Page 24

AMITY

The next morning Qilan hands me a shopping list. It’s written on a scrap of paper ripped out of her notebook. On the back are notes in the language she’s studying, Dena’ina.

I scan the list. I saw most of this stuff when I was at the market yesterday, before the excitement. I pull on my jacket and check that I have cash.

Qilan still looks a little concerned, maybe because of my report of what happened yesterday with the fight breaking out.

“Ami, just so you know, you don’t have to go back there.

You can take it easy, get used to things up here.

” Underneath her initial suspicion she’s kind of a motherly person.

I saw that last night when she was talking with Ren in a low voice about Ren’s brother.

She went out late with Ren to “get Eli out of a jam.” Now she’s given me something to do, some way to help, which I appreciate, so I tell her that .

“I’m happy to have something to do, Qilan. I’m used to having a lot going on.” I’m a little surprised I don’t feel more scared. But the market’s not that far, and even without security stations or CSOs nearby, I feel like I can watch for danger and get back to the house quickly if I need to.

“I’ve got this. I’ll call if I have any questions or if I need anything,” I assure her.

“Okay,” she agrees and turns back to her work. The feeling of her trusting me, believing I can keep myself safe and get what the house needs, warms my heart.

It’s sunny again today, and a little warmer.

I keep my coat on, since it feels a little bit like protection, but unzip to cool off.

Near the market I start to sharpen my gaze, scanning a little more carefully.

I’m watching for people in an argument or anyone carrying a weapon.

Also, if Vale is here, I’d prefer to see him before he sneaks up on me again.

With that in mind, I skim the outside of the market, staying close to the clumps of people, mimicking them, trying to blend in. I see a couple of tall men, but no Vale.

I slip in from the side, away from the main entrance, and wait for coffee, surreptitiously glancing around me. I still don’t see him. Clutching my cup of coffee, I retreat back to the edge, relaxing my gaze, letting my attention flit from one thing to another.

I know eventually I’ll have to start collecting the things on Qilan’s list, but there’s not a huge rush. I’ve got all morning.

Then I catch a flash of someone, standing over by the knife dealer from yesterday. Close cropped hair and a body and shoulders a little taller and broader than the men around him.

I slip over to the left, lingering behind a line of people waiting for the fishmonger. The smell of fish is strong and I breathe through my mouth for a minute while I wait for him to move on.

Vale walks slowly down the next aisle of tables and tents, his head a slow swivel from side to side. I can’t keep a small smile off my face, thinking he might be looking for me but I found him first.

I stay behind. My guess is that he will turn the corner and go down the next aisle, checking all the people in that direction.

I’m a little surprised when he jerks open a tattered door and strides into a building at the edge of the market. It has a broad window in the front with a counter and stools. I shrink back, peeking out from behind a parked truck.

Then I glance around. I’m not sure how weird I’m acting, but no one seems to be paying attention.

I watch through the window as Vale grabs a drink—is that alcohol? I can’t tell—and settles down at the counter, all the way to the side where a shadow partially hides him from view. He’s looking out at the market.

I smile. It’s a good idea, watching from the window.

He didn’t realize I would be here before him.

I duck over to the side of the building, wondering if there’s an entrance in the back.

Behind the row of joined buildings is a parking lot and dumpster, trash strewn around, and back doors to the shops.

For some reason my heart is beating faster, the nerves I expected before I came to the market catching up with me a little late.

Giving myself a shake, I jerk the back door open and stride through. A little bell rings—darn it—and I see several heads turn, including the bartender and a couple of men hunched over pints in the middle of the morning. Weird.

Vale’s head turns too.

I give him a feigned look of surprise and then proceed to ignore him as best I can while I approach the bar.

When the bartender looks up to help me I freeze, looking around. There’s no alcohol in the Peaceful Society, and I don’t want to drink any now. But all I see scribbled on the board and lined up behind this bar are different kinds of bottles and alcoholic drinks.

“What will it be?” the man asks.

I open my mouth and close it. Should I get a beer and not drink it? I feel myself starting to flush, embarrassed as I search for an answer to his question.

“She’ll have a Shirley Temple.” Vale’s snuck up, taking advantage of my inability to place a drink order.

I furrow my brow at him but he mutters “It’s non-alcoholic” as the man turns away to mix some things together in a glass, topped off with a cherry. Vale draws a bill out to pay for it before I can object.

“Hey, I got it,” I say, but the bartender takes the money from Vale, handing me the drink with a shrug.

Deep sigh. My dream of sidling up to him at the counter with a nonchalant “hey” is dashed as he leads me over and waits while I plop down on the stool next to him with a little huff .

He seems to be suppressing a grin as he slides onto his stool. “Did I ruin your entrance?”

“Did you find what you’re looking for?” I ask archly, tilting my head to indicate the large window showing a view of the market. Vale’s eyes dart to the back door and he shrugs.

“Okay, you’re sneaky,” he allows.

“Thank you! Very sneaky, just remember that,” I agree.

He stares at me, still with that shadow of a smile on his face.

“What?” I demand.

“I’m surprised you came back after yesterday. Fights, gunshots…”

“Hey,” I bristle. “I said I’d meet you. I’m not afraid of that stuff...”

He arches an eyebrow at me.

“Get out of here,” I mutter. “You came back, too. Don’t you have other stuff to do?”

“My stuff is here,” he says. “This is Anchorage, the town where I live.”

“The town where you hang out at a bar,” I glance at my e-watch, “at ten a.m. on a Thursday?”

“Yes, absolutely,” he says but his eyes are laughing at me.

When he was a kid he was hard to play with. One of those kids who doesn’t always relate. A little too well-spoken, his humor a little too dry to fit in.

I shake my head. “You haven’t changed much, have you?”

Vale looks down at himself. “Is that so? Exactly the same, huh? ”

I huff. “That’s not what I meant. You’re still…apart from everyone, sort of,” I hedge, not liking how it sounds.

His gaze softens. “Not from you, Ami.”

I remember that too. The careful way he treated me.

His eyes are warm. “You’ve changed a lot.”

I narrow my eyes, waiting for a leer, but his gaze is hot and glued to my face. I catch my breath.

“In what way, Vale?” I ask and his lips press together when I say his name. He seems to struggle inwardly for a moment, then he glances away and the intensity of our eye contact is broken.

“I never expected you here, of all places. Thought you were PS forever,” he tells me.

“PS?” I ask.

“Peaceful Society.” He says it with a grimace like it’s distasteful.

I blink, not sure what to say. “What about you? Where did you go?” I ask him.

“My dad moved up here,” he answers shortly. “I came with him.”

“What about your mom?” What happened to the woman I remember, my mom’s friend in Mothers Against Violence?

His gaze drops. When he looks up, it’s with tight formality. “My mom died.”

“Oh, Vale, I’m sorry.”

Abruptly he hops off his stool. I blink and he clears his throat.

“Come on,” he directs me. He’s lost me with this quick turnabout.

“Come where?” I ask .

“You’re shopping, right? At the market? I’ll come with you.”

“You don’t need to do that,” I murmur, stepping down off my stool as well.

“You can tell me all about what you’re doing up here.”

I roll my eyes at him. “ You can tell me about the Forge and what’s happening with Zeph.”

He frowns. Somehow, without planning to, I follow him out the front door into the bright sunlight.

“Well?” he demands.

Gosh, it will be like shopping with a bodyguard. I swallow and pull the list out of my pocket.

“Potatoes?” I offer weakly, and he steers me toward a vegetable seller.

“This guy’s potatoes are fresh, usually the best,” he says, and despite myself I grin and relax a little. Vale’s keeping a lookout. He’ll help me get the right things for Qilan.

I’m grateful. That must be this warm feeling inside me.