7.
Sienna
I stood under a building overhang as the rain drizzled down around me. The Pacific Northwest was really living up to its reputation as a precipitation-heavy place today, which was funny, because it had been pretty dry overall since I’d gotten here. Now I was cold and wet and should have been generally unhappy.
But I wasn’t. I was just staring straight ahead, humming to myself. Because I had something important to do.
“I understand why you’re happy,” Harry said next to me, chafed from the wait. Or maybe because of the cold and/or being soaked to the skin. I was trying not to let that get to me. “But you might want to tone it down just a smidge, otherwise people—not me, obviously, since I know you—might get the idea you think it’s really swell when shit’s going all to hell.”
“It’s not that I like it when things go bad, per se,” I said, brushing some of my now-red hair back behind my ear, “it’s just that … uhm …”
“Beating bad guys is the thing you live for,” Harry finished for me.
“No,” I said, trying to clarify, “it’s that … if I don’t solve the meta problems no one else can … what’s the point of me?”
“Ahhhh—and I’m just spitballing here—you could try and be a normal, non-fugitive person.”
I gave him a pitying look. “We both know I’m not a non-fugitive person. And let’s just give that ‘normal’ thing a wide berth, cuz I’m pretty far from that, too, as the awkward precautions required for our romantic interludes should have made clear by now.”
“It’s a little weird the lengths we have to go to in order to keep my soul from being absorbed,” Harry admitted, “but I’ve met a lot of people in my life, Sienna. You’re not so different from any of them, once you get past the physical contrivances associated with being a succubus. You want things—well, you want to be needed, anyway. That’s a pretty universal human desire.”
“I really prefer to focus on my special weirdness, Harry,” I said, giving him a frown.
“Everyone wants to be special in some way,” Harry said. “Even if it’s minor. I don’t blame you for wanting to focus on the part of your identity that makes you unique, but—”
“Why is it that anytime someone pays me a compliment they follow it with a ‘but’ so big that Sir Mix-A-Lot would drool over it?”
“I don’t know what that m—oh.” He must have read my explanation of it out of the probabilities. “Nice reference. You know you weren’t born until 1994, right? Meaning after that song was released?”
“You know my primary exposure to culture until I was seventeen was my mother, right?” I tossed back. “Followed by TV and books, then music, most of which was not new.”
“It all starts to make sense now,” Harry said, “you’re an old soul because your mother didn’t let you associate with the cool kids. Or any kids, really.”
“I mean, I do my best to fit in with your normies who have been socializing and associating with other people all your lives,” I said, trying to play it cool when in fact Harry had touched on an area of pretty deep insecurity for me. Being cavalier about it was my only defense. “But … you know, I was playing a heck of a game of catch up when I left the house.”
“I feel like my point got lost in all this.”
“Then it probably wasn’t worth making,” I said, “because it was basically just a paean to how I’m totes ‘normal,’ which I’m really not, Harry. And I’m not saying that in an, ‘I’m so super special!’ kind of way. I agree that when it comes to genetic code or whatever, I’m probably 99.9% like other human beings. But those differences? Killer in terms of how we experience life.” I raised a hand. “Not being able to touch like a normal person? Pretty key defining feature of the Sienna experience.”
“I’m not saying it’s not different for you,” Harry said, looking, if anything, even more impatient and still clearly flustered that he wasn’t reading as far into the future as he normally did. “What I’m saying is, your joy at being needed to save the world—or in this case, save me—”
“Huh?” I blinked at him. “Oh, because it messes with your powers.” I hadn’t really thought of this job as saving Harry.
It only took him a second to pick up on my unspoken answer, and his eyes narrowed. “If you weren’t thinking of this in terms of helping me, what the hell are you charging to Japan for?”
“Well, time’s freezing, Harry,” I said. “And even though I’m the only one who can see it, I don’t imagine it’s a healthy thing to be happening. You know for the, uhm … space time continuum or whatever. Science … stuff.”
He didn’t appear impressed by my whipping out the ‘space time continuum’ bit. Which made sense, because I didn’t know what the hell I’d just said. “You’re just running into this because—”
“Because I have a fated date with Akiyama,” I said, “and to help you and stuff. And because the world will probably need my help on this one before the end.” I forced a smile that was super fake.
“‘The world will need’—Sienna, the world can’t see this time break thing happening.”
“Yes,” I said, “but mark my words—the world will need my help on this before it’s all said and done. I have a sixth sense for danger, and this? It reeks of it, like douchebags stink of Abercrombie and Fitch colognes.” I settled back against the edge of the building and stared pensively out across the airport tarmac as a private jet came rolling up. I hadn’t even noticed it landing. Must have been caught up in the argument. “Do you think my succubus powers to reach into souls count as a sixth sense? Because if so, I guess detecting that the world is coming to danger is probably a seventh sense—”
Harry let out a low sigh, a groan under his breath that lasted a few seconds, and he looked up at the plane rolling our way warily. “I wish we could have found a different way to do this.”
“It’s a private plane,” I said, “it’s going to be totally kittens.”
Harry stared at me blankly. “… What?”
“Never mind,” I said, glancing away. “It’ll be fine.”
“I hope you’re right,” Harry said, “I’m just, ah …” The plane taxied right over to us and rolled to a stop. The door started to open a moment later, stairs built into it lowering almost to us. Curbside service. Couldn’t beat that.
“It’s called nerves, Harry,” I said. “And I know why you’re nervous.” He cocked his head at me curiously. “I remember what you said at Midway Airport. You’ve got … history.”
His face froze. “You’re not, uh—”
“I don’t care about your past,” I said. “It’s the future that’s concerning me at the moment, anyway.” And I started up the ramp the moment the stairs finished folding down.
“Hey, you guys!” came a bright, enthusiastic voice as I ducked into the plane, past the flight attendant who was waiting at the top of the stairs, trying to stay in so the rain didn’t pepper her. I didn’t have to duck to squeeze through the door, but Harry did, just a little, after me. I stepped into the Gulfstream jet and managed not to shake myself like a wet dog. I settled for dropping my baggage with the flight attendant, who took it wordlessly. I headed down the aisle to where my host was waiting. Harry followed a moment later, and I could sense his hesitation.
I plopped into a seat across from the girl—woman, I supposed, though she only occasionally acted like it—across from me, who was eyeing me brightly. “Hey,” I said, settling back. “How’s it going?”
“It’s been such a dynamite year so far, Sienna,” she gushed as Harry eased up, taking a seat a couple rows ahead of us. There was only two seats per row, and they could be rotated like an office chair. He sat down in his and then rotated it halfway toward us, so he could listen to our conversation and not appear totally rude, but also not look like he was deeply involved, either. “Hey, Harry,” she said, a little uneasily.
“Klementina,” he said, a touch uneasily himself.
Our host blushed, red replacing the usual tan of this California girl’s skin around her cheeks. She forced a tight smile, at me, then to Harry, and said, perfectly polite, “I don’t really go by that anymore … Please …” And she smiled a lot more genuinely, “… call me Kat.”