The Lostkind (14 page)

Yasi kicked herself mentally. "Gill."

"I'm sorry?"

"Vincent's best friend tried to kill himself because of some gambling debts being called in unexpectedly. That's what started this. God, I want to kill
myself
from the sheer 'duh'."

Dorcan licked his lips, and leaned a little closer, lowering his voice. "Keeper knows you were up there with
him
tonight. She plans to put a stop to it."

"No surprises there." Yasi admitted quietly. "If I go to Keeper and tell her that Vincent is now working two feet away from the man we've been hunting all week, and then confess to her that I
missed
it; despite the fact that I was up there with Vincent
personally
..."

"That would be... how shall I put this?" Dorcan considered lightly. "Bad?"

"Bad." The Shinobi Captain agreed. "Bad is the word."

"Then maybe Keeper doesn't need to know about this." Dorcan suggested casually. "Maybe this stays our secret. Maybe your little field trip just became strictly business?"

Yasi grinned. "Dorcan, you are far too good to me."

"I know it." Dorcan smiled back. "And I live in hope that you'll realize that one day."

~oo00oo~

Yasi climbed up the rope hand over hand till she reached her room. She kicked her boots off gratefully and tossed her overcoat, not even caring where it landed. She was in peak shape, but it had already been a long night, and she couldn't be bothered waiting for the 'elevators'.

She made it back to her chamber, and found the lanterns already lit. Keeper was perched on the edge of her hammock, hanging lower from the ceiling.

"So after the meeting I came to find you. You weren't here. I sent word for you to come find me. Half an hour later I got sick of waiting."

Yasi swallowed, staring at her boots. "I was... Upside."

"I know. I spoke to Wotcha. She was expecting you to be back over an hour ago. She sent word less than ten minutes after you two finished your conversation."

Yasi flushed. She was having coffee with Vincent the whole time that pigeon was waiting for her.

Keeper studied Yasi with a critical eye. "You were with him."

She saw no reason to deny it. "Yes."

Keeper sat down on the nearest floor chair, and waved Yasi into one opposite. They sat facing each other, cross-legged on the padded seats.

"I don't like to begrudge you your friends. And of course I want you to have a social life." Keeper said kindly. "But understand, he's not objective when it comes to you. He works in an office, never risks more than a paper-cut, and suddenly here's this attractive Amazon from a mysterious world. How can he not be fascinated by that? How could he not see more than what's there?"

Yasi fought back the memory of the quick kiss. "He knows that too."

"Yasi, you took over the Shinobi younger than anyone else in the history of the Underside. You did it by being the best, and the most driven."

"I wanted you and Archivist to be proud of me." Yasi offered.

"And we are. We always have been, dear. But it cost you. How many close friends do you have? How often do you spend any serious amount of time with people Up Above? His world is a mysterious place to you too. And you know that it cannot possibly work out. Leaving aside the fact that you come from different worlds, we're only here because we can keep a secret. If he keeps using our guys..."

"That won't happen again." Yasi promised. "We've settled that."

"Yasi, what happens if this goes on?" Keeper demanded. "Sooner or later, one of his Above friends is going to find out you exist. Someone asks you what your last name is, where you work, where you live, where you got that bleedin' samurai sword... what are you going to say?"

Yasi didn't have an answer to that.

"Vincent's a city planner. He decides to come visit you the way you've gone to visit him... sooner or later he'll find a way in. What happens then?"

Yasi didn't answer that either, but inwardly she shivered. Be Invisible. It was Rule Number One. It was The Law, carved in stone.

Vincent's probably already found a way in.
She thought to herself.

"Yasi... I want you to have friends. But it can't be someone that could expose the rest of us. You're the head of our security. You of all people know this."

"Yes. I do." Yasi admitted. "But, there's something you should know."

"What's that?"

"Not here. And we need Archivist too."

~oo00oo~

It was his first time coming to Connie's apartment. They'd only known each other a few days, and spent a lot of their time at the Kitchen talking. Neither of them had a car, like a lot of New Yorkers, and they'd split cabs several times.

They knew little about each other personally when they'd started, but their friendship was real nevertheless. There was a real sense of being in the same foxhole when you volunteered with the homeless. The rate of homeless people in New York City was at the highest it had been since the Great Depression of the 1930's, and had a high proportion of mental illness or chemical addictions. Though they rarely bit the hands that fed them, the volunteers looked out for each other.

A conversation about movies had earned Vincent an invitation to stop by her apartment and pick up a DVD. She led him up the stairs and unlocked the door to her apartment. The sounds of conversation in progress rang out from within as the door opened.

Connie sent Vincent a smirk over her shoulder. "I want to apologize in advance for what you're about to experience." She said with a smile. "Come on in."

Vincent came in behind Connie and suddenly found himself at the receiving end of three stranger's stares. Connie's furniture was all second-hand, but in good condition. The walls had a few cracks that had clearly been there longer than she had, and she had posters and painting replicas from all over the world on the walls. Her living room had a bookshelf against one wall, but barely any books. The coffee table, the shelves, every inch of shelf space was covered in knickknacks.

Her couch had three men Vincent had never met and they all fell silent the second they saw him.

"Guys, this is Vincent." Connie made introductions. "He stopped by to borrow a movie."

"So, this is Saint Vincent." The tallest of the three of them commented. "Bout time we met you. The way Connie described you I figured you'd be three feet taller and have a shaft of holy sunlight following you around."

Connie interrupted him in a tone that suggested this was an ongoing argument. "Vincent, I'm going to ask you to ignore my older brother Drew. He was tragically born lacking a brain. The DVD is in my room."

"Convenient." Drew commented blandly. "You understand, of course, that as the older brother I am required by law to beat the hell out of you once you screw up and make Connie cry-yowch-yowch-yowch."

Connie had twisted his ear tightly; and Drew struggled not to fall out of his chair as she tugged. The other two strangers tried not to grin.

Connie released Drew and made introductions. "Vincent this is my brother's posse, Benji and Tony. I'm not really sure what they do or where they come from, but they never go anywhere without the other, or without my Drew."

"Nice to meet you." Vincent said dryly. "How do you guys know Connie?"

"She feeds us." They both said in unison.

Connie snorted and ruffled Tony's hair on the way through to her room. "Give me a minute." She told Vincent, and left.

Immediately, the patter began, all three of them speaking in raid-fire succession, till Vincent's head was turning back and forth non-stop to follow it.

"Cheap shoes."

"Nice Jacket tough."

"Taller than the last guy."

"No tattoos on his neck."

"We approve of that."

"Volunteers a lot, from what I hear."

"Good quality."

"No it ain't; if he volunteers it means he's broke."

"That's the stupidest thing I ever heard."

"Hands in his pockets, he's probably got a great personality."

"Which means Connie is the pretty one."

"Isn't that a good thing?"

"Means we can ease him out of her life when we get bored with him."

"Ease him out? Please."

"We
roasted
the last guy. Remember him?"

"Ahh yes, poor man. Broke the rules." Drew waxed philosophically. "Whatever happened to him?"

"He moved to Boston as I recall."

"Vincent, you like clam chowder? Because I hear they make it great in Boston."

"Now now, he's not her boyfriend. You can tell when she's got a boyfriend, she starts whistling to herself. Buys new underwear too."

"Benji, do I wanna know how you know so much about my sister's underwear?"

"Um, no."

"Remember that guy she had two years ago, Clive Something? Man, she was gushing all over the walls about that putz. Whatever happened to that one? Don't you hate it when you lose track of a collectible like that?"

Connie came back into the room quickly, apparently having changed clothes in a hurry, soon enough to hear that last part. "Clive met the three of you, and I never heard from him again." She drawled. "Come on through Vincent."

Vincent nodded. "I love Clam Chowder." He told them as he followed Connie. "You add a few carrot strips and a bit of parsley to the pot; it really makes it look nicer; just for presentation."

"He can cook?" Drew blurted.

"He can cook." Tony confirmed.

"We might just approve of this one." Benji added brightly.

"Glad to hear it." Connie called from the hall. "Vincent, flee the living room; save yourself!"

Vincent chuckled and followed her as Drew snarled at his friends. "We do
not
approve of my kid sister's boyfriends."

"He's not my boyfriend!" Connie called as Vincent made it to the hall. "I only met him two days ago." She had flushed bright pink. "They like to make me crazy; and they are very very good at it, but they're good people really."

"So this is what I missed, growing up without siblings." Vincent chuckled.

"Pretty much." Her room was much the same as her living room, filled with bits and pieces. She pushed the DVD into his hands, and waved a hand at her bedroom. "So, is it everything you imagined it would be?" She teased.

Vincent felt his face grow warm at the implication that he spent a lot of time imagining her bedroom, and found something fascinating to look at on her shelves. There were plenty of things to choose from. "Where did all this come from?"

"Various places. Everything has a story." She pointed to each one in turn. "The Stone-Head was off an Aztec Arrow; recovered from the site of a battle against Cortez. The Porcelain statues of the kittens came from Milan. I don't know if you've ever been there but there are thousands of stray cats in Milan. They're practically the town fixtures."

Vincent looked over the shelves and picked up a small ornamental box; painted with Oriental Designs.

"Oh, good choice. It's said that box was the last work of the great masters." Connie told him, in that same soft melodic tone. "They say that whoever can open the box will find the secret of life's mysteries; but nobody has been able to solve the mystery for two thousand years…"

Connie trailed off as Vincent proceeded to slide a few panels on the box and promptly pop it open. He shook the contents into his palm. A dime, two pennies and a few paperclips.

"Well…" Connie said after a moment. "They say good things come in small packages. How'd you do that?"

"Well, this ancient puzzle-box, hand crafted by the ancient masters?" Vincent said smugly. "I bought one just like it off eBay."

Connie smiled widely, despite herself, and looked down, a cute blush appearing. "Okay. Well…"

"You're making it all up!" Vincent challenged with amusement.

Connie looked down, like he'd caught her out in a silly childhood game. "Look, we didn't have a lot of money growing up, and there was this woman next door who traveled constantly. I was the middle child, my brother went to work early, and my baby brother wanted to find exciting things. We couldn't
afford
any exciting things, so…"

"So you invented some." Vincent finished.

"It worked." She excused. "It became something of a game. One I liked. And then I grew up, and I had the chance to actually go visit a few exciting places… So I started saving, and then it was all ‘don't go to this place' and ‘don't drink the water' and ‘have you had your shots?' So I figure why go to all that trouble when you can just pick up this stuff online?"

Vincent burst out laughing.

Connie smiled impishly. "Ask me about the snuff box. I've got a great story about that one."