15: The World's Wrongs

SASHA POV

This is awful. I don’t know how to be on a date. I don’t know how to be a normal person instead of an assassin. And he’s so nervous and sweet and desperate to make a good impression, and it’s killing me inside. When will this be over?

At the same time, exploring Easton is actually genuinely enjoyable. There’s no shortage of interesting individuals around—mostly humans, but a few supernaturals of various kinds, as well. And the sheer variety and number of stores is also amazing. I question the business models of some of them—an entire store just for candles? And another one of Ohio-themed souvenirs? Who even buys that stuff?

I ask Drake that and he just laughs. “Every state has its own tourism department and sense of pride,” he tells me. “Have you spent much time here, in the states?”

“Off and on, but never for more than a year at a time. I’ve lived in Europe more than anywhere else,” I reply, which is sort of true; WASP HQ is in the northernmost reaches of Sweden. Truth be told, maintaining a somewhat believable American accent on my English is one of the most difficult parts of this whole ordeal.

“Wouldn’t know it by your accent.”

“I like learning languages, and accents, and I never want to stand out as a foreigner if I can avoid it.”

“Any particular reason?”

“I don’t want the attention, mostly. People can be really rude and insensitive.”

The look in his eyes says he finds the idea of me not wanting attention laughable, but he has the sense not to comment on it. “I guess. At least, if they think you’re not here legally.”

“Personal experience with that? Or is it immigration law you’re most interested in studying?”

“No personal experience. My ancestors lived in Maine long before it was called Maine, before white people came. And I don’t really know yet which type of law I’d want to specialize in. There are so many injustices everywhere, across all sectors of life….”

Fuck, here we go. This is the key to Drake, where his passion lies. His eyes are practically blazing through the contacts meant to disguise his lycan gold irises. I am absolutely the wrong operative for this. Why, of the three of us, did he have to like me?!

“You’re one person. No one expects you to right all of the world’s wrongs,” I tell him, hoping I sound more disinterested than I am.

“Right. And I know it’s not reasonable to expect that I could. But choosing one area to focus on feels impossible, because it’s like deciding…that one area or issue is more important than the others. And that feels wrong.” He runs a hand through his hair and looks towards the sky, clearly frustrated, and I struggle to find words I’m willing to say out loud. If I tell him I know exactly what he means, how he feels, that will open the doors to questions I don’t want to answer, can’t answer without compromising the job, and much as I’d like to tell Anselm and WASP to go to hell, I can’t, not yet.

Drake’s eyes meet mine, and something like panic crosses his face. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…. That was too much, wasn’t it?” he apologizes quickly, like the words are pouring through a breach in a dam. “I sound like an idiot—”

“No,” I interrupt impulsively. Shit. Now I have to come up with something more to say. “I just…think it’s really…wonderful that you care so much, about combating injustice wherever and whenever it appears. But, uh…for law school purposes….”

“I know I’ll have to narrow it down. That’s why I’m not sure about going, more than my parents’ objections.”

“What would they have you do instead?” Thank Bast he gave me an opportunity to get away from talking about justice. That couldn’t have come soon enough.

Drake’s expression turns guarded. “They…want me to take over the family business. And to stay close to home. There’s only a couple law schools in the whole state of Maine—”

“You have to get that degree in the state where you want to practice law anyway, right?”

“Yeah, more or less.”

“And you don’t want to stay in Maine.” It’s a guess, based on his presence in Ohio, which I’m sure his parents are thrilled about.

“I…don’t know,” he admits, surprising both of us. “But I’d rather not talk about that. This trip to Ohio is the first time I’ve left Maine, and you’ve been all over the world, by the sounds of things. You must think I’m so boring—”

“Not at all. I find the idea of having a settled place to call home quite appealing, actually. I’ve always moved around a lot. I’m a little jealous of you.”

He laughs a little, toying with the straw in his mostly empty cup of bubble tea. Mine’s still half full; this is a rare treat, and I’ve been savoring it.

“I guess the grass is always greener on the side you’re looking at, rather than the place where you are, huh?” he remarks, a little wistful, a little bitter.

“Perhaps. You’d trade your home for traveling?”

He shrugs. “I’d like to see more of the world, before deciding I’m content in any one place. Of all the places you’ve been, where would you most want to call home?”

What a question. My entire body tenses; I can’t help myself, even though I know he’s noticed, that my discomfort is probably a red flag to him. “I…. I’m not sure.” Truthfully, I haven’t felt at home since Anselm and his cronies came to my mother’s cottage in Russia, since my family was killed in front of me, but none of that is any of Drake’s business.

“Too many options?” he asks, meaning it as a joke. He’s trying to make me feel better. Why is he being so nice to me?! I don’t deserve this kind of attention.

But he doesn’t know what I am, what I’ve been assigned to do. And I have to keep it that way.

“Maybe. They’ve all just been places I’ve lived, not really a place I’ve felt like I belonged.” That much, at least, is true. For some reason, I don’t want to lie to him.

At least, not more than I already have.

“Huh. Maybe you just…haven’t been to the right place yet.” He seems like there’s more he wants to say, but something’s holding him back. Just as well.

“Maybe. But there’s time to figure that out. This degree program will take a few more semesters.”

Before Drake can reply, his cell phone starts buzzing angrily in his pocket, and he mouths me an apology as he pulls it out to answer it.

“Drake Sadoques speaking…. Yes, sorry. Just ran into a bit of a delay getting lunch.” Whoever’s on the other end of this call sounds rather upset with him. For his part, Drake looks, and sounds, less than pleased. “I’ll be back online soon…. Of course, yes. I’ll start on that as soon as I get back. Talk again in the meeting.”

With that, he hangs up, looking supremely annoyed.

“Work?” I ask.

“Yeah. I’m sorry, but I have to go. This has been great, though,” he answers, softening from irritation to earnestness. Oh damn. He can’t make a habit of looking at me like that.

“Yeah. I’ve had a good time. And it’s been good to get out and explore, instead of studying all the time.” I can’t meet his eyes as I say it, and I feel my cheeks heating up. What the fuck is wrong with me?!

“Then…would you be willing to meet up again sometime?”

“Definitely. But we can sort that out over text. I know you have to go.”

“Can I walk you to your car or anything?”

“No, thank you. I’d like to pick up a couple books at Barnes and Noble before I go, while I’m here.”

“All right. I’ll…talk to you later, then.”

“Good luck with work.” He groans good-naturedly as he walks away, glancing back over his shoulder at me a couple of times before he’s lost in the sea of shoppers and I’m left standing, alone in a crowd of people, near the fountain circle where we’d started this adventure.

I guess I’d better go back, and fill my team in on what I’ve learned. And the fact that this mission is going to be a lot more difficult than any of us planned for.