The Liberator

24 Closer

Valery guides us down several hallways and flights of stairs until I’m sure I could never get back to the great room. There are people at every turn—humans. I suspect they don’t know about liberators and collectors and sirens. It probably isn’t hard to find employees willing to leave questions unanswered as long as they’re offered an easy job with good pay, though it’s startling to know collectors aren’t the only ones engaging humans in our earthly endeavors.

Red unlocks yet another door. “There’s a lounge room here,” she says, waving her arm. “And bedrooms that branch off of it.”

I’m beginning to understand why they call this place the Hive. It’s a honeycomb of rooms, doors, and hallways, and probably serves to protect its inhabitants. “Hey, Red,” I say. “How are you guys so sure the collectors don’t know about this place?”

She turns and faces me, her high heels tapping against the wood floors. “They probably do. No matter where we built, they would find it. So we did what we could and designed it so that only a few people would know their way around.”

I cross my arms over my chest. “So if someone breaks in, they’re more likely to get lost than cause trouble.”

“That’s the idea.”

Blue collapses onto a leather couch. I know the feeling; I’m exhausted, too. The rest of the lounge room is sprinkled with dilapidated chairs, oversized ottomans, and more couches. Nothing matches, but it all appears comfortable. I notice there aren’t any windows, and that I haven’t seen a single one since we stepped foot inside the house.

As Annabelle and Charlie curl up on a love seat, I continue to drill Valery. “You said this place was created recently, but how recently?”

Red shrugs. “I’m not really sure. I was given blueprints to memorize a few weeks ago and told a training facility was being constructed. I think it’s part of something…bigger.”

“This place?” I ask.

She nods.

I think about what Blue said, that Big Guy has huge plans for me, and that Aspen is a test to see if I can be trusted. Could this house, the Hive, also be a part of this plan? If Valery thinks so, then I could believe it.

“I’m going to bed,” Red announces. “I’ll wake you for training in the morning.” She glides toward the door. Click, click, click go her heels. Max follows behind her like a stray and Red pauses at the door. I watch Valery to see how she’ll react. Her eyes travel over his face, and then she leaves, but not before cocking her head in the direction of the hallway.

Max bounds after her.

After the couple makes their exit, I find a huge beanbag thingy and plunk down. The Styrofoam shells give a satisfying crackle as they settle around my oversized frame. Above my head is a single blinking string of multicolored Christmas lights. The liberators really go all out to celebrate JC’s b-day.

Aspen is sitting next to Blue, and Annabelle and Charlie face them. With Valery gone, we all just kind of stare at one another. What do we say when we’ve never had a conversation without sirens trying to kill us?

Blue cranes his neck to look at Aspen. “Dude.”

Her eyebrow quirks upward. “Yes?”

“Where did you learn to fight like that?”

Annabelle snorts, and Blue glances at her. “What?” he asks.

She shifts next to Charlie, pulling one of her long legs beneath her. “That’s what you want to talk about right now? Not, where the hell are we? Or, Does this place have rabies? Or even, What is up with that freakazoid, Kraven?” Annabelle pulls her finger up. “No, no. Blue just wants to know about Aspen’s nunchuck skills.”

“Um, I don’t own nunchucks,” Aspen says.

Blue looks at her. “Maybe you should.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Where’d you learn to fight like that?” he presses.

Aspen bites her bottom lip. “Lincoln.”

Blue laughs. “Now who’s being ridiculous?”

She sighs. “Not the president, asshole. My friend. His name is Lincoln. His dad is in the CIA or FBI or some crap like that. He taught him self-defense.” Aspen shrugs. “So then Lincoln taught me.”

“It’d be a lot cooler if it’d been ole Abraham who taught you,” Annabelle says.

Charlie laughs. We all look at her. “Am I not allowed to laugh?” she asks.

Our hands suddenly become extremely interesting.

“Come on,” Charlie adds. “It was a joke. Stop treating me like I’m an invalid.”

Aspen stands up. “In that case, why don’t you get off your rear and do something?”

I’m out of my seat in a flash. “Aspen,” I say, a note of warning in my voice.

Aspen reaches her hand out to Charlie. “I’m starving. Help me find something to eat, O Savior of the World.”

My heart leaps when Charlie grins and takes Aspen’s hand. The two head toward the door like a pair of misfits.

“You’re going to get lost,” Annabelle warns.

Aspen doesn’t turn around. “So come with us.”

Annabelle rolls her eyes. “Fine, but only because you’ll bring back crap food if I don’t.” She rises from the love seat and shoves herself between Aspen and Charlie so that she can be closer to her best friend—and maybe to remind Aspen that Charlie already has a best friend.

I glance at Blue. He sighs and then gets up to follow them.

“You, too?” I say.

Blue shrugs. “You want to try and convince them not to leave? Go for it. Otherwise, we might as well make sure they get back okay.”

Annabelle and Aspen whip around together.

“Like we need your help,” one says.

“Just stay here,” the other barks.

You’d think Annabelle and Aspen would get along a little better considering they both scare the crap out of me.

Blue and I trail after the girls, and exactly forty-seven minutes later, we make it back to our room with stomachs full of junk food. Annabelle punches a victorious arm into the air and tells us to eat it, even though she got us more lost than anyone. After making a big show of yawning, she and Blue wander off to bed, her through one door and him through another. Aspen looks at Charlie and me for a moment after they leave.

“It’s good you two have each other,” she says. Then she leaves the room in search of sleep.

Charlie glances up at me. “I like her.”

“You like everyone.”

“Do not,” she rebuts, grinning.

My black heart sings, seeing her smiling and eating and playing normally, but I know she’s far from happy. And realizing how hard this day has been for her tears me up inside. I run my thumbs over the side of her cheeks and step closer. “How are you doing?”

Her gaze falls.

Instead of pushing for an answer, I take her hand and guide her toward a door in the far corner. Together, we spill into a small room with humble furniture: a queen-sized bed with a patchwork blanket, an oak nightstand, and a cushioned bench. I spot another door and assume it’s a bathroom; probably one we’ll share with Annabelle who’s one room over.

Charlie lets go of my hand and climbs into bed. Her hair falls over her neck, which I know bugs her. At one point, she reaches up to nudge her glasses like she sometimes does. But the glasses aren’t there anymore post makeover. Still, I find the gesture reassuring, like the Charlie I fell for, the girl who wore bad glasses and purple jeans, is still in there.

The bed groans as I lie down next to her, and I brush the hair from her neck. I lean down and kiss the bare spot. I don’t expect Charlie to respond, not after what she’s been through today. But I want her to know she’s not alone, and that I’ll be here to kiss any wound that needs healing.

“Your birthday is coming up,” I whisper near her ear. “I’m going to do something amazing for you.” I’m not sure why I bring this up, maybe to remind her that there are days to look forward to. And that no matter how chaotic things become, I’ll fight to ensure she retains some normalcy.

Charlie curls into a tight ball. “I just want her back.”

Hearing the pain in her voice, I’ve never felt so useless. I will take out any siren who tries to harm her. I will fight my way into hell to reclaim her soul. I will risk my life and everything I have to keep her safe.

But I don’t know how to protect her from this.

Charlie drops her shoulder back so we’re facing each other. Then she reaches up and cups her hand around the back of my neck.

Our lips connect.

She pulls my body nearer, and warmth wraps itself around us. My hand slides from her arm, to her hip, my fingers taking in every rise and valley of her silhouette. Slipping my leg between her knees, I tug her against me. Charlie’s palms skim up the back of my shirt. Her fingers dig into the muscle beneath my dragon ink. Deep in my gut, a primal instinct awakens. I didn’t expect this from her. But I understand it. She needs me close, close enough to remind her she’s alive and that she won’t lose someone else she cares about.

This is something I can do.

As her fingers swim through my hair, I move on top of her. I reach down, hook my arm beneath her knee, and press down. Her mouth comes away from mine, and she trails her lips down my neck to the place between my collarbones. She moves to my ear and nibbles. The sensation drives me absolutely bat shit. Before I can think, I’m tugging our clothes off.

Charlie buries her head in my neck and pulls me tight, tight enough to lose herself in this moment. Our stomachs press together, and her skin feels like silk beneath me. Sliding my hands beneath her back, I curl my fingers around her shoulders.

And then I’m the one pulling her closer.

Closer.