Mortal Danger
I jammed the straw deep into my glass, chewing my bottom lip. “This sounds pretty diabolical. I hope you know that.”
“I’m aware.” Sorrow threaded his tone, making me wonder what could make someone like him sad.
“Can you tell me anything about the people you work for?”
“At the moment, no.”
I’d like to glean some more information before making a decision, but his response implied he could only answer questions after I agreed to the terms. That seemed shady; it couldn’t be good if my benefactors preferred to hide in the shadows. One thing could be said of this situation; curiosity had supplanted despair as my dominant emotion.
“You said you come to exceptional humans. Why me?” I was brainy, but not the kind of smart that cured cancer.
“If I told you why we want to save you, it could screw up your timeline.”
“You mean if I learn that I solve cold fusion, then I might not. I might decide to breed rabbits instead.”
“You hate rabbits,” Kian said gently.
“Yeah.” I did—since one bit me in the fourth grade—but how weird that he knew.
“The deal is on the table. Choose, Edie.”
From here, I sensed it was up to me. “Can I have some time to think about it?”
“No. I’m sorry.”
“It comes down to a leap then, either way. You can put me back on the bridge … only this time you don’t stop me. Will it be like we never came here or went to the mountain?”
“Yes.”
I smiled. For someone like me, there could be only one reply.
THE HOUSE ALWAYS WINS
“I’m in. Obviously my life sucks. If it didn’t, we wouldn’t be here.”
Kian smiled, a soft breath of relief escaping him, like he truly cared, and he was glad he didn’t have to dump me back on the bridge. More likely, he worked on commission. Life had made me cynical, always waiting for the other shoe to drop.
He reached into his pocket and drew out a shining silver coin. At first glance, it could’ve been a quarter; it was around the same size. But there was a symbol I couldn’t identify engraved on one side; more similar to a kanji than any Western language I’d seen, yet I didn’t think it was Japanese. Kian flipped it over, revealing an infinity sign on the back.
“Let me have your wrist.”
“Why?”
“Accepting the mark formalizes the agreement.”
“Will it hurt?”
“Yes. But it’s quick.”
I appreciated his honesty. A deep breath escaped me as I pushed my right hand toward him. His fingers were warm and sure, exposing my palm, then he slid back my sleeve. As promised, it burned like fire when the metal touched my flesh. A glimmer of light shimmered—almost like a photocopier—and an intense prickle-pain worked beneath my skin. He pressed the coin even tighter to my flesh, until I almost couldn’t bear it. I bit my lower lip, blinking hard against rising tears. Just when I thought I’d scream, the sensation eased off.
“Done?” he asked, watching my face.
“You’re asking me?”
“When it stops hurting, I can pull the token away.”
“It just feels like metal now.”
With a relieved look, he removed it and I studied the mark on my arm. My parents would freak if they saw it since it resembled a tattoo. Oddly, there was no residual pain, and the skin didn’t look red or irritated, as I’d seen on people who came to school with new ink.
“There’s no special care required,” Kian told me. “But I’m afraid we’re not finished. I need your other arm.”
“The other symbol?” I guessed.
He nodded. “The infinity sign signifies your agreement to the deal. You need the other mark to identify your affiliation.”
“I have no idea what that means.”
“It tells certain parties that you’re an asset, or part of the opposition.”
“So showing it could help or hurt me, depending on who sees it?” This crap was getting more complicated by the second.
“Yes.”
“Am I allowed to cover these up with armbands or bracelets?”
“Sure. You just can’t change them with normal ink or remove them via laser.”
“Can’t or aren’t allowed to?” There was a fairly substantial difference.
“It’s not physically possible with existing technology.”
“That’s the least of my worries anyway.” Sighing faintly, I braced and gave him my left arm, wishing I knew what that kanji meant.
This time, I was better prepared for the searing pain. The tears spilled and overflowed despite my best efforts, but I didn’t utter a sound while he marked me. At last the coin reverted to cool metal instead of molten lava and I nodded at Kian. He pulled the token away and dropped it into his pocket.
“We’re almost done. Can I see your cell phone?”
“Yeah.”
It was jammed in my right front pocket. My parents insisted I keep it with me, because we communicated mainly via text. I suspected they’d use my cell like a LoJack to track me if I went missing. You almost did. I imagined myself floating in the dark water like Ophelia, only I wouldn’t leave a pale and lovely corpse with flowers tangled in my hair.
“Sure.” I dug it out and passed it across the table. Upside down, I watched him enter his name and program his number.
“When you’re ready to request your first favor, call me.”
“Really?” My brows went up.
“You expected more flash?”
“Well, after the mountain trick…”
“I could pop in at random to ask, are you ready yet? but I thought you’d find that startling. And creepy.”
Caught off guard, I laughed quietly. “You have a point.”
“And you have a nice smile.”
I winced. “Don’t. You already got me to agree to the deal.”
“I won’t apologize,” Kian said, “but I’ll stop if it makes you uncomfortable.”
“It just makes me think you’re full of shit.”
Taking my words as a sign to wrap things up, he waved at the waitress to get the check, and once he had it, dropped a few bills to cover it. “Let’s go then. I’ll see you home.”
I hurried toward the doors, hating that moment of vulnerability when the rest of the world could stare at me. By force of habit, my shoulders came forward and my head went down. Hair the color of field mice tumbled forward to hide my face. I felt better once I pushed out into the early morning light. Kian caught the door as it swung back, and then he was beside me, another flash of heat and color in a morning warming up in shades of salmon and vermillion, colors I never wore, but whose drama suited him.