Allie's War Season Three (68 page)

I didn't have the heart to tell her I probably couldn't name more than two dress designers without checking the feeds anyway.

Seconds later it seemed, they started bringing in clothes. It was a little much, truthfully, but they didn't hover, or pinch and pull at me or critique my body the way the costume designers for the Lao Hu had, so I was okay with it, overall. The primary saleswoman also had seers in shops on Fifth Avenue as well as the other hotel boutiques showing me designs via the Barrier and her VR link, which she had the ability to project into the room and show me how they'd look on me in different colors and sizes.

Well over an hour later, Jon waited in the main part of the private showroom while I tugged and pulled myself into yet another designer creation in one of the dressing cubicles. The saleswoman had gotten my size right, down to the millimeter, it seemed, but I couldn't always tell until the dress was actually on me...especially since so many of the dresses they brought were more form-fitting than what I usually wore.

Popping out of the bathroom-sized dressing room, I glanced at where Jon was lounging on a blue-velvet divan near the back of the round space and surrounded by floor-length mirrors. Leaning on his elbows, he was sitting up occasionally to sip at his second or third drink, I'd lost count, some fruit juice and soda concoction the saleswoman brought him, but one I suspected contained more than a little alcohol. When I emerged from the dressing room that time, he tilted his head sideways, frowning slightly.

"I don't know, Al," he said. "I kind of liked that light aqua-blue one better..."

"You don't think I should go with warmer colors for a change?"

He shrugged. "You look really good in greens and blues. I guess it depends on if it's more important to you to go for variety or if you're better off playing to your strengths..." He sighed. "Has he even seen you in many dresses? Besides the hooker wear, I mean?"

I threw a purse I'd been holding at him, but he managed to deflect it with a shielding arm.

"So violent..." he muttered, half-smiling.

"I should never have told you about that," I groused at him. "I was only trying to cheer you up, and look what I get in thanks..."

It probably
had
been a mistake to tell him about the seer dresses from the Lao Hu, but it seemed worth it when he laughed aloud at the story.

Jon smiled, his eyes a little less sharp than usual.

"Well, it does explain why Wreg and the others were always staring at your ass," he commented. When I scowled at him again, wondering if I should throw a shoe at him that time, he smiled, raising his drink in a mock toast. "...I thought they were just doing the usual, pervy, seer thing. But they did seem to like those white outfits of yours more than the others you wore...especially Garensche. I was beginning to wonder if that was why Revik sent him to San Fran with Illeg and the others..."

Sighing a little, I looked in the mirror.

I tried to pull my mind off San Francisco and pervy seers long enough to assess the dress I wore objectively. I knew Jon was probably right...everyone said I looked better in some shade of green. Anyway, the red dress might be a bit much, given how short it was.

I couldn't help wondering though, if Revik was like 90% of the male human population and drawn to red like a bull to a flapping cape. Then again, did I really need him charging me in the middle of some highbrow restaurant?

Jon snorted a laugh. I turned in surprise.

"You heard that?" I said, bewildered.

"Heard?" Jon said, taking another sip of the drink. He made a derisive sound. "No, Al...not
heard.
I can't
hear
anything. Which you'd know if you talked to Wreg for more than five minutes, since he can't seem to shut up about what a retard I am..."

"So why did you laugh?" I said, skeptical.

He shrugged. "Every now and then, I get impressions, or a feeling. That time, it was a pretty funny visual..." Leaning back on the couch on his forearms, he added, "By the way, if that was any indication at all of what you guys are into, please,
please
don't ever think about your sex life around me...seriously. I'll need therapy. More than now, I mean..."

"Jesus, Jon," I said, barely hearing him. I found I was utterly unable to not react. "...'Dori's right about you."

"'Dori?"
he said, lowering the drink to the cushion. "As in Balidor? About what?"

It hit me that he really was a little buzzed.

In fact, maybe more than just a little.

Not like that was difficult, really; Jon practically never drank. It made his being borderline drunk all the more disturbing to me, especially when he seemed to be catching fragments of my thoughts, however abstract. I flat-out wasn't used to seeing him so bleary-eyed, especially when there was clearly a lot of emotion right under that, and given how tired he must be from the day and night he'd had. Hell, he'd nearly been killed that morning, in Times Square. Thinking about what Surli had said about Dorje working for Shadow all of this time, I couldn't help wincing, even as I kept it carefully out of my light in case he picked up on that, too.

Wreg might have said something to him about that already. Wreg wasn't exactly the most tactful person on the planet, even for a seer.

"What is 'Dori right about?" Jon said, prompting me again. "Al?"

I shook my head. "Nothing...just about you. You're practically a seer now."

"I'm a what?" Jon gave me an incredulous look.
"Balidor
said that?"

"Not in exactly those words..."

"Yeah, I'll bet," Jon said, his expression relaxing as he leaned back on the divan. "He barely gives me the time of day, sis. I doubt you have to worry about –– "

"He said your abilities were accelerating..." I added, before he could go any further down that mental track. "He said it's happening faster than he's ever seen with a human before. He and the others aren't sure what it means, but..."

I hesitated, remembering suddenly that Balidor and Wreg had warned me not to talk to Jon about the whole 'crossover' thing.

"...Anyway," I shrugged. "He's right, Jon. More than I realized."

"Sure." Jon took another drink. "Whatever."

I turned back to look at my reflection in the mirror, keeping my expression neutral.

"I don't really shield around you most of the time," I added. "...And I know we're close, but you still shouldn't have been able to see that. Not so clearly."

If Jon noticed my falter in the middle of all that, I couldn't tell. He gave me a dismissive look, taking another, longer draught of his drink.

"...And hey," I said. "Take it easy, okay?"

It took a second for my words to penetrate. Then his eyes met mine in open disbelief.

"Excuse me?" he said. "What?"

"You know what I mean." Casually, I motioned towards his hand holding the drink. "I know what a lightweight you are...don't you think you're downing those a bit fast?"

His expression hardened, holding more anger than I could remember seeing in it, at least since we were kids. Finishing off the rest of his drink in a series of swallows, he plunked the empty glass on the floor, leaning back to peer through the beaded curtain separating us from the rest of the store.

"Hey!" he called out, through the doorway. "Ma'am? Are you there? Can I get another drink? Same thing?"

I winced, but the female seer appeared at the doorway in a blink, smiling at both of us. Even so, I caught her startled look at Jon's tone, and his emptied drink, which she'd only refilled five or maybe ten minutes earlier. I must have had a funny expression on my face, too, because she paused on my eyes for an extra beat before looking back at Jon, and the empty glass he pointed to.

"Please, cousin?" he said, his voice polite that time. "I apologize for shouting."

She glanced at me, and after a look at Jon, I nodded...if reluctantly.

Smiling warmly at Jon, she bent down to retrieve his glass, then disappeared back through the beaded curtain. Once she was gone, Jon let out another snort.

That one had even less humor in it.

"Does everyone here need your permission to get drunk, sis?" he said, his voice biting. "Because you must be awfully busy handing out blessings, if so. Given the bar traffic most nights in this place, it must be close to a part time job for you. I would have thought the Esteemed Bridge would have better things to do..."

I rolled my eyes, but bit back a stab of real annoyance.

"Mr. Maturity," I muttered.

"Bite me, sis."

At that, I turned, staring at him. "Seriously...what is your problem? What did I do?"

"Really?" he said. "You're asking me that? Really, Al?"

"You know what I mean," I said, turning back to the mirror. I bit my lip, adjusting the dress around my ribs. "Do you need to yell at me? Would that make you feel better? Because I can pick a fight with you for real, if you want..."

"Don't bother. I'm sure you can get one of your
minions
to do it for you..."

Hearing the colder anger sharpening his words, I glanced back at him. His eyes had brightened, but not really with sadness. I saw so much anger in his light that it took me aback. I felt my own aleimi retracting from his, but it took a few seconds longer before I realized that the feelings on my side were a lot closer to guilt. Replaying his words, that feeling only got worse. Hell, if he wanted to take this out on me, he was entitled. He'd been through the wringer the past few years, and pretty much all of that could be traced back to me in some form.

"Bullshit," he said. "I can see that martyr expression on your face, Al, and it's nothing but
bullshit.
You just do that when you don't want to deal with the fact that maybe this is a problem you and your fucking husband can't fix..."

I felt a whisper of Revik's light, enough to know Jon's anger was carrying.

Is he all right?

No,
I responded shortly.
But it's okay, I've got this.

Are you sure?

No,
I sent with a sigh.
But I'll call if I need someone, okay?

I saw Jon's expression harden into more anger, enough to know he'd likely picked up that I'd been talking to someone else. Facing him, I motioned towards myself with one hand.

"Come on, then," I said. "Yell at me. Whose fault is it, if it isn't mine?"

But he only looked away, his eyes cold again, and distant.

"I don't need to yell at you, Al. It's magnanimous of you, to once more make this all about yourself...but I think I can take this one on my own..." Clicking softly with his tongue, he looked back at the mirror, frowning at his own reflection.

I just watched him, not sure what to say.

"You didn't put my name on that fucking list," he added. "At least not that I know of. You didn't order Dorje to kill Vash...and then kill himself...or tell Cass to take off with her pet neanderthal right in the middle of a war zone..."

I swallowed, clenching my hands at my sides. It hadn't really occurred to me that Cass being missing might hit Jon harder than me at this point. After all, they were pretty much the only two humans in the inner circle...at least right now. Neither one of them had seen me in that category for awhile now, and I knew it.

So I just watched him, not speaking.

Jon stared at his own reflection in the mirror, holding up his mutilated hand and looking at it in the glass. "That excuse is pretty thin at this point, anyway, Al...don't you think? I mean, even I can't find some way to blame the Dorje thing on you..."

I was still trying to think of words when the female seer reappeared at the beaded doorway, holding four new dresses in her arms. Without seeming to notice the tension in the room, she explained to me breathlessly how she'd gotten two of the other stores to send over appropriate gowns. I was smiling stiffly and trying to figure out how to tell her nicely to go away, when a male seer appeared behind her at the door, holding Jon's new drink. By the polite way he handed it to Jon and bowed, it was clear that the two staffers were already worried about having committed some offense.

Or maybe they were just worried they'd stumbled inadvertently into the middle of a family argument...which I suppose they sort of had, only I still hadn't figured out if it was anything to do with me and Jon's relationship at all.