The Syndicate (Timewaves Book 1) (6 page)

Despite the jab at his intentions, this seemed to mollify Gaige. He set the bags from the canteen on the kitchen counter alongside the flowers, then left with a promise to return soon.

The door hadn’t even clicked shut behind my partner before I was halfway to my bathroom. After turning the hot water tap to full blast, I studied my reflection in the mirror while the shower heated up.

I was the personification of “something the cat dragged in”. Something particularly smelly that had been dragged several miles through an oily muck. My hair was limp and filthy from the river water, the ends tangled in knots from the wind. The temporary dye used by the customs hair specialist had come off in the river, and faint pink streaks peeked out from my bottom layers.

The colored strands were a constant source of annoyance for customs agents in just about every time period I’d visited. According to the hair specialists, the pink locks made me too memorable. Wigs and temporary hair dye were easy solutions, so I never felt bad about refusing to get rid of the pink permanently.

It wasn’t that I was super attached to the color. My motivation for keeping it was purely sentimental. Molly had given me the home dye job. We’d been friends ever since. Best friends.

I stepped under the rainfall shower and luxuriated in the feel of the hot water on my aching muscles. After several rinse-and-repeats of my hair, I set to scrubbing the filth off with a sea sponge, rubbing so vigorously that my skin quickly began to redden. Finally, after using up most of the hot water on the island, I decided I was both warm enough and clean enough to exit the shower.

I wrapped myself in a lightweight kimono, a gift from Molly that had required bribing a member of the Yurokuri Syndicate to procure—they controlled the Asian timewaves the same way we controlled those of Western Europe and North America. My stomach was cavernously empty, but I lacked the energy to hike up to any of the five dining facilities on the island.

“Delivery it is,” I decided.

As I began to scroll through the options on the digital menu station in the kitchen, the front door to the bungalow eased open.

“Hope you’re hungry,” Gaige’s voice called. “I have enough food to feed an army.”

The aroma of melted cheesy goodness and garlic bread preceded Gaige through the doorway.

Propping my hands on my hips, I prepared to give him an often-repeated lecture on boundaries. Knocking, for one, was a practice he really needed to start employing. Showing up unannounced, especially after I’d specifically told him that I’d call, was another thing that needed work.

Gaige set down one of the two bags of food he carried and held up a hand to stop me before I launched in to my spiel.

“We have an early meeting with the historians tomorrow,” he said in a hushed tone. “I thought you might want to go over the major players beforehand. You need to eat, so I just figured I’d bring dinner and save you the trouble of ordering for yourself.”

My irritation waning with every sniff of the delicious aromas wafting from the bags, I cocked an eyebrow.

“Really? You brought lobster mac and cheese and garlic bread for
me
? How sweet of you. I shall eat every last bite.”

“That nose of yours is scary accurate.” Taking the fact I didn’t immediately throw him out as consent, he carried both bags into the kitchen and set them on the counter. “I got one of your favorites, too.” Gaige withdrew plastic containers until he found the one he was looking for and opened the lid. “Salmon in conch cream sauce.”

My eyes lit up as he waved the plastic container in front of my face. Sure, he was bribing me to hang around, but I wasn’t above a good bribe.

Seeing my expression, he shook his head and chuckled.

“I win!” he declared.

My stomach growled again and I reached over, swiping a finger through the cream sauce. As soon as the sherry and butter concoction hit my taste buds, I moaned with pleasure.

“Want me to leave you two alone?” Gaige asked dryly.

With a glare that had zero effect on my partner, I turned to find plates and utensils.

“Actually, leaving me alone with my food isn’t a bad idea.”

“What do you have on Cook, anyway?” Gaige asked. “Nobody else gets salmon. Are you two having some secret tryst based on your mutual love affair with food?”

“Cook just likes me because I’m nice to him.” I glanced at Gaige over my shoulder. “You should try it sometime. What’s that saying? You catch more flies with honey than vinegar?”

Gaige finished arranging the food containers on the counter in a buffet-style setup.

“The only flies I like are dead ones, Stass.”

“Do I smell lobster mac and cheese?” a sleepy voice asked.

Turning, I saw Molly standing in the doorway to her bedroom. She was leaning heavily on the doorframe and her porcelain skin was devoid of its usual luster.

“What are you doing out of bed?” I demanded.

“I smelled food,
mom
,” Molly shot back, big blue eyes sparkling with amusement.

Torn between my anxiety over her wellbeing and a retort, I didn’t get a chance to reply. Without warning, Molly swayed and her eyes clamped tightly shut. Gaige and I rushed forward at the same time, but my roommate clung to the doorframe with a white-knuckled grip, remaining upright without our help. She shooed us away once the wave of pain passed.

“Go lay down,” I said, my tone allowing no argument.

“But I’m hungry,” Molly whined, using the same child-like tone she always did when she thought I was being overprotective.

“Gaige will fix you a plate and the three of us can eat in your room. Fair?”

“Fair,” Molly agreed grudgingly.

For a moment, Gaige stood frozen in place, his eyes trained on Molly as if she was the most fascinating creature he’d ever seen. I followed his gaze and realized her robe had loosened, exposing a hint of milky white skin.

Apparently I wasn’t the only one who’d noticed Gaige’s fixation.

“Like what you see, Fratastic?” Molly taunted.

Her nickname for Gaige had started a couple months back, when Molly and her partner had traveled to the United States in 1979 and infiltrated the Greek system at a big university in search of some trophy. Since then, she’d taken to calling Gaige “Fratastic”, in honor of the scores of fraternity guys she’d encountered who reminded her of my partner. I was pretty sure it wasn’t a compliment, but he seemed to believe otherwise.

“Huh?” Gaige asked stupidly, snapping out of the trance her flash of skin had caused.

“Come on, Molls, back to bed,” I said. Careful not to touch where the gauze covered her skin, I gently took my roommate’s arm for support and led her back into the bedroom. Over my shoulder, I called to Gaige, “Fix us plates, will you?”

“On it, boss,” he said, giving me a mock salute.

The glowing moonlight outside the windows bathed Molly’s room in a soft, silvery glow. The baby blue sheets on her bed were rumpled and the crotched quilt was thrown to one side. Once we were alone, Molly leaned against me for support. I wrapped my arm around her slim waist and guided her towards the bed. She rested her head on my shoulder—not an easy feat since she was several inches taller than me—and limped slowly across the bamboo floor.

“Did I hear right? Did Gaige bring us dinner?” Molly asked as I eased her onto the mattress.

Pulling the covers back so that she could crawl underneath, I waited for her to get situated before tucking the quilt around her thin frame. With her ashen complexion, she looked like a tragic opera heroine. Leave it to her to make deathly ill look dreadfully chic.

“We have an early meeting with the historians,” I told her, repeating Gaige’s lame excuse for playing delivery boy.

“Sure,” she said, drawing out the single syllable, before wincing and emitting a low groan.

“What do you need? You shouldn’t have gotten up. Did the medics give you something for the pain?” I asked. “I can call them. Or—”

“Stass, I’m fine,” she interjected gently. One of her hands reached out from beneath the covers and clasped mine. Despite her obvious discomfort, she suddenly smirked. “And don’t change the subject. Don’t think I haven’t noticed that Fratastic has been prowling around here more lately.”

“He’s bored.”

“Oh, come on. Spill it. Have you two been getting cozy off island? Have you been enjoying a little international sexy time?”

Unable to help myself, I laughed loudly at the sheer ridiculousness of her question. She was right, though—he’d been lurking around our place a lot in the past few weeks.

“What?” Molly asked innocently, when I refused to dignify her question with an answer. “You wouldn’t be the first partners to jump in bed together.”

The grossed-out look on my face made Molly erupt into a fit of giggles that quickly turned into hacking coughs. As her trembling fingers reached for the cup of water on her nightstand, I quickly grabbed it. Helping her to sit up, I held the glass as Molly gulped greedily. Once she’d had her fill, Molly’s head fell back on the pillow with an exhausted sigh.

Feeling my roommate’s forehead with the back of my hand, I found her skin was clammy and cool to the touch. My eyes had adjusted to the dim light and I saw a bottle of pills on her nightstand. I snatched it up and read the instructions: take one every two hours. The Hello Kitty clock Molly had smuggled back on one of her runs read 8:05, meaning she was likely overdue for her next dose. After shaking a pill into my hand, I held it and the water glass out to her.

“Medicine time,” I declared.

Eyes closed and face pinched, Molly accepted the pill without protest. She must have been feeling really bad, because she hated taking drugs. After washing the medicine down, my roommate peered up at me from beneath long lashes, her eyes opened just enough for a thin strip of blue iris to show.

“Don’t look so horrified, Stass,” she mumbled, undeterred from her quest for answers. “Gaige is hot.”

“That’s the drugs talking,” I said with an exaggerated eye roll.

“Seriously,” Molly said sleepily. The syndicate’s new-age medications worked quickly and she was suddenly fighting to keep her eyes open. She paused. When she spoke again, her speech was slurred slightly. “More importantly, he’s a nice guy. I didn’t think much of him when we were younger, but now that I’ve gotten to know him better….” She shrugged one delicate shoulder as she trailed off.

“Molls, nothing is going on between Gaige and me. He’s just a friend who doesn’t understand personal space.”

“I know I give him a hard time, but there’s something sweet about him.”

A small almost wistful smile crossed her lips and the pain lines on her face smoothed out. Just as Molly’s eyelids slid closed, Gaige’s heavy footsteps sounded on the bamboo flooring outside her door.

“Dinner is served,” Gaige announced.

“Shhh!” I loudly shushed him.

Molly’s eyes popped open. “Food?” she asked hopefully, her voice lilting. With a goofy, medication-induced grin that looked out of place on her classical features, she added, “You’re a really good guy, you know that?”

That was
definitely
the drugs talking. My roommate rarely said anything to Gaige without a healthy dose of sarcasm.

Evidently he was unsure of how to respond to her unexpected comment, because Gaige placed the tray he was carrying on Molly’s vanity without a word. Coming to stand beside me, he looked down at Molly with an adorably worried expression. One of her bandaged hands was resting above the blankets, the white gauze not quite covering the crimson skin riddled with small blisters. As if that wasn’t bad enough, when Molly rolled her head to the side to smile up at Gaige, a portion of her neck that had been hidden beneath her hair was exposed. Purplish welts peppered the side of her throat.

One hand flying to my mouth, I gasped. They didn’t look like the other areas of her scorched skin, but more like a cross between bruises and some type of communicable rash. I’d never seen such severe burns before.

“Jesus!” Gaige exclaimed. Ever tactful, he added, “What the hell is that? I’ve seen time sickness and
that
is definitely not a result of it.”

“It’s Wicca-nitis,” Molly replied soberly, sounding less out of it than she had only minutes before.

“I’ve never even heard of it,” Gaige said, looking alarmed.

“Yeah, it’s a real witch of a problem,” I snickered.

Amusement flickered briefly in Molly’s eyes when they met mine, but when she turned back to Gaige her expression was somber again.

“It is,” Molly agreed. “The medics said it will be an absolute miracle if I don’t succumb to it.”

My partner’s shocked expression was priceless.

I snorted, unable to hold back the laughter. This was the Molly I knew and loved—mischievous to the core.

“Sorry,” Molly said with a sleepy grin. “I couldn’t help it, you looked so serious. I needed some levity.”

Gaige’s relief was palpable.

“Yeah, yeah. Time sickness is a bitch,” Gaige said gruffly. The tender expression he’d bestowed upon my roommate when he had thought she might be dying was gone, replaced by his usual cocky smile and look of casual indifference.