Chapter 12
Gwen went out on the back step at two in the morning to clear her head and count the planes flying out of Portland. She was
up to three when the door softly shut behind her.
“Okay if I join you? I’m crackling,” Robin said.
Gwen nodded. Robin put her back to the wooden railing and found her glass e-cig.
It was just them. Allie and Tana had left a few minutes before in the Elantra. Allie was going to spend the night on Tana’s
couch. The following morning she would drive to The Briars, ashamed and contrite. She would apologize for things she had said
to Donna. She would tell Donna that Gwen and Tana had rescued her from her wander down the interstate, but Gwen had been too
disgusted and angry to speak to her: disgusted by her drunkenness, angry she wouldn’t give up her friendship with Donna. Tana
had been more forgiving, had taken Allie home, let her sober up, and then asked if she wanted to attend an AA meeting with
her . . . which Allie was going to do. Allie would tell Donna that she had scared herself, could’ve been killed, and needed
to try sobriety for a bit. It would sell.
And why does Allie gotta tell her all that? Tana asked.
Robin was first to the answer: Because Colin Wren is up on Gwen’s phone. He’s already listened to the voicemail Allie left for Gwen . . . and knows Gwen
called Tana straight after she got it. We can’t allow any suspicion that Allie’s allegiances have changed.
They haven’t changed, Allie said, with an unexpected fierceness. I was for Gwen before and I’m still for Gwen now. I was for Donna before and I’m still for Donna now.
And Colin? Robin asked.
Allie shook her head and said, Darn it, don’t get me crying again. I’m sick of being the one who cries.
So no more texting, Tana said. Ain’t none of us can text each other anything about anything.
Oh, I don’t know about that, Gwen said. I plan to text Allie tomorrow that I never want to see her again.
Allie’s eyebrows flew up at that, but Gwen held one palm out in a calming gesture.
I learned about disinformation ops from Colin, Gwen said. There’s no reason we can’t run one of our own. It would be ideal for us to have a falling-out now, Allie. It’ll give you your
best shot at the key.
At that, Allie had smiled shyly and said, I don’t even like to pretend I’m angry at my friends. But I’ll try if that’s our best chance to get the robe.
The robe, Gwen said, and something else.
“Why a cracked mirror?” Robin asked now.
Gwen said, “It came in handy once before.”
“Want to fill that out with any details, darling?”
“I can—but not tonight. I’m not trying to be mysterious. It’s been a long day and I just need to think for a while. All right?”
Robin nodded and blew a rippling stream of vapor, which mingled with Gwen’s own frozen breath.
“Look at the two of us,” Gwen said. “Out here puffing like dragons ourselves.”
“No knights in shining armor coming to save these princesses. Guess we’re going to have to armor up ourselves.”
“I don’t know about ‘we,’” said Gwen. “Me maybe. When push comes to shove, I’d rather you girls look after yourselves. You’re not on King Sorrow’s kill list.”
“Not yet. But sooner or later Colin is going to know I flew into Boston yesterday afternoon and rented a car to come see you. Sooner or later, he’s going to know if Allie loots his Cabinet of Curiosities.
Assuming he doesn’t catch her in the act.
If it was just a matter of courage, I think Allie could pull it off.
But she’s not the girl I met on that plane twenty years ago.
It’s like she’s suffering from a wasting illness. ”
“I think the medical term for what she’s got is ‘grief.’ For Van and for Donna too.”
“It must be hard on her. To love someone she knows is no good. The booze is one hang-up. Donna is another. I think it’s quite
normal for a self-hating gay to get into a relationship with someone who doesn’t treat them well, someone who will never,
ever return their feelings, someone unobtainable—it’s their way of punishing themselves. It’s hard not to internalize it,
you know? The idea that there’s something basically abhorrent about yourself, because that’s how others see you. I used to
like being beaten up by men. I had a couple teeth broken once. It took me a while to decide I didn’t actually need to be thrashed
for the crime of being trans.” She turned her head to blow out a last mouthful of smoke, clicked off her e-cig, and put it
away. “So. Any requests for your funeral? Music you want played? Particular kind of service?”
“I’d say I want to be cremated,” Gwen said, “but if things don’t break my way, I think King Sorrow will see to that.”