Flawless//Broken (15 page)

She laughs, and I laugh with her, but it’s bitter and brittle.

***

For two weeks, I can convince myself I’m normal. I make breakfast, I clean the house, I look for more jobs. I try not to lose my mind - sitting around the house has never been my style. It only makes me over-analyze all the shitty things that have happened to me, dwell on them, make them bigger and more horrible monsters in my mind. The homeless man’s face. Darius’ cold admission I’m nothing more than Azoth to him. Lake’s conviction I must be like Amelie for Darius to even pay me the time of day. The fact I’ll never live a normal life again. I can’t go to the store without seeing Lake out of the corner of my eye - as a cat or otherwise. I can’t go outside without thinking every person who looks at me for too long is a Mutus or a homunculus.

Just as I’m starting to lose hope, I get a call back from a bistro cafe on University Hill. They want to interview me. Ellie and I celebrate with two pints of Ben and Jerry’s and reruns of her favorite vampire show. Before she leaves for school the next morning, she does my makeup for me so I’ll look my best, and the small gesture is touching. She really wants me to do well, to feel well. I can tell she’s been worried about me, moping around the house. I hadn’t told her about the homeless man or what really happened with Darius, and she never asked. I love her for it. She knows I deal with bad shit on my own, and knows when to step in - or step out.

I put on my dark jeans and an ironed plaid shirt - casual, but not sloppy. Ellie used enough makeup to choke a cow to try and cover my scar, and even though it’s a lot less noticeable, it’s still visible. I use my hair to shadow the rest of it, and grab my purse. I’m ready.

Fifteen minutes and one bus ride later, and as I’m standing outside the bistro doors I realize I’m really
, really
not ready in the slightest. The bistro is all brick and stainless steel counters, the tables clear with layers of newspaper set beneath them for a vintage effect. It’s not the lunch rush, but there are a lot of people here. The smell of warm, fresh bread, rich coffee, and spiced soup reaches my nose. The baristas look busy serving coffee and tea, while some run back and forth from the kitchen with sandwiches for certain tables. I can’t find anyone relaxed enough to point me in the manager’s direction.

“Are you here for the interview?”

I look up at the words, a girl with braids and an apron smiling at me. She’s no older than I am.

“Yes,” I manage. “I’m Mia Redfield.”

“Cool. Let me show you to the break room. Alyssa’s waiting for you there. She’ll be interviewing you.”

With a wave of relief, I follow the girl behind the kitchen and down a small hall. I look behind me once to see Lake walk in, his leather jacket blending in with the rest of the college-age kids in leather. The braids girl opens a door labeled BREAK ROOM, and motions for me to go in with a wink.

“She’s not as much of a hardass as she seems. Good luck. I’m Kelly, by the way. Hopefully we’ll be working together soon.”

I try my best smile, and walk in. Kelly closes the door behind us, and I turn to face the woman sitting at the round table in the center of the room. Her hair is long and wavy and honey-blonde, and though she has a casual sweater and jeans on, her face is set and serious.

“Hi,” I smile and walk over, offering my hand to her. “I’m Mia Redfield, here for the interview.”

“I know who are,” The woman says stonily. “I read your resume, after all.”

I sit in the chair she motions to, and inwardly curse my luck. She’s a complete business-minded lady. Her questions are relentless - where did I used to work? What position was I in? Did I have any complaints from my boss? Thankfully, I can answer no to the last one. Finally, she sits back in her chair, eyeing me carefully.

“Anything else you want to tell me, Mia?”

A man died because of me. Two men. The homeless man was the second.

My father was the first.

I squeeze my fists and force a smile. “No. That’s about it, I think.”

“You’ll forgive me if I seem forward,” The woman says. “But I took the liberty of running a background check on you. You’ve had several minor incidents with the police in the past three years.”

My shame is instant and hot on my face. “Ah, those. I’m not too proud of those years. I was a terrible teenager.”

“And you said on your resume you were expelled from the University of Washington. In your first year.”

“Yes.”

The woman studies me, then lets out a puff of air. “I’m sorry, Ms. Redfield. I would normally consider you, but all of those things combined with
that thing
on your face? It doesn’t sound like you’re suited to work anywhere. Especially not in my cafe.”

Her words sting harder than killer wasps. She said ‘that thing’ like it was a revolting slug, not a scar. My shame condenses as hot wetness in my eyes, but I blink them back and look up.

“Alright. Thanks for your time, anyway.”

The bus ride home is equally miserable. I throw myself onto my mattress on the floor and sob. The mistakes of the past are etched too deeply in me. On me. They won’t let me move on. No matter how hard I try, I can’t get past what I did - the evil swallowing me whole. It’s hours until I’m calm enough to sit up again. But even that’s cut short by a rough knock at my door. Is it Ellie? I check the time on my phone - she should’ve been home hours ago. Did she go out for dinner or something?

My heart sinks as the knocking becomes frantic. I get up and look through the hole - Lake. I open it.

“They’ve got her,” Lake pants. “The Mutus have Ellie.”

PART ELEVEN

ELEVEN

Chapter 11

ELEVEN

Lake strides in after me, his face white and strained. He checks the beetles - all of them fluttering their wings on the doorways and windowsills. In my angst I didn’t notice they were fluttering at all. How long had they been like that? He touches the floor with two fingers and closes his eyes, as if he’s sensing something. And then, in front of my eyes, he turns. His body compacts, becoming smaller and smaller, his head shrinks and it takes all my willpower not to freak out. He grows so small he disappears beneath his leather jacket, a moving lump in his place. Before I can pull the jacket away, a large orange tabby cat leaps from beneath it. I’ve seen him like this only once or twice before, but only when I was too distressed to really notice him. He’s a powerful tom cat, all rippling muscle and large head, practically the size of a medium dog, with impressive fangs that protrude over his mouth.

The cat meows once, then leaps out the living room window. I watch as he jumps from rooftop to rooftop with incredible ease. He stops on a red roof and meows loudly, like he’s calling for someone. An ash-gray cat leaps onto the roof, and they stare at each other wordlessly for a minute, before Lake comes bounding back. I move away, and he soars into the window and burrows under his coat. The shape beneath the coat expands rapidly, arms and legs righting themselves, and Lake straightens, his hair wild and his eyes fierce. He keeps his jacket close around him, but I can see flashes of his bare chest beneath it.

“They drugged her, and took her in a cab. They said something about a warehouse on the loading pier. They’re probably taking her to the docks. I can ambush them there if I leave now.”

“I’m coming with you,” I say.

“What’re you gonna do?” Lake scoffs. “Your scent will just tip them off that we’re there, and drive them crazy.”

“That’s probably what they want! If you leave me here alone they’ll come after me.”

“Shit,” Lake hisses. “You’re a smart one, princess. Alright, look, you’re coming with me. But we have to make a pitstop, first.”

We drive to the east fringe of Chinatown, where my gentrified neighborhood gives way to billboards advertising immigration lawyers and lopsided chinese/japanese/english signs advertise nail salons and sketchy pawn shops. The smell of fried dough and coriander fills my lungs, and red enamel dragons wind around every streetlight. Lake pulls into an alley behind a fortune-teller’s shop. He bows and smiles at two elderly women sharing a pipe on the veranda. One of them smiles back, the other glances at me and says something in rapid Chinese. Lake says something back, and the woman’s eyes relax. She motions for us to go in.

Lake pulls me inside the shop. Scents of jasmine mixed with incense make my head spin, and my anxiety for Ellie’s safety worse. Jade Buddhas and mother-of-pearl quilin line one bookshelf, and gorgeous paper fans in every color of the rainbow hang open on the walls.

“Why are we here?” I ask. “And since when do you speak Chinese?”

“We need a good alchemist,” He says. “And the Reapers teach us every major language. C’mon.”

He leads me down the hall to a small kitchen. A pot of chicken boils on the stove, the smell making my mouth water. A gorgeous woman sits at the linoleum table, her black hair glossy and pulled back into a soft bun. She wears a simple gray dress, and her skin is peach-kissed ivory. She looks up when we come in, and smiles.

Her eyes are completely white - clouded. She’s blind.

“Lake,” Her voice is quieter than moonlight and just as smooth. “It’s been too long.”

Lake bows deeply. “Sorry, Zhen. Mia, this is Zhen, the best alchemist in Chinatown. Zhen, this is -”

Zhen gets up quickly, and makes her way to me without missing a beat. She holds my hand in two of hers, and looks right at me.

“Did you like Avalanche?”

The question is jarring. I look to Lake, but he just nods.

“Y-Yes,” I say. “She’s a very sweet wolf.”

Zhen smiles and pulls away. “She likes you, too.”

“How do you -”

“I made her,” Zhen says, then giggles behind her hand. “And I can smell her on you. She must’ve liked you very much to leave such a powerful scent.”

“Zhen,” Lake interrupts. “We’re here for -”

“I know what you’re here for, darling,” Zhen interrupts lightly. “I knew it the moment she walked in. It comes with a price.”

“You can put it on the Reaper tab,” Lake insists. “We need it now.”

“Tsk tsk,” She clicks her tongue. “Someday you’ll be patient, and that will be the day the bay dries up.”

She practically floats over to the kitchen counter, and picks up a pen. She rummages in a drawer full of old receipts, and fishes one out. After she smooths the wrinkles from it, she writes on it with the pen. I can barely see the Chinese kanji on it. When she’s finished, she turns to me with a smile.

“This might sting.”

Before I can blink, she smacks the receipt onto my forehead. It’s not a hard hit, barely enough to make my head go back. Somewhere, I hear dishes crack, and the ground below me shakes like a split-second earthquake. It subsides quickly. Her smell is jasmine and pine, and her hand is cool. When she pulls away, I expect the receipt to be hanging in my face. I feel for it, but it’s gone. I turn to Lake, but he’s suddenly on the ground, kneeling and panting.

“W-What the fuck, Zhen?” He coughs as he stands. “You could’ve warned me!”

“I’m sorry,” She giggles. “You wanted it fast. So I gave it to you fast.” Zhen turns to me with mirth dancing in her white eyes. “They won’t be able to sense you, now. No one will, for at least an hour.”

“Just an hour? A whole earthquake for an
hour
? You feeling off your game or something?” Lake straightens, brushing off his jacket.

“It’s the best I could do. Her Azoth is too strong to suppress for very long.”

Lake thanks her, and ducks out of the doorway. Zhen smiles at me.

“I’m sorry this visit was so short, Mia. But I know we’ll meet again soon. Good luck rescuing your friend.”

“Thank you,” I can’t help but grin at her. She calls me back as I follow Lake outside.

“Be careful of Darius, darling,” Her white eyes are suddenly serious and set, like sandstone and marble. “He is strong, but no homunculus is stronger than the hunger.”

Her words echo in my chest. I warily walk out to the curb, and Lake. He puts on his helmet, and I do the same.

“How does she know so much?” I ask. “Is she psychic?”

“Shhh!” Lake hisses. “Not here. She can hear you. Damn girl’s got ears like a bat.”

The Chinese grandmas watch us go, coughing and shaking their fists at Lake’s motorcycle exhaust. My stomach twists itself into double knots as the highway flashes by. I wish now more than ever I had a weapon, a gun. Something, anything. But the last time I had one I did something unforgivable, something I promised I’d never do again. But if Ellie needs me, if Ellie’s in danger, I’ll do it again. I’ll do anything.

The smell of salty air alerts me to the fact we’ve arrived. Lake parks his motorcycle near the pier, where kids eat cotton candy with sticky hands and tired parents take pictures of them, the ocean, the sky. The beach isn’t really a beach - mostly rocks and kelp rotting in the moonlight. Lake takes his helmet off.

“We’ll walk from here. I know a shortcut.”

“What’s the plan?” I try to tame my seething nerves by watching the ocean break. I missed the ocean the most when I went back to Idaho.

“We take the shortcut to the loading docks, and I talk with the locals, see if I can’t find out where they’re keeping Ellie.”

“And by ‘locals’ you mean the cats, right?”

He smirks. “Shocked you, huh.”

“It shocks me every time, Professor McGonagall.”

“Except I’m not. Witches and wizards aren’t real,” He drawls.

“But you still traded your soul.” I say. Lake smirks.

“Wasn’t much of a soul to trade, sweetcheeks. To be honest, I got the better end of the bargain.”

He goes quiet. We walk down the beach path, and for a moment it’s like we’re just two kids out enjoying the night, not going to rescue my friend from a cult that wants to kill me. I breathe in, and out. Lake breaks the tension with a sigh.