Page 85 of Rarely Pure and Never Simple
"Um. Yeah, but—"
She held up a hand. "I'm not fishing for information. Damien already set the boundaries, and I respect them. No questions about Shudder's whereabouts, and no questions about where the rest of the children went. Though I have my suspicions about an old classmate of mine. There have been rumors about Catrionna for years and years, though I expect she's chosen a variant name by now."
"Yeah. Um. Something like that."
"Blaze, areyouall right? You seem on edge. Strained."
He let out a long breath, deflating, trying to unclench all the coiled muscles in his core. "Yeah. No. I'm all right, but I'm notfine, if you know what I mean. It was a fucked-up job. So many kids hurt or terrorized. My ex was along for the ride. And Damien…"
"Is apparently much on your mind."
"Yeah." He shook his head and wondered why it didn't rattle with all the pieces of Damien in there. "I asked him to wait for me here. Though I knew he wouldn't. Stupid. Stupid as shit to want…" Whatdidhe want?
Dr. Parma leaned forward to put a hand on his arm and squeezed gently. "It's not stupid to want, Blaze. Especially when you've been lonely for so long."
"I'm not—"
"Please don't finish that sentence, dear. You're a terrible liar."
Blaze buried his face in his hands. "Fine. Shit. I thought we were starting to figure things out. And now I'll probably never see him again."
"Dealing with facts, with tactics, with things—these are easy for Damien," she offered softly. "Dealing with people and feelings? It frightens him. I spent years attempting to convince him that he's not a monster. He understands from an intellectual perspective that his whiteouts are not his fault. But not on an instinctive level. Caring too much scared him, badly, and he's needed to retreat. Regroup. He'll reemerge when he's ready."
"That's a really roundabout way to tell me not to lose hope, Doc."
The interview had ended there, and she'd sent him home. More of a counseling session than a debrief, but he couldn't complain about that.
And here it was, three months later—nothing. No call. No note. Not even a rumor of Damien. He'd tried to call, to leave a message, but Damien hadn't been making up the fact that his cabin, wherever its location, was off grid. Nothing went through. Probably good, since then he felt bad about trying to push Damien before he was ready. Didn't stop him when he was lying in bed at night, thinking about how he'd go about finding Damien's place.
He didn'tdoany of it, but it was something for his brain to run through when he inevitably couldn't fall asleep.
Was it a nice cabin? Cozy? With touches of Damien everywhere? Blaze stared around at his bland apartment. He'd never even put anything up on the walls—no photos, no art, no digisplays. The furniture was sparse and secondhand. The only memento visible from his family was the green basket on the kitchen counter that sometimes held bananas. It had been in his car for some reason he couldn't remember when he'd left home.
His apartment wasn't a home. It was a waystation. Like he'd always been waiting for… something. And damn Dr. Parma for suggesting he'd been lonely. He didn't have any problem being on his own and had always been too busy to be lonely.
Mostly.
Well, you can't just fall asleep on the fucking couch. Good way to ruin your back. Blaze heaved himself up, showered, dressed as far as a pair of soft lounge pants, and heated up a mystery casserole sort of thing from the freezer. It was food, and he was too tired to think about making anything new.
Blaze Emerson, sorry bastard.
He'd just settled in bed with his dinner and a newscast on the wall projector when his palm phone chirped. The short-long-short chirp indicated a Guild call, which could be anything from a job to yet another recruitment call from a chipper, young new hire. He let it route to his messages to check after dinner. If it was a job, it would keep a few minutes.
The newscast was over, and he'd dozed off during some stupid dating show that matched people by favorite plant when he finally remembered the call again. It was an appointment request with Dr. Parma for the next morning. Possible contract. With a shrug, Blaze tapped the confirm spot. He wasn't sure he was ready for another Guild job yet, but it wouldn't hurt to see what she had for him.
Suck it up. You've had three months to get over the last one.
Good advice, but he still had a rough night trying not to think back over every minute of the previous Guild contract. The lack of sleep helped him put on his best scowl as he strode through the artificially cheery Guild Center lobby, armed to the teeth and plowing his way through the morning workday crowd.
His glower and the whispers around him allowed him an elevator all to himself to the top floor, where the receptionist pointed him to the conference room without a word. He raised a hand to acknowledge and strode past, recognized by now, since the receptionists had been the same for the past few months.
Part of him had been anticipating Guild officers in the conference room, but he found only Dr. Parma standing by the window, gazing out across the city.
"Doc? What do you have for me?"
She turned with a hint of a smile. "Good morning, Blaze. I have a hint of a rumor regarding those last four missing children from the Western Academy. But I'll hold off on sharing details until the second contractor arrives."
"Second…" Blaze flung himself into a chair with a sigh. "I'd rather do this solo. It'd be way fucking faster if you let me, no offense to this other person."
