Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

The Division

I stared at the toes of my boots untilmorning. I didn't look at the girl in my arms, at her honeyed locksthat had dried, uncombed, into loose ribbons. I didn't watch theskin of her bare arm, draped easily across my cotton-coveredabdomen, or the way her lips occasionally twitched while she slept,tucked neatly into the crook of my arm.

And I certainly didn't think about the wayher cheek felt, pressed to my chest. At least, not until she beganto wake.

A quiet rumble came from deep in her throatand she burrowed deeper into my shirt before the arm wrapped acrossmy middle drew in and then unbent over me in a stretch. The rest ofher body followed, both legs straightened out, her bare feetpointed to the black television screen across the room.

And then her eyes shot open.

I smiled at her stunned face as she staredup at me, only inches away.

She kept her gaze on me, but pulled her armback, hand half open as she decided whether to press my chest inorder to raise off me. I made no move to ease her escape. Thisclose, I could see each of her dark lashes, the faintest offreckles on her cheekbones, the curve of her lip...

She swallowed hard, and then abruptlyremembered herself and rolled back and onto her knees. "Aern." Itcame out breathier than she intended and she quickly cleared herthroat.

"Sleep well?" I asked,leaning forward to move my feet to the floor.

She seemed unsure for a moment and thenrelaxed, stretched again, and decided, "Yes."

When it appeared she was going to ask me thesame, I said, "How do you like your eggs?"

This threw her again, but she finallyanswered, "Scrambled." And then, "Thanks."

I walked around the bed to call in ourbreakfast order, and Emily made her way to the bathroom. As Iraised the handset to my ear, I found the closet mirror oppositeher and was distracted from my task.

She paused in front of the sink, lookingincredulously at her reflection. Her lips formed some silent wordsthat I couldn't make out, though I tried, and then they stilled,pursed, then relaxed. She sighed deep, rubbed a hand numbly overher cheek, and turned to reach for the door. Our eyes met, and forone brief moment, she watched me watch her.

And then she closed the door.

I ended my call to the sound of her fumblingwith the coffee maker. I crossed to the window and drew thecurtains and shades fully open to stare out into the city. It wasearly, and the sun cast a rich amber glow against the haze. Thelight threw shadows behind the tallest buildings, banks andcorporate offices, completely unaware of the looming apocalypse. Somany of them. Oblivious to the prophecy, to the war we werefighting to save us all. They didn't keep their history, didn'tknow of Council's wish to return to the way things were. When ourkind held dominion over all. They didn't even know we existed. IfMorgan succeeded, they would think him merely another human.

Until the killing began.

"Coffee?" Emily offeredfrom beside me.

I took the cup, and then struck by the sightof her in the early morning sun, forgot myself.

She pretended not to notice as she turned toface the window. Her hair was tucked behind her ear and she worethree-day-old clothes, but she'd straightened them both, and hercheeks wore a thin layer of softly scented lotion.

"Thank you," I said. Shelooked at me as if she wasn't sure why I was thanking her, and Iraised the coffee. She nodded absently. "Not a morning person?" Iasked.

An undecipherable huff escaped her. "I guessnot." She shook her head, thoughts elsewhere. And then, "So, aboutthat phone call yesterday." She glanced down at her cup; her thumbflicked anxiously at the mug's grip. "You're going to drop me offat a safe house?"

"We'll talk about that," Isaid. "But after breakfast."

A knock sounded at the door and Emily's headquirked to the side, birdlike, as she speculated how I'd predictedit. I sat my cup on the desk as if it wasn't out of the ordinary atall, and retrieved the tray from the bellman without letting himin.

We ate in silence and Emily finished beforeI'd made it halfway through my food. She sat in the plaid cornerchair, napkin covering her empty plate, and hands crossed over oneanother in her lap. I sat in the desk chair, trying to ignore herimpatient stare while I buttered my second slice of toast.

As I took the last bite and wiped my handson a napkin, she straightened, rigid with attentiveness. I stood tomove her plate and my own back to the tray before turning toher.

"I'm not taking you to thesafe house," I said. "I'm taking you to your sister."

The force with which she leapt from thechair and launched herself at me was incredible, and I nearlystaggered back into the desk, dishes and all. Instead, I stood inshock, her arms wrapped tightly around me in a hug so fierce it wasdisarming.

She was gasping, and I gripped her shouldersto push her away, just enough to see her face. "Emily, there'ssomething you need to know..."

But she was crying.

Her wide, green eyes glistened with moistureas she looked up at me with unfathomable hope and relief washingher features. "Emily," I repeated, and one tear escaped the outsidecorner of her eye, tracing slowly down her cheek. I brushed it awaywith a thumb and my chest tightened. What was I doing?

"Emily," I saidfirmly.

She nodded dazedly and made an effort topull herself together. She shook herself, and suddenly her eyeswere dry, clear when they met mine again. "Something I need toknow?"

She said the words, but I didn't thinkthey'd fully registered. "About where I'm taking you," I explained."About... the Division."

As quickly as her embrace had sprung uponme, it was gone. I felt suddenly bereft, and it was dizzying,alien. She had moved back, never taking her eyes off me, face blankwith shock that was swiftly turning to horror.

"The Division?" shewhispered, and it was unclear if the words were meant to questionme or convince herself of what she'd heard. Either way, she didn'tbelieve it. Didn't want to believe it.

"She's safe, Emily. Theywon't hurt her. It was the only way-"

"You took my sister to theDivision?" she hissed.

"I had no other choice.They are the only ones I could trust with her."

She looked sick. And afraid. Her gazeflicked to the door and I stepped sideways toward the bed, hands upin the palms-out gesture reserved for wild animals, in my attemptto block her long enough to explain. I threw everything in my swaytoward her, pleading for calm, and for a moment, I thought itworked. Until she had a knife point aimed at my chest.

"Don't," I said tightly,battling with anger that I'd left a weapon within her reach andalarm at the speed at which she'd retrieved it.

She didn't speak, but I could see she wasmeasuring her options. Suddenly her questions the previous nighttook on new meaning and I couldn't help but wonder about her own"education."

My stance adjusted to more of a readycrouch. It was only a serrated stainless blade, but I was quicklybecoming aware of her capabilities. She had eluded Morgan's men.Certainly they wouldn't have considered her a threat, merelyanother human, easily swayed. But she had still managed to find us,walk herself into that warehouse. His warehouse.

The lingering pain in my shoulder became aniggling distraction.

"Let me past," she said inan unsteady voice.

"You can't, Emily. Let meexplain-"

"Let me past," sherepeated, though this time it was saturated with hatred anddespair.

"You'll never find them," Isaid. "Not without me."

She considered that forless than a second before tightening her grip on the knife. "Thereis no with you."

I hadn't expected her to know the Division.But the revulsion in her words made me wonder if she knew more thanI. "I have to keep Brianna safe," I said. "I will do whatever thatrequires."

She narrowed her gaze on me.

"You can't dothis."

"Stop me," she said, and Icould see her decide to make a move.

"I won't let you," Iwarned. "I can't-"

Emily rushed me. Her moves were swift andsure, and left no doubt she'd been training for most of her life.She might not have believed her mother, but she had certainly paidattention in class.

Her knife bit at me with quick, short divesbetween practiced leg sweeps and palm thrusts. She kept herselflow, as small a target as possible, and free from my grasp. Sheknew I wouldn't hurt her, or didn't care, and worked to use my sizeagainst me. All I could do without injuring one of us was avoid herstrikes.

She feigned left, and then darted right, butinstead of stabbing at me flipped the tray, dishes and all, at myupper body. It should have given her the opportunity to slip by,but I was no back-alley mugger. I got a secure grip on her arm andswung her around, her back toward me, to grab the other.

I had her trapped by a firm hold on eacharm, just above the elbow where I had the best leverage, and theknife fell to the floor. For half a second, I thought that meantshe'd given up, but she drew her bare feet together over it andmade a clumsy thrust toward my thigh without pause. I dodged theblow, but she'd lost her footing so my movement dropped her tokneeling. She tried to roll forward and catch me off balance and itnearly worked, but I was not physically unsteady, merely thrown byher maneuvers. By the idea that she-Emily-could fight thiswell.

I pulled her from the floor and she drew herlegs up fluidly before kicking out to shove off the dresser andpropel herself into me. I struggled to hold her. It was not unlikeholding a cat. Some wild, ninja, cat.

I braced myself, legs wide, and drew heragainst me to twist her arms securely within mine. I pressed a handto her neck to prevent her from smashing my face with the back ofher skull and said evenly, "Emily, I don't want to hurt you."

It was probably mostly true.

She didn't speak, simply raised her legsfrom the floor, forcing me to hold all of her weight. I sighed.

"Give," I said. "Give andhave a conversation with me or so help me-"

My threat was cut short as her bare rightfoot shot out to connect with the corner of the flatscreentelevision. I caught the move just in time to save her fromflipping it toward us and spun around to throw her onto the bed.She'd no more than had a chance to roll over before I was on her,pinning her down on all points beneath me. She jerked, but it wastoo late, I had her. I sat atop her hips, my knees pinning herforearms while my legs, bent behind me, trapped her just above theknees.

Were she able to move, my free hands coulddiscourage the notion, but she wasn't, so I simply sat there,staring down at her, reminding her that she never had a chance.

She was furious. I wasn't sure exactly whenshe'd lost her cool, but her cheeks were flushed and her jaw tight.Her hair had gone wild, splayed over the mussed blue comforterbehind her. Her chest heaved, both her and the bed covered in bitsof scrambled egg. Spots of something dark had splattered her shirt.I felt a tug at the corner of my mouth, but the look in her eyetold me I was about to get an earful of something.

I'd never know exactly what though, because,suddenly, three loud knocks rang through the room and theatmosphere transformed entirely.