Deja Who (Insighter #1)(69)

I’d like to love you in your tower, so bring me there. The thing she said to him he’d loved the most (so far). The thing he replayed in his brain before going to sleep. Or getting out of bed. Or fixing breakfast. Or mowing the lawn (part-time job number seventeen). Or in the shower. Especially in the shower. Several times in the shower.

Hold that thought, Archer promised himself.

“I loved her,” Tom said again, irritatingly lively for a stabbing victim. He said it like he assumed Archer gave a shit. He said it like Tom was the victim.

“You don’t know one goddamned thing about love.” Archer kicked the other man’s legs out from under him. He didn’t have much of a plan, he just wanted the man on the ground. What happened was kind of spectacular: Tom fell over Archer and plunged face-first into the stairwell. He and Leah heard the “crack” as the weight of Tom’s falling body punched her knife through the bone. He lay crumpled at the bottom of the stairs and didn’t get back up.

Too bad. Archer would have liked to pull the knife free and reinsert it somewhere else twenty or thirty times.

Maybe in the next life.





FORTY-THREE


Leah was on Archer like a hurricane with shark eyes. “Are you all right?” she cried, stumbling, falling to her knees and then wrenching herself back up. Blood was trickling down the side of her face, which for some reason she hadn’t noticed. “Did he hurt you? There’s blood, Archer. Are you bleeding? Are you? Ohpleaseareyouallright? Where’s your phone? The police. Where is—”

“It’s your blood, Leah, I’m fine. You’re the one bleeding; c’mere and sit down with me,” was all he managed before she reached out.

She groped for him, clutched at him, then ran her hands over him to assure herself he was unharmed. She rained small kisses on his face, the backs of his hands, his palms, his neck. “I did not you must know I did not mean what I said I did not I said those hateful things to drive you away and I am so sorry so sorry so sorry it always worked before so I thought I would do it to you and I didn’t mean a single world of it, I swear, I swear, not one word, not ever any of those words oh please I am so sorry.”

He was trying to blot the blood off her face with the tail of his shirt and saying, “Of course not I know that Jesus are you okay I can’t believe that fucker are you okay did he hurt you are you okay?” Stupid questions, stupid comments, she was bleeding, of course Tom had hurt her, it’s what he does/did. Archer wished the pathetic fuck was still alive so he could trip him down the stairs all over again. “C’mon, let’s go call an ambulance, the dispatcher will put out a Code 3 and we’ll get cops, too.”

She nodded tearfully, still clutching him. “All right, that sounds—what? Code 3?”

“It doesn’t look deep,” he said, still wiping her face. “Good job dodging.” He kissed her on the cheek. “And also stabbing.”

“A shit job stabbing. I couldn’t get through the breastbone and I know better, so frankly I deserve to be dead.” She batted his hand away. “I’m fine, are you all right?”

“You’re the one bleeding, I’m just out of breath. Ran all the way up the stairs.”

They both heard approaching sirens.

“Hey, the cab driver called the cops! Or Cat did,” he added, remembering. “She was yelling at me about that when I left to get here.”

“You galloped to my rescue in a cab?”

“The bus I needed wasn’t due for another fifteen minutes.”

Leah let out a hysterical giggle, then clapped a hand over her mouth. Archer reached for her wrist and gently pulled her hand down. “That’s an okay sound. Any sound you’re making right now is gorgeous. I’m pretty sure you’re in shock, though.”

“I am not.” All hysteria had fled; she was again Leah the Insighter, firmly in control. “He’s dead. We killed him. We did.” She looked at Archer as though she couldn’t believe he was there, right there, within touching distance. Hugging and kissing distance. “He’s dead and we’re still here.”

“You’re still here,” he corrected. “That’s the most important thing.”

“It is not.” He could see the cuts were already clotting; she likely wouldn’t need stitches. “I can’t believe you came for me. After those things I said. I can’t believe you’re here. And my mother. She tried to help me.”

He was rubbing small circles beneath her shoulders. “Yeah, hon, I know that, remember? I was there when she called—”

“No. She knew what Tom was going to do. She put herself in his way. She put her face and her body in the way of his blade. To help me. And when he left, she found the strength to call me, knowing I wouldn’t talk to her. She used up the last of her life trying to warn me, and died knowing I wouldn’t care.”

“Is that so incredible, so hard to understand?” Frankly, it was the first time Ms. Nazir probably acted like a real mom.

“Yes,” she said bluntly.

“All right. That’s fair, but maybe she was ready to change her next life, too. Maybe the weight of always hurting you was too much this time around.”

Leah leaned against him, looking down at Tom’s sprawled, broken body. “Maybe so.” She took a long, shuddery breath. “For someone who’s lived over a dozen lifetimes, I’m still learning.”