Paired Pursuit (2 page)

Mari shrugged. “I don't intend to fight Barks, so I'd say my Glock is still pretty useful.”

“But you clearly aren't a seasoned traveler,” Finn pressed. “You aren't holding on while you sit. There's handles under the seat, and you ought to always have a seat belt on in case we go over a rough section of track.”

“I'm supposed to hold on?” She didn't mean to sound quite so petulant, but she'd wanted to read the book in her bag, not grip a handle for a thousand miles.

“These trains are fast and solid,” Finn said, paying no mind to her slight churlishness. “They don't derail without serious provocation, but they do give a hell of a jolt every so often, begging your pardon for my language.”

“Once the Barks realize that destroying the track means hurting us, we're going to have a bad time of it. Traveling between Cities will be even more dangerous,” Gareth said, his voice low, gravelly.

She looked up at him, instinctively seeking the differences between each Twin. There weren't many, and she suspected it would take somebody time and energy to detect the subtleties. Still, she noticed that Gareth was quieter, more watchful in comparison to his gregarious brother. Gareth was the one with the scar, perhaps the only clear physical difference between the Twins.

“Who gave you that scar?” The question popped out before she could regulate herself.

“I was defending the wall in Chicago when a couple of Barks got through.” Gareth didn't seem perturbed by her interest.

“What he means to say is I was a bit slow coming to his defense. I tried to get a matching scar, but I haven't yet succeeded.” Finn flashed white teeth in a brief grin. “Before, we could pass as each other. Got into a bunch of trouble that way.”

“Got out of more than we got into,” Gareth retorted. He continued to examine Mari, as if he might consider
her
trouble. She tried not to squirm.

“I don't mean to keep you, if you want to go sit in your original seats,” she told them. They had the whole carriage to themselves anyhow.

“We'll stay here, if it's all the same to you,” Gareth said.

“Sure. Fine.” Mari resisted the urge to pat her hair. The wind at the station had blown some of it loose of its pins, and soft brown strands now drifted across her face. Tim and other men had begun insisting that women wear their hair in certain fashions. They'd also introduced a rudimentary dress code. Women had to wear simple frocks, bonnets optional, or skirts and blouses. Men weren't so restricted.

Yet another reason to leave the City. One of her closest friends, Simon, had departed a month ago in search of a more tolerant place to live. He had promised to keep in touch, but Mari hadn't left a forwarding address when she'd abandoned her shipping container. She hadn't wanted Tim to come after her.

To her surprise, Finn leaned over and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. His touch was exceedingly gentle. “Do you mind us staying with you?”

“No. I—like the company.” She stumbled over the admission, mainly because it was so painfully true. Since her father had died a few months ago, she'd been living alone, subsisting on dwindling savings and income from odd jobs. Sara, her only remaining friend in the City, lived half a mile's walk away and was often too busy or tired to chat long.

Come to think of it, it had been over a month since Mari had participated in any conversation that lasted more than a few sentences. Even though the circumstances were odd, she was grateful not to be alone in the carriage. Besides, these men were almost painfully handsome, and it had been so long since she'd been able to flirt.

Back home, people organized social gatherings every few months. Lately, they'd begun to devolve. Where once they'd been an excuse to drink and chat, Tim and other like-minded people had co-opted the occasions, turning them into forums for their rants and openly checking out women. Mari had felt uncomfortable and stopped going.

She interlaced her hands in her lap, trying to savor the lingering feeling of the men's hands on her body. So different from Tim's pawing. Not that she'd allowed him to touch her beyond briefly holding hands once. Mari missed human contact. For that matter, she'd missed any contact. Being on a one-meal-a-day regimen wasn't conducive to keeping pets.

Without warning, the train lurched again, throwing her sideways into Finn. Her hands scrabbled at his chest, stilling when his arms wrapped around her, keeping her safe.

“I'm sorry,” she gasped, even as she gripped him tightly. It would be so tempting to stay there for the rest of the ride, to hide her head against his warm chest.

“
I'm
not sorry.” He grinned at her reaction. “You're a sweet armful. But I think we're making Gareth jealous.”

She blinked over at the other Twin, still a little punch-drunk from her earlier fall. “You… He… The rumors.” The rumors were true? Why did that turn her insides to jelly in such a good way?

“We share our women, yes,” Finn said. “It's a mite rough to be left out of things when you've got a constant telepathic bond.”

He helped her upright again. Mari sat back, this time gripping the handles. Not that she was averse to being flung half into Finn's lap again, but she needed time to process what she'd just heard. Sharing. Christ on a pogo stick, as Simon used to say. That was probably the sexiest thing she'd heard of in years.

The train juddered again, but Mari held firm. She didn't remember the train ride out of Scar City being this rough, although she'd been a teenager at the time. As she recalled, she'd slept most of the way, having been dragged out of bed at an ungodly hour so that they got to the station first thing.

Her father had masked his fear with briskness, but he hadn't fooled Mari. He'd been fleeing something. It was as if Scar City had scarred his soul.

“So, um, what other rumors about you are true?” Mari asked, uncomfortably aware that the conversation ball had been dropped. “See-in-the-dark eyes, iron muscles, ability to fly?”

“Negative on the last two.” Gareth was quieter than his brother, watched her more intently, as if he were trying to figure something out. “We don't share all our women either. Only the ones who interest both of us.”

“Oh. So you aren't married?” She winced, mentally kicking herself for sounding like she was flirting. Her area had become prudish about such matters—more so than the other Cities she'd lived in. Many of the young women she knew, Sara included, married young and got started on childbearing to repopulate the earth. Arranged marriages were back in vogue, short engagements the norm.

There were also unscrupulous people who kidnapped single women and trafficked them to men looking for a fertile wife, although that kind of thing happened only in the rougher places.

Like Scar City.

“It's been difficult to find a woman who will accept both of us for a fling, let alone marriage.” Finn spoke again, leaning casually back in his seat. One hand rested atop his seat belt, the other was wrapped around the handle. Her father had mentioned that the government considered the Twins “valuable” and kept them under strict surveillance—at least in the pre-Invasion days.

So what was she thinking, engaging them in a scandalous conversation such as this? Struggling to come up with a response, she peeled her fingers off the handle in order to rake hair out of her eyes again.

Another lurch propelled her in Gareth's direction this time. It was as if the train were conspiring to keep her in the men's arms. Behind her, Finn reached for her again, pulling her against him as if she'd never left. This time she accepted his embrace. It was better than rolling around the train after all, and she really was annoyed at having to grip a handle all the time. Why couldn't they put better, more comfortable seat belts in? These lap belts were hardly a restraint at all.

“Are
you
married?” Finn asked, raising an eyebrow.

“If you think to ask for my hand in marriage, you should know that I have no dowry,” Mari said, the well-practiced line rolling off her tongue with the ease of long usage. That was another rule Tim's group had implemented. Women with monetary assets transferred it all to their husband. Fathers with eligible daughters handed over money, land or animals to the new husband. Cries of sexism went unheeded. Now, barely anybody bothered to bring it up in the first place. They abided, or they left.

“Money doesn't concern us,” Gareth said. “We find you beautiful. Sexy. Finn won't shut up in my head about it.”

Mari blinked, hands tightening around the grip. Flustered. She was actually flustered. But it was nice, if strange, having their undivided attention.

“Are you always this forward with women?” She winced internally. Forward? Living under Tim's rule had turned her into some sort of querulous spinster.

“Only the ones we like.”

“We haven't had much practice in the dating arena,” Finn said, flicking a stern glance at Gareth. “I apologize if we're coming across as rude.”

“All right,” Mari said, allowing herself to relax slightly against the seat. Then she realized he'd moved closer to her, probably cushioning her during the last train lurch. She was wedged half against him, half against the seat. It was remarkably comfortable.

This was such a strange situation, but he really
was
comfortable. She also didn't get the impression that these two would take advantage of her. They were far blunter than she was used to. Far more direct. From what she knew of Twins, however, their social life was limited to other Twins and the scientists who nominally controlled them.

All the same, she'd never considered what it might be like to have two men at once. The only person she'd ever had a crush on had been banished from the City by Tim. Tim couldn't stand up to Finn and Gareth, though. He'd probably turn tail and run upon seeing them. After turning purple. Then they'd carry her off somewhere safe, and…

“We also can't help but be concerned about your visit to Scar City,” Finn said, and her vague fantasies skidded to a halt.

Scar City—formerly Reno—had been one of the first Cities to erect a protective wall against the invading aliens. The city was scarred, irrevocably so. She remembered it as forbidding, austere, but not unsafe. She and her parents had spent nearly two years there, having fled from the Pacific Northwest.

“What's your reasoning?” Mari kept her voice carefully neutral. It was too late to go back to Flagstaff. She didn't even have the money for a return ticket.

“The place has gone downhill in the past few years. Lack of resources pits human against human. There's violence within and without. It's dangerous there.” Finn's muscles rippled against her hands, as if he were preparing for a fight.

“So why are you two going?” Mari asked, hoping to deflect personal questions.

“A mission.” Gareth shrugged as if missions were a routine thing. “The powers-that-be want information on an academic who used to live there. Since it's dangerous, they sent us instead of going themselves. Who better to question junkies?”

“It's our third time in the last six months,” Finn added. “Probably our last too.”

“Junkies?” Mari asked.

“A fair amount of the population is addicted to Turq,” Gareth said, naming a synthetic drug she vaguely remembered hearing about, back when news was more easily come by. “The stuff's readily available there—more so than food.”

Scar City must have changed a fair bit over the past seven years, she mused. It had been on the wild side when she and her parents had lived there, but it hadn't felt overly dangerous. It hadn't been anything like Seattle when it was under sustained alien attack, with everyone running and screaming…

The train slowed as it took a series of switchbacks. As she swayed in the seat, leaning against Finn, Mari realized she'd dropped the thread of conversation and the Twins were looking at her. With a gulp, she remembered they could communicate telepathically. Were they…talking about her?

“Do you think the person you're looking for is still there?” she asked, trying to get the conversation rolling again.

Finn shook his head. “The man's not in Scar City any longer, no. We're trying to find out where he might have gone. That's harder than it seems.”

Mari thought of her friend who'd gone east. She'd likely never see Simon again. His mother might never see him again either. She'd cried on Mari's shoulder for a week after Simon had caught his train out of there.

“Did he have any family?” she asked.

“Our records show that he had a wife and daughter—but that was pre-Invasion information. When he contacted our Chicago bureau, he told them he had important information on a possible alien device. By the time they tried to follow up, he'd left the area.”

Mari tensed against Finn's side, earning a calculated look from him.
An alien device.
How many times had her father used those very words in late-night rants to her mother? Mari rubbed a hand across her eyes. Why were these men looking for her father?

The silence began to drag. Mari wished the train would provide a distraction by lurching, but it stayed steady, rolling swiftly down the tracks.

“We're looking for traces of Dr. Jorge Aquino,” Gareth said. “He was a scientist.”

Both men watched her like hawks. She kept her best poker face, trying to remember if she'd told them her name. No—she hadn't introduced herself, and they hadn't pressed. Her mind raced. Dad had called the government—or what remained of it—to talk about the alien device he thought he'd found?

“I—I guess there might be census records still around,” she said. The lame response probably didn't fool them. If she'd managed to play it cool, she might have gotten away with pretending there was nothing out of the ordinary.