Chapter 10 #2
The world pulses gently, raw; the low thrum of rain against the windscreen.
The scent of lavender air freshener mixed with petrichor’s heavy, torpored stench.
The wedges of orange streetlight flashing over us like the night’s sunlight striking the white bonnet of the car and chasing the darkness to its tail.
The car slips us into a pocket universe of winding highways and the faint scent of Tia’s shampoo. I sit nestled in a strange feeling of detachment, weighed by wet clothes, grief and exhaustion as the night blurs past like a seventy-kilometres-an-hour shit stain.
Tia says something, far and off-realm.
‘Huh?’
‘I said, “Are you okay?”’ Tia stops the car at a red light and looks over, brows furrowed. ‘You seem spacey. If we drop by a gas station for a hot drink, will that ground you?’
I turn away and swallow Tia’s words, shards down my oesophagus that rip burning tracks into my stomach. Guilt.
Because Raven could kill her now. If I pulled the wheel off course, the poison festering in Tia means she likely won’t have enough magic to save us. I’d be able to save myself with my telekinesis.
But I’m exhausted, and grieving, and my body feels like a husk. Raven could do all of that. Harper cannot.
Harper feels guilt for different reasons – reasons closer to the way Tia’s bailing me out even after everything that’s happened yesterday.
‘Hm? What do you say, buy hot food, even?’ Tia shoots me a bright smile and taps her thumb against the steering wheel.
It’s too much, all at once. ‘Why are you being so nice to me?’ The question hits the air between us, searing on contact, no take-backs. ‘Why do you care about me when I treat you like shit?’
Silence. Tia’s smile falls. Rain drones against the glass, drumroll of suspense leading to a climax I can’t see. It’s dark everywhere. The storm shrouds all.
The engine purrs under us as the lights turn green and Tia pulls onto a highway before speaking. ‘Because you shouldn’t have to do this alone.’
‘Do what alone?’
‘Whatever it is that got you on the road at two a.m.’ Tia changes lanes and glances over at me. ‘Do you want to talk about it?’
I hug my knees, balling up in my seat. ‘Like I’ve said, it’s none of your business.’ When I cast my gaze out to the empty roads, heat pricks against the back of my eyes.
‘You’re a mystery to me, you know?’ Tia’s hands go white on the steering wheel, and she clears her throat. ‘I know our relationship is . . . complicated. But I’ve known you long enough to watch you push everyone away. Why won’t you ever let anyone close?’
The question feels like being kicked. I drop my head against the car door, my vision blurring. ‘’S easier.’
‘It’s not.’ Tia looks over. ‘You know that, right? It’s really not. And if you ever want to talk, I’m here.’
Ridiculous. I have spent this whole night snapping at her, and still she seems to handle me with gloves beaten soft by my abuse, a haven contrary to my hatred.
‘You cannot be so nice to me,’ I bite. ‘You cannot make me feel so sick with guilt that it hurts to be mean to you.’
But when I open my mouth to say all that, the only thing that comes out is a suppressed sob – a horrible, embarrassing warble. ‘Yeah, okay.’
Tia’s lips part, close, part again. ‘I won’t pretend to know what’s going on with you, but do you want me to drive around for a while? I’m not sleepy, anyway.’
There, she’s done it: given me an olive branch to climb onto stoking the fire of guilt in my chest, because why does she have to care?
Since when did Tia Njauw go from being an Ice Queen to a girl with a soft voice and tender heart?
Of all people to pity me, why does it have to be Tia – the one who only seems to grow gentler, the one I have to kill?
I swallow. ‘I’m sorry, by the way.’ Apology murmured, saliva-sticky, on my parched lips.
Tia’s tapping finger on the steering wheel stills. ‘For what?’
‘About your parents. You didn’t deserve that. I’m sorry.’
Tia hands me a box of tissues from her centre console. ‘It’s okay.’
Raindrops across the windows warp the streetlights and the trees outside, turning the surrounding darkness into a thousand tiny snow globes against the glass. This late out, only the occasional bus trundles past.
Tia pulls into a car park and gets out. The clock on the dashboard tells me it’s been six minutes when she returns with two cups, but she stashes them away before I can figure out what’s in them. ‘Later, I promise.’
The route Tia takes is foreign to me, and the buildings become scarce, the roads dimming as the shadowed zones between streetlights widen.
We reach a narrow stretch of road surrounded by ocean, and for a second I’m almost certain Tia’s about to send us plunging to our deaths, but she stops right at the edge. ‘We’re here.’
‘Where’s here?’
She grabs the cups from earlier and rummages through it. ‘Here.’
I take it. It’s hot chocolate.
Warmth seeps into my frigid hands. Ahead of us, the ocean stretches endlessly into the night sky. Our car rests on an outcrop of scrap road and overgrown weeds, the waves swallowing rock on both sides. ‘How’d you know about this place?’
‘I like to drive around. It’s stupid to protect a country I haven’t explored.’ Tia opens her car door and reaches over the console to do the same for mine, but doesn’t get out. ‘It’s nice. It’s quiet, and sometimes you see stars. Or planes.’
Silence settles. I crack the lid of the hot chocolate and take a careful sip. It scalds my tongue and I wince, but the sugar feels good in my mouth, so I brave another.
The rain leaves the night air chilly and humid, crisp with brine and bordering on gusty. A plane flies overhead, red lights blinking against the parting clouds. The ocean’s teeth crunch over black rock, spitting land back out with a hiss before advancing again.
I count three cycles before Tia inhales deeply beside me.
I look over.
Wind curls Tia’s hair around her cheek as she peers into her cup and takes a gulp.
‘You do know you make things harder when you’re nice to me,’ I say, breaking the silence. ‘Right?’
She smacks her lips and releases a sigh. ‘Harder how?’
‘Harder to hate you.’
‘Must we really hate each other?’ The question hangs. Tia turns to me. The darkness rounds her expression, making it tender and soft. Or maybe it is that, all on its own.
Tia ducks to look through the windscreen and squints at the sky. ‘The stars are out,’ she murmurs.
They probably are; the sky has been clearing ever since the rain stopped. But I’m not looking at the stars. ‘I never knew you cared.’
‘What?’
I thumb the lip of my cup. ‘You were so cold. You never cared about anyone other than yourself. That’s what I thought.’
‘Why the past tense?’
‘Because I’m realizing you maybe care more than I ever did. For fewer reasons than I ever have. I don’t know why you try to hide it so much.’
Tia frowns into the distance. ‘The world isn’t always nice to people who care.’
‘Well, it makes me hate you less.’ I sip my hot chocolate, let it burn down my throat. Can’t be doing this. ‘It makes it hard to hate you at all.’
Tia hums. ‘So you like me?’ Her tone dips with a teasing lilt.
In the cover of darkness, I allow my eyes to linger.
My heart batters my ribs and thumps up my throat. Ambient light reflects pinpricks of stars in Tia’s eyes as she looks out into the night, universe in universe in universe. ‘I think I like you more than I’m allowed to.’
Tia’s face snaps towards mine. Our eyes lock. Out of reflex, I almost jerk away – but I’ve already been caught, so I hold my gaze. My entire head buzzes, chest roiling and restless when neither of us yields. What is this what is this what is this—?
I swallow.
Something flits across Tia’s eyes. Her lips twitch, a question aborted.
‘Harper,’ she whispers, her cheeks brushed by dim moonlight.
Yeah? I want to reply, but her eyes flutter closed, and for a second I almost think of something else, for a second I almost close my own eyes, for a second I almost lean in.
Then Tia’s head dips, her spine goes slack and I catch her by the shoulders.
‘Tia?’ I say, but I don’t expect a response. I slide my thumb to rest gently in the hollow of her collarbones, her skin warm, her heartbeat slow.
Ah Ma said that Tia would faint intermittently leading up to the loss of her powers, back when she passed me the vial. I didn’t think I’d witness it.
I nudge Tia back into her seat with my other hand, settling her head against the headrest.
At some point, the world became quiet. Even the ocean has settled into a distant lull, and the wind has dropped. The air turns still, suffocating, and time unspools.
Tia looks serene in unconsciousness. Long lashes, soft jaw, gentle cheeks. Only a liar could say she isn’t beautiful, and maybe the only reason I’ve managed to deny it for so long is because I was born a deceiver.
What would have happened just now, if she hadn’t passed out? Would we have . . . ?
Tia shifts. I snap my gaze out the window, my heart racing.
‘Kit?’ Tia rasps beside me.
I glance over, pitching my voice to feign surprise. ‘Oh, you’re up. Are you okay?’
She winces, massaging the side of her head as she cringes. ‘What happened?’
‘I think you passed out.’
‘Oh,’ Tia whispers, her voice weak. I push down the rising concern in my chest. ‘I’m so sorry. I must’ve been too tired. I trained a little hard today. It’s probably coming back to bite me.’
I don’t acknowledge that she trained harder than usual because I asked Niko to kick her out of the labs – I’m harbouring enough guilt about the poison. Some part of me wants to apologize, but I’d be apologizing about the poison, and she wouldn’t understand. ‘I should drive us home.’
Tia shoots me a grateful smile and makes to get out of the seat, then she pauses and frowns. ‘Wait, do you even have a licence?’
‘. . . No?’
‘Kit.’
‘I can ride a motorcycle – I know how roads work,’ I insist, but Tia slams her door shut with a sigh and gestures for me to do the same.
We drive back in silence. If she remembers our moment before she passed out, she doesn’t say.
I’m already dozing off when we reach the compound.
Tia coughs as we get into the lift, grabbing my attention. ‘Once you get back, take a hot shower and go straight to sleep. I’ll tell Niko you can’t come in tomorrow.’
I lean against the lift wall. ‘I can come in tomorrow.’
‘No.’ Tia shoots me a sharp look. ‘Stay in bed and rest or I’ll get Niko to ban you from the lab themself.’
‘It’s none of your—’
‘Enough.’ Tia tucks her hands in her pockets. ‘We’ve established that I care too much. Now let me care for you in peace, as a lab partner, if nothing else. You’d disrupt my work if you show up to the lab tired.’
I laugh hollowly. ‘So long as we’re still not friends, right?’
‘Isn’t that your biggest fear?’ Her lips quirk. ‘Just partners. Promise?’
‘Promise what?’
‘Look, yesterday became a disaster the second we fought. I think we both deserve better.’ Tia’s expression, though teasing, softens for a second. ‘So promise we’ll take care of each other?’
Something about the offer tightens my chest. ‘Whatever you say.’ Bad idea! I can’t be doing this, my mission . . . But I’m exhausted, and my face hurts from crying. I can have one night.
A smile ghosts Tia’s face. ‘Now go. You need to rest.’
I’m too tired to retaliate. After a hot shower I barely remember, I burrow into bed and welcome the oblivion of sleep.