Public Enemies (2 page)

“You could take his place in the compact.” The Harbinger made a smacking noise, uncomfortably between an air kiss and
you look delicious.
“Or you could trick someone else, I suppose. But I suspect your very prickly scruples wouldn't permit that.”

Pain flickered to life, a constant heat in my stomach. “No.”

“I find that fascinating.”

“Do you?”

“Most creatures feel nothing so strongly as the need for self-preservation. Yet humanity occasionally produces bright sparks, capable of sacrifice.”

“Is that why you wanted to see me?” I hadn't moved, and the Harbinger wasn't done circling. He put me in mind of a shark. I'd heard that if a shark ever stopped swimming, it would die. This being radiated the same hungry intensity, the same predatory drive.

“Partly. I wonder … if you would beg for your beloved's life.”

“Would it do any good?” I asked.

“Dearling, no. I have to eat, don't I?”

Revulsion flooded upward, nearly choking me. “You mean—”

“I won't be charbroiling him, but life is energy, and there's no one to light candles or whisper my name in supplication. So what else am I to do?” Though his tone was blithe, I had the sense that he minded the latter more than he let on.

“They used to?”

“Once. But I was never popular,” he admitted. “And this suits me. The trickster is better as a broker, I think.”

“You don't play the game?” I thought I recalled Kian telling me that much.

“Only when I make the rules, which change according to my whim. The others take it all
so
seriously. Too much competition can be as tedious as too little, you know. Far more amusing to frolic on the fringes, ruining other people's schemes for the pure pleasure of it.”

“I'd like you a hundred percent more if you told me you've made Wedderburn's life worse.”

A laugh rang out, dizzying me, for it echoed in the warehouse, carrying with it a mad music and the flutter of a thousand beating wings. When I spun about, the Harbinger and I were alone, standing in a spotlight; I couldn't remember if the brightness fell that way before, but now I had the sense of standing on a stage before an invisible audience.

“All the time, pretty one. I complicate his plots and abet the sun god, then turn about as soon as the wind changes.”

“I'm starting to understand why Kian approached you.”

The Harbinger's tone turned serious like the ringing of a bell. “The only rule I respect comes from such agreements. So I've brought you here to suggest you enjoy the time you've got left with your darling. Don't waste energy seeking after a crack in the wall.”

“Don't people usually do that when they're worried about someone finding a loophole?”

“
People
,” he said gently. “Little one, this is me being kind. Your beloved will not attempt to renege but I fear for
your
prospects if you interfere.”

“But aren't you supposed to protect me, no matter what?”

The mad laughter came again, starting an avalanche of pain in my head. A trickle came from my nose, and I tasted copper in my throat. My vision flickered with black spots, the lights brightening until it felt as if my retinas were melting.

“Even from yourself? You do hold me in high esteem. I think … I like you, Edie Kramer. In the end, such a small thing may be enough to save you.” His tone turned musing. “Or perhaps it'll ruin you entirely.”

Entirely
echoed inside my skull as I passed out. When I woke, the two henchmen were depositing me on the curb near my apartment building. You'd think two giants manhandling a girl in broad daylight would alarm somebody, but no one seemed overly concerned. I'd learned the hard way, however, that monsters could put on a normal face, making the horrific appear ordinary. So possibly to passersby, I looked like a rolled-up rug.

“Do you ever get used to him?” I asked them hoarsely.

The German ignored me, but the driver's dark eyes flickered toward me. Then he gave a minute shake of his head before hopping into the van and merging into traffic. Belatedly I checked my belongings: backpack, cell phone, yes, everything, check. As expected, I had five messages from Kian, wondering why I wasn't at the mall, since we'd planned to meet for some last-minute Christmas shopping.

Sorry,
I texted.
I'm on the way. Something came up.

Are you okay?
Kian's response was immediate. He worried
so
much now that he couldn't get to me instantly if shit went down. But to my mind, it made things a little more … normal between us, when my life was so many shades of colossally screwed up. There was no way for me to be sure if I was still a catalyst or if I'd end up indentured in a few months, come graduation day. But that didn't scare me as much as the prospect of losing Kian.

He's terminal,
my brain pointed out.
Four months to live.

Fighting back a wave of anticipated grief, I ran for the subway. It was too early for the train to be full of commuters, but there were always students and people who defied description. I sat next to a railing to minimize contact and got off at the stop nearest the shopping center. Running kept me fit, so I wasn't too out of breath when I raced to meet Kian, who was still waiting outside, though I was over an hour late. His hands were icy, his cheeks red with cold, and his beautiful lips had taken on a distinctly blue tinge.

“Why didn't you dodge into a coffee shop?”

“I was afraid I'd miss you.”

“Like I wouldn't text you if I didn't find you right away.”

“I was concerned about you,” he admitted, pulling me into his arms. “And they frown on nervous pacing in most cafés.”

“Yeah, true. Are you ready to go in?”

“Not until you tell me why you were so late. I can tell something happened.” He cupped my arms through my coat, staring down into my face with a laser-focused concern I'd never talk my way around.

“Don't I get a hello kiss first?” I tried.

His smile could've powered a nearby electrical substation. “Sure. But don't think I'll forget the question.”

So much for that plan.

Yet I still wrapped my arms around his neck. He pulled me close, letting me snuggle into the open front of his down jacket. Each time Kian lowered his head, each time his lashes drifted shut, I tried to memorize everything about it—how he felt, how he tasted—because time wasn't on our side. Cupping his slightly raspy cheek in my palm, I stroked his jaw as he touched his lips to mine, so cool I shivered, but quickly warming with contact. Without waiting for him, I deepened the kiss, wanting to imprint on him, so that he'd never forget me, not even in a thousand lifetimes, timelines, what-the-hell-ever. For us the odds absolutely sucked. High school relationships usually crashed and burned anyway—without all of the supernatural death cards stacked against us.

“Wow,” he breathed, countless moments later. “So. What happened?”

I stifled a sigh. There was no remedy but the truth, though I didn't imagine finding out would make him feel better. He had less power than ever before. “Promise me you won't freak.”

“Conversations that start this way are more likely to agitate me, Edie.”

“Okay, well.” I led him toward the mall entrance, reckoning he was less likely to overreact with lots of people around. Inside, water burbled, tinted by changing lights, blue, yellow, red, back again. “Earlier, two guys shanghaied me, and … took me to the Harbinger.”

Kian's look could've frozen the fountain into a skating pond.

 

HOLIDAY HAUNTED

“What did he want? You didn't sign anything, did you? Even a verbal agreement—”

“No. I think he just wanted to get a look at me.”
And to warn me that it was pointless to try and save you.
But I didn't say the second thing out loud.

“Were you scared?” Kian threaded his fingers through mine, leading me into the deceptive safety of a throng of Christmas shoppers.

Old women in knit twinsets mingled with younger people in designer labels. A few people already had on Christmas sweaters and sweatshirts, inviting us to deck the halls and share joy to the world. In my current mood I was more likely to win the Ebenezer award.

“These days I pretty much always am,” I admitted quietly.

“I'm sorry. If there was anything else I could do—”

“Stop. You already did enough. Too much, in fact. I wish you cared half so much about saving yourself.”

Changing the subject, he ignored that. “Have you decided about Vi's invitation?”

My best friend wanted my dad and me to visit for the holidays, but I didn't think he could handle being immersed in a happy family. Our wound had barely scabbed over, and we'd both start hemorrhaging if we had to watch Vi's mom bustle around the kitchen, fussing over our recent bereavement. On the other hand, the idea of spending Christmas in our eternally beige sublet apartment depressed the hell out of me.

“We're definitely not going.”

This year, there was no Christmas tree, no decorations or preparation for what used to be a happy occasion. My mom always went overboard with the lights, making it so the tree could practically give you a seizure. I understood why my dad was hiding, submerging himself in work, but his behavior left me alone. Some days I wanted to scream at him,
You're not the only one who lost her.

I miss you, Mom.
Tears were always on tap, burning at the back of my eyes. It had been over a month, but there was always this wasteland in my head, just a blink away, and suddenly I was mentally in the cemetery, watching mourners drop flowers atop her casket. Trembling, I ran a hand through my hair, wondering if Kian could tell how much this hurt. Other than my great-aunt Edith, who was ancient when she died, I'd never lost anyone before. My private guilt only made this feel worse.

“I have an idea, if you're interested.”

The fact that he never stopped trying to make things better helped … a little. “What?”

“We could convince your dad to get out of the city for a couple of days.”

“And go where? Most places will be booked.”

Kian sighed. “True. I'm not used to limitations like reservations.”

Despite my mood, I couldn't restrain a laugh. “You worked for Wedderburn too long.”

“Definitely.”

“It wasn't a bad plan,” I said, mostly to cheer him up. “But my dad wouldn't have gone for it anyway.”

It would be a minor miracle if he didn't get up and go to work on Christmas, as if it were any other day. Since he did most of the cooking, I'd probably make a cheese sandwich and call it good. But Kian seemed troubled by the prospects of a bleak holiday, and maybe he had a point since it was our first together, and it might be our last too. That possibility made me clutch his hand tighter, prompting him to take a second look at me.

“Are you sure the Harbinger didn't do anything to you?”

To be honest, I couldn't be positive since I'd passed out near the tail end of the encounter. There was no way I was admitting that, however. “I was just trying to figure out what we can do to make the holidays better for my dad.”

Kian paused outside a store but I didn't think he was seeing the mannequins garbed in white gowns with silver tinsel and lights decorating the display window like a winter wonderland. “Sometimes you just have to be patient.”

“Well, I can't bring him back magically. But…” One possibility occurred to me. “We could decorate. And cook.”

“As I recall, my efforts didn't impress you at Thanksgiving.”

“Then you're in charge of the lights. You'll need to get them out of storage at the old place, though. Will that bother you?”

A flicker of his green eyes said the answer was yes, but Kian squared his shoulders. “Not a problem. After we're done shopping, I'll drop you off, pick them up, and swing by later.”

“Cool. We should split up now.” At his frown, I added, “How am I supposed to get you a present if you're right here the whole time?”

“You don't have to—”

“Don't tell me how to Christmas.” I cocked a brow, silently daring him to keep talking.

“Fine. Is an hour long enough?”

“It should be.” I already knew what I was getting.

Fifty-five minutes later, I headed back to the fountain with a couple of colorfully wrapped packages. Kian hadn't arrived yet, so I perched on the marble lip, absently counting the pennies at the bottom. None of them had been there long enough to turn, offering a constant coppery shimmer beneath the silver ripple of the water. The muted susurration of other shoppers provided a counterpoint to the rise and fall of the jets, orchestrated with a light show. As I stared, a shadow fell across the water, as if somebody were standing behind me. But when I turned, I saw no one.

A chill swept over me.

I got out my cell phone. Surveying the scene as if I were about to take a picture reassured me. Nothing weird showed up as I panned across. Nothing sinister here, right? There was an animatronic Santa across the way, waving in a merry, if robotic, fashion, from his prefab North Pole village. Beside him, they'd posted a sign indicating that you could meet a flesh-and-blood Saint Nick on the opposite side of the mall.

Still, I wasn't at ease when I turned back to the fountain. This time I caught a sliver of movement in my peripheral vision, and I remembered the Harbinger mentioning the mirror monsters. The reflective properties could be similar under the right conditions—did that mean the creatures could travel through water as well? It wasn't deep here, and I could
see
the specks in the concrete on the bottom.