As soon as we neared the city limits, Grey reached out to me.
Bethi’s worried about Isabelle being able to block herself from the emotions here. Tell Winifred if you think we need to stop.
I looked at the structures around us then looked at the distant skyline filled with even taller buildings. Where did they think we’d be able to stop? But, I did watch Isabelle. It wasn’t long before she started rolling her shoulders, a sign of her irritation.
“Are you all right?” I asked.
“I’m getting the itch to hit someone. So yeah, I’m good.”
“We’ll be to the apartments soon,” Winifred said.
Isabelle leaned back against the seat and closed her eyes. Although she tried to appear relaxed, I knew better. The skin around her eyes and mouth tightened as the accumulation of emotions grew with each passing mile. It took an hour to reach the building Michelle had found for us.
By then, Isabelle was opening and closing her right hand continuously.
As soon as Winifred parked, Isabelle’s eyes opened, and she rushed out of the car. I got out and watched her look around the parking garage.
Bethi exited the vehicle beside us.
“Not good, huh?” she said.
“No,” Isabelle answered, her word clipped and angry.
“I thought you’d have this problem. You and Carlos should go take a walk in an alley or something. I’m sure you’ll be able to find someone willing to help you.”
Isabelle cracked her scabbed knuckles and glanced at me.
“If you come with me, no fighting.”
I nodded. Twenty-four hours had healed all the minor injuries. The skin around my eye was still discolored, but the swelling was down so I could see clearly again.
“We’ll be back in a few,” Isabelle said, already striding toward the parking garage exit. The building security guard by the door nodded to me as we left.
When we stepped outside into the New York winter, I watched Isabelle for signs she was too cold. She wore a long-sleeved t-shirt, borrowed from one of the other girls, and her normal leggings and sneakers. Nothing very warm. But, she didn’t seem to notice the cold.
She inhaled deeply, breathing in the metallic tang of exhaust, and started out in a brisk pace that eventually became a jog. It felt good to move after all the sitting we’d done. Parts ached, but didn’t overly bother me.
Very few people paid attention to us as we passed. Blocks melted away and buildings took on a less polished appearance. Isabelle ducked into the first derelict alley she found and slowed to a walk. I hesitated to follow her. Alone, she would appear an easy target and likely find the fight she was looking for. Yet, I hated leaving her alone.
So I lagged behind, following at a distance. The first alley proved empty, and she went to the next. It took some time for her to weave in and out of alleys. However, it did draw attention. When she passed two men on the street, they noticed her. I hung back, watching them. She ducked into the next alley, and they pushed away from the wall.
I took their spots, close enough to hear her if she needed me, but far enough away not to scare the two away.
Fifteen minutes later, Isabelle emerge with a slight smile playing around her mouth. Her hair was more wind-blown than before, but she appeared uninjured.
“Better?” I asked, when she joined me.
“Much.”
“Want to run back?”
She nodded and started back in the direction of the building. I ran just a bit behind her, enjoying the way her hips swayed. The run was regretfully short, and we made it back to the parking garage in less time than it took for Isabelle to find her spar partners.
Bethi and Luke were a few feet back from the guard at the door. When they saw us, they spoke to him; and he buzzed us through.
“Come on,” Bethi said. “We’ll show you to your apartment.”
We followed Bethi up three flights of stairs and opened a heavy metal, yet nicely painted, door to a plush hallway.
“Here’s your key,” Bethi said, handing it to Isabelle. “It’s for the third door on the left. If you keep walking, we’re around the corner a ways. Carlos has Luke’s number if you need anything.”
They left us just outside our door.
Isabelle shoved the key in the lock and turned the handle, opening the door to a spacious apartment. I reached out to Grey.
We’re back.
I left your things on the bed. We have four apartments on this floor. You two are on your own to keep Isabelle isolated. The rest of us are sharing two bedroom places.
I did the math. Does that mean you’re with Jim?
Nah, Jim and Sam took the couches. This is the best Michelle could arrange for short term living.
Thank you.
Charlene and Michelle are working on contacting that reporter. Until they do, just relax and enjoy the alone time.
I looked around the living room. Comfortable couch positioned in front of a huge TV. Treadmill behind the couch. Breakfast bar in the kitchen. It was a nice place. But, I’d seen where Michelle had grown up. It was nothing compared to that place.
Isabelle went to the kitchen and opened the cupboards. They were stocked with dishes, and the fridge was loaded with food. I followed her down the short hall that had a bathroom on the right and a single bedroom on the left.
“One bedroom?” she asked without turning.
“The rest are sharing two bedroom apartments. Jim is taking a couch in one and Sam a couch in another. They thought it would be easier if you were kept separate. Michelle said bigger apartments are harder to come by, especially short term.”
We stood just inside the bedroom. The bed was big enough for both of us. Would she share, though?
“I wasn’t complaining,” she said, turning. “Just observing.”
“Would you help me with the bandages? I think I’ll take a shower then go to sleep.”
“Sure.”
I tugged my shirt off. The bandages pulled at the scabs underneath as I moved. Most of the wounds were well on their way to being healed. Knowing I could reach the ones on my chest, I turned my back to her.
After a moment’s hesitation, she began peeling the tape away. A few needed extra care to ease them away without making me bleed again. She took her time, and when she was done, she ran her fingers over my skin. A gentle, soothing touch.
“Sorry. You’re all set.”
I nodded, grabbed my bag from the bed, and closed myself into the bathroom. The feel of her fingers lingered as I showered.
When I stepped out, dressed once again, Isabelle was in the kitchen. She had a croissant sandwich in her hand; and, as I watched, she brought it to her mouth and took a bite. She moaned as she chewed, like it was the best food she’d ever eaten.
“You have to try this,” she said, after she swallowed. She hurried toward me and held her sandwich up. The excitement on her face made me want to grin. Instead, I took a bite, right where she’d bitten.
“Whoa! Was that a facial expression?”
Any humor I felt was lost at the taste of her. I chewed and swallowed.
“Almost. That was good. Is there more?”
“Sure. I’ll make you one.”
She walked away, and I watched the sway of her hips. My hand tightened on my bag, and I retreated to the bedroom to take a calming breath. Patience. I needed more of it.
When I returned to the kitchen, I sat at the island and watched her finish putting the sandwich together. There was no tension to her movements, and her emotions mingled into a pleasant combination of contentment and hunger. The grief that had been her constant perfume seemed to have faded.
“How is it in here?” I asked.
“Not bad. I don’t really feel too much of anything. A wisp of this or that every now and again. That’s it.” She slid the sandwich plate over and took another bite of her own. “So, what’s the plan for tonight?”
“Charlene and Michelle are trying to find a way to contact that reporter, Penny, to set up a meeting. It won’t be tonight. Tonight, we rest.”
She ate quietly for a moment, and I did the same until she glanced at me and blushed. She had my undivided attention when she turned away and started toward the couch.
“Want to watch a movie?” she asked. She picked up the remote and surfed through the selection guide. “Oh, look. Werewolf in London is on.”
She grinned at me then turned to the movie.
“I like your sense of humor,” I said, moving to sit beside her.
“Really? I can’t tell. You never let anything show.”
“Because you’re not ready.”
She moved to sit sideways, fully facing me.
“Why did you say that?” she asked.
“I didn’t say it. You did.”
“Of course, I’m not ready for that. We barely know each other,” she said, blushing further.
“I disagree.”