“I’ll find a way,” Ari says stiffly.
Reed regards him a moment longer, as if expecting more resistance, but Ari refuses to give it to him, to let him see the full extent of his weakness. After a while, Reed finally sighs and waves them away.
“It’s late,” he mutters, “and I’ve been kept up later than I wanted with this mess. Get out, all of you. We’ll reconvene in the morning.”
Ari steps out with Isla, and the two of them walk in silence in the same direction toward their apartments. When they reach Ari’s door, Isla turns to face him. Even through her shades, he can tell that the whites of her eyes are bloodshot with exhaustion, her pupils dilated. The sand has hit her hard today.
“You’re thinking about her,” she says.
Ari looks away from her. “What makes you think that?”
“I remember this look on your face. You’d get like this sometimes after we had a night together. You’d lie there in bed like you were somewhere else.”
“Maybe you just exhaust me,” he says dryly.
Her lips curve upward a bit. “Maybe,” she replies. “But Rudra said Mozart managed to get Will out of there because she has a knack for going undetected.” She casts him a sidelong glance. “Did you really let her go?”
He sighs at her. “What do you think? I took an oath, same as you.”
“Mm,” she murmurs thoughtfully.
Ari hates how Isla can do this, that without even having enough information, she still finds a way to make assumptions that are actually right. He refuses to react to her statement, choosing instead to meet her gaze steadily.
She leans toward him. “I know you’re not going to admit to anything out loud, that would be fucking stupid of you. And I’ll keep my mouth shut around the others. I’m just saying this to you because we’re alone here. Listen to me. All right? Are you listening?”
“Yes.”
“Watch yourself.” Her voice turns serious. “I know what it’s like, getting personal with those outside of our business. It can mess with your head, especially us bioalchemists, we’re so sensitive to moods and emotions.”
He’s still thinking of Sam, can’t get her out of his mind. He forces himself to focus on Isla instead, and frowns. “What do you mean, you know what it’s like?”
She shrugs. “I once fell for someone not affiliated with Lumines or Grand Central. For a few weeks, I was showing up late at the library and forgetting my place.” She laughs bitterly, like it’s funny. “Rudra beat the shit out of me for it.”
Ari suddenly recalls the one time she’d shown up to their afternoon study sessions with a black eye. He hadn’t thought much of it then, but now he remembers how often she’d been late in the weeks before that. So, that had been Rudra’s work.
“I didn’t know,” he says.
“Of course you didn’t.” There’s no emotion in her voice, no bitterness or trauma, nor does she elaborate on what happened to the person she’d loved. “And I’m not saying whatever’s happening with you is the same thing, because what the hell do I know? I’m just saying.” She winces as if her migraine has suddenly spiked. Her eyes squeeze shut and she rubs her temples before continuing. “I know you have some history with Mozart, and that’s fine. We’ve all got weird connections in this city. But you need to keep a clear head. She’s Grand Central. She’s untouchable. You get that, right?”
“I’m not interested in her,” Ari says coldly, but even as he says it, the words ring hollow to him, glaring in their falsehood.
“Didn’t ask if you were. You want to mess around with her, that’s fine, get it out of your system, that’s probably what Reed wants you to do anyway.But that’s a means to an end, not a slippery slope for you to slide down. Keep your head on straight and remember your loyalties. If you feel like you’re slipping, you’d best tell Reed now and ask him to pull you off this mission. If not for your sake, then for hers.”
“And why would you care about her sake?” Ari says.
“I just don’t like seeing anyone burned when they don’t need to be, is all. Listen, we’re all in the same line of work. Let’s keep things as simple as possible, right?” She nods at his door. “Now go get some rest. You’ve got a date night with Charlotte.”
Ari forces his thoughts about Sam into a dark corner of his mind, where she continues to fester. But outwardly, he gives Isla a demure smile. “You worry too much about me,” he says.
She leans up to press an affectionate kiss to his lips. “I never worry about anyone,” she replies. “It’s how I ended up so well-adjusted.”
It is impossible for Ari to concentrate on his date with Charlotte.
The only thing he can think of is Sam, her image imprinted on his mind like a brand. Her wrist in his hand. Her expression of disbelief as he’d stepped back and let her go, then her figure disappearing into the car, driving off through the night.
But Charlotte is still the police chief’s daughter, so Ari gathers himself up and takes her out for dinner on Friday. It is a chilly night in the city, and the palm trees sway from the wind, but inside, they pick a cozy window seat at the bar and talk by candlelight. Ari is polite and thoughtful and attentive, and Charlotte is sweet and animated and smitten, and by the time they head out of the restaurant and in the direction of the Columbia lofts, she is rosy-cheeked and giddy with anticipation, whispering flirtatious jokes into his ear as she rubs his arm.
Back at his apartment, he follows Charlotte’s cues in silence as they shed their clothes and slide onto his bed. But in the darkness, he can only see Sam. She swims in his thoughts, fully formed, as real as if she were the one here with him. Winged lion on her lapel. Smooth, pale hands gliding against brick. Eyes dilated, yearning, filled with a hurt that had stabbed him through to the bone. He closes his eyes and kisses Charlotte’s lips and throat, takes her nipples into his mouth, desperate to forget. Charlotte moans and caresses his hair and whispers his name, but he can only hearSam’s voice. And when he makes his way down, down, past her stomach to where she has spread her legs for him, he can only remember the feeling of Sam’s smooth, slender wrist in his grasp, the graceful line of Sam’s throat outlined by streetlight.
