either. And I keep wondering if it’s... I dunno, Stockholm syndrome or something. Because there’s no reason not to be afraid of him. Just because he says he’s on my side doesn’t mean anything.”
Branwyn eyed her. “Yeah. About that. What’s going on?”
Marley launched into the abridged explanation. “My theory is that Zachariah has some information that a ‘business rival’ wants, and his gang is trying to kidnap the kids to give them some leverage over him. And I think the authorities are compromised in the whole deal, so I can’t go to them.”
Branwyn’s expression was very dubious. “And the gunmen who just ‘went away’?”
“Oh! There were other people around. Including this girl with three really big, aggressive dogs. I think they got spooked into shooting before they were ready, and then ran. Everybody could see their faces and everything.” Even as she spoke, Marley felt a pang of guilt, and she busied herself cleaning up the remains of dinner. Branwyn didn’t want to hear about flashes of wings and light—that much was clear from their earlier conversation. And for all Marley knew, she was telling the truth. Maybe the flash of light had been a hallucination brought on by shock. Not talking about it until she understood it better was the responsible solution.
She heard Branwyn stand up, and then suddenly the taller woman was hauling her up by her injured arm. “Hey, ow, what are you doing?” Marley demanded. When Branwyn ripped the bandages off, it didn’t hurt as much as Marley feared because they hadn’t adhered completely to the scab over the half-healed wound.
Branwyn ran her hand over it. “What the hell is this? Come on.” She tugged Marley over to the big sink. “Soak your arm here and we’ll clean that up.” She started the sink filling. Then, conversationally, she said, “My friend Stephen got shot once. In the leg. It took a chunk out. I saw it the next day. After a doctor had stitched it up, sure, but it still looked raw.” She shot Marley a look, her green eyes blazing.
Marley remembered Kari touching her arm, patches of static swirling around her fingers, saying happily, I fixed it! “I have no idea what happened. Maybe it wasn’t actually a bullet. I really don’t know, Branwyn! Don’t look at me like that.”
Branwyn pushed her arm into the water, pulling it down until it was submerged to the shoulder. “You know something. You’re too honest.”
“I don’t know anything, when it comes to that.”
“And too philosophical, too. That guy outside? You’re not afraid of him and he says he’s trying to help you? Maybe it’s actually true. Not everybody has a hidden motive.”
“The other people following me around do. Lawyer Jeremy does. They haven’t presented me with an affidavit of their intentions. They just shot at me, Branwyn. And I don’t know why. I’m sorry.”
Branwyn gently rubbed at the crud around the main scab. “Well, something certainly happened to you. That’s going to be some scar.”
Marley craned her neck to see the injury. Washed clean of all the extra dried blood, her arm still had a dime-sized dent in it, covered with a moist, half-healed scab. She raised her eyes to meet Branwyn’s gaze. The blaze of emotion had faded, at least a little. Softly, Branwyn said, “I keep wondering if I missed seeing this injury over the last week or two. But I’m sure I didn’t. I wish you trusted yourself enough to tell me what you’re not saying.”
Awkwardly, Marley shrugged. “I’ve told you what I’m pretty sure of, and what I’ve speculated. That’s what’s important.”
Branwyn’s face closed up, and she released Marley’s arm. “Yeah. But it’s not everything. I’m used to deciding 'important' for myself. And since you're asking me to stay away from my home because of this...” She shrugged, and put a new bandage on Marley's arm. “You haven't been this reserved since we were kids and you were upset about your
Branwyn eyed her. “Yeah. About that. What’s going on?”
Marley launched into the abridged explanation. “My theory is that Zachariah has some information that a ‘business rival’ wants, and his gang is trying to kidnap the kids to give them some leverage over him. And I think the authorities are compromised in the whole deal, so I can’t go to them.”
Branwyn’s expression was very dubious. “And the gunmen who just ‘went away’?”
“Oh! There were other people around. Including this girl with three really big, aggressive dogs. I think they got spooked into shooting before they were ready, and then ran. Everybody could see their faces and everything.” Even as she spoke, Marley felt a pang of guilt, and she busied herself cleaning up the remains of dinner. Branwyn didn’t want to hear about flashes of wings and light—that much was clear from their earlier conversation. And for all Marley knew, she was telling the truth. Maybe the flash of light had been a hallucination brought on by shock. Not talking about it until she understood it better was the responsible solution.
She heard Branwyn stand up, and then suddenly the taller woman was hauling her up by her injured arm. “Hey, ow, what are you doing?” Marley demanded. When Branwyn ripped the bandages off, it didn’t hurt as much as Marley feared because they hadn’t adhered completely to the scab over the half-healed wound.
Branwyn ran her hand over it. “What the hell is this? Come on.” She tugged Marley over to the big sink. “Soak your arm here and we’ll clean that up.” She started the sink filling. Then, conversationally, she said, “My friend Stephen got shot once. In the leg. It took a chunk out. I saw it the next day. After a doctor had stitched it up, sure, but it still looked raw.” She shot Marley a look, her green eyes blazing.
Marley remembered Kari touching her arm, patches of static swirling around her fingers, saying happily, I fixed it! “I have no idea what happened. Maybe it wasn’t actually a bullet. I really don’t know, Branwyn! Don’t look at me like that.”
Branwyn pushed her arm into the water, pulling it down until it was submerged to the shoulder. “You know something. You’re too honest.”
“I don’t know anything, when it comes to that.”
“And too philosophical, too. That guy outside? You’re not afraid of him and he says he’s trying to help you? Maybe it’s actually true. Not everybody has a hidden motive.”
“The other people following me around do. Lawyer Jeremy does. They haven’t presented me with an affidavit of their intentions. They just shot at me, Branwyn. And I don’t know why. I’m sorry.”
Branwyn gently rubbed at the crud around the main scab. “Well, something certainly happened to you. That’s going to be some scar.”
Marley craned her neck to see the injury. Washed clean of all the extra dried blood, her arm still had a dime-sized dent in it, covered with a moist, half-healed scab. She raised her eyes to meet Branwyn’s gaze. The blaze of emotion had faded, at least a little. Softly, Branwyn said, “I keep wondering if I missed seeing this injury over the last week or two. But I’m sure I didn’t. I wish you trusted yourself enough to tell me what you’re not saying.”
Awkwardly, Marley shrugged. “I’ve told you what I’m pretty sure of, and what I’ve speculated. That’s what’s important.”
Branwyn’s face closed up, and she released Marley’s arm. “Yeah. But it’s not everything. I’m used to deciding 'important' for myself. And since you're asking me to stay away from my home because of this...” She shrugged, and put a new bandage on Marley's arm. “You haven't been this reserved since we were kids and you were upset about your
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