. The place is a labyrinth, with roads that branch off in all directions and apartments that all look the same. After only a couple turns, I’m completely lost in how we got in and how we’re getting back out. I keep hoping Shred has some map in his head, but the way he grumbles behind the wheel, it seems like he’s having the same doubts that I am.

“Left again,” Milo says.

“What kind of place is this? It’s like miles of groundhog-day-houses.” Zane says. “You grew up here?”

“Yeah. You get used to it.”

“You can get used to anything if there’s enough of it.” I say and Milo twists around on the bench to look at me for the first time, since I kicked him.

“Exactly,” he says with a smile. “Sorry again. Really, Nali. I really was just joking.”

“You’re slick. Tell her another one. Especially when you’re relying on her to save your skin from your own Cura,” Robin says. Then, with a poisonous smile, she adds, “Or not.”

“Look, I’m sorry. I really am.” Milo twists in his seat so I can see how sincere he is. “Speaking of skin, Nalena, it’d probably be best if you don’t tell my aunt who you are.”

“Why not?”

“Because some things set her off,” he says with a grimace. Shred cuts off the conversation by pumping the brakes at an intersection.

“Where now?” he growls. We’re at the end of a street and there are three other streets we could turn onto.

“Right,” Milo tells him. “Go to the end, take a left. It’ll be the fourth house on the left.”

We finally pull up in front of an apartment house that looks like every other one.

“This it?” Shred asks, throwing the van into park. He sinks down a little in his seat and from beneath his hair and baseball cap and mirrored sunglasses, he grumbles, “Hurry up and go do what you gotta do. I want out of here before somebody jacks my van.”

“Maybe somebody should stay out here,” Zane says.

“You mean, somebody should stay with Shred,” Shred grunts. “I don’t need no babysitter. I can take care of myself. Even against Fury freaks. Just hurry up.”

We climb out of the van and follow Milo to the door. Maybe it’s the dark clouds that have rolled in along with us, but the apartment door is an olive green and it has a handwritten sign taped to the door that says,
Go Away
.

Milo walks up the front steps and raps twice on the door before pushing it open. It isn’t even locked. Milo steps into a dark room and my field explodes.

Barking erupts at the same time. Garrett jumps inside and I am right behind him. I can make out the stairs on the right, just as an obese Chihuahua storms down them. The thing snarls and Milo stops in his tracks, but he puts out a foot to scoot the dog back.

“Go on, Princess,” Milo tells it. Princess growls like an overstuffed vacuum cleaner caught on a rug. Milo gives her another shove with his shoe and Princess lunges at his toe, clamping down with her front teeth. Between his own teeth, Milo growls back and he dislodges the dog with a hard shake.

Princess doesn’t stop growling, but she waddles backward.

“It’s okay,” Milo says. “You can come in. She’ll stay back now.”

We file in and stand at the base of the stairs, in the corner of a dark living room that smells like dust. Robin keeps her back to the wall beside the door so she looks straight into the living room, while Zane keeps his back to the room, watching the door. Garrett, despite his casual stance, is keeping his eye on Milo.

“Auntie! It’s me!” Milo calls, craning his neck into the living room. There is no sound, besides Princess licking her snout between snarls. Milo tips his head toward the stairs and calls up, “Auntie Ig! I’m here to visit! With friends!”

I’m the only one that has no particular place to look, so I look everywhere and maybe that’s why I see her first.

She darts between rooms. I only see the wisps of her long gray hair the first time. The second time, she skitters to a room closer to the stairs and I see what she’s doing. She’s weaving between the doors to get closer to the staircase. I can’t get the words out of my mouth before she’s standing on the top step. She is as pale and scraggly as a zombie.

Her dress is dirty and torn in places and Ignatia’s head is covered in patches of long gray and black curls and bald spots that are frighteningly white and shiny. The biggest clump of hair is at her forehead, straggling down over her face. She is blurry behind it.

“What do you want?” Ignatia says. The hair in front of her mouth puffs, but when she’s finished speaking, it lays flat on her lips like a filthy curtain. Princess hobbles up the stairs to sit beside her owner.

“That’s right, I don’t have any change for the bus. But tomorrow, yes, he’ll come tomorrow. We’ll have ice cream in the shower,” Ignatia sinks down onto the top step, muttering so quietly that her hair barely dances over her mouth. Her bony fingers trace over Princess’s fat head and poke the dog in the eyes. Princess just blinks. “I promise, little girl. Someday, we’ll have you and you won’t have to be our Pinocchio anymore. We’ll put you on a chain outside, then. I promise.”

Milo clears his throat and the woman looks up, wide-eyed, as if she’s forgotten that we’ve been standing here the whole time.

“Who said you could come in?” Ignatia blows from beneath her hair.

“Auntie Ig, it’s me, Milo. I brought some friends to talk to you.”

“Milo? We know him. He’s a bad, bad boy. A traitor.” She touches her lips through her hair. “Do I know how to talk? Do you think I can? I don’t know you. Is that me? Is that what I sound like?”

“I’m not a traitor, Auntie.” Milo sighs as he says it, but Ignatia shoots up on the top step so quickly, I’m afraid she’ll fall. Even Princess wobbles out of her way.

“MILO!” she shrieks. “Where is he? Don’t you lie to me again! Where is he?”

“He’s gone, Auntie.” Milo says and she melts like a witch in water, sinking back down on the top step with a moan.

“Noooooo,” she howls, dragging her enormous dog closer. “Roger never loved you, you know. Only me. I wouldn’t let The Fury in.”

The name numbs me to my edges. I imagine Roger here, kissing her, talking to her, walking up and down these stairs. All the possibilities of the life they had together, pour in. I imagine Roger carrying Milo downstairs on his shoulder for breakfast. Buying him a bike, even if there are no sidewalks in the complex. I picture Roger and Ignatia, holding hands and taking a tiny Milo for ice cream. But then I blink and see Ignatia standing on the top step again, with her streaky gray hair draped over her face and I can’t imagine any of it. The only image that flashes in my head is Garrett’s kitchen with Roger in it, his eyes unwilling to meet mine as he holds a gun to my mother’s temple. The numb fades and what’s left in my stomach is like burned spaghetti.

“Who are you?” Ignatia pushes her hair away. Her face still comes to a center point, just like the young girl in the picture in my pocket, but all the softness is gone. Ignatia squints at all of us.

“My friends,” Milo says.

“The Fury are not allowed here!” Ignatia barks, but Milo doesn’t budge. Instead, he laughs.

“I’m not in The Fury, Auntie,” he says. “You are. Remember?”

“LIAR!”

He chuckles again. “No, Auntie. I’m with the Ianua, remember?”

Ignatia’s hand drifts across Princess’s back.

“Ianua,” she whispers.

“Auntie, these people wanted to ask you some questions about Roger.”

“My Roger?” Ignatia sits up straight, her fingers finding one of the clumps of hair left on her head. She runs a few strands between her fingers, as if she’s straightening them. “He’s coming home. He’s late.”

“Ignatia,” Garrett says as he moves up the stairs, to stand beside Milo on the landing. “You lived with Roger Maxwell?”

“Live. I live with Roger,” Ignatia snaps. She runs her fingers down another strand of hair, but this time, she pulls so hard that it comes out. She flicks it away and finds another strand. “We live here. Together. He’ll be home soon and he’ll want you out of here if you’re from The Fury.”

“We’re not,” Garrett assures her softly. “You and Roger have lived here a long time?”

“Forever,” she says with a crackly smile. For the first time, I see all the dark holes in her mouth where teeth should be.

“You must mean a lot to him then.”

“Everything. I am everything to Roger. He’s mine. Forever.”

“I’ve heard that,” Garrett smiles at her. She smiles back and it’s grizzly. “I’m sure you know everything about Roger too, don’t you?”

“Everything,” she nods and a hunk of hair falls back on her face. “Of course I do. He’s mine. Forever and ever.”

“But I think there’s something he didn’t trust you with.” Garrett grimaces as he says it, as if he doesn’t want to mention it at all. Ignatia perks up.

“That’s a lie! Roger doesn’t keep secrets from me. Not me. He loves me more than anyone.”

Garrett shakes his head as if he’s too sad to say anymore. Ignatia grabs hold of the banister and scoots herself down a step, craning toward Garrett.

“It’s just something I heard,” Garrett tells her with a shrug

“From who? Who said it? Milo? Clint? Was it the Mastermind?”

Garrett pauses, tipping of his head. “The Mastermind?”

Ignatia stops short, scooting backward up to the top step. “Dimitri told you to come here.”

“Dimitri?” Garrett says, but she narrows her eyes at the question in his voice and takes hold of the banister, scooting backward up the step again. I see the shadow of how her lips purse beneath all her hair and I know he’s losing her trust. I step up beside Garrett and his energy crackles beside me.

“I can see Roger really loves you,” I tell her and as I say it, her arm relaxes and drops from the railing. One hand ends up between Princess’s bulging eyes, one smoothes out a stray piece of hair. I stand on the landing, looking up at her and for the first time, she looks down at me.

“He does,” she says, as if it’s a relief to hear someone else say it. “Of course he does. No matter what. He’s mine.”

“But if that’s true,” I tell her, “If he really loved you, he must’ve told you about Walter’s Memory.”

My words hang in the air like black magic. Ignatia strokes both her hair and the fur between Princess’s eyes, so hard that the dog squints. I don’t think Milo’s breathing at all and even Robin and Zane are frozen in place, all of us waiting to see if Ignatia will answer. To break the tension, Garrett leans one shoulder on the wall.

“Of course she knows about that,” he drawls to me, like I’m an idiot. Except that he winks. “She’s his one and only. He belongs to her. Of course he told her his most important secret.”

“Me.” Ignatia snaps, petting Princess so hard that the dog grunts with each stroke. She yanks out another hunks of hair and lets it flutter down onto the steps below her. “He told me when I found it. It was a mistake! He said he’d leave if I told. I DIDN’T TELL!”

“But he’s gone,” Robin says from the living room. “He left you anyway.”

Ignatia turns back to flogging Princess and pulling out her hair and muttering frantically behind what’s left. “No, they’re all liars, Princess. He said they’d lie. But how do I know? I don’t know!”

“But I know,” I tell her. Her hand pauses over top of the dog. “And he said the only way he’d know how faithful
you
are, is if you told me the same secret that he did.”