Dead Waters - Anton Strout [39]
“So what do you think?” I asked. “You think this woman in green was bound to the professor somehow?”
“I don’t know,” Jane said. She started packing up her stuff, handing me a small pile of books. “Here. I thought these looked promising for you.”
“I already tried to get a read on the stuff in here,” I said.
“I figured maybe with all the distractions your powers have been giving you lately, you might want to chance it again.”
“Sure,” I said. I stuffed the books into the messenger bag hanging at my side, not even getting into why I had zero plans to read anything with my powers right now. “But getting back to my question . . . what do you think? Was that woman bound to the professor?”
Jane shrugged as she filled up her own bag with the materials on the floor. “Maybe,” she said. “Part of me wonders if she lived here. If she did, I bet she had more than a drawer.”
Although Jane sounded playful enough when she said it, the angry twinge rose up in my heart unbidden and I couldn’t hide it in my voice. “Jane . . .”
“I’m fine,” she said. By the tone in her voice, it didn’t sound like it.
“About the other night,” I said, swallowing it down. “I’m sorry I hesitated when you asked about me about the set of drawers. These emotional flairs from the tattooist have really been messing with me. Connor had to remind me you were asking for more space, not anything big like moving in.”
“Exactly,” she said. “I wasn’t asking that. I just wanted somewhere to put my things.” The look on her face faded, replaced with one of shy concern. “But since you went there, would it be so horrible?”
The tattooist’s emotions tried to press themselves forward, but I tried to be rational. “I just don’t want to mess this up,” I said. “I don’t want to rush anything. I’ve rushed things before, and you know my history. I’ve a lot to think about. . .”
“Like what?” Jane asked, snapping a little. “Seems pretty simple to me. Either you want to be with me or you don’t, right?”
I sighed. “Let’s not fight,” I said. “It’s late. We’re both exhausted and touchy. I just came to pick you up, maybe take you to dinner.”
Jane softened a little and nodded. “That, I can get behind.”
The half-built driveway loop in front of the high-rise was half-flooded from the downpour of rain, but thankfully one fully built sidewalk was in place and led down to First Avenue. Once my arm was around Jane under the protection of my umbrella, we huddled under it and I finally felt myself relaxing. I didn’t want to worry about our domestic problems all night, and in that regard, I needn’t have worried.
As we came off of First Avenue onto the side street, we were met by a lack of late-night traffic and a now-familiar figure. The green woman Jane had been warding the apartment against was standing out in the downpour in the middle of the empty street.
“Holy hell,” I said. “Guess that answers the question of if we finished her off when Connor dropped the statue on her.”
Jane looked uneasy. “Should we call in the troops?” she asked.
“We are the troops,” I said, taking out my bat. “Budget cuts, remember?”
“Oh, right.” Jane looked disappointed. “Crap.”
“You okay with this?”
Jane nodded. “I just hate fighting in the rain,” she said. “More so when it’s some aquatic bitch who tried to drown my boyfriend.”
I squeezed her shoulder. “Feel free to work with that. A little vengeful thinking can go a long way when it comes to a fight.”
I collapsed my umbrella, pulled my bat out of its holster, and slid the umbrella into it.
“Gotcha,” Jane said and the two of us headed off for the green woman. When the woman saw us in motion, she strode toward us in great, deliberate strides, Terminatorstyle. She stopped thirty feet away in the middle of the deserted street, and I hesitated. Jane kept moving forward, but the woman raised her arms out to her sides and turned her head up to the heavens.