Packing Up

The first miracle I ever believed was that I had walked out of that room without being hurt. I managed to run down the stairs without being stopped and see the Concierge. He was frantic on the phone and his eyes bulged at the sight of me. “I’m sure you must think some strange things about me right now, but I need a cab,” I shout to drown out the phone. It sounds like he’s talking to the police. He points to the street outside and I see cabs parked and ready to take people. She normally stayed at the Paladin’s headquarters but there was no way she’d go back there now. I gave the cabbie directions to my apartment and wondered if I was too late. If this guess was as wrong as all the other ones I’d made, would I still be lost? And at the same time, I find myself hoping it is. I hope she’s not there, that I don’t have to see this. That I’m wrong about the whole thing. I walk in the door of my apartment and there she is. Her back is to me. There’s an unfamiliar suitcase on the floor. Her shoulders tense as the doors open but she still doesn’t turn around. “You’re back a bit early,” she says stiffly. And suddenly I snap. I don’t know how all that sadness and terror turned into anger, but suddenly I want to strangle her. I’m just not used to the emotions. “And a bit not dead. Pretty sharp stuff, going in there with me. Making it so the Concierge knew we were lovers. Then switching the books. Pretty sharp, and pretty good at getting me out of the way,” I say curtly. Ferris turns, cigarette in hand. She’s getting hit with accusations but for some reason I’m the one whose shaking. “Shade, there was no way I could risk the Vampires getting their hands on the Book. You cou-“ she says. “Spare me the bullshit. I know about the informant. I know what happened in that alley. I know you got the kid killed,” I say.