He releases my hands, and they are immediately chill without him despite the mild weather. His deep voice lowers as his light brown eyes hold mine unwaveringly. “As I understand it, this is not the first time you’ve offered your services to one of our kind.”
I shrug, feeling as fake as cubic zirconia. “It’s no big deal,” I say.
“But it is,” he replies. “I’m Milo. You’re Miracle, right?”
I nod. “This is my sister, Flora.”
“It’s nice to meet you both… There’s a meeting this evening, and I was wondering if you’d be interested in attending.”
Though I get the feeling both my sister and I are invited, Milo holds my gaze as he says this.
“What kind of meeting?” I ask.
Milo clears his throat. “A collaboration of people from different backgrounds.”
I chuckle. “That’s notably vague.”
Milo smiles. His kind face is even more appealing when donning the expression. “Notably and intentionally,” he replies. “Tonight, ten-o-clock, at the Senna Street Harbor. I hope to see you there, but if not, thank you again.”
Then, as if he is from another day and age entirely, he takes my hand again and kisses the back of it.
He has disappeared back into Sasha’s house before my heartbeat regulates in my chest.
“Goddess help us,” my sister mumbles as she loops her arm through mine again and tugs me toward the train.
“He was cute,” Flora says as we find a couple seats on the train and settle beside each other.
“Mmhmm,” I reply.
“‘Mmhmm,’ she says,” Flora jokes. “‘Mmhmm,’ instead of, Damn, that boy was fine.” She laughs. “Sometimes you are so full of shit I wonder how you can breathe past it.”
“Shut your butt,” I say. “Of course he was fine. There, you happy?”
“Hell no, I’m not happy. How could I be? I’m starting to get really nervous about all of this. My gut tells me we are stumbling into very dangerous territory.”
I stare out the window as the city goes by, tall gray buildings and squat rows of homes, cars speeding down the highways. “So what do we do about it?” I say without much inflection. I am tired all of a sudden. Exhausted even. “Stay in our bubble, where it’s safe? Toe the line? Do as we’re told?”
Flora sighs. “It doesn’t sound as palatable when you put it like that.”
I snort. “No, it does not.”
There are not many others on the train at the moment, but we keep our voices low, nonetheless.
A pretty young woman sits alone near the front, long black hair falling over her shoulders in waves. She offers a smile as our eyes make contact, then politely looks away.
Two men with bro hair cuts sit near her, and it is only now that I realize they are paying the dark-haired young woman special attention. Their heads are together and smirks hold their lips.
I nudge Flora so that she takes notice. I glance around. Other than the previously mentioned, there is only one other person on our car; an older man reading a novel. He seems blissfully ignorant to the situation. But any female past her rags would intuit the intentions of the two bros. They stink of the night’s revelries.
“Psst. Hey there,” says the beefier one. When the woman doesn’t look up, he adds, “Hey, pretty girl.”
I’m sure the douche thinks his address a compliment. Flora and I exchange a look and roll our eyes.
The girl shifts uncomfortably in her seat and raises her eyebrows in question. She has wireless headphones in each ear. She does not take them out.
The beefy bro is clearly the bigger asshole, the other, the company he keeps. Beefhead gestures to his ears, miming removing a headphone.
My jaw clenches, and I just bet the young woman’s does the same. She removes a headphone and asks tightly and politely, “Yes?”
Beef leans forward. “You’re very pretty,” he says. “Do you have a boyfriend?”
The woman holds up her left hand. “I’m engaged, actually, but thank you.”
That should end it, right? She didn’t want to thank him for his leering compliment. She didn’t want to talk to him at all. But, of course, Beef can’t take a hint.
Men like him never can.
“That’s too bad,” says Beef. “He’s a lucky man.”
The woman moves to replace her earbud. “Thanks,” she repeats.
Beef slides to the edge of his seat, close enough now to nearly brush knees with his quarry. “You don’t have to be a little bitch,” he says.
My mouth opens before I know what is going to come out.
But someone else beats me to the punch.
“I think the lady is done talking to you, young man.”
It’s the older gentlemen who’d been reading his novel near the back of the car. The book now rests open upon his knee.
“I think the lady would like to be left alone,” he adds.
“Fuck off, geezer,” says Beef. He reaches out to place his large hand on the woman’s leg. She stands and scoots quickly out of reach.
Beef stands as well. So does his complacent comrade.
Shit.
To his credit, the older gentleman climbs to his feet along with them, though he moves in a much slower, less fluid manner. The old guy is brave, that’s for certain.
The train comes to a stop, and the young woman climbs off with the older man. The two bros watch them go, as if considering whether to follow.
No one else climbs aboard, but there are a half dozen others waiting on the platform. Beef decides to let it go. He slumps back down into his seat, his partner following suit.
A mercy. I wasn’t sure I could handle any added drama at the moment.
Then the dumbass looks in our direction. Dude is seriously on one.
He manages to utter half a word before his mouth snaps shut and his muscles lock up. His eyes can’t widen, but I see the shock slide over them.
The binding spell holds tight, not even allowing him to vibrate his vocal cords, though I know the coward wants to scream. I am staring at him. I
