Stacia Kane - City of Ghosts

The Chevelle idled outside the modern apartment building where Lauren lived, its engine noise echoing off the cars around them until he switched it off.

Once the moment-that-wasn’t faded, her mind returned to the Lauren question. Sela said she’d seen Lauren—well, she hadn’t said “Lauren,” but Chess couldn’t imagine who else it could have been—in a vacant lot two weeks before. But Lauren shouldn’t have been there, because Lauren should have still been in—well, whatever city it was she came from. New York?

Surely there was a reasonable explanation for it. It wasn’t really a big deal. But it made Chess uncomfortable just the same.

“Want me give you the wait, or what?”

“Huh? Oh. No, I guess not. Lauren can give me a ride home.”

His eyebrows rose. “You heading back your place? After them in the alley and what you tell me on the earlier, about—about them tunnels?”

“I’ll have her take me to Church. I can spend the night there.”

The minute she said it she wished she could take it back. She’d lied and told him that before, let him think she was spending nights in one of the cabins on Church grounds when, in fact, she was in Lex’s bed. Told him that lie more than once. And he knew it; she saw it in the way his expression hardened, saw him looking back and remembering every time she’d said that, wondering if she’d been honest about it.

“No, I mean it. Really. Unless … could I stay at your place? On the couch, I mean, I’m not asking to—” Fuck. She should have stuck to her earlier resolve not to ask him.

He hesitated. “Ain’t thinkin that a good idea, aye?”

“Oh. Right. Yeah, of course, I understand, it’s no big deal. I’ll be fine.”

“Shit.” His hands twisted on the wheel. “I give you a ring up an hour on, aye? Iffen you ain’t got yourself a bed, you come to mine. My couch, dig. Ain’t can have you crashin your place, not with them after you. Cool?”

“Yeah, that’s—Thanks. Really.”

He shrugged. “Better get you in, aye. Ain’t early.”

Before she could stop herself or talk sense into herself she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. One more chance to breathe him in. “Thanks, Terrible.”

He just nodded. She gave him one last look and got out of the car.

Lauren’s hair was as mussed as her apartment; it was obvious Chess had awakened her. Either that or she had a man in there, and somehow Chess doubted that that was the case. Even if it hadn’t been for the events of the night before, she didn’t think Lauren would allow a man to see her in stained sweatpants and a T-shirt with worn-out armpits. It was one of the most unappealing outfits Chess had ever seen in her life, about as sexy as an oozing sore.

The rest of the apartment wasn’t much better. Lauren had obviously just moved in, so some mess was to be expected, but this place was all empty shelves and empty food containers. Worse than Chess’s place, although Chess didn’t leave food lying around. Even if she ate regularly at home she wouldn’t have left food out like that; she could practically see the germs breeding in the congealed bits of yuck clinging to the sides of the cartons and bowls scattered on every surface.

How could someone who looked like such a tidy little bitch be such a slob? It just … didn’t fit.

Like what Sela said didn’t fit. “You haven’t been here long, huh?”

“No, only—well—” Lauren lowered her voice, gave Chess a grin that might have been conspiratorial if she hadn’t still looked off. “I’ve actually been here almost a month, but my dad doesn’t know. I didn’t tell him when I got in so I wouldn’t have to go stay with him, you know? I wanted a little freedom first.”

So much for that theory. Not that Chess had really believed it anyway. Why would the Grand Elder’s daughter conspire against the Church?

“I’m going to go take a shower, okay?” Lauren dug into one of the boxes and pulled out a towel. It at least looked clean. “Sorry. I was at the gym and I was hungry so I threw on these old rags. They’re comfy, you know? Let me just clean myself up and then you can tell me everything.”

Chess didn’t believe her, not for one second. The shadows under Lauren’s eyes had not come from too much jogging or whatever the hell it was people did at gyms. There was something haunted about Lauren now, something furtive and hunched. As though the other woman was trying to hide inside herself.

Couldn’t be done. Nobody knew that better than Chess. But who wanted to get into a discussion about it? Not her. So she did the next best thing and ignored it completely. “Oh, could you take me to Church after? I don’t want to go home tonight, not after—Well, I’ll tell you about it.”

“Elder Griffin said they’ve been trying to get you moved back on grounds for a while. You’re like bait for the Lamaru where you are, you know.”

“I’m fine where I am.”

“And that’s why you need another place to stay tonight?”

Chess folded her arms over her chest. “Are you going to give me a ride or not?”

“Yeah, fine. You’re really touchy, you know that?”

When Chess didn’t respond, Lauren gave a dramatic sigh. “Whatever, I’ll take you to Church. Or you can stay here if you want, I don’t care.”

With difficulty Chess suppressed a shudder. Stay there? And let all those bacteria crawl all over her while she slept? Ugh, no thanks. “I think the Church is best, really. I have a couple of things I want to look up and I need to talk to Elder Griffin before Elder Murray’s Dedication.”

“Oh? Why?”

“I just want to talk to him about the case. You know, keep him in the loop and everything.”

“Do you have new information?”

Chess forced a smile. “Yeah, actually. Why don’t you take your shower, and then I’ll tell you about it.”

“Yeah, I get it. I stink. Okay, just … make yourself comfortable. Here.” The couch’s pink toile fabric was covered with papers and files; Lauren stacked them up, clearing a hasty space. “Watch TV or something. I’ll only be a couple of minutes. And I have some news, too.”

Chess waited until the water started running before peeking at the files. Hmm … employee records for the slaughterhouse, that was good … preliminary reports on the cause of the fire … a slim file on Vanhelm with his birth certificate. Why hadn’t Lauren told her she had that?

Well, she might not have had a chance. Files didn’t always get put together as quickly as everyone would like. And Lauren had just said she had some news, too.

Okay. So, slaughterhouse records, Vanhelm’s file, reports. A few pages on psychopomps copied from Tobin’s Spirit Guide . An employee file—

CESARIA PUTNAM.

Her hand paused in the air above the slim, pale-blue folder. She supposed it was reasonable that Lauren would have her file. She’d already admitted she’d read it; making copies was unorthodox, to say the least, but … the Black Squad kind of did whatever it wanted.

That didn’t change the dull, helpless anger rising in her chest. Bad enough Lauren had looked at it, read it. She brought it home to study, too? What the fuck?

She flipped open the cover; her eyes ran up and down the lines of print. Name, date of birth, address … training grades and test results … She turned the page. The commendation she’d received for defeating the Dreamthief, another commendation from a particularly sticky Debunking case in her second year.