Infinite Risk (4 page)

“Because you fed from me?” I didn't get it. He took energy from Nicole too, but he wasn't camped outside the mental health facility waiting to see if she recovered.

When I pointed that out, a lopsided smile carved into his lean cheek. “You gave of yourself willingly, dearling. That is the difference. What I have from you is born of free will … and that is a sweetness I cannot otherwise experience.”

Oh.

“I'm glad,” I said, though I wasn't sure that was the right response. “But I won't assume you're on my side since caprice is kind of your deal. As long as you don't get in my way, I won't complain if you want to watch the show.”

“An excellent summation of my intentions.”

“Just to be clear, I don't have to worry about the others finding me like you did?”

“They lack our connection, but they have other resources.”

“So don't get comfortable?” I'd already come to that conclusion myself, so that wasn't exactly invaluable advice.

He nodded, letting himself topple sideways on my bed. The light didn't touch him, as if he was a shadow too deep for the photons to penetrate. Really I should get him out of here, but at this hour, the Baltimore was creepy enough that the Harbinger qualified as comforting in comparison. The woman next door had been crying for two hours when I finally fell asleep, and her silence was somehow more ominous than the despairing sobs.

“Why are you staying in such a hovel?” he demanded then.

“It's a protest against our consumer culture.”

The Harbinger's look said he wasn't even slightly amused. “Karl Marx would be charmed, I'm sure. Power to the proletariat.”

“Okay, this is what I can afford on Buzzkill's stash. And to avoid starvation, I'll need to get a job while I'm here.”

“I could help you,” he said.

Shaking my head, I backed off that offer so fast I got vertigo. “No thanks. I'm pretty sure I know how it goes, once I start accepting favors from you.”

“You wound me with your cynicism.” But he didn't deny that there would be terrifying costs associated with his assistance, even given to someone he dubbed “kin.”

“Bullshit. I've just gotten better at anticipating the fine print.”

The Harbinger snapped his fingers, and the tired bulb on my bedside lamp guttered out.

His voice came soft and low, but also terrible like the groan of a beam before it gave way. “The woman in the room next door…”

“Yeah?”

“She's dying.” Two words, cool as a sealed tomb.

That launched me from bed, and I went out the door at a run. Though he was the trickster, it didn't occur to me to question. In the hallway, the carpet was gross and sticky beneath my bare feet; nobody answered when I pounded with both hands, so I ran back and dialed 911. When the operator answered, I gasped, “I think my neighbor OD'd,” because that would surely get the right people out here. But after the man took all the info, time ticked away. I called the night desk clerk, but he had no interest in the situation and wouldn't agree to unlock room ten so I could check on the tenant.

The Harbinger watched my anxiety with inscrutable interest. Eventually, he said, “Would you like
me
to open the door?”

And then I knew. “She's gone, right? If I say yes, I'll owe you a favor, all for nothing.”

“It's like Schrödinger's cat, dearling. You'll never know unless you open the box.”

Before I could decide, however, sirens finally sounded and paramedics pounded up the stairs at the end of the hall. My door wasn't the only one that cracked open as they ran into room ten. Five minutes later, they came out with a body, not a patient. Sheer fury sparked inside me. I balled my hands into fists, turning on the Harbinger in the darkness.

“Was that
fun
for you?”

“A little.”

“Thanks for reminding me how awful you are. I'd almost forgotten.” Even if that woman's life was miserable, it was worth saving. Death was the final answer to second chances … because as long as you were alive, you could always turn it around.

“Does that mean you won't pet my hair and assure me I'm not a monster?” He danced out of reach when I swung. “My heart is breaking.
Broken
, even
.
I want your approval almost as much as I want to sow misery and discord.”

On the verge of activating Aegis, I stilled … because his final statement carried the unmistakable ring of truth, a sort of hopeless longing. In my life, I'd often felt exactly that, watching people laughing with their friends, warm and effortless. It was like there was an invisible wall dividing me from the things I wanted most. Now I had cast everything off except for this one absurd, impossible mission. The worst part was, even if I succeeded, no one would ever know. At that moment, I understood the Harbinger well enough
not
to kill him.

Again.

“You're such a child,” I said.

His tone sparkled with puzzlement and wonder. “Am I? Then … will you raise me?”

“Get out.”

I didn't wait to see if he'd listen, slamming into the bathroom. The tub was awful and gross with dark stains on the grout, but I climbed into it anyway, fully clothed, and wrapped my arms around my knees. For some reason, it was hard to breathe, as if an iron band had wrapped around my chest, tightening with each desperate pull of my lungs. I didn't even know that woman, but the fact that I didn't save her felt like the promise of failure.

You can't do this. Everything will play out exactly as it did before.

My sense of self receded until I might've been a speck of dust beneath the bed, a small and impotent mote. The tears didn't come, but each gasp shivered through me in dry sobs. Closing my eyes didn't help, either, because I only saw the slim outline of a body, being wheeled away by people who didn't know her or care.

But I should've known a simple door wouldn't stop the Harbinger, though I didn't register him until his hand rested on my hair. “You let me give you so much grief.”

I slapped him away. “Leave me alone.”

“What a wonder. Why do you care about such a miserable husk?”

“She was a
person
, and everyone matters. Don't you get that? Even if she made bad choices, she mattered, and you made her a damn game or a test or—”

“Edie.”

I stopped talking because I couldn't remember the Harbinger ever saying my name precisely like that. “What?”

“I lied. She wasn't dying before. When I arrived, she was already gone.”

My breath went in a wheeze. Hadn't I thought that the silence was worse than her incessant crying? I might have even noticed the moment of her death and counted it a relief—
Thank God I don't have to listen to that anymore.
While the Harbinger did screw with me,
I
was the one who should've done better. There was no way I could sustain the rage at him, considering the weight of my own faults.

I lifted my gaze to meet his star-shot eyes. “Is this what you wanted to teach me? That I'm awful too?”

Something like regret flashed over his face; then he swept me up in a swirl of dark fabric and carried me back to the other room. “Come away; you'll catch something.” Once we reached the bed, he set me down and drew back as if I was a pillar of flames. “You're the only one who would seek meaning in my myriad cruelties.”

“I can't know your intentions,” I said. “But it felt like a warning. There are lots of ways to become a monster, and the
easiest
is to look the other way when you see people in pain.”

“You give me too much credit.”

“I'll do better. And … I think I understand now. Life is about connections. To save Kian, I have to help him meet other people. Me, alone, it's a start, but not enough.”

“Your ramblings have become nonsensical. For you to imagine I'm
helping
you without recompense, that is madness.” He sounded annoyed.

I stifled a smile. “Of course not. You're the Harbinger.”

“It would behoove you to remember that.”

As I glanced at the clock, I sighed. Almost four, school would suck more than usual tomorrow. “Right. Well, I'm going back to sleep. Either get out or keep quiet.”

He stared. “You'd let me stay?”

“What do I care?” It occurred to me that the Harbinger was the closest I had to a friend in this timeline.
Is that awesome or terrible?
Full of bravado, I went on. “Stand guard in the corner, watch TV, or eat my instant noodles. But replace those if you do.”

“I'll stay for a while,” he said softly.

The TV flickered to life. When he sat down in the grubby vinyl armchair, I didn't expect to sleep. But it was better than being alone, and I was tired. In the morning, he was gone, along with two packs of ramen. In their place, he had left two cherry Danishes and yogurt, along with a note.
Cup Noodles are delicious. Why did no one inform me? See you soon. –H.

I had the Harbinger's offering for breakfast and then ran for the bus. More homework on the ride to school, and then I pondered the adaptation of my original plan. It wouldn't be easy to integrate Kian with Devon's group, considering what they thought of him, but—

To my surprise, Kian was waiting near the bus stop when I hopped off. I could tell he had tried extra hard since he'd tucked his paisley polyester shirt into his jeans and was wearing a belt. Overall it didn't help much. But it was so good to see him, alive and healthy, instead of dying in my arms that my smile must've been about a thousand watts—to the point that it startled him. He blinked, pausing before he took a step toward me. Awkwardly, he fiddled with his backpack straps.

“I thought we could walk to school together.”

“You ride the CTA too?”

He nodded. “Different route, though, I guess, or I'd have seen you.”

“Which means you were looking,” I teased.

Kian's eyes widened, and he stumbled back a step like I was about to declare him a stalker. “What? No. I mean—”

“Relax.” Only by interrupting could I put him at ease. “So what do you do on weekends? I don't know anything about this town.” And then I used personal intel to sweeten the deal. “You know what would be cool? A theater that showed the classics.” I ached a little, remembering all our dates in Harvard Square, precious memories that only I shared.

But as I hoped, that distracted him. “Are you into golden-age cinema?”

His eyes were so, so bright and hopeful, that I wished I
could
be Nine, not Edie the Echo, out of time. If I really was a transfer student, things would be so different. Getting to know him like this—and not as part of the game—would be incredible. As we walked, I tried not to let the wistful feeling overwhelm me.

“Totally.
Casablanca, North by Northwest.
” I named movies that I already knew Kian loved. “
Notorious. To Catch a Thief. Indiscreet.
”

“I'm sensing a Cary Grant theme here,” he noted.

Of all the old movies I'd watched with Kian before, Cary Grant
was
my favorite. I could understand why people loved Humphrey Bogart, but Grant had a dashing, urbane quality I appreciated more. So I nodded, hugging the truth to my chest—that Kian was the only reason I knew about any of this. Suppressing a smile, I wondered what he'd say if I straight up confessed to being his girlfriend from the future, a la
The
Terminator
, and then the dialogue wrote itself:

Make out with me if you want to live.

Okay, maybe not.

Oblivious to my weird, born-of-desperation humor, Kian was saying, “I've never been, but there's a cool place in Lofton. It's an old theater that's been converted to a bar. They kept the screen and show classics on Saturday nights. It's over twenty-one only, though.”

“Not a problem,” I said, feeling cool for the first time ever.

He lowered his voice like the students nearby might report us. “You have ID?”

“I'm picking it up tonight, actually.”

“You move to a new town and, first thing, you find someone to make you a fake ID?” His eyes widened, and he looked like he couldn't decide if that was awesome or if I was the irresponsible maniac who would ruin his life.

But most important, he didn't look sad at all. He seemed … intrigued.
Like me, Kian, like me a little. Enough to forget the girl who breaks your heart.

I grinned. “So? You never know when you'll need to get into a bar.”

“If you say so.”

“I'm heading there after school to pick up my ID. Come with me. If you do, you'll get yours on Friday, and then we can check out the classic movie joint on Saturday.”

We reached the school parking lot, and the warning bell was about to ring. I could predict all the reasons why he couldn't trembling on the tip of his tongue. But what finally came out was, “How much is it?”

I did the math, then said, “Don't worry about it, you can pay me back later.”

“Okay. But I don't understand why you're being so nice to me. BT-dubs I'm out of here if you say weird shit about my eyes again.”

That sounded
so
like what I said to him in the diner that I had to strangle the urge to kiss him. “Don't worry about that, either. Just be sure of one thing, Kian Riley.” As if he sensed I was dead serious, we locked eyes, so sweet it hurt. “I'm going to change your life.”

 

ALL OUR YESTERDAYS

After school, we took the bus to Psychedelic Records. The lack of business made think the owner paid his rent with fake IDs. But Kian seemed really into the vinyl, which shouldn't have surprised me, considering how much he loved old movies. So I browsed the store for a few minutes, trying to see the magic through his eyes.