Nobody (14 page)

The door to Ione’s study burst open. Shots were fired. One of them grazed Nix’s shoulder. He didn’t have time to think. He reacted.

He faded: instantaneously, a matter of reflex, the hard-won fruit of his trainer’s methods—drowning him, burying him, cutting him. They’d made fading a survival skill—and he was a survivor.

Ione gasped for breath, her hands flying to her throat.
Nix had brought the files into the fade with him, but the second he’d faded, he lost the ability to choke the life out of her.

She’d lost her ability to see him, to feel him, to
hurt
him. Unless she could make him lose his fade, he was untouchable.

“Do you think this changes things? Do you really believe that the fact that there are two of you changes anything?” Ione spoke loudly, unaware of how close to her he was standing. “She’ll never love you, you know. Never care for you. You are what you are. A killer. She’ll never understand that. How could she?”

Nix closed himself off to Ione’s words. She was trying to hurt him, to weigh down his mind, to bring him out of the fade. She was trying to stop him from leaving with the files—and saving Claire.

Claire walked out of the store, clothed in pilfered goods. A security alarm sounded, but no one stopped her. The salesclerks didn’t notice that she’d helped herself to a pair of barely-there jean shorts and a sinfully soft cotton tee. Just like they didn’t notice that she was mud splattered, scratched, and bloody.

There was a power to being able to walk through the world unnoticed.

After everything she’d lost in the past twenty-four hours—the hopes and the dreams and the
maybe
s—Claire figured that fresh clothing was the least of what she was owed. She pushed down the familiar stab of guilt and kept walking. Her fingers tightened around the hilt of her knife.

She’d spent years berating herself for every little thing. Every imagined faux pas, every failure to matter. But none of that had been her fault. In the past twenty-four hours, she’d been kidnapped, abandoned, forced to fight her way out of the woods—she wasn’t going to feel
guilty
about stealing clothes.

Anger was easier than guilt. Still, Claire looked back over her shoulder, half expecting to be caught. As she turned, something flashed in the corner of her eye. The hairs rose up on the back of her neck, and she remembered—suddenly and with an eerie sense of premonition—that Nix wasn’t the only one who’d wanted her dead.

She whirled back around. Nothing. Nothing but her own imagination. And still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was coming, that the knife in her hand wasn’t enough.

“Claire.”

She heard her name and whirled again.
Nix
. Her body recognized him before her mind did. Reflexively, she took a step backward, even as her hand reached out to him.

No
.

She wasn’t doing this. He didn’t get to leave her and then show up. He didn’t get to look at her and stop her heart. He didn’t get to make it beat harder, faster—

“Are you okay?” The whispered words exited his mouth with the power of a gunshot.

“I’m fine,” she spat, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong, something more than just the fact that he was here.

“I thought they found you.” His words were low. He reached forward to take her arm, but caught himself and aborted the motion halfway through. “We need to go.”

Claire didn’t move.

“Now,” Nix said, his voice rough, every muscle in his body tensed as his eyes scanned the crowd.

Claire wanted to fight him, to keep herself from getting sucked back under the force of this thing between them. He was a Nobody. She was a Nobody. That didn’t have to mean anything. It
didn’t
mean anything—but for the first time, she took in his appearance, the look in his eyes.

If there was one thing Claire knew like the back of her own hand, it was the edge of the abyss, and Nix was wearing darkness like sunscreen. SPF 70, slathered thick. He held a stack of folders in one hand, his knuckles white with the force of his grip.

He was bleeding.

She lifted her left hand to his shoulder. Unlike him,
she didn’t pull back. And once her skin touched his—she didn’t want to.

Either Ione had been bluffing and The Society didn’t know where Claire was, or Nix had beat them here. Her fingertips grazed the wound on his shoulder. He sucked in a breath.

“You’re hurt,” Claire said.

“So are you.”

There were scratches on her arms and legs, and she held a knife in a death grip in her right hand.

“We need to get out of here,” Nix said. He turned to leave, walking away from her touch. She didn’t follow.

Ione’s words echoed in his mind.
She’ll never love you. You are what you are
.

“I’m not going anywhere with you.” Claire’s voice shook, but she may as well have carved the words into his chest with her knife.

“They’re looking for you,” he said, lowly. “They’ll
hurt
you.”

“They won’t find me,” Claire countered. “Isn’t that what you said? We’re unnoticeable? Two Nobodies can have a fight on a street in a strange town, and people will just brush on by.”

Nix had forgotten that they weren’t alone, that there
was anyone else on this sidewalk but her. His gaze darted from one person to the next: assessing them, looking for a tell that any of them were more than what they seemed.

“Claire—”

She took a step forward, until the two of them were dangerously close. “You
left
me.”

“I had to go back.”

Nix hadn’t meant to tell her where he’d gone. He didn’t want to explain the files in his hands, didn’t want her to see firsthand evidence of the things that he’d done.

You are what you are. A killer
.

“Back to The Society?” The anger drained out of Claire’s voice. Her face softened, and silently, Nix begged her not to look at him that way. Like she could
fix
him.

She’ll never understand. How could she?

“I went to the institute,” he said. “The building where I—”

Nix couldn’t say
grew up
, and he couldn’t say
lived
. He’d never felt as inhuman as he did in that moment, trying to explain his life to Claire.

“—where they
kept
me.” Nix could feel the memories hovering at the edge of his mind, and he prayed they’d stay there. He didn’t want Claire to see him like that. He didn’t want to risk the chance that, caught up in the throes of a flashback, he might lose control and hurt her.

“The institute is The Society’s headquarters.” Nix concentrated on facts over feelings, keeping the past at bay.
“From the outside, it looks like a mansion, but the inside is state-of-the-art. There are laboratories dedicated to studying energy and metaphysical abnormalities. Libraries for keeping The Society’s histories. Training facilities for Sensors, so the ones who’ve been inducted into The Society can learn to use their powers.”

Training centers for Nobodies, so they can learn to kill
.

“And you went back.” Claire was stuck on that one point, and Nix wondered where she’d
thought
he’d gone when she woke up that morning and he wasn’t there. “Why would you go back there?”

Nix’s gaze went involuntarily to the folders in his hand.

“What are those?” Claire asked.

Nix wasn’t used to masking his thoughts. Clearly, he needed to be more careful around her.

“I mean, obviously, those are folders, but what’s in them?”

You are what you are
.

You’re a killer
.

“It’s none of your business, Claire.” Nix gritted his teeth, his words sharp as fangs. “It doesn’t matter why I went back. It doesn’t matter what’s in these folders. All that matters is that The Society is still looking for you. You need to go back to the cabin.”

“I already told you that I’m not going anywhere with you. Not until you explain.”

Nix reached for her, and this time, he allowed himself
to complete the action. His hand closed lightly over her arm. “I can’t protect you here.”

“Maybe I don’t want to be protected.” Her voice was softer now. He had to lean forward to hear it.

Shouldn’t lean forward
.

“I need,” he said, the words sticking in his throat. “I need you to be safe. It’s not safe here. Please, Claire.”

“Tell me what’s in the folders, and I’ll go with you.”

She asked for the one thing he didn’t want to give her. He let go of her arm.

“You want to know what’s in these folders?” It was either tell her or touch her—and he couldn’t let himself travel back down that road. “I stole the files from Ione, the current head of The Society. They detail the people I killed. The Nulls.”

A week ago, he wouldn’t have referred to Nulls as people. But now—

“Do I have a folder?” Claire’s question cut off that train of thought.

“Ione gave me a dossier before she sent me after you, but it didn’t say anything about why The Society wants you dead. It just said that you were dangerous.”

Claire’s gaze traveled back down to the folders in his hand. “But you think there might be answers in there.”

She read him too easily, too well.

“I’m the one they want to kill,” Claire said. “I have a right to know.”

Nix wanted to argue, but he couldn’t. She had a right to know—what he was capable of, what he
was
.

“We could check.” Claire’s voice was soft and steady. “We could research your … targets. That might tell us what The Society is up to. Why they want to hurt me.”

They want you dead because they don’t want me to have you
.

Nix knew, logically, that there might be another answer. That it could be about her as easily as about him.

“They shouldn’t care about either of us, either way.” He said the words before he’d fully processed the thought. To want to kill them, The Society would have to care. There would have to be something at stake.

Something bigger than two people who didn’t matter at all.

“I’ll look into my previous targets,” he told her, his words carrying the weight of a promise. “See if there are any anomalies. Figure out who’s involved and how to deal with them.”

Claire’s chin jutted out. “I’m helping.”

“You can’t—”

She cut him off, her eyes ablaze. “Don’t tell me what I
can’t
do. I’m tired of just letting things happen and then hoping for the best. If you just let things go on and on and on, the best doesn’t happen.”

Nix couldn’t keep himself from thinking that she was beautiful when she was angry.

She’ll never love you. How could she?

His fingers curled into fists at his sides.

“If you want me to come with you to the cabin, you’re going to let me help, Nix. If you try to leave again, I’ll follow. I’m not just going to sit around and wait for something bad to happen, because nothing good ever does.”

Nix realized then that she wasn’t bluffing. If he left her and she followed, she’d get hurt. But if he stayed, eventually, he’d hurt her. He destroyed everything he touched. He was only good for one thing.

You are what you are
.

“Fine,” he said.

“Fine?” Claire asked suspiciously.

“If you come back with me to the cabin, if you let me protect you, if you do
exactly
as I tell you, I’ll let you help me investigate The Society.”

Before Claire could respond, Nix held up a hand.

“I have two conditions. One: what happened before can’t happen again.”

Lips on lips, bodies melding together. His hands
—soaked with blood—
touching her. His mouth
—killer’s mouth
—kissing hers
.

“Last night can’t happen again, Claire,” he repeated. “Ever.”

She stopped breathing. He paused, waiting for her to start again, missing the sound.

“And two: when I say you’re done, you’re done. You
want to know why The Society wants you dead. You want to protect yourself. Fine. But when it comes down to it, I’m the one who’s going in, and you’re going to hide.”

“Fine,” she said, matching him tone for tone. “I have a condition, too.”