Chapter 25
"Yes, Tina, that's decidedly better," Kenzi gave a nod of approval at the girl's cleaned-up appearance. The last time Tina's face saw the light of day outside the runaway HQ the girl was grotesquely made-up, spiky-haired and hunching her back in a gravely oversized sweatshirt. After Kenzi's intervention Tina changed into a light-coloured top, straightened her back, brushed out her hair and was sporting a youthful clean look with a moderate layer of lip-gloss.
"I haven't ruined your style, Tina," Kenzi was exhorting her makeover victim, "I've given you teenage respectability. Now you look pretty, common, easy on the eye, safe. Men will smile at you, women won't spare you a second glance, both options suit your purpose of attracting minimum attention and disarming suspicion. Even if the dude who has just being ogling your legs misses his watch, why the heck should he pin his suspicions on such a nice girl like you? He'd rather look around for a war-painted, goth-haired urchin in shabby clothes."
"Now, boys, back to you. This habit of yours of slamming into people to knock the contents of their pockets out. Easy, time-tested, effective, but…", Kenzi went on with her training seminar, "hackneyed, obvious, raising suspicion. If your legs don't carry you away fast enough, you're in for a police appointment. You need to variegate your routines, be artistic, don't behave like a thief. Look around, observe people, go for individual approach. Invest in a good mobile, put on a mild accent, stop a respectable man with a legit request of helping you decipher a GPS map. Work his pockets while he is staring at the latest Apple of the polite tourist." And she was on a roll enumerating the maneuvers and techniques that were coming to her seemingly out of nowhere. If Kenzi tried to get to the bottom of her suddenly awakened con-artist skills she would attribute it to natural talent, adventurousness and vivid imagination boosted by Dyson and Hale's occasionally overheard shop-talking and her early childhood memories of the criminal neighbourhood she used to live in.
Kenzi herself had already had a chance to practice what she preached when she organized a field trip into the mall and did a couple of liftings in the disguise of a Russian tourist. With an innocent face freshly scrubbed of any cosmetics, her hair pulled back in a ponytail, an authentic accent and an expensive cell in her hand Kenzi was disarming credibility incarnate. Stopping a gentle-looking middle-class representative, asking to help with her map, nicking a wallet and then exclaiming, pointing a finger in a random direction, "Божемой! A boy over there has just stolen something from your bag!"
"There are no new tricks in the book, it's about how you perform them," she proudly instructed her trainees returning with the second wallet. The gang celebrated the occasion with a huge pizza and some beer. The resident consultant, though, insisted on investing the rest of the money into better clothes for everyone and established a piggy bank to be replenished at the earliest opportunity in furtherance of the good cause of bringing the HQ to a semblance of the livable condition status.
At the time of Kenzi's thieving exploits Dyson was silently fuming stuck in a stake-out with Hale. The siren was not long in picking up on his partner's state of mind and being a voluble disposition he brought the question forth. "What can a man with a super-beautiful extra-rich girl-friend, a cool job, looks to die for and an awesome partner be brooding about?" Hale asked curiously.
"Take a guess," the wolf snarled back.
"Kenzi? What has she done this time?" the younger man did not sound surprised.
"I got a call from school, she's been playing truant," Dyson gritted out. "I know she's got herself a boy-friend and her head is in the clouds, but it's seven months before graduation. And she promised not to hold back on me, not on matter of improtance."
"Formative years!" Hale drawled disparagingly. "Teenagers! They look so youthful and innocent, but as soon as your back is turned they go to get drunk, strung-out and knocked-up, though not necessarily in that order."
"Since when have you become an expert? You don't have kids," the wolf raised his eyebrows in amusement. "I've got a sister," Hale sighed mournfully, "Believe me, it's much worse, your kids – at least you can ground them or withdraw pocket-money and sooner or later they grow up and you get rid of them. Your sis – it's a whining mischievous creature that rats you out to parents and is forever on your back."
"Commiserations coming your way," the shifter didn't even attempt to suppress sarcasm, "Back to Kenzi. Where did I go wrong with her? We've always been open with each other about everything. We've been through life-threatening situations and never-ever let each other down. But what is happening now is beyond my grasp. A fight with trolls, a swamp demon, the Ash with his scheming – I can handle that. But a teenage girl in love?"
"In love?!" Hale perked up.
"Yeah, I told you she met a nice guy, Nate." Dyson reminded him.
"Oh, so we're still being blindly obtuse," the siren muttered practically inaudible and changed tack before the wolf could have fully registered his words, "Give her some space. She is a bright, strong and essential good girl, but she is going through a difficult stage, she is turning adult. We, fae, have centuries for maturing, she is human, she has to work it out in a couple of years and …Shit! Here's our suspect, Dyson!"
Kenzi was inextricably caught up in the whirlwind of her multi-layered social and private lives. The sensible part of her mind was telling her that Nate was anything she could dream about and she was dating him with an ardour of the one convinced of doing the right thing. But sensibility was never the prevalent component of Kenzi's personality. She couldn't suppress the nagging feeling of conventional boredom and monotony of existence, which she proceeded to relieve by thieving around with her gang. Her petty criminal activities gave vent to her adventurous urges, to her creativity and thrill-seeking, however, it was not the only, not even the primary incentive. More than everything else Kenzi was feeling deeply sympathetic to the abandoned street kids, harshly aware of the fact that, but for Dyson, she would have surely found herself in their shoes. In a strange way she felt she could help them improve their standards and self-perception, teach them not only con techniques, but a modicum of self-respect and ambition.
However, it came as no surprise that maintaining her finger in so many pies at the same time made keeping up sufficient interest in her school progress a virtual impossibility. Her marks were slipping, her school attendance was rarifying and the girl realized that sooner or later she'd have to face Dyson's wrath. He had already undertaken a serious talk about her truancy and the need to graduate school. Kenzi countered light-heartedly that he himself could not boast holding any degrees and seemed none the worse for it. She then laughed off Dyson's tentative remark about going to college. "Come on, D-man, who are we kidding here? Pretty as I am, academic achievement is so not in my awesomeness set." Dyson's brow furrowed with a hefty dose of irritation, which the girl only managed to dispel by solemnly promising to start getting her act together and putting more effort into studying. Remembering of Hale's final words the wolf let it rest at that for the time being.
Months flew by with Kenzi doing the juggling act between dating Nate, running with the gang and doing her best to keep her school performance at a sufficient level to appease Dyson. Oddly enough, she was greatly aided in this last task by Ciara, who was gradually claiming more and more of the wolf's time and attention while trying to carve a bit more space in his life.
One night Dyson entered the Dahl to see Ciara talking cheerfully to a beaming Trick at the barcounter while Hale was playing a solo hand at the pool table with uncharacteristically pursed lips. The wolf was momentarily overcome by an immature and inexplicable urge to slip out while still unnoticed but he fought it down and strode towards the bar. "Dyson, speak of the devil," Ciara waved a graceful hand, "we were just colluding behind your back."
"Oh, you are experienced colluder," the wolf only half-joked joining them at the bar, "may I be informed what about?"
"First of all, of frog-marching you away on a holiday, which you haven't had in a couple of years – I know, I asked Hale," the woman went on, "the old land, the Highlands, Europe – anything takes your fancy, sweetheart?"
"I can't take a vacation right now," the shifter gruffed inexplicably backed into a corner.
"Why not? Trick is willing to let you go for the moment, there is no pressing case, the Ash, let alone your human authorities, can't deny you days off well overdue," Ciara reasoned with her perfectly shaped eyebrows raising a fraction.
"I can't leave Kenzi alone, not now" Dyson answered, "anyway, I meant to wait till her graduation and then take her to Europe, she's never been outside the country."
"Oh, but she might well want to go with her boy-friend," Ciara brushed the argument off and Dyson suddenly realized that the idea of some boy showing Kenzi the places he had been born and spent centuries at was not exactly appealing.
"I don't think I trust him enough," he reluctantly admitted. "and it's just not the right time to leave her, she's been having trouble at school recently."
Ciara gave a long-suffering sigh and with a complicit look at Trick got up, "I'll pop into the ladies' for a minute, boys."
As soon as she was gone the barkeep trained a reproachful eye at the wolf. "I would never have thought that a woman like Ciara should have to ask twice. She is the love of your live and right now you are brushing her off."
"I am not, I just feel that now is not the time," the shifter started almost apologetically.
"You are having a preciously rare slow time at work, a heavenly woman is asking you on a vacation of a lifetime and Kenzi is not a child any longer, she can very well fend for herself for a week or two," Trick said in his best mentor tone, "When will there be a better time?"
Hale migrated to the bar and settled on a stool beside Dyson. "How's it hangin'?" he inquired. "Caving in to your fair fairy lady?" Dyson looked unsure whether he was but the idea was gradually taking hold. "I'll talk to Kenz first, anyway," he replied cautiously, "and if she's on board with this, I might take a short vacation with Ciara. We do deserve it."
"Of course, we do," Ciara, materializing from the ladies' room, caught his words and planted a kiss on Dyson's lips, "and even if we didn't, I would still promise to make it worth your while."
Trick looked with fondness at the lovers retreating to a table in the corner to discuss their fledging plans, whereas Hale pulled a sour face and shook his head. "I think our boy's making a mistake," he said sadly. "With the vacation? You think it's the wrong time?" Trick asked surprised by the other fae's unusually pensive mood. "No, I think it's the wrong woman," the siren responded. "He's been waiting for her for hundreds of years," the barkeep reminded. "If he's that good at waiting, maybe he should wait a bit more," Hale murmured before downing his shot and returning to the pool table.
By the end of the week Dyson had already arranged a week's leave but still hadn't got round to talking to Kenzi about it, due, in no small part, to her own busy social schedule. Kenzi was dividing her time and energies between Nate, studying and exercising her con-artist talents, determined to give them all her equal best while strictly compartmentalizing these sides of her life. However, one day one of the sides was bound to spill over into another.
On a sunny morning Kenzi was making it back to class after the break when someone tugged her by the sleeve. She span round and was immediately dumbfounded by the sight of Tina – wearing her good-girl look in compliance to Kenzi's guidelines to how to present a likeable facade and not be caught. "What are you doing here?" Kenzi hissed and dragged the younger girl away from the crowded path. She internally cursed her big mouth and the moment of fessing up to attending the local school.
"Rick, he's been busted," Tina whispered back barely keeping herself from crying. "He was lifting some stuff at the shop and there was a store detective."
"I told you to look out for these dudes, they are our natural enemies, but luckily, they are as unobtrusive as a heavyweight boxer in a ballet performance," Kenzi cried out distressed.
,"You are better at this psychological staff than us." Tina whined at the rebuke.
"It's not psychology, it's basic powers of observation," Kenzi went on fuming, "Where is he now?"
"I followed them to the cop shop, it's over for him, they'll sell him down the river, he'll get into the system," the girl was flying into panic at the thought of losing their leader. "Stop it!" Kenzi shook her gently by the shoulders, "Nothing's over until it's over. Which cop shop? Number?"
"The local, 39th," Tina sobbed. "And here the plot thickens," Kenzi mumbled dejectedly.