On the Edge te-1 Page 11

  He’d said she was beautiful.

  A man did tell her she was beautiful, wonderful, kind, and smart before. He even told her that he loved her and offered her a safe haven for the boys. And she believed him, right until the point she found out he planned to sell her off.

  Declan was an enemy. A very odd kind of enemy, who saved small kids from monsters, tore roofs off houses with his flash explosions, and concerned himself with her safety. She had to keep reminding herself that he was the enemy, because the impact his presence had on her was staggering. It must be his size. Or maybe his sword. Or the unbelievable power of his flash. Or maybe all of the above . . .

  Or the fact that he was incredibly handsome, and she had to keep iron control of herself to stop thinking about him. As far as she knew, he couldn’t read her mind, but getting rid of him would prove much harder if he knew what went through her head this morning while he waved his sword around. She had to be adult about this: yes, he was hot and she was vulnerable. She got it out of her system this morning, and that would be the end of that.

  His flash was something else. Most people tried to flash by holding their hand as a weapon and pushing the magic out of it. Unconsciously, they shaped the flash with subtle pressure into a form similar to their arm—a long ribbon—and it never occurred to them that it could take any other shape. But he’d managed a perfect half sphere. Rose still practiced with her flash every day if she could help it. It had become second nature to her, and she caught herself doing it without thinking, the way some people tapped their foot or fidgeted. But she’d never tried a half sphere before.

  She’d figured out how Declan had done it a moment before he’d let it loose: he’d held the magic inside him, ratcheting the pressure higher and higher, and then dropped his guard on the front of his body completely and let it rip. The flash simply burst out of him, sweeping everything on its way. It was beautiful.

  Rose had done it twice on her way to the boundary. Hers was much smaller in magnitude, a mere whisper compared to his roar, because she still had to walk and work afterward. But she knew she could do it, and when she poured enough power into it, her flash wave would be devastating.

  Oh, she couldn’t wait to show him. That would knock some of that blueblood haughtiness down a peg. She just needed a good opportunity.

  He couldn’t find lodging in the Edge. That was too funny. When did he learn to make pancakes? Maybe it was part of their blueblood tutoring: eight o’clock—swordplay, nine o’clock—archery, ten o’clock—pancake making . . .

  Latoya said something from her table.

  “Huh?”

  “I said, what’s his name?”

  Rose frowned. “Whose name?”

  “The guy you’re mooning over.”

  “I’m not mooning!”

  Latoya glanced at Teresa. The older woman nodded. “Mooning. Definitely.”

  Rose rolled her eyes and turned to the window. She wasn’t mooning. She was planning strategy. Declan had to have a weak point. Somewhere. Everybody had a weak point.

  He was arrogant. That was something. And he didn’t know the Edge. She had to give him some sort of challenge that involved knowing the terrain, something that appeared deceptively easy, so easy he didn’t try very hard until it was too late . . .

  A man slid into the opposite chair. He had wide shoulders and green eyes, and he wore a Carolina Panthers ball cap on his head.

  Rose stared in complete astonishment. A pair of worn-out jeans and a green sweatshirt toned him down a bit, but not nearly enough. She was aware of the shocked silence at the table next to her.

  “What are you doing here?” she hissed.

  “Perhaps I missed the sight of your lovely body,” he said.

  “What?”

  Declan leaned closer. “My promise not to ravish you doesn’t extend to this fine establishment, does it? As I recall, it’s only valid under your roof. How could I pass on such an opportunity?”

  “If you touch me, I’ll hit you with this chair,” she ground out.

  “I had no idea you enjoyed rough courtship,” he said with a straight face. “It was never my particular favorite, but I’ll do my best to play along, provided I’ll get you in the end.”

  Rose opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

  “Would you like me to be quiet?” he asked.

  “Yes!”

  “If you kiss me, I promise to be quiet for a very long time.”

  The thought of him bending down and kissing her zinged through her brain, and she clenched her hands together under the table, grimly determined to hide it. “You have no sense at all, do you?”

  “You’re quite easy to rile up.” He leaned back. “Your brother is right. You don’t date.”

  In her mind she picked up the chair and hit him over the head with it. “What are you doing here?”

  “I thought I might have a word with your employer,” Declan said. “Amy mentioned that he decided not to pay you.”

  Amy shouldn’t listen to other people’s phone calls. “You’ll do no such thing. How did you find me?”

  “I followed you. You walk quickly, but I’m used to marching.”

  “You can’t be out here. This is the Broken!”

  “I’m aware of that,” he said. “Crossing into it felt like my guts were being ripped out.”

  “You could’ve died.”

  He shrugged. “I doubt it. It hurt, but the pain passed.”

  She once saw a caravan master from the Weird try to cross into the Broken. He’d gotten upset over the prices and decided he’d go and get the Broken goods for himself, cutting out the Edger middlemen. Two steps into the nine-foot-wide boundary he went into convulsions. The Edgers let him hurt for about a minute or two and then came to get him. He didn’t complain about the prices anymore after that. Declan’s crossing must’ve been agony. She didn’t quite know what to make of it.

  “Where did you get the clothes?”

  “Leanne gave them to me. She insisted, actually. She said my appearance might cause a, how did she put it, ‘fainting epidemic.’ ”

  Dear God.

  Behind Declan the door swung open, and Brad Dillon sauntered into the Burger King. “Well, lookit here. Rose Drayton and her faggot boyfriend. We meet again.” Brad’s voice rang through the Burger King, and Rose found herself the focal point of ten stares. At the counter Juniper went white with fury.

  Rose glared. First, Declan, now Brad. She just couldn’t catch a break.

  Brad slouched in the aisle, hand in the pockets of his jeans. “Wait. You’re not the same guy, are you? You get around, Rose.”

  Declan glanced at him and looked back to her. “Who is he?”

  “Nobody,” Rose ground out, looking at Brad. “Are you following me now?”

  “I saw your friend from across the street and couldn’t help myself.”

  They’d had run-ins before, but he’d never followed up like this. For one, she knew where to find him—he still lived in his trailer in the Edge, where she was the strongest. For another, she never rose to the bait. But now he’d met William, decided he was easy pickings, and wandered over to harass him. Except Declan wasn’t William.

  “Piss off, Brad!” Latoya called from her table.

  “Shut the fuck up, Mophead, before I come over there and make you swallow your teeth.”

  Declan’s green eyes fixed on Rose. Brad couldn’t see his face, but she could. It was merciless and so iced over it was nearly cruel. “This is Brad?”

  Rose was too mad to answer.

  “Do you want to keep talking to him?” Declan asked.

  “No.”

  The blueblood rose. “Excuse me for a moment.” He nodded to Brad. “Let’s go chat.”

  Brad pulled his hands out of his pockets. “I’m always up for a chat.”

  They left the Burger King, heading to the left, Declan moving in unhurried strides and Brad ambling to the right of him. Rose stared after them, stunned. Now what?

&nbs
p; At the counter Juniper waved her thin arms. “Rose, drive-through window! Come on!”

  Rose jumped up and ran behind the counter, following Juniper to the back, Latoya at her heels. She ducked between the fryer and the wall and ran into a patch of freshly mopped tile.

  “Careful, wet, wet!” Juniper yelled.

  Rose’s feet slid on the floor. She crashed into some boxes and scrambled to the window. The two men stood in back, past the drive-through lane. Juniper flipped the switch, and Rose heard Declan’s voice, distorted by static.

  “You want to talk, now’s a good time,” Declan said.

  “Fu—”

  The punch was so quick, Rose barely saw it. Brad stumbled back, clutching at his gut, shook his head, and lunged at Declan. “Sonova—”

  Declan’s fist caught him in the left side with a solid crunch. Brad stumbled to the side, wincing.

  “Ouch,” Latoya squeaked.

  Brad whipped about. “I’ll—”

  Declan rammed his fist into Brad’s solar plexus. Brad bent over. Spit dripped from his mouth in a long sticky strand. He clenched and vomited a gush of foamy liquid onto the asphalt.

  “Eww. In my goddamn parking lot, too.” Juniper skewed her face.

  “That last one hurt a bit,” Declan said. “Take it easy. You have time.”

  Brad made some hoarse noises and stumbled a few steps, still bent over. About ten seconds later, he finally straightened and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

  “Ready?” Declan asked.

  Brad raised his fists. “Motherfu—”

  The punch took him off his feet. He curled on the ground, cradling his gut.

  Declan leaned over him. “Done?”

  Brad nodded, his face twisted.

  “Okay. Anytime you want to speak to Rose, you let me know and we’ll do this again. Understand?”

  Brad nodded again.

  Declan rose and headed to the entrance.

  Rose ran back in a mad dash, sliding on the slick floor. By the time Declan reached the door, she was barring the doorway. “Let’s go out for some fresh air.”

  “As you wish.”

  Brad chose that moment to stagger out from behind the Burger King, holding a cell phone to his ear. At the sight of them, his eyes went wide and he ducked behind the building.

  A moment of vicious satisfaction claimed her, but Rose had no time to savor it. She grabbed Declan’s arm and pulled him down the narrow sidewalk, away from Brad before he saw him and decided to finish what he started. “What are you doing?”

  “Walking with you.”

  “You can’t just come in and destroy my life!” She took a deep breath and forced herself to calm down. He was trying to help, and he’d done a lot for her. “I’ve known Brad for years. He has done people a lot of favors, the kind one doesn’t forget. What happened between us happened long ago, and he was punished for it already. You just started a new war. He’ll be gunning to get at me now.”

  “He’s most welcome to try it,” Declan said with a grim finality that promised painful things in Brad’s future.

  “You just don’t understand. Just like with Amy’s roof.”

  “What about Amy’s roof?”

  It’s not that he was stupid. Quite the opposite: Declan was probably one of the smartest men she’d ever met. He simply had no idea how life worked in a small Edger town. It probably made no sense to someone not born here.

  She stopped and met his gaze. “Declan, I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I don’t need you to fight my battles. It would be wonderful if life was simple and your beating up Brad solved all my problems, but in reality, it will only bring me more trouble. Thank you, but please go away.”

  Declan’s eyes studied her. “Very well, my lady.”

  He turned and walked off.

  Rose watched him go and headed back to the restaurant. Brad’s humiliation would come back to haunt her. She knew it would, but it was so worth it. She recalled him crawling on the asphalt and practically skipped.

  Latoya thrust the Burger King’s door open. “Your new boyfriend is a psycho killer!”

  “No, he isn’t. And he’s not my—”

  “I’m telling you he’s a Navy SEAL or something. Or one of the commando ranger guys. You know the kind who survive in the woods by eating bugs and take down the whole camp of terrorists with a handgun and a small rock.”

  Rose shook her head.

  “And he’s a looker, too,” Teresa added. “Just like the other guy.”

  Latoya’s eyes lit up. “What other guy?”

  EMERSON’S voice ricocheted from the walls of his small office, filling Rose’s head with ringing. “You think you can just miss the morning, and I won’t know about it?”

  Rose held her temper in check and faced Emerson. A slight man of average height, he was balding and doe-eyed. Emerson came from an old local family. His grandfather sold insurance, his father had expanded the business, his younger brother still ran it, but Emerson had failed to make his mark. He was arrogant, condescending, and lost his temper easily, which made him a terrible salesman. When people bought insurance, they wanted to be reassured, and the only thing Emerson reassured them of was his own inflated ego.

  He had called in a snarling rage about two hours after they left Burger King and demanded Latoya bring her back to his office at the end of the shift. Apparently so he could cause permanent damage to her hearing.

  “What do you have to say for yourself?”

  “There was some trouble at Amy Haire’s house . . .”

  “I don’t give a fuck.” He stared at her for a long moment, his nostrils flaring. “I’m not paying you for this week.”

  “Emerson!”

  “What? Are you going to tell me it’s illegal and I can’t do it? Well, guess what. I just did.”

  Rose clenched her teeth. Emerson was always an ass, but this was going too far. “I haven’t missed a day of work in two years!”

  Emerson laughed. “You know what, I changed my mind. You’re fired.”

  “Fired? What for?”

  “For absenteeism. You want to complain? You go right ahead. Who the fuck will listen to you? You’re an illegal, and I can do whatever the hell I want with you.”

  Her face grew hot. He opened his mouth to rant some more, saw the look in her eyes, and clamped his jaw shut.

  “You do whatever lets you sleep at night, Emerson,” she said evenly. “But don’t ever come to the Edge when I can find out about it.”

  She turned, left the office, and kept walking through the hallway to the outside. Latoya was nowhere in sight, frightened off by Emerson’s hysterics. Such was the Edge way: every family for themselves. Friend or not, Latoya wasn’t about to let her own job go down in flames.

  Rose paused on the curb, staring at Emerson’s red Honda SUV with a vanity plate that read BOSSMAN. Bossman. What a joke.

  She was numb. It hadn’t hit her yet, she decided. It would eventually, and then she’d probably hide and cry somewhere.

  Rose shouldered her bag and started walking.

  TEN

  TWO hours later, Rose sank onto the porch steps, her phone next to her. Her feet ached. She used the time it took her to cover four miles from the Clean-n-Bright office to her house to search for a new job. She had exhausted every lead and called in every favor. Nobody was hiring. Nobody expected to hire anytime soon.

  Rose experienced her first pang of fear. She had no way to provide for the children.

  She had always worked. Ever since Dad left and even before that, she had always provided for them. They weren’t rich, but the kids never went hungry. What could she do now? She had no reserve. What little jewelry Mom had was long gone—it went into the truck. First, the transmission went, then the muffler, then the belts . . . There was always something wrong with it, something requiring another injection of cash.

  The junk in the attic would bring them nothing. She had tried to sell it before, at a swap meet and at a y
ard sale, but hardly anyone bought a thing. She’d made a total of seven dollars and twelve cents.

  There was a spot in town in front of a small fried chicken joint, where a truck stopped every morning to pick up laborers. They were paid cash. She drove past them on her way to work: men, mostly Latino, chatting in Spanish. Before she had this job, she even tried waiting with them, but the truck driver explained to her that they didn’t want women. They wanted men, who could clear away the brush and do construction.

  The only reason Emerson had hired her in the first place was because he and her father had been buddies when they were young. But now with Dad gone . . .

  She still had the doubloon. By now the news of her firing would have spread, and Max Taylor would know she was desperate. He’d charge her an arm and a leg to convert the doubloon into cash. Her chances might be better with Peter at Parallel Universe. He charged a steeper fee, but he never haggled and never tried to pull a fast one. The doubloon would bring in enough money for a couple of weeks. She’d just have to borrow the money for gas, drive out there, and hope she could work it out with one of them.

  And then what?

  Maybe she could just leave. Take the kids, use what money she made off Declan’s gold, and just go. The Edge was narrow but long: it wrapped the junction of the two worlds like a ribbon. There were other settlements, bigger than East Laporte. There had to be jobs there. But at least here she had the house. Anywhere else, she’d have to pay rent . . .

  The sound of approaching footsteps tore her from her thoughts. A long-legged, lanky man strode down the path. The sun played on his reddish hair. She would’ve known that red anywhere. Rob Simoen. His father had hired Brad to kidnap her all those years ago, so she could marry Rob and make a brood of powerful babies for the Simoens.

  Rob came up and stopped at the ward stones. He had a bit of power. He flashed green, which wasn’t too shabby for an Edger. He was older than she by three years and well off. He was also a first-rate asshole.

  “Hi, Rose,” he said.

  She just looked at him.

  “I heard you’ve lost your job.”

  Well, that was fast. “Came to gloat?”

  He smiled. “Yeah, a bit. Did you hear? We at Simoen Chevrolet just got ourselves a new cleaning crew. Our offices will be all clean and bright.”