Stacia Kane - Finding Magic

“Oh.” So much hid in that “oh.” Surprise. Maybe a bit of contempt? Because Chess had no ancestry, no family she could trace, like everyone else did. No names of the dead to put on her list, to visit through a Liaiser the way normal people did.

Jillian must have realized she’d let the silence sit a little too long. “Well, my offer still stands. I haven’t had a trainee before, so this is … it’s kind of cool for me, to be honest. I don’t have a little sister or anything, either.”

Chess nodded. And changed the subject as fast as she could, because unbidden the image of the flask in her bag appeared in her mind. She couldn’t pull out the flask, and she couldn’t continue having this discussion, either. Her throat felt oddly tight as she said, “So, Mark. How did he make such a strong spell when he’s not Church? Wasn’t everyone tested?”

Pause. “He could have volunteered to be tested, yeah, since he was too old for the mandatory testing. Maybe he did. But lots of people still have some ability even though they aren’t strong enough to work with us. You know that.”

“Can we check that?”

Jillian slid the car into the exit lane. Her brows drew together, not like she was worried but like she was trying to think of a way to say something. Uh-oh. Chess had pushed it too far, hadn’t she? Damn it. Jillian was the Inquisitor, not Chess; Jillian had the experience, had dealt with this stuff before. So why hadn’t she just kept her damn mouth shut?

But Jillian’s reply wasn’t what she expected. “You know … it does kind of stink that we’re not getting a case we can really investigate. I am supposed to be training you. You haven’t said if you actually want to join the Squad after you graduate, but …”

“Um, I don’t really know what I want to do yet.” Not entirely true, but Chess was pretty sure she didn’t want to join the Squad, and equally sure that Jillian wouldn’t appreciate hearing that.

“How’s this, then? Let’s go ahead and pretend this is an actual investigation, and Mark is an actual suspect. You investigate him, okay? And I’ll oversee it. You report to me, and we’ll see if we can build some kind of case. I mean, we can’t, because it’s a ghost murder, but you know what I mean.”

This time Chess didn’t need to fake her excitement. “Really?”

“Yeah, sure. It’ll be fun, huh? And you’ll learn a lot, I bet.”

“Wow, that’s … thanks. Thanks, Jillian.”

Jillian laughed; her smile held a hint of smugness unrecognized, the self-deprecation of someone who knew self-deprecation was expected but didn’t really feel it. But then, Chess wouldn’t have expected anything else. For all of her I’m-your-cool-pal crap, Jillian was someone who did things in order to be admired and acclaimed. And not for any other reason.

Did it matter? Chess was going to actually investigate someone, and she was going to do it because of Jillian, so she needed to shut up and be grateful. This was a big deal; this was something that would go in Chess’s file. If she did a good job it could affect her placing after she graduated, could put her higher on the list for whatever job she ultimately decided she did want to do.

Goody Byers had encouraged her to go into Liaising after Chess scored pretty well on her Channeling and Reversion exams, but … well, she guessed she’d find out whether or not that was going to work now, because Jillian parked the car in the Church lot, and Chess was about to visit the City of Eternity for the first time.

Jillian twisted a key in the lock of one of the half-size lockers lining the wall by the elevators. “Ordinarily I’d change into a robe, since I’d just be going to talk to the Liaisers. But I want to show you the City, so …”

Chess grasped at that slick, useless straw, even though she knew it was pointless. “Hey, I know how busy you are, so there’s really no need—”

“Will you stop?” Jillian’s smile was broad, but Chess saw the flash of irritation in her eyes. Right. Turning down Jillian’s gifts was probably not a great idea. “It’s not a waste of time and I’m happy to take you. But you do need to get those clothes off.”

Jillian had already started undressing herself, slipping off the navy blazer she wore and lifting her tailored white T-shirt over her head to reveal a lacy skin-tone bra Chess tried not to look at. She didn’t want to see it. She didn’t want to see Jillian’s naked body. She especially didn’t want Jillian to see her own naked body, much less the two-dollar panties she’d tried to mend herself and the bra held together with a rubber band. Her scholarship covered living expenses, yeah, but there were expenses and then there were expenses. She needed to eat, she needed music and vodka. Who cared about nice underwear? She didn’t have anyone to impress.

But just the same, she wished the right bra cup’s seam hadn’t started to split so the thin layer of padding was visible, wished there wasn’t a string of elastic dangling from the plain cotton waistband of the panties.

“There aren’t any cameras here.” Jillian pulled off her shoes, pushed her navy trousers down to her ankles.

Chess glanced up. Yeah, she knew the cameras had been taken out, but still … shit. “I just …”

Oh, damn, where was she supposed to look now, because Jillian stood in front of her stark naked, and Chess’s skin felt too warm, her heart pounded too fast, and she tasted fear and pain bitter on her tongue.

As quickly as she could she shucked her clothing, keeping her gaze focused on the floor.

“You get used to it.” Jillian’s hand rested on Chess’s shoulder for a minute. A brief touch, almost not a touch at all, but somehow more invasive and creepy because there was no cloth covering Chess’s skin. It was just Jillian’s flesh against her flesh, bare skin touching hers when she didn’t want it, and there she stood naked and vulnerable in front of another person. Panic swam up from her stomach into her throat to choke her.

She stuffed her clothes into one of the lockers without really seeing what she was doing. Some part of her had left her body the second she’d unfastened her jeans; some part of her was used to leaving when her clothes came off, and the rest of her was resigned to just take whatever happened next and get it over with.

Yes, this was different. This was her choice. And yes, Jillian may have weirded her out a little, but Jillian wasn’t going to touch her anywhere else, wasn’t going to force her to do things she didn’t want to do. Chess knew all that.

Too bad knowing it didn’t help.

The elevator doors slid open behind them, revealing the enormous interior. The car was designed for forty people or something like that, because ceremonies were sometimes held down there that required all the employees to attend. Another touch, this time an elbow grab, and Jillian smiled at her with her eyes fixed firmly on Chess’s own. Nice of her, but not really reassuring. “You ready?”

“I guess so.”

The elevator ride took six minutes. Six minutes of being naked next to a naked Jillian. Chess crossed her arms over her chest. Did that look like she was trying to cover up, like she was worried Jillian might be checking her out? Maybe she shouldn’t do that. Maybe she should drop her hands to her sides.

But doing that made her feel like she was sticking out her chest or something. Maybe she should—Shit, she had no idea what she should be doing. All she knew was that she shouldn’t be looking at Jillian. So she didn’t.

The elevator stopped; the doors opened onto a wide cement platform, like a regular train platform. And there was the train, low and sleek, pale blue lights glimmering faintly inside it. This was her last chance to escape, her last chance to tell Jillian that she didn’t really feel like doing this, pleading a hangover or whatever and escaping.