Rachel Caine - Windfall

“Chop now,” I said. “Clothes maintenance later.”

She gave me an absolutely childish pout, but got to it. Sarah had taken culinary classes; it was one of those things you do in California when you’re rich and bored. I paused on the way to the door to watch her take my knife and start a rapid-fire slice-and-dice of the tomato, as competent as any sushi chef.

The bell rang again. I sighed and pushed my curling hair back from my face.

Still damp. I used a tiny spark of power to evaporate the moisture, was rewarded with dry hair and a white-blue static discharge from my fingers to the doorknob when I reached to touch it.

“Who is it?” I yelled, and pressed my eye to the peephole.

My heart did that funny little thumpy thing at the sight of the tall, brown-haired man standing out in the hall, hands jammed in the pockets of his blue jeans. I unzipped the chain and swung the door wide with a genuine smile.

“Lewis!”

“Hi,” he said, and came forward to fold me in a hug. He had to stoop a little to do it, and I wasn’t all that short; where he touched me I got that familiar sensation of vibration, of energy feeding and building up between us. Lewis was, without any doubt, the single most powerful Warden I’d ever known. A friend.

More than a friend, that would be fair to say… if it hadn’t been for David, probably a lot more. He fascinated me, and frightened me, too. He’d saved me and betrayed me and saved me again… complicated, that was my boy Lewis.

“What the hell happened to you?” I asked.

“What?” He stepped back, blinking.

“Last time I saw you, you looked like warmed-over death,” I said, and studied him more carefully. He actually looked as if he’d gotten some sun and discovered food again. “Remember? Lobby of the hotel in Nevada? You were still—”

“Shaky,” he supplied, and nodded. “I’m better.”

“How?”

He gave me one of those smiles. “Earth Warden.” He shrugged. “Rahel helped it along. I heal pretty quickly when I need to.”

“I’m glad. I was worried,” I said, and couldn’t quite keep the smile from my face. He just had that effect on me. “Oh, try not to say anything, you know, confidential. I have company.”

Lewis cocked an eyebrow toward the ceiling as he shut the door. “Male company?”

“Female. As in, sisterly.”

“I forgot you had a sister.”

“I spent most of my life trying to forget, too. But she’s family, and she needs a little—help. So I’m helping. You said something about Rahel helping you. Is she—are you—um—”

“She’s fine,” he said, which wasn’t an answer, and he knew it. Lewis wasn’t one to talk about his personal life, even to me. “David?” Equal parts genuine concern and irony. He and David liked each other well enough, but Lewis and I had history, and David knew it. “Doing better?”

I cut my eyes toward the kitchen, where the sound of chopping went on, opened my mouth to reply, and was interrupted by Sarah yelling, “Jo! Is that Eamon?”

Which stopped me in my tracks for a second. I held up one finger to Lewis and backtracked a couple of steps to look around the corner at Sarah, who was finishing up chopping the tomato and sliding the mathematically perfect cubes into a bowl. “Excuse me?” I asked. “Why would it be Eamon at the door, exactly?”

She glanced up, then set the bowl aside and made herself busy rinsing off the cutting board of tomato blood before putting the onion on the chopping block.

“Did you tell Eamon where I live?” I pressed.

“Well, you know, I gave him my phone number and—”

“Did you tell Eamon where I live?”

She pulled her lovely, ripe lips into a stubborn line and started attacking the onion. “I live here, too,” she said defensively.

“Wrong. You’re staying here, and Jesus, Sarah, you barely unpacked and you’re already giving out my home address to guys you meet at the mall… !”

I felt warmth behind me, and Lewis’s hand fell on my shoulder. “Sorry. Just thought I’d say ‘hi,’ and sorry, I’m not Eamon… Who’s Eamon?”

“Sarah’s mall pickup.” I sighed. “Sarah, meet Lewis. Old friend from college.”

She’d stopped chopping, instantly, and I could see her snapshotting him. Cute , she was probably thinking. But way too flannel . And she was right. Lewis was all about the old blue jeans and worn checked shirts. His hair was getting too long again, curling halfway down his neck, and there were smile lines around his eyes and mouth. I knew for certain that he’d never in his life owned a suit, and never would. He’d never have a hefty bank balance, either. Not Sarah’s type.

She smiled impartially at him. Sarah’s version of Hi, how are you, now go away .

I could see she was disappointed that Eamon hadn’t come calling to whisk her off to an evening of prime rib and a selection of stout British ales.

“We’re making Mexican food,” I said. “You’re staying, right?”

“Sure.” Lewis looked around. “Nice place, Jo. Different.”

“Thrift store,” I said, straight-faced. “Kind of like my life right now.”

“Could be worse.” Didn’t I know it. His gaze brushed mine, warm and full of concern. “I need to talk to you for a few minutes. Somewhere private?”

Which made all of my warm fuzzies curl up and die. I nodded silently and led the way out into the living room, then hesitated and took him into the bedroom and closed the door. The bed was still unmade. In normal times, Lewis might have made a sly little joke out of it, but he just sat down on the edge of the bed, looking at me, hands clasped loosely between his knees. He was a lanky thing, all awkward angles that somehow always looked weirdly graceful.

It made me feel… well. I’d missed him.

“Where’s David?” he asked.

“Let’s change the subject,” I answered. Not angrily, just with finality. The last time we’d had dealings, he’d been in a scheme to separate me from David, and I wasn’t having any of that, ever again. Lewis was probably the only Warden who knew I still had him, and that made me a little bit wary of the whole reunion vibe.

“You don’t want to talk about it, fine. I respect that.” Lewis rubbed the pads of his thumbs together and looked down at the carpet. “I’m only asking because I want to be sure you have… protection. People are asking questions about you.”

“People?”

“The wrong people. There’s a big discussion going on, and a pretty sizeable number are yelling about how you shouldn’t have been let out of the Association without—” He didn’t say the words being neutered , but that was pretty much what we both knew he meant. “—making sure you don’t continue to use your powers. They’re pointing to some anomalies down here as proof you’re still playing Warden without a license.”

That… wasn’t good. And it explained my visit from the Three Amigos yesterday morning. “Have you told them I’m not? That I’m abiding by the agreement?”

“I’m not telling them anything.” Lewis shook his head slowly. “Look, I’m in the Wardens now, but I’m not really… in the Wardens. You know what I mean. Whatever I have to say, it’s not likely to help you. They respect me. They don’t like me, and trust doesn’t enter into it.”

I did know. Lewis had spent a lot of years on the outside, making himself thoroughly lost from the Wardens, including me. A substantial number of Wardens probably didn’t want him around at all, and an even greater number thought he was useful but didn’t trust a thing he had to say.

“Then what’s Paul saying?” Paul Giancarlo, current acting National Warden, was a friend, too. But Paul had a streak of ruthlessness about a mile wide, and friendship wasn’t going to alter that one bit. Our friendship had taken some pretty good hits in the past few months, too. I wasn’t sure I could ever really forgive him for what he’d done to me in Nevada.