Requiem

My fingers touched my lips. “Oh my God,” I whispered.

“Yeah,” Ryan said, leaning into my ear. “That’s his wife, and his two kids. His little girl is three. His son is seven.”

I couldn’t hide the horror in my eyes as I looked to Claire. She was impervious, lowering her chin as a gesture for me to remain calm. Each second after that moment was an eternity. The eulogy, the service, the songs. Once the prayer began, I scrambled from my seat, ignoring those I forced to stand or slide their legs over while I side-stepped to escape.

The doors pushed open, and the brisk air in my lungs felt like the first time I’d breathed in over an hour. The railing was the only thing keeping me erect while I struggled to catch my breath.

“Nina, Jesus!” Claire said. She grabbed my arm, steadying my weak knees. “You just ran—not walked— ran out of the funeral of a murdered Providence police officer! Why don’t you just tape a target to your back?”

“He had babies! A family!” I cried.

“You have a family, too,” Claire said. “We just happen to have better aim.”

“We should have talked to him. Given him a chance to do the right thing.”

Claire grabbed my shoulders. “Kit Anderson was a father and a husband, but if I hadn’t taken him out, he would have handed Ryan over to Donovan’s men, and Ryan would be dead right now.”

“It doesn’t make sense. Why would they need Ryan? Donovan knows everything there is to know about Hybrids from Isaac.”

“Leverage,” Claire said.

“Are you alright?” Ryan call ed, running down the steps to the sidewalk. He lifted my chin. “What happened back there, Nigh?” He looked to the church, and then back to me.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I haven’t been to a funeral since Jack….”

“Oh. Of course, I didn’t realize,” Ryan said, hugging me for a brief moment. “Maybe some food might make you feel better? Have you eaten?”

“No, actual y,” I said, just realizing that fact for myself.

“The wives are cooking for the guys at the station…taking some over to the family, too. Let’s stop by there before you two head home.”

“Nina has some things to do,” Claire said, slipping on her sunglasses.

Ryan’s eyes met mine. His expression told me this was the moment of reparation.

“I should eat,” I said.

Even through her dark glasses, I could see Claire’s big eyes zero in on mine, an indication of the retribution I would receive once we were alone.

Ryan’s smile spanned from one side of his face to the other. “Okay, then. You wanna ride with me?”

“Yes,” I said without pause. If I was lucky, I could postpone my punishment until Jared was around. As much as I loved Claire, she was stil intimidating.

The ride to the North Providence police station was ful of tension, although Ryan babbled like a nervous teenager on his first date. Few people had left the church by the time we’d arrived, but within the half-hour, the smal space quickly overflowed.

Ryan, Claire, and I retreated to a smal er room where the officers on duty were watching television and playing cards, and two in the corner were arm wrestling.

“Scotty Dog!” one of the officers said. “Which one’s the ex, and which one’s your date?”

“Stow it, McCarty,” Ryan said. “Claire, Nina…this is Matt, and that’s Pat.” He gestured to the officer wrestling Matt’s hand to the table. Final y, Pat succeeded.

“I was distracted!” Matt said.

Ryan laughed. “You’re such a baby, McCarty. Take the loss like a man.”

Matt tapped the table. “Come on, then, Scotty. Put your money where your mouth is.”

Ryan watched Matt pul out a fifty-dol ar bil , slamming it on the table. Claire’s body language was notably different. She raised her hand to her mouth, subtly trying to cover the slight grin that touched the corners of her mouth.

Ryan saw Claire’s expression as wel , prompting him to sit, and then rol up his sleeves. “Let’s do it.”

Their hands and arms shook as they pushed against the other. Matt’s face was red, and a vein had popped out on his forehead like a pulsating worm slithering under his skin.

“You gonna let the rookie beat you, McCarty?” Pat said, smiling at the spectacle.

A few moments later, Ryan slammed Matt’s hand to the table. “Yeah!” he grunted, standing up in celebration.

“Oh, brother,” Claire said, rol ing her eyes. “I thought you invited us to lunch, not a pissing contest.”

“You wanna stab at it?” Ryan asked, returning to his seat.

Claire stiffened. She was competitive, and being forced to lose to Ryan to protect her identity was not something she would handle wel .

“Don’t do it,” I whispered.

“I won’t be easy on you just because you’re a girl,” Ryan said.

Matt laughed. “I don’t know. She’s got some eggs on her arms.”

By the look on his face, Ryan knew exactly what he was doing. He had experienced her strength before, and he was going to test his theory.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” she said, uninterested. “You’re stil healing.”

Ryan shrugged. “Then I’ll use the other arm. I’ll stil beat you.”

Claire sat in the open chair.

“Claire, no,” I said.

Ryan held up his hand, and Claire took it. She lowered her chin, glaring into Ryan’s eyes.

“She’s feisty,” Matt said, intrigued.

“Shut up, McCarty,” Pat said.

“Say go, Nina,” Claire said.

“This is stupid….” I said, attempting a last chance to avoid the only two products of their ridiculous stand-off—neither of them good.

“Go!” Matt yel ed.

Their arms turned rigid, and then their hands began to tremble. I knew the shaking was on Ryan’s part; Claire looked bored. After fifteen seconds, the officers around the table began harass Ryan.

“I thought you said you wouldn’t go easy on her, Scotty Dog?” McCarty smirked.

“Come on, Scotty. Quit foolin’ around,” Pat said.

Ryan’s face turned several shades of red, and then beads of sweat formed on his brow.

Claire raised an eyebrow, and then pushed a bit, leaning Ryan’s hand closer to the table.

McCarty laughed out loud. “She’s gonna beat him! Scotty’s gonna get beat by a girl!”

Ryan took a deep breath, and then pressed his lips together, holding his breath and straining so hard, I thought he might pass out.

Claire looked at Matt, and then back at Ryan. She rol ed her eyes, and the slight tension in her arm gave way. Ryan slammed her hand to the table.

The officers al cheered, and Ryan stood, rubbing his arm.

“You’re not serious,” Matt said, doubtful.

Claire patted the empty table space in front of her and smiled. “Have a seat, Sweet Pea.”

“This is bad, bad idea,” I said. “Claire, it’s time for us to go.”

Matt put up his hand, and Claire took it.

I turned to Ryan. “Don’t let her do this. It’s going to draw attention.”

“To what?” he asked, focused on my eyes.

I recoiled from his stare. “Nothing.”

“Go!” Pat said.

Matt’s arm stiffened against Claire’s. Before long, his face was as red as Ryan’s had been just moments before.