“Some have traveled through Sedona, but I’ve never had the honor, no.”
He eyes me. “We hear you’re a renegade.”
I cock an eyebrow as I load up my plate. “I don’t think the people of Arizona would agree.”
“Normal people don’t know how to label people like us. So they opt for the easiest title: trouble.”
Several people laugh. I lock eyes with Celia. “Maybe people need to open their minds.”
Her eyes narrow and she nods as Fuse agrees, “Damn straight. Nobody wants to change. They fight it out of fear.”
Luna smirks, “Then call us when fear changes to terror and they need somebody’s help.”
Scythe agrees, “Even though most wouldn’t invite us to dinner—they sure call us when they need help, don’t they?”
Denita piles some unwanted vegetables onto her twin daughter’s plate, muttering, “Sounds like the cops, doesn’t it?”
Everyone exchanges glances.
Celia’s brother says in his calm and meditative voice, “Human beings put police officers down, but most pray to God they show up when they’re called.”
It’s an odd thing to admit for a group of outlaws so they change the subject fast.
I head to the windowsill behind their old couch, a huge sectional flanked by reclining armchairs, and a couple smaller wooden chairs outside those. This room is furnished more modernly, but it’s lived in. Nothing is new. From the bright colors they probably bought this stuff way back in the 1980’s.
As the Ciphers sit and eat, they talk easily about the current state of affairs in our country, the local news stories, where they can help. Eventually Jett reappears, white-blonde hair wet from the shower. He scans the room locks onto me, and says in a loud voice that demands attention, “You did good today.”
My fork hovers in front of my open mouth, and this food is so good it’s a miracle I’m able to pace myself. Guarded, I say, “Thank you, sir.”
Everyone is frozen as he nods, heads for the kitchen on a casual, “You’re going to stay and train. That doesn’t mean you’re one of us. There will be a vote when your training is over.” From over the platter of sweet potatoes he eyes me. “So don’t get too comfortable.”
“I won’t let you down, sir.”
As he lifts the serving spoon he says, “We’ll see about that. How’re those cuts? Looks like you’re still bleeding.”
“No big deal.”
“Good. You start training this afternoon.”
“That’s great news.”
He chuckles, “Wait until you get out there. I’m starving.” As he shovels food onto his plate he shoots a quick glance around. “Where’s my bride?”
“Here Jett,” Luna purrs as she walks in behind him, slides her arms around his back. Everyone goes back to talking about the world’s problems, but it takes me a second to look away from the couple as they kiss like nobody is here. That kind of open affection I haven’t experienced in a home environment since I was a little kid. My dad was that affectionate with my mom. They used to cuddle and kiss all the time. Forgot about that until now.
Glancing to Celia I see her watching me, wondering if I’m shocked by their unabashed sexuality. I hold her look until her expression changes to confusion. She glances down to her plate and concentrates on eating.
CHAPTER 8
C ELIA
So strange having a newbie here. To know he’s judging everything we do. Like we’re judging him. I guess it’s mutual.
The air in the house is stilted. Even the conversation today is hyped up. We talk about all kinds of stupid shit just like everybody, but right now the Ciphers are trying to impress our potential recruit by acting like they’re planning their next attack to save mankind. They’re puffed up, watchful of him to make sure he knows they’re fierce. It’s like you stuck a grizzly in a lion’s den and the cats want to make sure the bear doesn’t underestimate them.
Sean’s interesting, I’ll give him that. He doesn’t wear his fear on his sleeve. Can’t tell if he’s nervous. Sure, those sapphires are sharp, interested, focused in a heightened way, but his shoulders aren’t tense.
The calm stare he gave me just now was…disarming.
My glance gets stolen by the back door as it swings open. Atlas precedes his father, both heading for the food as Jett walks away, holding Luna’s hand, plate full. Honey Badger nods to him, and receives one in return. A collective awkwardness drifts over the conversations as we attempt to act normal, but we’re watching them, too. I tell Sage something about climate change and she nods like she heard me when she didn’t. And who cares what I said, because I made it up.
Luna and Jett go eat outside in the screened-in porch. I know she’s telling Jett what happened with my mom. It hurts to sit here and not go eavesdrop, but I never do that. We need some semblance of privacy in a communal household. When people want to share with the group, they will. But I’m itching to hear.
My eyes flit to Sean in the windowsill, and hold.
He’s staring at me, too.
Did he ever look away?
Atlas calls over from shoveling cheesy potatoes onto his already full plate, “Celia, Sean, let’s eat in the big parlor.”
Our newbie reacts, eyebrows hitching. We stand and I touch Sage’s shoulder. She wasn’t invited because she can’t be around Atlas without insulting him. Rolling her eyes is the signal to me that she doesn’t want to join, anyway.
The three of us walk to the grand parlor together. We have three sitting rooms. I’m not including the TV room. One we turned into a game room with a regulation sized pool table and everything. Another is upstairs, much smaller than the other two since it’s mostly bedrooms up there. But this parlor is the largest by far. In the olden days it was used primarily for hosting parties and entertaining high society. Sunbeams filtered through gauzy curtains soften the immense space. Atlas and I
