Maddy was dead. The thought went round and round in Jai's head like a dodgem car doing donuts . And even though she had tried to save her, Jai couldn't help but feel she hadn't done enough. She wasn't exiled. She could have followed her, warned her about Chet, delivered the message herself. But it would have been useless anyway. No one fought against Chet and won.
Part of her was numb inside, had been since she'd heard, and had stayed numb when the Seekers raided the camp, arrested her and all the others, took her into the city, got the Healers to check her, and put her in a cell, alone. Alone, she felt, was ominous. They couldn't have enough cells to house everyone alone. Special treatment was never a good sign. She let the numbness grow so she wouldn't care.
But surprise cut through the numbness when she saw Jackson enter the interview room. He was not surprised to see her, and smiled casually. Like he was God and had destined this meeting to occur. It was not far off the truth.
"Nut Brown, we meet again," he said, sitting down opposite. She saw now that he was a Seeker, a human Seeker, and it began to make sense; what he was doing out there, his questions... He had ratted them out then. Well, with her help. Her heart beat loud at the shock of it, seeing him again, seeing him like this. She felt a distance between them so unlike that night when she had sat by him. Now they were separated by so many things. Most importantly, that she was a criminal, and he was a Seeker. An unbridgeable gap.
"You smell better this time," she said, sharp and snappy as a street kid. Playing her part.
"Why, thank you," he replied, and his eyes were warm, amused, like they were pleased to see her. He was not playing his part. He was not treating her like the enemy, not really. But he was a Seeker; maybe it was a trick.
She was tired of tricks. "What do you want."
"I'd like you to tell me what you were doing three days ago."
"Peace day."
"Exactly."
She sat in silence, puzzled. Everything was organized before peace day. Nothing had happened on the actual day. What was the point of asking that?
"Nothing then," Jackson said, prompting her.
"Pretty much."
"You stayed in the camp."
"Yeah."
"You didn't go to the cities."
"No."
"Any city."
"No."
"So you weren't involved in the detonation of the explosive device over North Head, or the sniper attacks in Griffin Square?"
"No..."
"And there are witnesses for this?"
"Of course."
"Excellent." He made some notes and looked up, smiling again. "If you're story is corroborated, you will be free to go, pending further evidence."
She stared at him. Free to go? She was one of Sanderson's. No way was she free to go. Pending further evidence. She saw their game now. She would be free for a few days, then herded back into cold storage. It was deliciously cruel.
But when he came to get her later (she didn't know how much later, as there were no windows in the cells), he walked her to his car and opened the door to the front seat, like an equal. She hesitated, and he waited.
"Maddy's dead," she said suddenly. She'd never said it aloud before, and it felt strange on her tongue.
"I know. I'm sorry." His voice, though guarded, actually sounded sincere. She frowned, though her gaze caught on nothing. He was sorry. A thought floated around in her head: no one was ever sorry when she hurt. That was just part of life.
"I tried," he added softly.
And she looked up at him and noticed for the first time the traces of heal scars on his face and arms. He saw her looking and looked away.
"How close did you get?" she whispered.
"Not close enough, I guess," he replied. She thought this was a strange thing to say. But he was a strange guy. An intriguing one. "I'm sorry."
Jai was sorry as well. Maddy had been full of life, once. And now she was dead. Jai felt the numbness begin to sweat, to thaw, as she realized: they had lived.
"That's alright," she said finally. Maddy had been dying for a long time, inside. It seemed right, somehow, that she got to choose to go, in the end. That she could finally be free of Chet. Really free.
They sat in silence as he drove, and she stared out the window, feeling herself come alive again the further from Seeker headquarters they got. She was alive. It was a marvelous thought, really. A lot of things were alive. She watched kids playing in their yards, neighbours chatting over fences, mums dragging screaming toddlers home from the shops, and felt like she'd gone back in time. To before the Invasion. Just like you saw in the old books. Only the glint of silver eyes were everywhere. That was unsettling.
Jackson pulled up in front of an apartment building, the good kind where the ground floor apartments had their own patch of garden in front. She waited.
"I am to take you to your hotel," he started, then paused. A bare motel room was singularly unattractive, even if only for three days. Perhaps especially for these particular three days, she thought.
"This isn't a hotel."
"No, it's my apartment. They've got a sham you going to your hotel first, see if anyone tries to contact you. They'll call me if nothing happens."
She waited some more.
"So…"
"So I was going to offer you some coffee. Repay your hospitality."
Scungey hail water for coffee, she thought. Hardly a fair swap.
"… But I guess that was a dumb idea," he finished.
There were flowers in his garden. She wondered if he'd planted them himself.
"Well?" she asked.
"Well what."
"Aren't you going to ask me?"
He got out and opened her door, and she walked as straight as a queen to the apartment building, and waited at the front door like a prisoner for him to open it. He obliged, and she fell to the ground inside his apartment.
"Carpet!" she crooned, pressing her cheek to it just inside the door. "Real carpet!" So soft, so clean…
"No carpet in the Zone huh?" he said, sitting next to her after a moment.
"I haven't seen it since I was a kid…" she rubbed her cheek on it as if it was velvet. He shook his head, smiling and when he came back with coffee, she was still sprawled on the floor, poking her fingers between the fibres with a look of blissful contentment.
"You sure are easy to please," he murmured.
She watched him drink his coffee, and remembered. In another three days, I'll never see carpet again. Or anything. She had decided three days was how long it would take for them to find more evidence. The last three days of her life. The thought made her slightly giddy. She had only just started to feel alive again. And she liked Jackson. Pity he was a Seeker and she was a criminal. Another time, another place, she wouldn't have liked to see if it went anywhere. But now there was no time.
She sat up as he drained his cup, folding her bare legs beneath her.
"You want more milk or something?" he asked, noticing her untouched cup. She studied him. He'd really asked her here for coffee? But there was something else in his eyes, that he hid by looking away. And then she decided three days was plenty of time. More than enough, if you played your cards right. He met her eyes in the silence, and she knew he wanted more than coffee. She shifted closer and put her hands on his thighs, leaning into his face and kissing him, tasting him.
"No, it tastes fine," she said, feeling his thighs relax open a little to accommodate the pressure. His hand was rising slowly and she caught it, kissing it, then cupping it to her chest and holding it there, pressing herself against him, while her other hand caressed the inside of his thigh. But he did nothing, watching her almost in surprise, just letting her.
"Haven't you done this before?" she teased, and he ripped her fly open so hard it tore. He paused, surprised by his own violence, but she had already pulled off her top and was working on his. He pulled it off himself and pushed her into the carpet, kissing a trail down her belly and pulling off her broken shorts as he went. The idea of staying with Jackson was becoming very attractive indeed.
***
The ring of his mobile broke insistently through, and he answered it automatically, pulling off her.
"Motel's clear, you right to bring her in?"
Seekers, he thought, focusing. Right. There was another agenda here.
"Ah, you guys head off. We've had a unplanned stop here. She wanted new clothes. I'll be there later." He wondered if any of the Soul Seekers had had unplanned stops with their charges. He very much doubted it. Then he felt her resume their previous activities and had to concentrate hard on not biting his tongue off.
"Roger that. See you tomorrow then."
"Yeah see you," he muttered with difficultly, hanging up with relief and pulling her shoulder sharply away from him, "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"
"Returning the favour," she replied silkily, twisting her shoulder out of his grip and getting back to business.
"You do need new clothes," he said, once he could talk again, "I think I stuffed these up pretty good."
He detected moodiness in her silence, but she got up and found the shower, and he lay back in relief.
She showered lengthily, and came out wearing another pair of his pants and her tank top, his belt just holding them up, his cuffs covering her feet, and he couldn't get his eyes off her butt in the tailored material.
"They're mine," was all that came out of his mouth.
"Come and get them then," she answered mildly, and he turned away from the bait, reaching for his clothes and car keys.
"Come and I'll get you new ones," he said.
"But the shops will be closed."
"Nup." Why was he getting the feeling she didn't want to go to the motel? But that was crazy. What would she want here? She'd already got anything she could possibly want from him.
She followed him back to the car and he drove her to the big department store, just for kicks, just to see her reaction. Her feet faltered and her eyes widened at the sheer volume of stuff. It was a far cry from a Zone store. She walked around in a daze for a while, then seemed to focus, grabbing some clothes and heading for the change room. And though she modeled them for him beautifully, when she came out the last time, she was still in his pants and her grimy tank top. When he pointed this out she protested.
"I can't wear any of these out of the store, they'll think I'm stealing!"
He looked at her in amusement, and her spine stiffened, realizing her error too late and stalking off to the car, shoving him the neatly folded clothes on the way. He registered their selection and followed her, trying to wipe the amusement off his face.
"What about dinner?" he said appeasingly, driving. He was realizing her didn't want her to go just yet either, and was searching for things to offer her. Like a bloody bower bird, he thought sourly.
"Don't you think you're going about this a bit backwards? Usually you ask a girl out to dinner first."
Like a stupid bower bird, then.
"So you're not hungry then?" he asked, hiding his disappointment fairly well.
"Starving. But nothing will be open."
"No problem."
He drove back to the apartment and cooked her up a quick laksa, fragrant with lemon grass and chilli.
"Hey," he said sharply, collecting the bowls as she leaned back and cupped her belly in a satisfied way, "you're still wearing my pants." She smiled and made no move to take them off. "I need to wear them for work tomorrow." Still she didn't move. "Come on, I got you new ones." She looked at him reproachfully.
"You really love your job, don't you," she said. He had the feeling this was going to be the longest car ride home in history. But she got up and grabbed a new pair, coming out of the bathroom in them and giving him back the ones she'd held hostage. He stood in the middle of the room holding them, knowing he should take her back now, and she stood likewise, neither prepared to look each in the eye, nor make the first move.
"What if I don't want to go to the motel," she asked quietly.
"Oh, well, we can find you some place else I suppose…" he replied, but this didn't seem to be the answer she was looking for, "It's up to you."
"What if I want to stay here."
"With me." He had to check it wasn't just the carpet.
"With you."
"Well," he said, thinking he should have put the pants back by now, and wondering why he was still holding them. But he didn't put them down. "Well, I guess that could be arranged."
Her smile was beautiful, and he couldn't resist kissing it. And then kissing it some more. And before he knew it they were on the floor again, and his phone was cutting through his hearing like a fire alarm. He answered it more irritably than he meant to, apologized a few times and hung up.
"The motel," he said, "Worried about you."
"Oh."
"Wondering why you hadn't turned up."
"Oh."
"Wondering if you'd found alternative accommodation."
Slowly, they grinned at other, realizing she had.
"Maybe we could even make it to the bed this time?" he ventured.
"I thought you liked sleeping alone," she teased.
"Now when did I ever say that?" he asked, mystified.
She smiled and didn't even think about arguing.
***
The three days passed before she knew it. Then right on cue, just before Jackson was due to come home from work, a news report on a new wave of human arrests. This was it then, Jai thought, time's up, and opened the kitchen drawer. But he came home earlier than she thought he would.
He walked in and she flashed a glazed stare at him, like a rabbit just before you run it over. Early, she thought, because he's coming to arrest me personally. Then he saw the knife raise in her hands, the blood leaking down her elbow, and he ran for her, trying to wrestle it out of her grip. But she was faster, and desperate, and jabbed at him, startled. He sank to his knees, with a grunt, holding the knife still in his shoulder, seeing the long cuts along her wrists spilling out blood like gravy from a never ending pitcher. She backed into a corner, slid to the floor, her eyes locked all the while on the knife in his shoulder, struck dumb with horror.
"I'm sorry," she said faintly, while he grabbed the tea towels and wrapped them tightly around her wrists, holding them in one hand above her head. "I'm so sorry." He dialed the Healers awkwardly with his other hand, trying not to move his shoulder. The necessity of holding her wrists above her head kept them close, and they couldn't avoid each other's eyes. He felt like he could see her dying right in front of him, but that she was struggling, struggling to hold on. It was only when she passed out that the gaze was broken.
***
He was washing the blood off his arm in the Healing Centre bathroom when he began to lose it. What the hell did he think he was doing with this kid? He knew nothing about her. Other than she wanted to be with him. Until today. She could be a stark raving loony. She could be a serial killer. But he didn't think a serial killer would apologise after stabbing you. He filled his hands with water and drowned his face. All he knew was he didn't want to lose her. Maybe he was the crazy one.
She was conscious again when he went back to her room, the bags of blood still dripping into her arms. Her eyes were a strange mix of happy and sad. Happy to see him, he supposed, and sad to still be alive.
"You didn't get in trouble for keeping me?" she asked. He found it strange the way she referred to herself like she was a piece of furniture, or a library book.
"No," he replied, coming into the room and sitting down in the chair by her head. Surprisingly not. He'd told them she hadn't wanted to stay in the motel, so she'd stayed with him, and no one had even raised an eyebrow. Problem solved. Maybe they all had humans staying with them, he thought.
"How's your shoulder?"
"It's fine," he said, brushing away her concern. Stab wounds to non core areas were easily fixed. "Are you going to tell me why you did it?"
"I didn't mean to. It's just you ran at me and-"
"No, you idiot. Why you tried to kill yourself."
"You were going to put me in cold storage. I saw it on the news."
He waited for it to make sense. It didn't. "What?"
"They were arresting the humans again. I knew my time was up. I knew they wouldn't really let us go. I figured it would be three days, actually. I should've placed a bet somewhere."
He was quiet for a long time then leaned back and his face was hard.
"So that's why you went with me. You thought you were about to die. Knew it had to be something."
"Stop," she said, grabbing his shirt, and if her eyes had been daggers they would have cut him again. "Stop it." But each way she tried to explain it in her head it came out wrong. "I just didn't want to die, without, trying…"
"So now you've tried. Now what."
"Don't be an arse." She let go of his shirt and smoothed it sadly. "You arrest me, and I get stored."
He leaned right up close so she couldn't see anything else.
"I'm not going to arrest you," he said slowly.
"Alright, you get one of your mates to arrest me," she frowned, like she didn't want to deal with another Seeker. Like she liked her Seeker.
"No one is going to fucking arrest you. No one is going to fucking store you. There's nothing to prove you did anything. Ever."
She gazed into his eyes, wanting to believe.
"Nothing?"
"Nothing."
***
They let her out of hospital within days, assured it was a one-off event. Jackson had wanted to go with accident, but she knew they wouldn't buy that. Temporary insanity fit the evidence better. And she made sure to be bright and cheerful, and not too bright and cheerful, until they let her out. She was pleased to note he didn't asked where she wanted to go, but took her back to his place. And she led him contentedly straight to bed.
"I'd thought you'd be sick of beds by now," he said, letting her pull him down.
"Mmm, I have some catching up to do with this one," She pulled his shirt off one shoulder, then the other, lick-kissing each patch of skin as she bared it. "Unless you'd prefer someplace else?"
"Here's fine," he breathed, reaching for her.
When she was satisfactorily caught up, he could satisfy himself on a few matters.
"So you're done with that storage bull shit?" he asked, watching her carefully.
"Mm-hmm," she murmured, eyes closed, "Anyhow they can't take me now. Not with my big tough Seeker to guard me." She opened her eyes slightly and wrote her name across his chest with her finger, like signing a book, but he got up and went into the study.
"What?" she asked, following him, pulling on his shirt.
"Look, he said, grabbing a pile of photos out of a drawer and throwing down a selection. She looked over his shoulder, studying the spread.
"These are the people we want to arrest. Note how none of them is Nut Brown."
He picked up a photo.
"This one in particular," he muttered.
"Blackheath," she said easily.
"You know him?"
"Of course. He's a legend."
"That's one way of putting it. He's a slippery sucker."
She took the photo and studied it, thinking. "I know how you can get him."
He looked at her, like he was not amused.
"No, seriously," she said. "He has a yakshi."
He continued to look at her, this time blankly.
"A yakshi. A beautiful spirit that seduces men. You can only resist her, remain pure, if you kill her. Otherwise, you are lost. He's lost. Regularly."
"I'm still not following you here," he said finally.
"He can't keep away from her. Find her, and you'll find him."
"And you know where she is?"
"No." She noticed him staring at her balefully. "But I bet we could track her down. She's pretty noticeable."
"If it's so easy to find her, and get Blackheath, how come no one's done it yet?"
She shrugged. "You gotta be in the know. You gotta know who to ask. And how to ask. Souls got no chance."
His cool, calculating Seeker gaze began to warm, and he smiled.