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“…and Irene thought we could rewire it all, but we don’t
have the time to do that either. She just doesn’t get that. She just thinks it’s
a quick repair when really…”

Indigo nodded, murmuring her agreement.

Cal called Indigo the next day, the two of them meeting
up at his university office. He fucked her on his desk, and her sense of
satisfaction convinced Indigo she’d almost enjoyed it. She left feeling a rare
contentment. Fiona Martel-Woodrow might have more money than she could count,
but she had no idea how the real world worked.

“…the Tech Department is starting to make some staffing
changes,” Jude explained, grinning impishly. “Might change a lot of things,
actually…”

“Interesting,” she mumbled.

Indigo was surprised when Cal phoned a week later,
begging to see her again. He swore he hadn’t slept since meeting her. That
their connection had changed him. That he had tried to deny himself, but he
couldn’t.

Cal was desperate and panicked. A man obsessed.

“… and so Lissa has decided to start using magical elves
rather than technicians. It’s pretty cool actually, since you don’t have to pay
them or give them health benefits…”

“Mm-hmmm?”

They met twice more that month, the one-night stand
exploding into an outright affair. Cal was consumed by his need for her, his
fixation growing by the day. Indigo found herself more focused on Cal than his
wife. She didn’t WANT to be caught anymore. She wanted to have Cal for her own.

“…and it turns out the elves can climb into the mainframe
servers, and pick out the innards with their bare hands.”

“Really,” Indigo sighed.

Jude’s explanation stopped, his smile fading. For several
seconds he didn’t speak.

“Where are you, Indigo?” he finally asked. “’Cause it isn’t
here.”

“Mm-hmm,” she mumbled.

Jude frowned. Seeing it, Indigo sat up straighter. Cal’s
smirking face was abruptly gone, replaced by Jude’s concern.

“Sorry,” Indigo said warily. “What were you saying?”

He slid closer, his fingers trailing up her arm, making her
shiver. Close like this, Jude was the only thing she could see.

“I’m talking,” he said gently, “and you’re not listening to
a word.” His fingers traced patterns over the flesh of her arm, her skin rising
in goosebumps. “Are you okay today?”

“I um… I just have things on my mind.”

Jude’s his hand slid higher, brushing over her shoulder and
combing through her hair.

“How’s your film project going?”

She glanced down at her lap, plucking at the frayed seam of
her jeans.

“Okay, I guess,” she muttered. “Put in the footage from this
weekend, but I’m still missing a bunch of time.” His hand moved deeper into her
hair, massaging the muscles of her neck and scalp. She sighed, letting the
motion of his fingers pull her closer, tension easing. “God,” she moaned, eyes
closing, “that feels good.”

She felt rather than saw him move closer. Suddenly Jude’s
mouth was against hers, his lips teasing her into responding. Indigo gasped at
the feeling of kissing him again. She’d held back the last few days, but now
the fire between them was alight. His fingers tightened in her hair, the other
hand pulling her nearer, tongue plundering her mouth. The embrace grew,
Indigo’s hands tugging at his clothes. Without warning, the door near the far
end of the corridor opened. They broke apart, laughing. Indigo pulled back,
straightening her shirt and brushing hasty fingers through her hair. Jude
watched her with hooded eyes.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.”

She giggled, trying to think of a teasing retort and
failing. She’d been waiting for it to happen too. When she glanced back up,
Jude’s expression had altered. The desire was still there, but now it was
tempered by worry.

“What…?”

Jude reached into his jacket pocket, pulling out a small
plastic rectangle and holding it out to her.

“I um, I wasn’t sure I should give this to you or not.”

Indigo stared at the small jump drive in his fingers.

“What is this?” she asked in concern.

“It’s some answers,” he said, dropping it into her waiting
palm. “Pictures from the public archives… names and things.” She stared at the
drive in her hand, chest tight. This was another piece of her life, laid bare
for him.
He was still here.
“I um, I found something else too,” he
added. “An address.”

 “For who?” she gasped, certainty gripping her before
he’d even said the words.

“For your mom,” he answered. “She’s still in—”

“You what?” Indigo cried, stumbling to her feet. “Why?!? Why
did you
do
that?!?”

“I don’t know,” he said, standing up beside her. “I just
figured, you know, if you ever wanted it.”

“Fuck!” Indigo yelped. “What would I do if I saw her, Jude?”

“I don’t know,” he said, “but at least now you have the
chance.”

Drive in hand, Indigo turned and ran.

: : :
: : : : : : :

The apartment where Elliot lived had an aging, though
effective, security system. Without a code or key, you couldn’t get in, and the
front entrance was covered by three cameras. As long as you were
in
the
building, you were fine. The main issue was that parking was on the street.
This was no problem most of the year.

Lately, however, it’d been a nightmare.

When Elliot headed to work early in the morning and came
home by five, he could always find a spot. But one week a month, he worked the
late shift, getting home after ten. That meant circling the block, searching
for a space.

Today was one of those days.

His bad mood had started even before he’d left work. He’d
received two calls from Mrs. Henderson, asking him to change her account
information, then calling back again, and doing the same thing. Elliot sighed,
talking her through the process. She might have a terrible memory, but her
generous investments more than made up for the nuisance. The next issue had
been a photocopier jam. He’d spent twenty minutes on it before unplugging it
and leaving a handwritten note. He’d been about to leave the office when the
phone rang. He glanced at his watch – already late – then picked up the
receiver.

“Elliot Baird,” he said tiredly.

No one answered.

Frowning, he hung up the phone, his eyes moving through the
empty office. This week had been screwing with his head, and a part of him
regretted asking Jude to leave. Truth was, he didn’t like living alone, and the
last few days, with the strange happenings, had made that even worse. Elliot
hung up the phone, pulling on his coat and grabbing his car keys from his
pocket.

“Get it together, man,” he muttered, heading to the parking
garage.

He blasted the radio on the way home, trying to force his
nerves away. Partway there, the eleven o’clock news update came on. Francesca
Williams, the new police commissioner, had made another speech about getting
tough on crime, asking the mayor to increase her budget in order to do it.
Elliot’s gaze moved down the streets as he drove: the closed-up businesses and
boarded-up buildings, the people sleeping in boxes in the alleys.

‘Yes,’
he thought,
‘it’s time for a change.’

Reaching his apartment building, he found that the parking
spot he was hoping to use was already taken. A sedan with tinted windows was
parked there tonight. He swore, driving a block further, temper rising. He
parked under a street lamp, wishing he’d brought his gloves and hat. It was
cold out, and as he climbed from the car, he shoved his hands deep in his
pockets.

He began to walk.

The street was empty, leafless trees like skeletal hands
overhead. With the temperature dropping, there was a sharpness to the air, the
hint that snow would come before morning. Elliot turned up his collar, tucked his
nose down. Nearing the alley, he heard someone walking behind him. He shifted
to the side, giving them room to pass.

The footsteps grew nearer, heels clicking on sidewalk.

Elliot looked over his shoulder just as he reached the mouth
of the alley, wondering if someone was pacing him. He frowned in recognition.
The man was tall and broad, with a football player’s build. It was, he
realized, one of the potential clients he had met with earlier this week.
Someone who’d asked about placing an investment, but never called him back.

“Hey,” Elliot said in surprise. “Don’t I know you?”

The man lunged, his motion so inexplicably fast for his
size, Elliot didn’t even think to shout. He was propelled into the shadows of the
alley, his head slamming against the brick wall, leaving him stunned. He
stumbled, and the man attacked again, a steely fist crashing into his jaw.
Elliot landed on his back with a thud, breath gone.

The man became calm and businesslike, walking forward and
crouching next to Elliot, as if about to help him upright. Elliot gulped like a
fish, trying to catch his breath and failing. There was blood in his mouth and
eyes, ears ringing. As he watched, the man reached into his breast pocket and
pulled out a blade.

“The King has ways of dealing with people who talk,” he said
calmly. One hand grasped Elliot’s throat, the other, holding the knife, moving
in.

Winded, Elliot tried to scream, but the blade was faster.

Jude poured himself a cup of coffee and yawned. He hated
mornings almost as much as he hated working weekends, but in breaking his
connections to King, he’d indentured himself to at least another year at the
Tech Center. He took a sip, mentally filing through his options. App creation
was still a choice, but the field was flooded with teenagers. Silicon Valley
was booming, but Jude didn’t feel like packing up his entire life to move to
the West Coast. That left either going back to school – out of the question
given his financial situation – or finding another job. Jude sighed.

Neither interested him.

A door closed down the hallway and Marq came into the
kitchen, phone in hand.

“Hey, buddy,” he said, eyes down on his cell phone. “You’re
up early.” He lifted his phone to his ear, listening for a few seconds, then
dropped it down again, tapping on the screen. “Gotta leave a message, asshole,”
he muttered.

“Everything okay?” Jude asked.

“Some guy left me a bunch of messages about doing some tech
work for him.” Marq said. “Didn’t leave me any name or call back number. Just a
bunch of hints and heavy breathing.” He snorted with good humour. “People make
me crazy.”

 It was total Marq to laugh off a crank call. Jude
envied the way he was able to just blow things off. The issues that worried
most people were no concern to him; he lived for the day. According to Jude’s
mother, Marq Lopez was ‘a slacker’, but it was one of the things Jude most
liked about his friend. It made Jude feel a little less like one himself.

“Yeah, me too.” Jude sighed. Much as he liked Marq, he still
needed to find a new apartment, like yesterday.

“If he ever gets hold of me,” Marq laughed. “I’m gonna quote
him a price that’ll fucking bankrupt him.” He grinned. “I’m done with this
small time shit.”

Jude nodded, taking another sip of coffee just as the phone
in his pocket rang. The phone number was private.

“Hello?” he said cautiously. He wondered if
this
was
the call he’d been dreading. The one where Luca told him why he
wasn’t
going
to walk away.

“Jude?” a woman gasped. “Jude, is that you?”

Several things ran through his mind. First, that it wasn’t
Indigo or his mother. The woman’s voice was familiar, but he couldn’t place it.

“Yeah, this is Jude. Who’s this?”

“Oh thank God it’s you,” she cried. “This is Carol Baird,
Elliot’s mother. Jude, Elliot’s been—”

Her voice broke, the sound of muffled sobs filling his ear.
Jude staggered sideways, head swimming. He knew this feeling. The moment
between knowing something bad was
about
to happen, and seeing it unfold
before your eyes. He’d had the same experience the day his father had died.
That day it had been his mother, Elizabeth, on the phone in the school office.

“Mrs. Baird?” Jude said. “What’s going on?”

 “Elliot was attacked,” she cried. “He’s in surgery
right now.”

: : :
: : : : : : :

Jude sat outside the intensive care unit, his eyes on the
tiled floor. They only let two people in at a time, and Elliot’s sister and
father were in with him now. Jude would go next, Elliot’s mother assured him.
They’d give him time to talk alone. To say what he needed to say.

‘Just in case.’

That caveat was the worst thing about the attack. Though
Elliot was getting the utmost in medical care, there was a very real possibility
he wasn’t going to survive, and if he did, there’d be a long road to recovery.
He hadn’t regained consciousness since the attack and what he’d remember when
he woke was anyone’s guess.

For now, progress was being counted in minutes.

Jude ran a hand up the back of his neck, his eyes going to
the clock on the wall. It was almost two, and he still hadn’t called work.
Hopefully Marq would explain things to Lissa, though knowing him, you never
knew. Next to him in the waiting room, Elliot’s mother kept talking, her words
intruding into his private thoughts. She was mumbling, half-coherently, her
eyes swollen from crying.

“…and they broke all his fingers. Held him down and smashed
them one by one. Crushed his trachea too. And cut him up something awful. His
tongue, Jude,” she gasped. “My God, his tongue was sliced down the center. He
almost bled to death before —”

“Mrs. Baird,” Jude interrupted, stomach tensing. “You don’t
have to tell me this.”

Jude’s face flushed, shadows darkening the side of his vision.
He couldn’t handle hearing this. Not when it had to do with his best friend.