The Liberator

must have crashed out in her bed last night. If Grams wakes up and finds me here, she’ll run me a bath and toss in the toaster.

“Morning, babe,” I say as quietly as I can.

“Morning, hot stuff,” a distinctly male voice says from behind me.

I whip around, my heart racing, and find Max sitting in a chair across the room. “You look so hot when you first wake up.” He raises a hand to his hair. “Got that whole sexy bedhead thing going on.”

Charlie doesn’t even move from her place, but I feel her laughing against me. “Your friend is kinda creepy, Dante,” she manages.

“Max, what the hell are you doing in here?” I ask, pulling the covers farther up even though I’m— regretfully—fully-clothed.

“Real question is, why did I wait so long to join you guys?” he responds, standing from his chair. A mischievous smile crawls across his face.

“No,” I say, trying to appear as serious as possible. “Don’t even think about it, dude.”

Max starts running in place, his smile widening until he looks deranged. “Ready or not!” Before I can stop him, Max races toward the bed and dives on top of us. “Oh! Oh, it feels even better than I imagined.” He rolls back and forth across us as Charlie laughs and I wonder why I’m friends with such a raging idiot.

With all my strength, I grab Max’s shirt and roll him toward the edge. He falls off the side, his arms pinwheeling. There’s a loud thud and then nothing.

I wait for several seconds then lean over to look for him. Max is lying face down on the floor, his arms and legs curled like a dead spider. “You’re not really hurt,” I say.

“I think…I think you gave me spina bifida. You need to call someone.”

“That’s a genetic disorder,” I say with a sigh, collapsing back onto my pillow. A second later, he raises his head very, very slowly over the side of the bed. It’s one of the more unsettling things he’s ever done. “Max, is there a purpose to this visit?” I ask. I want so badly to act like he’s annoying me. But he knows, and I know, that we both love this game: the one where I act like he’s a pain in my ass, and he acts like a damn circus clown.

He stands up, crosses the room, and plops back down in the chair. “Valery sent me.”

I throw an arm across my eyes. “Of course she did.” Beside me, Charlie moves to get up and I immediately reach for her. She squeals and wiggles out of my grasp.

I watch as she walks around the bed and ruffles Max’s hair. Max pants like a dog. It’s a bit disturbing, since he’s twenty-eight and Charlie’s seventeen. She eyes me with a grin. “I’ll make waffles.”

My face lights up.

“Yes,” she continues. “And bacon.”

I look at Max and nod toward Charlie. “That’s my girl.”

“Damn straight,” he says.

“I’m still making breakfast for your birthday,” I call after Charlie. Then, looking at Max, I say, “Charlie’s going to be legal soon.”

Charlie stops at the door and points to another door across the hall, to the room where her sick adoptive mother, or Grams, as we call her, sleeps. She raises a finger to her lips, and I nod in understanding. Don’t wake her, Charlie’s saying. But what I’m wondering as she leaves is, does she realize just how sick Grams really is? Charlie isn’t stupid, and I think she knows something’s off. But I still don’t know if she understands the whole truth, that Grams isn’t getting any better. There are days when I want to tell her, but Grams had a relationship with Charlie long before I did. And I’m trying to respect that. Besides, it’s not like Charlie has given her Grams full disclosure about who I am. So maybe secrets are common between them.

Max leans back in the chair and twines his fingers behind his head. “So, dude. We need to talk about this assignment business.”

“How about instead we talk about why you didn’t go on your honeymoon,” I say. “You postponed? You, who have dreamed of trapping a woman on a secluded island since you were eleven?”

Max sucks in a breath and looks away. His eyes narrow like he’s pained, but then he turns back with a quick smile. “We decided to do a big wedding, after all. None of this ‘quiet affair’ shenanigans anymore. Then we’ll honeymoon.”

“Good man,” I say. “It’s bad manners not to throw your friends a party when the opportunity presents itself.”

“Speaking of parties…” Max puts his forearms on his knees and leans forward. “Heard you’ve hit up quite a few of them lately.”

“You going get on my case, too?” I ask.

“Seriously, D. You know you’re my bro, but you’ve got to slow down on the crap storm you’re spinning. I know you’re a demon at heart; so does everyone else. You don’t need to prove it, right?”

I look at him, my lips pressed together. I know he’s looking out for my best interests, but he doesn’t know what’s going down in my head. How I feel like I don’t belong anywhere anymore. I’m not a demon, and I’m certainly not an angel, even if Big Guy did strap a liberator cuff around my ankle. I’ve never lived the kosher lifestyle, and now I’m supposed to fly to Denver, teach this random girl how to live a pure life, and, somewhere during all that, liberate her soul to heaven piece by piece? Give me a break. “I do what I do, Max.”

“I hate you.” Max straightens in the chair. “But I love you, too. In, like, a completely sexual way.”

“Are you even supposed to be here?” I ask, ignoring his last comment.

He shrugs one shoulder. “You’ve had enough of people questioning your extracurricular evenings, I’ve had enough of people questioning my presence.”

“The difference is,” I say, “I’m not risking the collectors finding us.”

Max winces like I’ve hurt him, but it’s the truth. The collector cuff he wears could lead the other collectors, including Rector, straight to our doorstep. Not that it matters. My cuff is sending enough of a signal on its own. And they’d know where to find us, anyway. I tried to get Charlie to go into hiding, but she refused to leave after the collectors, including myself, ascended on Peachville. She lived in this big white house before everything happened, and she lives here now. Her words, not mine. I think it’s because of Grams. Because she doesn’t want to make her guardian move.

It’s strange that liberators and collectors are now active enemies. Before I met Valery, I didn’t even realize liberators existed. But after that night in the forest when Rector took Charlie’s soul, the line was drawn. Now we’re divided. The liberators want to keep Charlie’s body safe so she can lead us into a hundred years of peace, and the collectors want… We don’t know yet.

I realize there’s no reason to make Max feel like he’s doing anything wrong. “Look. If they were going to return, they would have already. They know they lost. I collected Charlie’s soul, and Rector sure as hell would’ve come after me, except he killed Blue. Because the collectors aren’t allowed to hurt humans, they’re probably lying low to keep from starting a war with Big Guy. So for now, we’re good. You’re good.”

“We need to discuss this Boss Man title,” Max says. “Needs a good rebranding, don’t you think? I mean, he’s not really our boss anymore.”

I rub a hand over my jaw and feel stubble there. It still amazes me that I can do things like grow facial hair when I’m technically dead. “Ex-Boss?” I suggest.

“Lame,” Max says. “The Warden?”

I let out a sharp laugh. “Not bad. He is oppressive.” Rubbing my hands together, I think harder. “I’ve got it.”

“Give it to me,” Max says, his face lighting up with excitement.

“Lucille. It’s like Lucifer, but with a touch of femininity.”

I expect Max to laugh, but he doesn’t. Instead, he gets real serious and moves to the edge of his seat. “Dante?”

“Yeah?”

“If I told you Lucille was easy, would you believe me?”

“I would.”

Max laughs and starts to say something, but I hold up my hand to stop him. I’m not sure I’m right until I raise my nose in the air and take another whiff. Then I close my eyes in ecstasy. Bacon. “It’s ready.” When I open my eyes, I notice Max looks ready to bolt from his chair. “Don’t even think about it.”