Page 43 of Antihero

A blip of unconsciousness and then Anca’s good eye opened, the other parting a slit. Evan sat on the floor cradling her awkwardly in his lap and she did a double take at his face and then shoved herself up and away from him. He stood back, giving her a five-foot standoff as she clawed her way up the wall to her feet.

The stained dress parted and he saw blood between her legs, dried on her inner thighs. The Ninth Commandment, Always play offense, spun into his mind and he grabbed for it to anchor himself. A murderous instinct seized him—to respond on her behalf, to act, to avenge—but he fought it down, entrapped it in a box with the broken Commandment, buried the box deep. No emotion was constructive right now except hers.

She drew herself erect, squared herself with heartbreaking dignity. “You were … waiting?”

“Yes.”

“For me?”

“Yes.”

She shivered against the cold. “Who are you?”

“I’m here to help.”

“I didn’t ask for your help.” No accent, but she spoke with a formality that implied English as a second language.

“No,” Evan said. “You didn’t.”

“So how…” Her trembling hand circled the air, drawing the words she couldn’t form. She’d fallen out of time.

“What do you need?” Evan asked gently. “Right now.”

She blinked at him. Soft, full face, broad nose, strong eyebrows topped with blunt bangs. In any other context, she would have looked youthful, but her eyes were ancient from what they’d seen.

She rested a palm against the door. “… to go inside.”

“Okay.”

“To be alone.”

“Okay.”

“And I need to not move. Just to—not move.”

“Okay. Do you have a key?”

She patted at her thighs, one bare, the other curtained with a ragged fringe of fabric. She shook her head. “I don’t have anything.”

“May I pick the lock for you?”

She swayed on her feet, hugging herself around her midsection. “Please.”

He extracted a triangle pick and tension wrench from his lower left cargo pocket, inserted them, and opened the door as easily as if he had a key.

She stared past the violated lock and across the threshold. “I’m that unsafe,” she observed, nodding, agreeing with the words as she spoke them. “I’ve always been that unsafe.”

“Right now you are safe,” Evan said.

“I don’t feel safe.”

“I know.” He held the door for her. “Where would you like me to be?”

Her gaze moved to him. It was as though she’d forgotten he was there. “Outside.”

“I will wait,” he said. “Right here.”

She moved into the apartment, closed the door. The dead bolt clicked, and then came the rattle of the security chain.