Page 7 of Gunpowder

Blair reminded her that he lived close enough to walk, even on his crutches. She patted his hand on the table. “Spencer is going to take you home.”

“Ah.” Not a request, then.

They found Spencer outside, dragging on the last of his cigarette. Blair sighed and waved smoke out of his face. He was surprised that taking up smoking wasn’t part of the Incindious initiation. A good thing it wasn’t, though, since he dissolved into a coughing fit after one draw. Blair said his goodbyes with Marie before she left to meet her pint sized boyfriend for ramen across the street. Jake was a year older than her and kind of a brat, but for some reason Marie was nuts about him. Blair joined Spencer in watching her cross the street and they only made for Spencer’s car once she was safely in the restaurant.

The ride to his apartment was quiet. The Lexus canceled out most of the road noise and few words were exchanged between its occupants. Blair had plenty to say and no idea how to say it. Spencer’s expression was unreadable behind his tinted glasses, calm as ever but he had appeared that way even in the warehouse. Blair ran a finger along the plastic wristband he still wore from the hospital. If it had gone differently, one of them might not have been sitting there.

“Did Ben make good on his word and spare you the police interview?”

Blair looked up from his fiddling to find the car in park, idling in front of his building. “I never talked to any cops, just Doc and Sunshine.” Ben was their guy inside the police force, and while he couldn’t extend his reach too far without raising suspicion, sometimes he could clean up their smaller messes without them having to enact any extra violence and add to the local law enforcement’s hard-on to see Felix back behind bars.

Blair got a curious look for the nicknames but Spencer continued, “Good, Felix called in for him to take care of it. There should be some nice, legitimate paperwork floating around that says you told him you were shot when I mistakenly fired my gun while cleaning it.”

“Hey, about that.” Blair gripped the wristband, the hard plastic creating indentions in the pads of his fingers.

“I know, right, who would have thought? All my brains and I didn’t even check the safety.” He raised a hand to silence Blair when he opened his mouth. “We both messed up in there. Could we have done better? Yes, but Adrian is dead and we’re going to get the rest of them, too. We can apologize to each other until the sun goes down but it’s not going to put us any closer to exterminating Phantom.

“You might have gotten a laugh out of it if I was the one hobbling, though. Incindious would fall to pieces if I was out of commission. Felix can’t lace his damn boots without me.”

Blair laughed as a knot of worry unwound inside him. The strip of plastic around his wrist didn’t seem so heavy anymore. He could handle the coming fight against Phantom a whole lot better knowing Spencer still trusted him, and the boss wasn’t going to kick him out. Blair got out of the car, somewhat awkwardly thanks to his leg, and made his way to the driver’s side. He leaned on one crutch and held his hand out.

Spencer pressed Blair’s Beretta into it. Blair tucked it into his waistband and stepped back from the car. He didn’t have to look back to know the Lexus would still be there until he made it inside.

Blair took the elevator up to his floor. He tried to avoid the rickety thing that seemed like it could plunge to the basement at any moment, but his leg was starting to throb. At Spencer’s insistence, he had a security system in the apartment just like every other member of Incindious, but Phantom was known for their advanced technology and hacking abilities, so he readied his gun the best he could at the door. Just in case. He leaned his crutches on the door frame and gave the apartment a quick sweep, finding it empty. Then he punched in the code on the beeping security panel and cast the room into silence.

The apartment had an open floor plan but Blair kept the Beretta in hand until he checked the bathroom, the only room with a door since his bed was on the upper level that could be seen from below. No one was lurking behind the door to the shower that didn’t quite sit right on its tracks. He set the water running and undressed with a few stumbles and hops when putting weight on his bad leg sent sparks of pain through his whole body. After a struggle, he wore only his tattoo of the Incindious insignia under his collarbone and the bandages around his thigh.

Blood had dried on the gauze and it pulled on his stitches in a way that wasn’t quite painful, but definitely uncomfortable when he removed it. He pulled the handle for the shower and let the water beat down on him.

Just as he picked up the bar of soap, his phone blared from the sink. Of course.

He cracked open the shower door to look down at the counter, where the caller ID said “Mom.” Fuck. She only called when it was important. He made quick work of washing up, gave his hair a quick scrub, and thanked his lucky stars that he had a shower cubicle and didn’t have to step over the side of a bathtub to get out. His phone had stopped ringing by the time he wrapped a towel around his waist and dried his hands enough to use the touchscreen. It started ringing again as he picked it up. Impatient old broad.

“Blair, you need to come home right now, it’s an emergency!”

“Mom, what’s wrong? Is someone there?” Images of Isaac and Jinx flashed through Blair’s mind.

“It’s your brother, he’s sick.”

Fuck him sideways. “I’m comin’, give me half an hour.”

He mumbled every expletive he knew and a few he made up on the spot as he put fresh bandages on his leg. Damn hippie was at a loss whenever she couldn’t get one of the kids better with an herbal remedy and his step-dad’s solution was always to just let it run its course, whether it was the flu or a fractured arm. His dad had been the one to make sure they all got routine checkups but when he dipped and his mom remarried, it all went out the window in favor of vanilla basil tea or whatever the hell she was giving them now.

His bike wasn’t going to be an option so he begrudgingly hailed a cab. He tried to put his damp hair in some kind of order on the ride over but he just settled for pulling his beanie on. All too soon, he was at Aradia, the shop where his mom did palm readings and sold “water pipes.” He gave the cabbie all the singles he had stuffed in his wallet for a tip and went inside. Like the bar, there was an apartment above her shop, not that it was big enough for the four person family it housed.

An iguana peered at him from a tall terrarium when he walked in—his mother’s doing, no doubt. She was always getting more damn reptiles. Blair nudged the beaded curtain out of the way with one of his crutches, and found her sitting on the mat where she did readings, her hand against his little brother’s forehead. She looked up at Blair, her mane of red curls falling haphazardly around her face. “He feels hot.”

“Okay, kiddo, let’s see what’s up,” Blair said as Tristan pulled himself into a sitting position with visible effort. Even with the jewel-toned velvet curtains that blocked most of the light from outside, Blair could see his skin glisten.

“I don’t feel good,” Tristan mumbled around the thermometer.

It beeped soon after, and Blair’s eyes widened at the readout. “Holy shit, I bet you don’t. I’m taking him to the hospital.”

“Do you want me to go with you?” his mother asked, wringing her hands in her lap.

“No, Mom. I know you hate hospitals. I’ll let you know what they tell us.”

If Blair had never seen this damn hospital again it would have been too soon, but a cab ride later, there he was.

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