The incessant ringing of the phone awoke Genevieve
late Saturday morning. She rolled on her side and threw the pillow
over her head, praying it would stop.
At last, the ringing ceased,
and for a moment she thought perhaps her magical abilities weren't quite
so useless after all. Seconds later her father bellowed her name,
however. Muttering a few curses, she picked up the cordless phone on
her bedside table.
A glance at the number on the LCD display said
the call came from a payphone. Who the hell would be calling her
from a payphone?
"Yeah?" she mumbled into the phone, yawning
although she'd had at least nine hours of sleep.
"I woke you?"
said a familiar voice.
"Mer." Gen sat up in bed and yawned
again. "Yeah, but I'm being lazy today—I should probably already be
awake. Why are you calling from a payphone?"
Meredith paused
for a moment. "I had some things to do downtown."
"Oh.
You should get a cell phone."
"Well, I wanted to let you know that
apparently we have the weekend off."
"Seriously?"
"I
talked to Michael earlier and he said if any of us show up prior to
Tuesday, we'll be shot on sight. I'm inclined to believe him."
Even without the threat of death, Genevieve was more than happy to
oblige.
"That's awesome. Not like I have much else going on,
but it's still cool."
"No plans with Peyton?"
Gen grinned
in spite of herself. She hadn't said anything to Merri about what
happened the night before outside the school. It was all so new and
strange…awkward, even. She wasn't even sure what it all meant.
She liked Peyton and Peyton liked her. Then what? Were they
going out? Should they start holding hands and stuff? Is this
even the sort of thing a person asks, or should she just hold on and see
where it all goes?
"Gen?" Merri prompted.
"No," she
said. "No plans with Peyton. I don't think. I'm not
really sure, actually. Should you have any supernatural insights for
me, that'd be really helpful."
"Not really. Did you talk?"
Though Genevieve did her best to summarize their conversation and
subsequent sort-of kiss, nothing came out terribly clear as she jumped out
of chronological order. Excitement bubbled through her, just as it
had last night, and she was pretty sure she was babbling
incoherently. Confirming her suspicion was a long pause on Merri's
part when Gen had finished speaking.
"So…" Merri said at
last. "You had a good time then?"
"Yes, and though I
considered killing you at the time for leaving us alone, I'm glad you
did. Do I even need to ask—"
A knock on her bedroom door
interrupted her.
"Hold on," she said, then covered the phone's
mouthpiece. "Come in."
The door cracked open and Levi peeked
around the corner. Dammit, they hadn't really spoken last night
after she followed Sage outside—she hoped he wasn't there to yell at her.
"Mer, can I call you back?"
"Uh…"
"Oh, right,
payphone. Call me later if you get a chance, okay?"
Though
Merri agreed to phone her later, Gen doubted she would. She almost
never called, never emailed—never actually contacted her about
anything. She also didn't talk about her parents much, and Gen had
started to suspect they were those crazy, anti-technology types or
something.
Levi hung in her doorway while Genevieve returned the
phone to its cradle.
"You coming in?" she asked.
"You
getting dressed first?"
She gazed down at her nightshirt and
shrugged. "You've seen me in less at some point, I'm sure. I
think it boils down to whether or not you can still tolerate my morning
breath."
He nodded and entered the room, then eased the door
closed behind him. She slid to one side of the bed so he could take
the other and once he sat down and stretched out, she waited in silence
for a few minutes. He must have come over to tell her something,
since they weren't due to be at Stephie's until around seven or eight.
"Did you catch up with Sage last night?" he asked at last.
Dread knotted in her stomach. Knowing his current opinion of
Sage, this sounded like a segue into an argument.
"Yeah.
Gave her the sheet with the request Hayden put in and she took off.
Haven't heard from her since." To her surprise, Levi didn't
respond. "Are you here to yell at me about it?"
He shook his
head and cast his eyes downward. "I miss you, Genny."
"Things haven't been the same," she agreed sadly.
"You're
my best friend…and I don't like it being like this. I don't like us
being like this."
"Me either." Still half worried the
conversation was going to turn into an ultimatum regarding Sage, Gen
tensed a little, prepared for an eventual argument. "So what are we
going to do about it? Try talking like we used to?"
Shit, bad
suggestion, she realized before she could take it back.
Talking like they used to would mean telling him everything, which she
really couldn't afford to do anymore.
"Have any deep dark secrets
then?" he asked, eyeing her closely. She couldn't be sure if he
joked or not.
"Nothing recent," she replied. "Well…you might
be mad at me for this, but…I kinda sorta…made progress with Peyton.
A little bit. As in, apparently she likes me. Are you mad?"
Levi sighed. "Nah. I've been going out with Kourtnee
for a week—why would I be mad? I mean, she's cute. Talks a
lot, but cute. It's cool she likes you."
Genevieve breathed
with relief, only realizing then that she'd been nervous about telling
him. "Of course, I find out she likes me the very day Janine decides
to talk to me. Great timing, eh?"
"You've become quite the
chick magnet." He gave her a lopsided grin that put her even more at
ease.
"Apparently, and if you ever figure out how that happened,
let me know, okay? Now it's your turn. Any new deep dark
secrets?" She expected him to laugh her off, but a sudden frown met
her eager gaze. "Lev?"
"I did come here to ask you about
Sage," he replied. "Was she upset when you saw her last night?"
"To say the least," she mumbled. He didn't seem mad this
time, at least. Sad maybe, but not angry. "But she wouldn’t
talk to me. Took off before I'd said three words."
"Sage…broke into Hayden's room last night."
Gen's cold
blue gaze shot to him suddenly. "What?"
"I was going to bed
and I heard a noise. I found her in there, crying."
"What
did she say? Anything?"
Levi stood suddenly and paced the
room, keeping his eyes downcast and avoiding looking at her. "Not
much. I guess she didn't know Mom's been packing up his things—maybe
she came there looking for something, or just to remember…"
"So
you didn't talk to her or anything?"
He had walked all the way to
the door at this point, and then turned and wandered back towards the
bed. She couldn’t make out his expression, not with him refusing to
look at her like that…was it anger? Grief? God, she used to be
able to read him so well, but now she hadn’t a clue where his thoughts
lay.
"She was curled up in the corner of the room," he
continued. "And she just…she seemed so small. I've never seen
her like that, not ever."
"So you didn't…yell at her or anything?"
With a heavy, weary sigh, Levi sank down onto the mattress
again. Perched on the edge of the bed, his shoulders turned inward
and his head hung down. He stayed there in silence for a few moments
until Genevieve shuffled to the edge next to him.
"I couldn't," he
said at last. "You know, I don't think she's okay. Really not
okay."
"Like…she might hurt herself or something?" Oh
Christ, she'd never really thought of that. Not with that iron will
of Sage's. Somehow she'd get through it—that just seemed a
given. But what if…?
"I don't know," Levi said. "I sat
with her for awhile, then she just left without saying anything. I
thought maybe…you said you and Meredith saw her sometimes. I thought
maybe you were kind of friends with her, but if she doesn't talk to you…"
"I know someone she will talk to," Gen said quickly.
Or
hopefully will. She had a feeling Sage would talk to
Michael, if he asked her too, but whether or not he
would was anyone's guess.
"I'll make sure someone helps her. I promise."
He
nodded. There was no knowing if he believed her or not, but at least
he didn't argue.
"There's something else…"
Genevieve
braced for the worst, horrified it would be something involving Kourtnee
that she had no interest in hearing.
Levi swung his gaze her way,
dark eyes wide and sad, seeming to lay open his very soul.
"I'm
still in love with her. I didn't think I was and I tried not to
be…but I am. Fuck, what kind of horrible person am I?"
"You're not a horrible person." She slipped her arm around
him and leaned her head on his shoulder. "You can't help how you
feel."
"Don't tell her," he warned. "Please, don't ever tell
her I love her."
"I won't."
"Promise?"
"Always."
*~*~*
The morning after Levi's confession to her
about both his concern for Sage and his lingering feelings, Genevieve rose
early with a mission in mind. Dragging herself to Michael's at nine
am was the last thing she wanted to spend her Sunday doing, but she had
barely slept since talking with Levi. She knew Michael could
probably talk to Sage, so she resolved to try to talk him into it.
Was it even any of her business? Possibly not, and it seemed
certain that Michael would probably yell at her for it. But Merri
had mentioned to her before that Sage seemed to trust him—though God knows
why—and if he could help her deal with her grief, then Gen was willing to
try.
Of course, as she finally stood at his front door, she found
herself wishing she'd asked Merri to do it instead.
Though she wavered
for several minutes on whether or not she should even disturb him,
especially when he'd specifically said he didn't want any of them around
that weekend, at last she raised her hand to knock.
Several
minutes ticked by with no answer. A little relieved he didn't
seem to be home, she decided to knock once more before leaving, just so
she could claim she made an effort.
Unfortunately, footsteps
sounded behind the door just then, and seconds later it swung open.
Michael stood in a pair of long charcoal pajama bottoms, sleep in his eyes
and hair even more of a mess than usual. In a word, he looked like
hell—rough night, whatever he'd been doing. He squinted in the
sunlight and yawned, his hand slid along the edge of the door, gripping it
tightly for support.
"What?" he mumbled as he recognized her.
"Uh…I…" Dammit, she wished she had like an email address for
him or something. A quick note would have been a lot easier.
"You're not supposed to be here today," he said, as if she needed
reminding.
"I just wondered if I could talk to you about something
for a second."
She thought for sure he'd turn her away, but
instead he pushed the door open further and gestured for her to enter the
house. She moved past him quickly, happy to be out of the cold,
though she never felt completely comfortable in his presence and that day
was no exception.
Her mouth opened to speak as he closed the door
behind her, but he brushed past her and went immediately for the
kitchen. As she followed, her gaze swept over the familiar space to
find it not-so-familiar suddenly. The kitchen table and chairs had
been moved across the room, and all the books were removed from the
shelves opposite appliances in the kitchen.
"You moving?" she
asked, praying her voice didn't sound as hopeful as she felt.
"Renovating," was his reply. He filled the coffee pot with
water and moved to get a coffee cup from the cupboard. Tipping it in
her direction, he gazed over his shoulder at her and raised a brow in
question.
"I don't drink coffee," she replied.
"Tea?"
"Um, sure." She didn't generally drink tea either, but it
was so rare he offered her anything, she hated to refuse. Maybe he
was sleepwalking or something; that could explain why he wasn't acting
right. Or maybe he had some kind of head injury…
He filled
the kettle next and it was then Gen's gaze fell to his bare back and
sides. Several dark red scratches marred his skin—fresh by the look
of them.
"Get attacked by a bear?" she asked, a small smile
hovering on her lips. It was hard not to giggle.
Michael met her eyes and watched her gaze stray to his sides
again.
"Cat."
"Maybe that pussy needs to be declawed."
"The thought has crossed my mind on occasion," he said
dryly. "Now what do you want?"
"It's about Sage."
"I
mean what kind of tea," he said sharply with a glare. Gen mused he
must have finally woken up.
"Surprise me." She regretted
that statement almost immediately—rat poison seemed a very real
possibility with him. "So don't you want to know why I'm here to
talk about Sage?"
"Mind if I have my fucking coffee first?"
"Whatever." Christ, if she knew he was going to be such a
baby about it, she would have stopped at Tim Horton's first.
He
pulled a few more ingredients out of the cupboard and thankfully none of
them resembled rat poison, at least from Gen's view. She kept her
silence as he took to pouring the drinks and then added a tablespoon of
honey to her tea, but couldn't keep her silence when he dropped a generous
amount of whiskey to his coffee.
"So is that your usual morning
ritual or just to deal with me?" she asked as he scooped up the mugs.
"Bit of both, though today I'm leaning toward the latter."
Genevieve didn't doubt it.
As he walked past her, he
thrust the mug of hot, fragrant tea in her direction. She accepted
the cup with care and followed him out of the kitchen. Michael took
a seat on the couch, slouched down a few inches so his position resembled
more of a sprawl, and took in a long sip of hot coffee. Gen settled
on the edge of a nearby chair and waited for her tea to cool.
"Okay, explain, and be done by the time I finish my coffee," he
said.
"It's about Sage."
"You already said that."
God, he was annoying. She quickly reminded him of the fact
that he advised Sage to go to that dance, informed him that she had shown
up, and then described how it all went to hell when Hayden's request was
played. He looked then as though he was going to bark something at
her about wasting his time, but she continued before he could speak,
finishing with what Levi had told her.
After voicing her concerns,
she took a sip of the now-cool tea. "And by the way, this is really
good—what is it?"
"
Masala chai," he replied. "And can
you perhaps refresh my memory as to why, exactly, you decided to tell me
all this?"
"I was hoping you could talk to her."
"Why?"
"Because she listens to you. I thought…I don't know, that
maybe you could help her or something."
"Her boyfriend died—did
you think by now she'd be over it?"
"No," she snapped. "I
know she upset—this isn't about her getting over him. It's about her
losing it. What if she tries killing herself?"
His face
remained impassive—no luck there.
"Fine," she continued.
"You don't actually care about her—I get that. But you told us
before that all this end of the world crap hinges on the fact that the
three of us have to stay alive. Don't you think her suicide would
impact things a little negatively?"
As he tipped his mug to his
lips, he watched her from over the rim and, to Genevieve, seemed to be
considering her words. Of course, if appealing to him as a human
being didn't do it, at least cold logic spoke to him.
"Can you
help her?" Gen asked when it seemed he wouldn't say anything further.
"I'll talk to her."
"But don't tell her that I told you
all this," Gen said quickly. "And
really don't tell her Levi told me
any of that—it was probably supposed to be a personal thing. Maybe
just tell her that you—"
He waved toward the door. "I'm not
playing those games. You can leave now."
That didn’t seem
such a bad idea to Gen. After draining the mug, she stood and returned it
to the kitchen. Though it seemed preferable to get the hell out of
his house as soon as possible, she turned to face him once more when she
was only halfway to the door. Perhaps it was the positive
development with Peyton on Friday, or the fact that Levi had come to
confide in her again, just like old times, but Genevieve felt bold
suddenly. Stronger. A whisper of power rushed through her, so
sudden and small she almost didn't notice it at first…but it was there.
"Actually," she lifted her chin slightly and her voice took on a
self-assured tone, "I have something else I wanted to talk to you about."
"Is that so?" He seemed more amused than threatened, but she
refused to let him embarrass her into backing down.
"Yeah. I
want to know something about that day at the farmhouse, when we all went
there."
He didn't seem surprised at her question. "I figured
you would. You want me to tell you what you did to them?"
A
little shudder went through her at the thought. "No, actually.
I'm not sure I ever want to know about that. I want to know why,
when that man had a knife to my throat, you almost didn't do anything to
help me."
Finally getting the words out had done nothing to quell
her fear of him, but she did feel some weight drift off of her
shoulders. A lump formed in her throat as she awaited his answer,
however, and as long minutes of silence passed, the air grew heavier with
expectation and tension.
"You're standing here right now as a
testament to the fact that I
did help you," he replied coolly. "On a couple
of occasions."
"It's not that I'm not grateful, but that's not the
point. You helped me, but not before thinking long and hard about
it. I
saw you. You know I did. You were
thinking of letting me die."
Michael regarded her without a word,
continuing to casually sip his coffee. "Yes, I did."
Having
that confession at last did little to ease her mind.
"Why?
I'm not stupid—I know this is personal. You stalked me for weeks—you
didn't do that with Sage. I'm willing to bet you didn't with Mer
either. And if you were willing to stand there and watch that man
murder me, I'd hazard a guess that you've considered doing it yourself a
few times." Now that part she hoped he'd argue with, but the cold
half smile on his lips told her otherwise.
"Interesting
deduction." He downed the last of his coffee and rose. Though
their heights nearly matched, she couldn't help that he intimidated her,
and every second was an internal struggle not to back away from him.
"If I'm supposed to keep coming here and trusting you, I have to
have the truth," she said. "
Can I trust you? Am I going
to be spending the rest of my time here looking over my shoulder, afraid
of you?"
He stalked toward her slowly, and again she fought the
urge to backpedal. Two feet away from her he stopped, staring at her
and saying nothing.
"Should I be worried about you deciding to
randomly go homicidal on me?" she asked again.
"No," he said after
considering his response. Gen couldn't say if she found that
reassuring or not.
"And should I expect that the next time my life
is in danger you're going to stand there considering whether or not you're
going to save me?"
"Probably not."
Even less reassuring.
Power continued to twist through her veins
and down her arms, winding around her fingertips. She didn't
actually know if any of it could do her any good—if any real magic was
dwelling within her at that moment—but that little power was enough to
ignite her sense of fearlessness again.
Genevieve took a step
forward and gazed coldly into his green eyes, issuing a challenge that she
only half hoped he'd accept.
"I want to know why this is
personal," she said. "I need the truth—whatever it is. I need
to understand."
Michael took another step forward so mere inches
separated them and looked her dead in the eye.
"The day you
understand is the day I
will kill you," he said evenly. "So I'd say it's
in your best interest to forget about it."
At this point Genevieve
was absolutely terrified—a threat on her life tended to do that to her—but
she kept her composure as best she could.
Gen plastered on an
exaggerated smile, calmly said, "Thanks for the tea," and abruptly turned
toward the door. Once outside—and a safe distance from Michael's—she
muttered a few curses.
She'd better learn how to do a goddamn
fireball soon 'cause a certain target was just begging to be burned
alive. The imagined sight of him writhing in fiery agony made her
smile.
Suddenly conscious of her gory thoughts, Gen nearly stopped
mid-step. Christ, what had happened to her? She had felt sick
at the thought of doing something horrible to the people who really
had tried to kill her—how could she really be smiling
about burning someone else alive?
Genevieve shivered a little and
she knew the sudden chill wasn't from the cold.
*~*~*
A call from Michael late that Sunday afternoon had
startled Sage. She'd heard from Merri—she knew that, for whatever
reason, he had no desire to have anyone around that weekend, even
her. It was with disappointment that she accepted, and planned to
spend both afternoons out jogging. And then, just as she laced up
her running shoes, the phone rang and her mother informed her that her
sensei was on the phone. That alone worried her—two weeks had passed
since she'd dropped out of all her classes without telling either her
mother or Michael. So why would one of her teacher's call?
But relief and a spark of curiosity came when she heard Michael's
voice on the line, abruptly informing her he would be expecting her within
the half hour.
In less time than that, she was standing at his
front door, sweat sprinkled across her brow from the run. Over the
past few weeks, she hadn't knocked once upon her arrival, knowing that if
he expected her, the door would be open and she was to walk in and
immediately start stretching. Michael had little tolerance for small
talk and greetings, and she was glad of it.
On this day, however,
she found herself hesitating. Something didn’t feel right, and
though she normally wasn't the sort of person to get mysterious intuitive
nudges, she couldn't ignore it this time.
Still, she clasped the cold
doorknob and thrust the door open.
Inside, Sage slipped off her
shoes and socks and left them by the front door, then strode into the main
room. Already dressed in long track pants and a hoodie, she didn't
see the need to change. Without any sign of Michael, she perched on
the arm of the couch and waited. Furniture had been moved out of the
kitchen since the last time she'd been there days ago, and now the kitchen
counter was heaped with tools and boards. Against the far wall were
long, wide boxes only a few inches deep, along with a huge roll of
plastic.
She sincerely hoped he hadn't called her there for help
to dispose of a body. It was bad enough helping Merri get rid of the
guy who shot at them over a month earlier; though Sage prided herself on
having a strong stomach, the whole event wasn't one she was eager to
repeat.
There was the sound of an engine in the driveway then as a
vehicle pulled in, followed by car doors slamming and voices talking
loudly. Minutes later the front door opened and Sage tensed,
expecting the worst.
Not one of the three men looked familiar, nor
did any of them pay her notice as they passed by to go to the kitchen.
"Should we get started then," one called, the tallest and oldest of
the three.
"Yeah."
Sage swung around to see Michael
standing in the loft, looking over the railing. Dressed in a thick
black sweater, he seemed to meld into the shadows up there, and she
realized he might have been standing there watching her when she came in
without her noticing.
"Beer's in the fridge," he called to the
visitors. "You've got today and tomorrow, and you're already
late." His gaze went to Sage. "Get your shoes on and come
upstairs."
Confused, but accustomed to following his directions,
she did as she was told and found him waiting for her at the top of the
steps to his loft. She hadn't been up there once in the past month
and a half she'd been coming to his house, but didn't have time to spare
the space a glance before he was leading her to shadowed the far right
corner.
"What's going on?" she asked.
"They're installing
a breakfast bar," he replied. "So we're working upstairs."
Upstairs…was there a third floor she wasn't aware of?
Michael yanked on a cord hanging from the ceiling. A simple
bulb turned on, revealing an iron ladder affixed to the wall. It led
to a hatch door in the ceiling, and after gazing at it for a few seconds,
she returned her attention to Michael.
"Had it installed
yesterday," he replied to her unasked question. "It makes sense to
have more than one exit here."
After a nod from him toward the
ceiling, Sage went to the ladder and climbed up. A few shoves on the
hatch door and it swung open.
Cool November air brushed her skin
as she climbed onto the roof. Though the sun wouldn't be setting for
awhile yet, thick clouds blanketed the sky, threatening to snow if it got
much colder.
"Rope ladder is over there," Michael said as he
followed her and closed the hatch door again. He gestured to a steel
box bolted to the flat roof near the building's edge. "Not my
preferred way to leave, but a possibility."
"It's a good idea,"
she agreed. Moving towards the edge, Sage gazed at the
horizon. She could see a good half of the town from up there, and
the distance from everything…it was simple. Peaceful.
Easy. Perhaps she might persuade him to move their training sessions
up there more often, even if it was a little cold.
"Tell me
something, Sage," he said casually. "Why is it you were home when I
called today?"
"Huh?" She wheeled around to face him,
confusion clouding her expression. He stood about three metres away
and watched her with interest.
"You have
Muay
Thai
classes Sunday afternoon," he replied.
She flushed a little—she
didn't realize he remembered that.
"You don't normally show up
here Sunday evenings until around six, if at all, so I'd venture a guess
those classes finish at four. Why were you home at three-thirty?"
Why should she bother lying to him? She doubted he'd
actually care anyway, especially not if it meant she'd have more time for
his instruction.
"I dropped them," she replied. "A couple of
weeks ago."
Michael watched her in silence. Shifting under
his steady gaze, she dropped her eyes to the side.
"You fought
hard to go to those classes, and you just left?"
She nodded,
waiting for the inevitable "why."
"What else have you dropped?"
Sage glanced up at him sharply. "What?"
"What other
classes of yours have you dropped?"
Dammit, why did he seem so mad
at her? "All of them," she replied with a sigh.
"Why?"
A shrug. Her aikido
sensei threatened to discipline her regarding her
aggression and warned her not to come back if she couldn't control her
temper…so, logically, she didn't go back. It wasn't long before the
rest of the classes fell to the side as well.
"Your sensei asked
you a question," Michael reminded her coolly.
Sage bowed her head
with the obedience ingrained in her. "You know much more than my
other teachers do," she said. "I thought you could teach me."
"I don't know
Muay Thai, which was why you were so
eager to keep those classes, as I recall."
"I thought my time
would be better spent with
kenjitsu."
"If you can't stick with your previous
disciplines, how am I supposed to believe you'll follow future ones?"
She struggled to think up an answer for him—anything to keep him
from throwing her out and refusing to teach her. But before anything
came to mind, he spoke again.
"That's not why I called you and
brought you up here today."
Looking up at him again, she studied
him curiously. "Then why…"
"I thought there was something
you should see." He reached into the back pocket of his black jeans
and pulled out a Ziplock bag with something small and square inside.
She hadn't long to speculate on the object when he threw it her way.
She caught the bag and turned it over in her hands. A
familiar looking compact black cell phone…what the hell?
Holding it
closer to her face, she examined the phone. Something had dried a
dark brown on it, flecks falling off into the bag.
Blood. Sage looked back up at Michael.
"This is
his?"
He nodded.
"But you said you
never found it at the farmhouse."
"It wasn't at the farmhouse."
Her mouth went dry. "What?" she managed to whisper.
"I didn't find it at the farmhouse, Sage."
"Where did you
find it, then? You said they must have had it—that since they called
me after they attacked him, they must have kept it…"
His lips
formed into a cold smile as realization finally dawned on her.
Grief, rage, hurt…it all welled in her at once. Betrayed. God,
he killed Hayden? How could he…?
"You're far more useful to
me if you have a mission for yourself," he said, as if reading her
thoughts.
And then she picked just one of those emotions.
One that wrapped itself around her suddenly, warmly, almost comforting in
its simplicity.
Rage.
"I'm going to kill you," she swore.
Michael shrugged nonchalantly. "Have at
it."
