And Off-Balance Again

I lay on Lee’s bed, thinking, listening to her pronounced but feminine snore from the laundry pile. It seemed a little ungentlemanly to be enjoying her mattress while she slept on clothes, but I wasn’t man enough to wake her up after the afternoon we’d had. I’d probably take a fireball to the face. So I thought.

            I was still floating on the wave of relaxation that Wylla seemed to leave in her wake, and for the first time in a long time, I felt like I could just breathe and be. What a captivating woman.

            To have a power like hers, to bring peace and healing to people, instead of fire and ice and whatever that bolt of destruction that’d ruined the Renegade’s head had been… I was jealous. I felt like I could only destroy things.

            Although Lee had implied that we could do other things if we understood the Glyphwork conceptually. I was very interested in learning more about that. What were the limits of the Glyphs’ language?

            Were there limits?

            “You awake?”

            I sat up to see Lee clambering out of her pile of clothes, stretching her arms and looking around for her clock.

            “Just chilling. It’s about six, if you’re wondering.”

            “Seriously? Ugh. Where’s Wylla?” Lee came and sat on the edge of the bed, unbuckling her shield bracer and very carefully setting it aside. “Don’t kick that.”

            “She said she had to run. And that you should see her before you Read anything.”

            Lee grumbled, running fingers through her hair. “I know she’s right, but I get so sick of being plumped up every weekend. You know I have to buy like three different sizes of bra?”

            “Uh. Bummer.”

            “Expensive, is what it is.”

            “Could just go without,” I offered, earning a scowl.

            “As lovely as that sounds, it’s hard enough balancing a gun, a shield, assorted gadgets, and a book on a chain, without the added jiggle of going National Geographic. But thanks.”

            I laughed, then pulled up my sleeves, displaying my regrown muscles. “Being flat, myself, I don’t mind the extra meat. Got any pickle jars you need opened?”

            “So you got to know Wylla, then?”

            “Yeah. She’s… something else.” I felt like I wasn’t doing her justice. “Special.”

            “She’s a good friend.”

            “So, gonna go get fattened up, before our next mission?” I asked, wondering what a full-figured Lee would look like. She didn’t answer right away. “I didn’t mean you’d be fat,” I amended, but she shook her head.

            “No, that’s not… never mind.”

            “What?”

            “I just… f**k. I really need a drink.” She looked at me, appraising. “You know how to do a shot?”

            “I dabble. I’m more of a weed man, myself.”

            “What were you doing in here while I was asleep? I smell a p***y.”

            I narrowed my eyes, but grinned. “I just got some extra body weight, lady, I don’t think you know what you’re getting yourself into.”

            “The apprentice will become the b***h, you’ll see. Ugh.” She slouched to her wardrobe, untucking her Conclave shirt. “Be a gentleman for two minutes, then we’ll go and drop off this Text.” I turned and sat facing the other way while she changed clothes. “Then I’ll introduce you to the floor at a place I know.”

            I laughed. “Do they need a liquor license to serve on the Moon?”

            She just laughed back. “All right, I’m good. We can pick up your normal clothes at the supply room, before we head out.” I turned back around, and Lee was wearing a very short pair of jean shorts and a flouncy blue shirt with long sleeves and a deep v-neck. It was such a far cry from her usual body-hiding black silks that I must have gaped.

            “You look nice.”

            “Thanks. I figured I’d get my money’s worth out of the s**t clothes I had to buy to babysit you.” She smirked. A week ago she’d said almost the same thing with nothing but disdain in her voice. Today, it was more… what? “Shall we?”

            We left the room, taking our time. I don’t think either of us was in a hurry to reach the Conclave office, and I was hesitant to revisit the events of the bookstore. We stepped through the light door into the Mall reception area, and wove through the usual crowd until we reached the hallway where the Conclave headquarters was.

            I stopped before we reached the door, and Lee turned with a curious look on her face.

            “What’s up?”

            I cleared my throat. “Uh, if you’d like me to run in and hand that book over, I can do that. You know, if you don’t feel like dealing with these people.” Lee smiled at me.

            “That’s really nice of you, but frankly I’ve done a few things I didn’t feel like doing today.”

            I nodded. “Well, I’ve got your back.”

            “I know.”

            She opened the door, and I followed her into the purple light.

            It was almost night in St. Lucia, and the good people of Conclave had placed the reception desk right in front of a dazzling sunset. The smirking, preening Daphne they plopped in front of it only served to ruin the view.

            “Hey guys,” she said, for once noticing us when we walked in.

            “Facebook broken?” Lee inquired, earning a slightly dirtier look. “I need to see Ramage.”

            “She left like an hour ago. Did you get that thing you were after?”

            “Yep.”

            “Yeah, you can just leave it with me. I’m training the new girl in the morning, so I’ll be here, and I can give it to the Grand Master in the morning.”

            I thought she was being oddly helpful. “What new girl?”

            “Your old girlfriend, Beck.”

            I felt an odd pang. “What do you mean, training?”

            “You know, just the usual stuff. How to get around here, what we do, and so on. She’s gonna be doing administrative stuff, like me.”

            “Hopefully she has a knack for text messaging,” Lee chuckled. “Tell her we said hey, and thanks for the heads up. It would have been nice if they told me we were dealing with a trained f*****g warrior. We barely got out of there alive.” She tossed the renegade’s Text, a peculiarly red specimen, onto the desk, and wheeled around to leave.

            “Um, Lee?”

            “What?” she said, looking over her shoulder.

            “I, uh… look, I know we don’t really get along very well, but…”

            “What’s up, Daphne?” Lee turned all the way back around, arms crossed. The receptionist looked extremely nervous.

            “I don’t… okay look, I never said anything, but… I don’t think…”

            “Spit it out.”

            “I don’t think Ramage expected you to come back. Not both of you.”

            Lee rolled her eyes, but I perked up. “What makes you say that?”

            “Just, like, how she was acting. Like she’d gotten rid of you. She seemed sad, but in a weird way.” Daphne looked on the verge of a breakdown. “Okay I could be wrong, but she was being really weird and I thought I should tell you, that’s all.” She took a few quick breaths.

            “So they’re actively trying to get me killed.”

            “I don’t know, I don’t have any proof of course… are you mad?”

            Lee stared at Daphne’s panicked, wide-open expression for a minute, and finally laughed out loud, a sardonic, broken sound. “I’m not anything, Daphne. They’ve made that abundantly clear. Thank you for telling me.”

            “I’m really sorry, I didn’t know what to-“

            “It’s fine. You don’t have to tell them you saw me.” She sighed, caught my eye, and jerked her head towards the door. Time to leave. “Have a nice life.”

            We left the lobby together and paused in the Nexus hallway. I raised an eyebrow. “What did you mean by that? ‘have a nice life’?”

            Lee looked at the floor for a minute, then touched the brand on the back of her right hand. With her arms more bare than usual, I could see that the silver glyphwork had wound its way a few inches up her arm, past the wrist.

            “I didn’t know that would actually happen,” I said quietly.

            “Neither did I,” she replied. For a while I watched her finger trace the chrome lines embedded in her smooth skin. “I asked Ramage about it. Apparently nobody’s brand has gotten this advanced before. I guess it grows a little the more you Read things, takes a little more of you.”

            She fell silent. After a minute she sighed and straightened up. “I believe I owe you a drink,” she said, in a cheerful, energetic voice, and started up the hallway.

            “You don’t have to do that,” I protested, keeping up with her. “If you feel like you need to talk, we can just talk. It’s cool.”

            “That’s right, you’ve been looking into the lights with Wylla. So you’re feeling talky and emotional and therapeutic.” She scoffed. “It’ll wear off.”

            “That’s not it at all,” I argued.

            “Can we just go get drunk, please?”

            “Will you talk to me, then?”

            “I’m sure I will.” She laughed without humor. “Do you have any cash on you?”

            “Yeah, plenty actually.”

            “Good, you’re paying.” We reached the light door area, and Lee punched in a set of characters. Our door flashed open. “Hopefully this place still takes U.S. dollars.”

            *

            “I can’t unnerstand what anyone is saying!”

            “I can’t understand what you’re saying,” Lee cackled, red faced and swaying. She waved into a severely drunk guy, laughed again, and wiggled her reflective hand at me as if to say, lets sit down before I fall down. I followed, weaving between roaring men.

            There was some incomprehensible sport involving wickets on the one small television, and nearly everyone in the smoky pub was screaming at it. From what I could gather, the team called the Rock-by-the-Bridge Offlers was the house favorite, and had a six-century rivalry with the Eislington Banjers, their opponent this evening.

            I think. I don’t recall the evening especially well.

            Welcome to Ireland.

            “This is always been my favorite place to drink,” Lee was explaining, reaching blindly back to catch my hand and pull me towards a side table. “’Merka just doesn’t have the… the atmosphere. Right?”

            “Couldn’t agree more,” I nodded. It was an enthusiastic nod, and I very nearly headbutted the pint of nearly-black beer I was cradling. “Plus the beer is stronger than most American whiskeys.”

            “It only seems that way ‘cause you’re almost sober.”

            I wasn’t even sure if I remembered how to read. Not Glyphs, I mean I was having a hard time understanding English. Sober. Hah. “Sober is relative.”

            “You have family here?”

            “What?”

            “Nebbermind. Hows your beer?”

            I grimaced. “Warm.”

            “Goes to your head faster, that way. S’good. Drink it!”

            How could I argue with such an eloquent offer? I tipped the soup-temperature, chewable beer down my throat and swallowed bravely. It wasn’t bad, as long as you never stopped drinking it. The aftertaste was the murderous bit. That’s how they get you.

            The only solution, in what remained of my mind, was to never stop drinking it. I called for another couple of pints, assumed they were en route, and turned back to Lee. “So. Got a bone to pick with you.”

            “Sup?”

            “I wanna know what you meant, at the office, when, when you were talking to Daphne. Sounded like you were going away.”

            “I was, dummy,” she snickered, rolling her eyes. “You went with me.”

            “I meant like, not going back. To Conclave.”

            Her head swayed alarmingly to the side, thumping a screaming sports fan, who ignored the light impact completely. She hiccupped. “Might not. I dunno.”

            “Why?” I was baffled.

            “You f****n’ kidding me? After this morning?”

            “You said,” I began, steadying myself, “You said that was Conclave work. You said it was normal, that it was footwork. Do that stuff all the time.”

            “I killed that girl, Trick. Pow. Just like… just like that,” she slurred, snapping her fingers after a couple tries. “Just pointed, and- and said the words, and she was meat. Like that.” She looked blearily up at me, frowning. “Don’t you think thass fucked up?”

            “Saved me, though.”

            “Bullshit, that was sup-supposed to be you. Almost was.”

            My heart stopped for a second. I hadn’t thought of it that way. “Well, yeah,” I stammered, “But then it wasn’t. So it’s cool.” I pictured my own skinny body tumbling to a mat of wrecked paperbacks. “It’s all good.”

            “S’ nothing but luck. Who f****n knows?” she leaned until her head thumped the table. She spoke directly into stained wood. “Woulda been even easier. B***h actually knew some stuff, you’da been… fish inna barrel.”

            “I’m flattered.”

            “S’ why I don’t wanna go back.”

            “To Conclave?” I reached and gently lifted her face away from the undoubtedly filthy table, until she was looking me in the eyes. I watched her try to focus.

            “Yeah.”

            “Because they make you kill people?”

            She nodded against my hand, face screwed up as though she was about to cry. “Iss… all I’m ever been good at,” she said miserably. A tear started its way down her cheek.

            “I think we ought to go,” I said, glancing around. “You should go to bed.”

            “Dinnit bring my test,” she managed, barely comprehensible. I thought for a second.

            “You didn’t what?”

            “No test. Text! Don’t have it.” She patted herself as though checking pockets, shrugged comically, and said “whoops!” in a whimsical voice. Then almost immediately resumed being despondent.

            “That’s all right, I, um. I have mine. Can I bring you with me, when we teleport?”

            “Yeah, just gotta be close. C’mon,” she said, standing precariously. “Can go out back and leave, should be empty.” I took her hand and we headed for the door, winding around increasingly exuberant partiers. I drew my Text out of my sweater pocket, preparing to attempt the home spell with another person in tow.

            As we reached the door, Lee swung around and yelled “F**k the Offlers!”

            I grabbed her around the waist, held her against my body, and screamed yayin aayatana, I think, as the instantly-hostile crowd surged towards us.

*

            We landed in my room with a loud thump, and for about half a millisecond I was intensely proud of myself.

            Then the bottle hit me in the forehead, all the way from a pub in Limerick, thrown by an angry Offlers fan and swept up by my spell. I fell to my floor, half pulling Lee with me.

            “Mother F**K!” I snarled, rubbing my head, “That hadda be half full!”

            “You’re an… an optimist,” Lee laughed, on her hands and knees next to me. “Ow, my kneeds.” At this, she began cackling.

            “Glad it’s funny,” I grouched. “I’m the one with the split head.” I sat up, looking around at my room and feeling dizzy. Lee grinned.

            “You want me to kiss it and make it better?”

            “Wouldn’t mind having Wylla take a look at me,” I said, moving to stand up, but Lee caught me and pulled me back down.

            “My way is much more interactive,” she said, and pressed her lips to mine.

            Well.

            If we’re being honest with ourselves, I met her halfway.

  There’s something perfect in the loss of inhibition. Something pure, if the word can be applied. An instant of her soft lips, the first intoxicating taste of her alcohol-traced breath, the tiny, desperate groan that escaped her at the moment of giving in to temptation…

            It would never have happened if we’d been thinking.

            She launched herself atop me, and for the first time I was aware of the coiled strength in her slender body. Her bare legs caged my lower body, one hand holding herself up, the other tangled frantically in my hair as if to keep from falling off the world.

            Everything spun. I breathed, she breathed back, we were foolish and we were alive.

            It was good.

            I thought of Wylla’s advice. I took it.

            Between heartbeats that threatened to escape my chest, I tried to think. This is Lee. This is happening. This is Lee, kissing me, I’m kissing her, touching me like so much more than the friend she was just becoming, wreathing me in the flame of her body. But thought was dull next to sensation.

            Every argument was slain by a corresponding thrill.

            It’s not Beck, my body screamed. Good, it screamed back. We crave variety and you know it.

            I don’t love her like this, my heart attempted. You don’t know that, it realized. Wait and see. And in the meantime…?

            Find something good. And let it be good.

            I pushed against Lee and she pushed back, moaning into my open mouth, and a galvanizing shiver traced my spine. As strong as she was, I would always be bigger, and with the Mending I realized I was stronger, too. I lifted us from the floor and she clung to me until we spun to my unmade bed.

            I was waiting for an objection and it never came.

            I was thinking too much. Thinking in words, when Lee had the right idea, urging me on with wordless sounds of need. Pulling at the ragged Conclave silks I’d completely forgotten I was wearing. Tearing the seam at my shoulder.

I’d worn this shirt into battle. It hadn’t protected me at all.

            She had.

            The buttons on her lovely blue shirt fell open at the slightest attempt. I wondered if she’d planned for this. I traced the contour of her collarbone with my lips, daring to strike with teeth when she pressed herself into me, encouraged by her gasps of delight.

            I realized she was speaking into my hair as she held me, and listened-

            “Never, could never, couldn’t…”

            I leaned back, worried that I’d overstepped myself once again. “What’s that?”

            She looked straight into my eyes, something that needed help looking into my soul, and said, “They wanted me to hurt you, Tyler.”

            “It’s all right…”

            She shook her head, soft hair brushing my arms in turn, frowned that I wasn’t understanding. “I could never hurt you.”

            I kissed her again, one second of chastity. The kiss of a friend, no more, for one moment. “I believe you.”

            She smiled, and I felt…

            …I don’t know what I felt. But I felt it. Closeness, maybe. Affection. Warmth. I felt alive, and my God, it had been so, so long since I felt that…

            Find something good, I thought.

            And together, even after a day like today, we found something, and we let it be good.

*

Reviews

[Ness]

You did that scene perfectly. Just enough emotion and not too much lovey dovey stuff bc they're not at that level yet. Great job, it was beautifully done.

[UponATyme]

Better. Much better. I have chills. And I feel like I want to cry.

[UponATyme]

What a TEASE. That's all I've got to say about THAT.