Chapter 43 Clara
She wasn’t surprised Carver went to Marsh to complain about her.
Of course he had. The second he left, she knew that’s where he was headed.
She knew that’s where he had headed the second he left.
It infuriated her, but in a way it was also fair.
Carver didn’t belong to her. She didn’t have any kind of claim over him.
And Marsh was attractive. Gorgeous, actually.
She was soft in a way that Clara never could be, yet independent enough that Clara knew she was appealing to Carver whether he admitted it or not.
What she hadn’t prepared for, was to see Marsh’s arms wrapped around Carver’s neck as she kissed him.
Clara quickly backed away from the door and slipped out the back.
Fury flared hot through her veins and she wanted to punch something.
She pressed her back against the brick of the building, breathing heavily as she tried to calm down.
She couldn’t punch the brick. She’d break her hand.
That wouldn’t help anything. She considered it anyway. Mission first.
She had to do something.
After very little deliberation, she began winding her way through the festival and to the guarded lab. She just wanted to scope it out. She needed something constructive, and what better than a head start on their plan.
A couple drunk men bumped into her, and one almost propositioned her, but when she glared he realized she might be more than he was bargaining for and he moved on.
The sun was setting in the distance, and instead of the caged creatures brought on stage, there were performers.
Flame throwers, acrobats, anything to amuse the people.
It didn’t take much to amuse the primarily drunk crowd.
It was late enough in the day that most had been drinking for a few hours. It was certainly a party.
Clara thought they were all foolish. Idiots. So blinded by their own comfort they would never notice the desperation and pain of others. Much less defend them.
She walked through an alley, putting herself towards the back of town square and nearing the lab.
There were enough trees she was able to stay in the shadows, but she couldn’t quite see the guards.
She approached close enough she could hear them talking.
These guards weren’t as stoic as the ones at the front.
They sounded bored and chatted about all the things they had witnessed in the festival so far.
Clara figured their talking, plus the wind that was blowing through, would be enough to cover the noise of her climbing the tree so she could see down over them.
She was careful as she grabbed the bark.
Far enough away that from their vantage point, they would never know she was there.
She was still in the stupid Calyndor skirt, so she was taking extra precautions to avoid catching the fabric and landing herself in an awkward position.
The wind blew through, and she desperately wished she was in pants.
The branches grew thinner as she climbed higher.
She managed to inch herself out over one that she could just barely see the guards and the entrance.
The two guards stood on either side of the door, but they were barely aware of anything happening.
Perhaps they assumed the inside security was enough to make them irrelevant.
A man approached, a scientist she assumed by the look of his white coat. The guards froze and saluted him, both parties exchanging greetings. The man punched in a code and swiped a card. Electronics.
Clara inwardly groaned. Electronics were not a strong point for her. She knew they were easily contaminated, but wasn’t sure how she could disarm the system. A bullet perhaps? That should short circuit everything and allow her access. Would that be too loud though?
She thought through other possibilities.
What weapons would Marsh have had? A knife might work, but it might not be destructive enough to actually fry the circuitry.
A taser would definitely work. If Marsh had that.
Clara couldn’t imagine that would be easy to come by, but maybe.
Worst case scenario, she would make a little too much noise and pray to the gods that no one heard.
The man slipped inside, and unfortunately she couldn’t see anything beyond that.
After a few minutes, one of the guards swiped his card, punched a code in the keypad (she mentally noted where his fingers landed), walked inside, and returned a few minutes later.
“Everything is good,” he reported. Marsh hadn’t warned them about guards checking the inside.
Was that an added precaution with the festival?
The guards had a card. That would be even better. If she could get a card and figure out the code, she wouldn’t have to go through any destruction. She shimmied down the tree and headed back to the festival.
She stopped at a vendor, and spent the precious few coins she had taken with her on alcohol.
She swallowed one drink of it, just enough so it would be on her breath, and poured the rest on herself.
She now reeked of alcohol. She walked unnoticed to the back of town square again.
Making sure there was no one watching, she hiked her skirt up a little higher, high enough she could feel the air blowing across her butt.
She tugged her shirt lower, using what little she had to her advantage.
She stood behind the tree she had climbed, taking a deep breath in. She could do this. She staggered out from behind the tree, swaying and laughing loudly until she crashed into one of the guards. He stabilized her, holding her up by her arms. She used the opportunity to snag his card.
He glanced nervously at his friend, not sure what to do. “Ma’am you can’t be here.”
“I thought this was the festival,” she giggled, pitching into him again.
He looked very annoyed and turned to his friend, “I’m escorting her back to the festival. I don’t think she’ll make it there alone.”
Turning back to her he continued, “Ma’am, do you have friends at the festival? Or somewhere I can take you that you can spend the night?”
She hadn’t thought this far ahead. She couldn’t appear too sober when answering his questions, but she needed him to actually leave her somewhere. “Just take me back to the festival,” she laughed again, and he looked positively disgusted with her, “I want to see the flame throwers!”
She stumbled, falling onto her knees and tucking the key card into the waist band of her skirt so he wouldn’t see it. The guard muttered to the other guard, “Flames sound like a terrible idea for her.”
“At least she won’t be our problem anymore.” The second guard laughed.
“Okay, come on.” The first guard muttered as he grabbed her arm and roughly pulled her up.
He walked her back to the festival, and though he seemed unsure about leaving her, he seemed to decide staying with her would be worse.
He ensure she was steady enough on her feet, shook his head at her, and walked away.
She waited until he was out of sight before she jumped into motion.
She wound her way through the crowd, making sure she would be fully hidden if he realized his card was missing and tried to find her again.
She took a roundabout way to the bookstore, just in case she was being followed.
The chances of that were slim, but it wasn’t something she felt like she could risk.
She felt the key card press against her waist and smiled to herself.
Carver would be so proud of her. This was what they needed to get inside.
He’d have to admit that she was capable and deserved to be on the assignment after this.
He couldn’t keep rolling his eyes at her and treating her like some stupid child.
A bounce returned to her step in a way she hadn’t felt in years. She enjoyed the feeling of hope and excitement. This assignment was far more than she had bargained for, but maybe it would be worth it. Maybe all of this would be worth something greater. Something better.
At the bookstore, she slipped in the back door, closing it quietly behind her. “Carver!” She called out, unworried about being heard. The bookstore would have closed hours before, and only Carver and Marsh should have been on the premises.
No response. “Carver!” She shouted again, as she flipped one of the lights on.
No one was downstairs. Upstairs then? The sun had fully set, and she was careful as she walked up the stairs in the dark.
She didn’t feel like turning on all the lights, assuming Carver would be in their room with the lights already on. But he wasn’t there either.
Confused, she decided they must have gone out to get food. She quickly changed her clothes. Black leggings and a tight red shirt. Not exactly inconspicuous, but frilly enough to be considered Calyndor clothing. Vastly different from her other outfit in case the soldier came after her.
She enjoyed the night air on her skin, feeling lighter than she had in years.
She felt capable. They would actually succeed.
She couldn’t wait to show Carver her success of the night.
A smile crept across her face. For once it had nothing to do with being Calyndor, and everything to do with how she was feeling.
Happiness was something she hadn’t experienced in a long time. She could feel the energy bubbling across her skin, and she didn’t want the moment to end.
The bar she had gone the first night was as packed as ever, but she had a gut feeling Carver and Marsh would be inside. Sure enough. They were crammed into a tiny booth at the back. Marsh threw her head back and laughed at something Carver said, then swatted his arm.
Clara stood there, frozen in the sudden shock of the moment.
She was trying to keep from jumping to conclusions when Carver leaned over and kissed Marsh.
Marsh kissed him back, and Clara’s heart plummeted.
She knew it was coming. She reminded herself.
She had disliked Marsh from the beginning because of this right here.
Carver was too distracted from the mission.
That’s why she was mad. Because of the mission.
Not because the small amount of joy she felt only moments before was sucked up and replaced with her broken heart.
She stumbled backwards. She had to get out of here.
Go somewhere else. Anywhere else. She bumped into someone and mumbled her apologies.
She looked back at Carver as he looked up.
His eyes met hers and she thought she would throw up.
He looked as panicked as she felt, though why she couldn’t say, and he started to stand but she was already leaving.
This time she truly did stumble into an alleyway, hands on her knees as she tried to breathe. Just breathe. This was exactly what she knew it would be. Why did she think he would be proud of her? Why did she even care?
After several moments, she straightened and resolved that she didn’t need him to complete this assignment. He obviously didn’t want to be a team, and she obviously didn’t need him.