“Not sure what that is, but there’s coffee and tea downstairs. Also dinner. Maggie had Becks and Alaric swing by the House of Curries on their way back from whatever the f**k it is they were doing out there.” I probably should have cared more about what my team was up to when they weren’t working directly on the whole “possible globe-spanning conspiracy” thing, but to be honest, I didn’t have the time or the energy. I trusted them not to get themselves killed while I wasn’t looking. That was all I had left to give them, and it needed to be enough.
“Right.” Mahir rubbed a hand through his hair, doing nothing to improve its spiky disarray. “Is there someplace I can wash my face and slap on a couple of stimulant patches before I have to come down and face humans?”
“Bathroom’s across the hall.”
“Brilliant.” He offered me a wan, distracted smile and stepped into the hall, heading for the bathroom. I put a hand on his elbow. He stopped, blinking at me. “Yes?”
“I’m glad you’re here, even if it does mean the shit’s finally hitting the fan,” I said, and hugged him.
George and I weren’t raised to be physically demonstrative. Having parents who treat you as a ratings stunt will do that. Mahir knew that. There was a pause no longer than the time it took for him to catch his breath, and then he was hugging me back, shoulders sagging slightly as he let go of some weight I wasn’t quite aware of yet, but doubtless would be soon.
“Thank you,” he said. His smile as he let me go was a little stronger. I turned to head downstairs as he walked into the bathroom, shutting the door behind himself.
The air downstairs smelled like hot curry, garlic naan, and the sweet, pasty nothingness of white rice. Maggie was unpacking bulging paper sacks from the House of Curries onto the counter while Alaric, Becks, and Kelly sat at the table, trying to stay out of her way. The bulldogs were gone, and the connecting door to the front room was closed, indicating the location of their banishment.
Hail, hail, the gang’s all here, said George, quietly.
“Yeah,” I muttered, pausing in the doorway and watching them. Becks was hiding a laugh behind her hand, probably in response to something Alaric had said. Maggie kept rocking onto her toes, like she was dancing to a private beat. Even Kelly was relaxed, sitting in her chair and watching the others with a faint, puzzled smile on her face. This was my team. Maybe it wasn’t the one I would have put together on my own—out of all of them, Becks was the only one I really trusted in the field, and she was also still the one I had the most trouble talking to. Alaric was never actually field certified, since the shit hit the fan while he was still prepping for his tests, and Maggie had never needed to be, being a Fictional and all.
Footsteps behind me signaled Mahir’s approach. I turned to face him, asking, “Hey, you’re cleared for fieldwork, right?”
Mahir frowned at me. He’d slicked back his hair and done something to wipe away most of the more visible signs of exhaustion. He hadn’t been kidding about the stimulant patches. He’d pay for that later. Then again, we were going to be paying for a lot of things later, assuming we lived that long.
“In the United Kingdom and European Union, yes, in the United States, no, although I can travel on my U.K. license for up to ninety days as a visiting journalist. Why?”
“Just wondering.” I stepped to the side, sweeping one arm grandly toward the kitchen. “Ladies and gentlemen, Mahir Gowda!”
“Boss!” said Alaric, sounding delighted. As a Newsie, he answered directly to Mahir, and counted on Mahir to make me understand when I was being unreasonable. Having us both in the same house probably seemed like an excellent way to cut out the middleman. I couldn’t honestly say that he was wrong.
Becks didn’t do anything as gauche as shouting. Standing, she walked over to Mahir and threw her arms around his shoulders, hugging him tightly. He hugged her back, just as tightly. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she said.
I looked away, feeling uncomfortably like a voyeur, and found myself looking at Kelly instead. She was watching the scene in front of her with an almost wistful expression on her face, like a kid who wasn’t invited to the party.
She gave up her whole life to come here and tell us what she knew, and she can never go back. The people in this room, we’re all she has. And she’s never going to be part of things the way Mahir is.
“Right,” I muttered. Louder, pitched for an audience of people who actually existed outside my head, I said, “Something smells great, Maggie. Please tell me it’s dinner, and not a sadistic new kind of air freshener.” I brushed past Mahir and Becks, still embracing, and moved toward the counter.
Maggie flashed a smile my way. “Oh, it’s dinner. All the containers are labeled, and I made sure to get extra Aloo Gobi this time, so you won’t be able to eat it all.”
“You’re seriously underestimating my capacity for devouring curried cauliflower.” I reached for a plate.
That was the signal for everyone to start grabbing plates, utensils, and whatever combination of things they were planning to eat for dinner. Mahir ate like he was starving, and the rest of us weren’t much better. I wasn’t the only one who understood what Mahir’s arrival meant. This might be the last peaceful meal we had for a while, and none of us wanted to be the one to disrupt it.
Cramming six people around Maggie’s table was surprisingly easy. I’ve never known anyone who entertained as much as she does, or was as willing to adjust for strangers on a moment’s notice. Being in her kitchen was almost like being in one of those old pre-Rising TV shows, the ones where everyone seemed to wind up sitting around eating from the same bowl of mashed potatoes and talking about their day. We didn’t have mashed potatoes, and I wasn’t interested in sharing the Aloo Gobi, but we did have rice and samosas and other things to pass around. Mahir turned out to be surprisingly good at talking to Kelly, who got a little more relaxed with every minute that passed.
“Right.” Mahir rubbed a hand through his hair, doing nothing to improve its spiky disarray. “Is there someplace I can wash my face and slap on a couple of stimulant patches before I have to come down and face humans?”
“Bathroom’s across the hall.”
“Brilliant.” He offered me a wan, distracted smile and stepped into the hall, heading for the bathroom. I put a hand on his elbow. He stopped, blinking at me. “Yes?”
“I’m glad you’re here, even if it does mean the shit’s finally hitting the fan,” I said, and hugged him.
George and I weren’t raised to be physically demonstrative. Having parents who treat you as a ratings stunt will do that. Mahir knew that. There was a pause no longer than the time it took for him to catch his breath, and then he was hugging me back, shoulders sagging slightly as he let go of some weight I wasn’t quite aware of yet, but doubtless would be soon.
“Thank you,” he said. His smile as he let me go was a little stronger. I turned to head downstairs as he walked into the bathroom, shutting the door behind himself.
The air downstairs smelled like hot curry, garlic naan, and the sweet, pasty nothingness of white rice. Maggie was unpacking bulging paper sacks from the House of Curries onto the counter while Alaric, Becks, and Kelly sat at the table, trying to stay out of her way. The bulldogs were gone, and the connecting door to the front room was closed, indicating the location of their banishment.
Hail, hail, the gang’s all here, said George, quietly.
“Yeah,” I muttered, pausing in the doorway and watching them. Becks was hiding a laugh behind her hand, probably in response to something Alaric had said. Maggie kept rocking onto her toes, like she was dancing to a private beat. Even Kelly was relaxed, sitting in her chair and watching the others with a faint, puzzled smile on her face. This was my team. Maybe it wasn’t the one I would have put together on my own—out of all of them, Becks was the only one I really trusted in the field, and she was also still the one I had the most trouble talking to. Alaric was never actually field certified, since the shit hit the fan while he was still prepping for his tests, and Maggie had never needed to be, being a Fictional and all.
Footsteps behind me signaled Mahir’s approach. I turned to face him, asking, “Hey, you’re cleared for fieldwork, right?”
Mahir frowned at me. He’d slicked back his hair and done something to wipe away most of the more visible signs of exhaustion. He hadn’t been kidding about the stimulant patches. He’d pay for that later. Then again, we were going to be paying for a lot of things later, assuming we lived that long.
“In the United Kingdom and European Union, yes, in the United States, no, although I can travel on my U.K. license for up to ninety days as a visiting journalist. Why?”
“Just wondering.” I stepped to the side, sweeping one arm grandly toward the kitchen. “Ladies and gentlemen, Mahir Gowda!”
“Boss!” said Alaric, sounding delighted. As a Newsie, he answered directly to Mahir, and counted on Mahir to make me understand when I was being unreasonable. Having us both in the same house probably seemed like an excellent way to cut out the middleman. I couldn’t honestly say that he was wrong.
Becks didn’t do anything as gauche as shouting. Standing, she walked over to Mahir and threw her arms around his shoulders, hugging him tightly. He hugged her back, just as tightly. “I’m so glad you’re here,” she said.
I looked away, feeling uncomfortably like a voyeur, and found myself looking at Kelly instead. She was watching the scene in front of her with an almost wistful expression on her face, like a kid who wasn’t invited to the party.
She gave up her whole life to come here and tell us what she knew, and she can never go back. The people in this room, we’re all she has. And she’s never going to be part of things the way Mahir is.
“Right,” I muttered. Louder, pitched for an audience of people who actually existed outside my head, I said, “Something smells great, Maggie. Please tell me it’s dinner, and not a sadistic new kind of air freshener.” I brushed past Mahir and Becks, still embracing, and moved toward the counter.
Maggie flashed a smile my way. “Oh, it’s dinner. All the containers are labeled, and I made sure to get extra Aloo Gobi this time, so you won’t be able to eat it all.”
“You’re seriously underestimating my capacity for devouring curried cauliflower.” I reached for a plate.
That was the signal for everyone to start grabbing plates, utensils, and whatever combination of things they were planning to eat for dinner. Mahir ate like he was starving, and the rest of us weren’t much better. I wasn’t the only one who understood what Mahir’s arrival meant. This might be the last peaceful meal we had for a while, and none of us wanted to be the one to disrupt it.
Cramming six people around Maggie’s table was surprisingly easy. I’ve never known anyone who entertained as much as she does, or was as willing to adjust for strangers on a moment’s notice. Being in her kitchen was almost like being in one of those old pre-Rising TV shows, the ones where everyone seemed to wind up sitting around eating from the same bowl of mashed potatoes and talking about their day. We didn’t have mashed potatoes, and I wasn’t interested in sharing the Aloo Gobi, but we did have rice and samosas and other things to pass around. Mahir turned out to be surprisingly good at talking to Kelly, who got a little more relaxed with every minute that passed.
