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Thin air

Кейн Рэйчел

So he knew my friendly-or, at least, not adversarial-cop. “Yeah, I saw him.”

“Ah. How is he?”

“Healing up. He had some kind of accident.”

Eamon nodded. He kept watching me, and there was a tight frown grooved now between his eyebrows. “Did he say anything about what happened?”

“No.” I felt a weird surge of alarm. “Why?” Please don’t tell me that I’m responsible for that, too.

Was I crazy, or did he look oddly startled for a second before smiling? “No, nothing, don’t worry. Listen, love, are you all right? You don’t seem…quite yourself.” His voice was low and rich with concern, and man, that was seductive. I wanted somebody to care whether or not I was okay, and obviously that wasn’t going to be my sister. Disappointing, but there it was.

Sarah twisted in her seat again to look at me. Her pupils were huge. Bigger than they should have been, even in the dark. I wondered if she was on some kind of pain medication. “Well, she did just get out of jail,” she said. “Of course she’s not quite herself. She’s scared, and there’s nothing wrong with that. God, what are you doing in Vegas, Jo? You came looking for me, didn’t you? I told you I didn’t need your help. I told her, too.”

“Her?” I repeated blankly.

Sarah’s pointed chin lifted so she could look down her thin, patrician nose at me. “You know who. Imara.”

My heart thudded hard against my rib cage, rattling to be free. Oh, that hurt. My sister had seen Imara. Imara had been part of my life. Had tried to help Sarah, evidently, for all the good that did. “When did you last see her?” I asked. Because if Sarah had seen her recently, maybe everybody was wrong about Imara. Wrong about her being…gone. Come on, Joa

What, even David? some part of me mocked, more gently than the question deserved. Surely David would know if his child was alive. I didn’t have to know a lot about the Dji

Sarah avoided my gaze this time, turning back to stare out the windshield as Eamon navigated the car through the neon pinball machine of the Strip. “I haven’t seen her since I told her to leave me in Reno,” she said. “I know you both meant well, but honestly, Jo, she was getting on my nerves. And besides, she was worried about you. She wanted to get back and check on you, even though I told her you’d be okay. You’re always okay.”

Ouch. That stung, especially delivered in a tone so bitter it could have stripped paint. Apparently having a superhero wizard for a sister wasn’t the party-in-a-box that you’d assume. Well, I wasn’t finding it all clowns and puppies on this side, either.

“Jo,” Eamon said, drawing my attention back to him. “I’m guessing that perhaps in this instance your sister might not have been exactly correct. Right? Things haven’t gone as pla

“No,” I said, and turned to look out the window at passing strangers who didn’t notice me, or care. “Not exactly. Where are we going?”

“It’s best if we don’t tempt fate and stay in the city,” he said. “Sarah and I have a small place a couple of hours down the road. If you don’t mind?”

I shrugged. I had no money, no transportation, and no real alternatives; seemed like I was stuck with Sarah and Eamon. At least Eamon seemed like a decent kind of guy.

A better person than my sister, anyway.

I wondered if maybe I was internalizing the dislike Cherise had felt for Sarah; probably I was. After all, I didn’t have the normal family bonds and memories, nothing that would let me overlook Sarah’s flaws and love her anyway. I didn’t know her, except on the surface, and the surface wasn’t looking very pretty.

Besides, it was fairly clear how she felt about me.

But she bailed you out.

Interesting.

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EIGHT

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Two hours and a boring number of minutes later, we entered a dry, sun-faded little town called Ares, Nevada. Population 318, and no doubt declining. It wasn’t a garden spot, unless you liked your garden with lots of thorns and spikes. I remembered-actually, Cherise had remembered-my sister as being impeccably groomed, focused on polish and presentation. I doubted that would get her very far in the social scene of Ares, which probably revolved around the local Dairy Queen we’d passed, and possibly a strip club.

There was one stoplight in town, and Eamon obeyed it at the corner of Main and Robbins, then turned right. Nothing after the next block but some emptied-out stores with soaped windows, and the ruins of a few buildings that hadn’t been so lucky or durable. We kept driving. About a mile on, Eamon turned the car off on a bumpy, unpaved side road, and I saw that we were heading for a mobile home community.

As trailer parks went, it tried to rise above the clichés.

There were a few struggling bushes, some attempt at landscaping at the front entrance. Not much clutter. The trailers were mostly in decent shape, although a few showed the ravages of time and weather. There were a couple of retirees walking small, fat dogs along the roadside, and one of them waved. Eamon waved back.

“I hate this place,” Sarah said. She sounded like she meant it.

“It’s temporary, Sarah. You know that.” Eamon must have been tired of explaining it; his tone was more than a little sharp. “Just until the funds come through on the international transfer.”

“Meanwhile, we’re living in a trailer park. With crack-heads! I used to live in the same zip code with Mel Gibson, for God’s sake!” I wondered if the trailer park had its fringe benefits for her, like being a good place to score drugs. Heroin? Meth? Coke? Something that made her pupils so inordinately wide. Eamon seemed sober as a judge, though, so it wasn’t likely he was the one supplying her habits. I wasn’t sure he even knew, which made me think that he was willfully blind to her problems. Or he knew, and he’d given up trying to fix her.

“It’s only temporary,” Eamon said again. “I’m sorry, love; I know it’s not what you’re used to. Things will get better. You’ll bear with me, won’t you?”

There was a kind of wistful longing in his voice, and Sarah softened. She stretched out a hand toward him, and he took it and held it. He had amazing hands-long, elegant, beautifully cared for. His fingers overlapped hers by inches. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean it that way. Of course I’ll put up with whatever I have to for us to be together.” She threw me a look in the rearview mirror. A defiant one. “No matter what other people think.”

I’d thought Eamon was bad for her? Wow. I really hadn’t had a clue about my sister if I’d thought that a slick English guy who would put up with her bullshit was a bad deal for her. “Other people meaning me?” I asked, and let a little of my frustration out. Sarah glared.