“I’ll think on it,” Carlee said. “I really will. I think it has some merit, but like I said, I feel like it’s risky.”
“I trust your judgment,” Jeff said.
Carlee stood up and stretched.
“I’m heading to bed,” Carlee said. “Don’t stay up too late. That’s an order.”
Jeff shared a smile with Carlee before she left the room. She hadn’t mentioned his advances again, and he could tell she was putting effort into keeping things natural between them, although Jeff could tell their relationship had subtly changed. And not just on her end; he felt markedly different for such a short period of time. He still admired her and wouldn’t turn her down if she changed her mind, but her rejection had opened his mind. Evaluating their compatibility with an objective lens gave him great perspective.
“Not bad work, Handsome. I think she’s going to go for it.” Stefani moved from her seat on a crumbling chair to the door, where her gun was resting against the wall. “Fancy a walk?”
“I’m going to try to get some rest.”
“You sure? I can be mighty fine company . . .” She smiled hopefully, and Jeff almost gave in. But the events of the day, both physical and emotional, suddenly rested on his shoulders.
“Next time.”
“I’m counting on it.”
31 A GAME
“I think she’s dead,” Jeff said. “Only explanation.”
“Carl wouldn’t just die on me. I’d kill her if she did that. She’s just meditating.”
“Is that some sort of requirement to be captain or something?”
“Only if you want to be good at it. She’s trying to catch glimpses of other paths, to make sure she doesn’t lead us in the wrong direction. Jane did that pretty much all day every day.”
“I thought you weren’t a huge fan of Jane . . .”
“I wasn’t.”
“And it doesn’t worry you that Carl is trying to be like Jane?”
“First off, you call her Carlee. Second, no, I’m not worried. Carlee should have been in charge of the vagrants for years. Jane was a mistake.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Did you forget what happened in Dallas already?”
“Of course not . . . I was just wondering if there was more to the story.”
“Of course there is.”
“Like what?”
Stefani sighed the way that Jeff had when his nephew Everett had worn down his resistance and had eventually succeeded in getting him to play warlords with him. It was still early enough that he couldn’t think of anything witty to say, and Stefani’s reaction bothered him.
“How about we play a game instead of talking?” Stefani said.
“Carlee told me never to play games with you.”
“Oh, did she?”
“Yeah, one of the first things she ever taught me.”
“That’s strange . . . She must have been joking.”
“I don’t think so,” Jeff said. He could count the number of jokes Carlee had made since they had been together on one hand. And none of them had been funny.
“Come on—she could be up there all day.”
“The fact that you are excited about it makes me nervous.”
“Look at big, tough, champion fighter Jeff, scared to play a game with an innocent girl,” Stefani said with a roguish smile. “You’ll be fine. Besides, it’ll be good for your training.”
Her assurances were anything but reassuring, but he followed her out of their decaying temporary home. She led him down to a street that was in good condition compared with many roads he’d seen.
Stefani stopped in the middle of the street, which felt recklessly exposed to him, but he didn’t comment on it. She pulled the handle of a force-field knife from her side where it was connected to her uniform. Stefani squeezed the hilt, and the blade activated. An impossibly sharp and strong dagger glowed to life with a deep maroon hue.
Jeff frowned. He knew he wasn’t going to like this game already.
“This is a force-field blade,” Stefani said.
“I know what it is.”
“Good.” Stefani tossed the knife high into the air and didn’t follow the blade with her eyes; instead, she remained fixated on Jeff. “Then you know that it’s so sharp that it is impossible not to cut yourself by touching it.”
“Uh . . . yeah.” Jeff followed the blade as it spun around in the air. Stefani winked at him as her hand shot out and grabbed the knife before it cut into the ground.
“And you know that it’s hard enough to cut through literally anything. Including metal arms and legs.”
“That feels oddly specific . . .”
“Don’t worry, though. It won’t cut you. If you’re good at the game, that is.”
“This sounds exactly like the reason Carlee didn’t want me to play games with you.”
“She’s a softy.”
“And I have a feeling this is the game you played with the twins . . .”
“I’ll go easy on you,” Stefani said. “Now stop being such a scared little boy. You’re a vagrant now. You need to act like one.”
“How do we play?” Jeff asked, but his voice was weak. He had never been timid, but this game seemed like an incredibly bad idea. He looked over to the door of the house, hoping Carlee would come out and put an end to Stefani’s game without him having to look scared.
“It’s simple. We’re both vagrants. Which means we can both sense other time lines, where our opponents have taken their turns at different times. We take turns throwing the knife at each other, and the first person to miss loses.”
Stefani burst out laughing after looking at his face. He had no doubt his expression had earned the mockery. He checked the house again and regretted not going on a walk with Stefani the previous night.
“Don’t worry, Handsome,” Stefani said. “No throwing the blade at heads, torsos, or other places adults might want intact. You can duck out of the way if you are scared, but then you lose.”
“I think I’m starting to understand why you don’t have very many friends . . .”
His heart beat in his chest, and he tried to calm his breathing. Every fight had been an adrenaline rush, but he had never felt like this before a match. Stefani smiled and took ten large steps backward, placing a healthy distance between them. She juggled the knife between her hands, and Jeff watched the deadly blade dance through the air.
He closed his eyes and emptied his mind, letting his instincts take over. He opened his eyes just in time to see Stefani hurl the blade at him, but his mortal hand was already moving. The blade streaked for his shoulder on his metal side before it came to a sudden stop in his hands.
He let out a long, measured breath, and Stefani cheered for him. He turned the knife over in his hands, careful not to let the edge catch his skin.
“Your turn.”
“Fun game,” Jeff said. He clutched the knife and looked up at Stefani, who was grinning like a child on the day the trade envoys returned. He didn’t understand her one bit, of that he was certain. But her eagerness made him smile.
“Thanks, I invented it.”
He readied himself to throw the knife, deciding to throw it at her left leg, then realized what he had just done. He’d made a decision, which would allow her to know where he was going to throw it. Jeff paused, understanding the subtlety of the game for the first time. It wasn’t just a test of the person catching the blade but of the person throwing it as well. He pulled the knife back, picking a number of targets and constantly changing his mind about where was going to throw it until he let go.
The knife flew from his hands, heading straight for his original target. Stefani spun as the blade reached her, grabbing it with one hand and flicking it back at him in a single motion. He froze for a split second as the blade came racing for his body. He stumbled out of the way just in time for the knife to fly past his vision before cutting a deep scar into the road. Only the handle of the knife kept it from cutting meters into the earth.