Soraya

 

Piper had sent me a picture of the twins and I stared down at the five-week-olds, feeling a dull guilt in my gut at not being there. She hadn't complained on the phone, but she'd sounded tired. And not a usual kind of tired, a distracted, desperately in need of a sleep, tired.

Balt had come along then, taking the phone from her and urging her to go to bed. He’d told me the twins were sleeping as much as could be expected, but Piper insisted on staying up to keep an eye on them. Plus, her recovery was slow.

I should be home, I thought over and over again. Not running around Boston with a vigilante.

Or at the very least, I should be on the front lines of the war with the TLO, wherever that was. Enele had sent me an update, saying he couldn’t tell me where he was, but had texted a picture of him, Obi Manzul, Max Finnick, Dara Seng, Isiah Monterro and several others hunkered in a jungle.

Frost was teasing us by having these hybrid outbreaks all over the place. As of now, they’d switched the cities they were going to attack and were instead focusing on countries lacking infrastructure. Whereas in the US, she risked the government sending in the military – in the middle of nowhere, taking a few villages out would take time for anyone to notice. It was sick.

She constantly had our back up against the clock.

Getting up, I grabbed my coat and boots, shoving them on and then yanking a hat on my head. I’d meant to take this lazy Sunday to cook, re-braid my hair and even nap. But now I was clomping outside with determination, walking swiftly and without any destination.

My stomach was jumping with nerves. Part of me knew it was because I hadn’t worked out in a few days, but I’d been running around the city so much with King, I was exhausted. We still hadn’t found the new warehouse and both of us were starting to despair of ever finding it.

Plus, I’d been having nightmares about Faye.

Unusual ones, too. Seeing her alone on a beach, her face knotted up as though she were trying not to cry and fog rolling in around her. Shapes moved in that fog, but she took no notice, no matter how much I tried to warn her. But I had no voice in those dreams and I’d wake up with my throat raw from suppressed screams.

Her parents had died when she was twenty, at the hands of the TLO. For years, though, we never knew the truth. Not until Piper took over for the interim director handling the case. She’d come to me first, her eyes troubled and cheeks pale.

“Should we tell her?” Piper had asked in a low, shaking voice.

We’d gone to Balt and his jaw had tightened, then he’d nodded grimly. “I can do it if you want,” he’d offered, his eyes intent on Piper with that look that made me want to shake my cousin and hug her at the same time. How could she not see how much Balt cared for her?

But even then, I’d suspected he kept it quiet for his own reasons. Only someone as close as I was or as uncannily prescient as Isla turned out to be could have seen it.

I stopped and stared down at the murky Charles. I’d made it all the way to the BU bridge, spanning the river from where I lived in Brookline to Cambridge. Hugging myself, I dully wondered how it could be that there were no Knights left.

It seemed ominous in the face of this building storm.

For years, Faye and I had always wound up on the same squadron. Even when she got tapped for Herrod’s black ops, we still saw each other and worked together.

I used to worry about her. Faye could be as bad as Piper at forgetting to eat and sleep. Suddenly I remembered how I used to hope and pray Faye would find some guy as nice as Balt or Enele, maybe even Kai. Steady, dependable, and not reckless. Someone who would love her in the way she deserved. I knew Faye had wanted someday, in her own secret and shy way, to have a family.

Now she’s alone again. Lost, somewhere.

Not even a grave to mark her name.

Pressing my hands to the metal of the bridge, I fought back tears.

You’ll never see her again.

I began to walk again, blindly, moving fast so I could leave it all behind. I had to be strong. Talori, Enele, Kai and the rest of them were taking it hard enough. I remembered that blinding morning when the sun was as sharp as a diamond and we'd gone to the smoking ruins of the Foundry in Bear Valley. How they told us they hadn't found her yet. Didn't think they would.

Kai and Isla had hugged each other, while Talori leaned into Enele and I hugged them both.

I’d seen the stark grief cross Roy’s face and he turned away, shoulders shaking. Faye had been one of the few people who could get through Roy’s thick, stubborn skull when he was a rookie. She’d joke and call them the dynamic duo, the grumpy blondes and ruffle his hair.

He’d pretended to hate it, but he’d secretly adored Faye as a big sister. I knew it. It was impossible not to. She was always looking out for the rookies, mentoring them and listening to their inane problems. She’d never wanted to be a leader – but she had wanted to be a champion.

Damn the TLO, I thought. Damn them straight to hell.

The wind was picking up and it was so cold, it seemed to strip away every last piece of warmth from my bones. In a way, I welcomed the sensation and kept walking. The afternoon was starting to grow darker and darker, but I kept walking.

I was walking down a lonely street when I glanced up and saw a familiar set of shoulders coming towards me and tilting his head in recognition. My heart rate spiked as I panicked.

Desmond Devoy could not see me like this. Not this vulnerable or broken.

But even as I slowed and tried to find an exit, it was no use. I was hemmed in by cars and apartment buildings. I’d just have to brush past him with a quick greeting. Lie about needing to be somewhere.

“Mya?” Dez asked, coming to stop in front of me. His warm, kind voice reached all sorts of dark places in my soul and seemed to try to push them back. It made my knees sag a little, even as I grit my teeth. “You look frozen… What are you – do you live around here?”

Now he sounded puzzled, but concern was starting to creep into his voice.

I reared back and shook my head. I couldn’t have him worrying about me. I was already about to break down from his handful of nice words.

“I have to be somewhere,” I murmured, keeping my face away.

Dez gently stopped me and the pressure increased as I tried to pull away. “Mya.” Warm fingers brushed my cheek and I sensed him shaking his head. “You’re ice-cold and crying.”

“I’m fine,” I choked out.

“You’re not,” he said. “Come with me, please.”

With that, he turned and steered me down the street. At first, I let him, but then I saw he was making for the same café I’d spied him entering and leaving every day.

Balking, I shook my head. “Dez, you don’t have to – I don’t need anything.”

“You need something hot to drink and someone to talk to,” Dez said, sounding like his same friendly self, but with a stern edge that dared me to disagree. “Even the strongest of us need a shoulder occasionally. There is nothing wrong with that.”

I wanted to disagree. I wanted to shout at him that I was Wonder Woman and Storm and an Anubis agent. A Lafi. The eldest sister and cousin. I didn’t need anyone.

But I didn’t. Instead, I let Dez usher me inside, sitting me down at a table by the window and going to order drinks. It was nice in here, I thought absently. Cramped and cozy, but there weren’t too many people so we had the front all to ourselves.

The windows in the front were steamed at the corners from the contrast of ice and heat, written over with gold lettering. Plants hung from the ceiling, lined the shelves and kitschy signs about coffee were everywhere. Along with eco-friendlier and politically left ones, like Save the Planet! Plant a tree! Hug a dolphin!

This was a shifter café, I realized. Or at least run by shifters.

Dez came back and handed me a steaming mug of frothy goodness. He didn’t say anything as he unwound his scarf and shrugged off his coat, just sat down across from me and took a sip.

“I should go,” I said, my voice weak to my own ears.

“At least drink your free mocha-peppermint-espresso first,” Dez cajoled.

He was smiling at me in that gentle way he had, but his eyes were troubled and there was an unwavering intensity to them. The muscles in his neck were tight as he regarded me. Clearly, he thought I was in some kind of trouble and his instincts were screaming at him to do something.

No wonder why Balt and Piper sang his praises. They were cut from the same cloth.

But unlike those two, Dez didn’t push. We drank our coffee in silence, Dez radiating patience and empathy. With each moment, I could feel myself caving a little bit more.

“One of my best friends died a few months ago,” I heard myself say out loud.

The muscles around his mouth worked and he swallowed. “Mya, I’m sorry to hear that.” His eyes moved across my face. “I knew that wasn’t an ordinary sadness I saw.”

I drew back. “What?”

“You hide it well,” Dez said. “You don’t want anyone to know you’re suffering, probably out of a fear of thinking you’re weak.” He paused. “You can’t honestly think you’re weak, Mya.”

I had nothing to say to that. Except a sudden urge to come clean.

I’m not Mya. And I’m devastated about Faye. We never found her. She’s lost.

“You look discomfited and I apologize for that, but we’ve spent enough time together for me to realize these things.” His voice had an odd note to it. “Plus, the few times in class when I’ve told a shifter legend about sacrifice, I saw the look in your eyes.”

I nodded. “She died helping others. Just as she lived.” I swallowed. “I miss her.”

Dez said nothing to that, but I saw the pain in his face. He was feeling for me and then his hand covered mine. I’d stripped off my gloves when he brought the coffee and the feeling of his big warm hand was almost too much. He went to pull away and I acted on instinct, clasping my fingers around his as far as they could go.

I stared down at the table as his thumb settled into the back of my hand, a pressure that told me in no uncertain terms he wasn’t going anywhere.

And he didn’t. I wasn’t sure how long we sat there, saying nothing and me holding onto his hand as though it would keep all of that hellish pain at bay.

But I knew one thing. I could never look at Desmond Devoy the same way again.