Allie's War Episodes 1-4(67)

“It could be a customer.”
“At ten in the morning?”
“It could be.”
I didn’t argue. When the cries got louder, I glanced deliberately at the clock. Placing what was left of my sandwich on the ceramic platter, I nodded to Mika.
“I need to get going. Thanks for the food.”
Mika looked at my barely-touched sandwich, then up at the ceiling. “You going to play with guns again?”
“No guns. Sight training. Ullysa’s turn to make me throw up while I try to block her and can’t.”
“You’ll get better,” Mika said, sympathetic. “It’s like that for all of us at first. Only we’re younger...you know.”
I tried to ignore the sounds coming through the ceiling. “Even Ullysa says I’m learning slow. All those years of human conditioning...”
“She says that,” Mika said. “And Ullysa acts like she is a novice, but she is really good at finding holes.”
The cries above grew louder once more, even as the banging slowed, punctuated by more masculine groans.
I cleared my throat. “Can I practice on you later?” I said.
“Sure. My first customer is at four.”
Nodding, I rose deliberately to my feet. I made a point of moving slow, but still felt like I walked too quickly from the room, heading for the nearest corridor without paying too much attention to where it led. I was about two hours too early to meet Ullysa, so decided to go to the compound’s small temple, look at some of the paintings, maybe read more of the old books they had lying around in there.#p#分页标题#e#
As I passed the industrial-sized kitchen, though, I saw movement and paused, peering through the swinging doors.
The kitchen itself was huge, even for the size of the building. One wall consisted of an oven range with ten or so burners, two stainless steel refrigerators and rows of cabinets and counter space. A massive, wooden chopping block crouched by two porcelain sinks, and in the middle of the room stood the high, marble table where I’d sat that first morning, polished to a mirror-like sheen and surrounded by barstools.
Revik stood by one of the cabinets. His shirt hung open on his shoulders as he moved cans around.
I stared at him. I was still staring when he turned.
He flinched slightly when he saw me there, then stared back, his pale eyes shining faintly in the kitchen’s lights. I watched him reach for his own shirt. He buttoned it up while I watched, still not really looking at me.
“What?” he said finally. “What is it, Allie?”
I fought to suppress the feeling that rose in me, couldn’t.
It was relief, but more than that. From his face, I could tell he felt it, too...and that it startled him. His eyes flickered between mine, wary, but I saw something else there, too.
“Allie?” he said. His voice got lower. “Tell me.”
For a second, I hesitated. I glanced down the hallway, then back at him.
I did want to talk to him, though. I didn’t know how, exactly, but I was more tired of the impasse between us than I knew how to express. I heard voices in the corridor, heading in our direction, and glanced at him again, feeling like the moment was about to pass. When I saw the wary look sharpen in his eyes, I found myself thinking about Kat, what I’d told myself about staying out of his business, leaving him alone.
He continued staring at me as the voices got louder. I forced a smile, my nerves rising in spite of myself when it occurred to me he was probably reading my mind again.
I felt a faint whisper of anger on him.
Backing away, I shook my head, stepping away from the doorway.
“Sorry, I just...” I shook my head again. “Sorry.”
I had just let go of the door when his voice rose.
“Allie. Wait.”
I came to a stop, in surprise as much as anything.
He exhaled when I turned, running his fingers through his dark hair. For a moment he only stood there. Then he looked up, meeting my gaze.
“Do you play chess, Allie?” he said.
His voice was low, almost stiffly polite.
I continued to stare at him. “Chess?”
“Yes.” He motioned vaguely towards the marble bar, his accent thicker. “There is a board. We could play. Eat lunch.”
I hesitated, but only for another few heartbeats. “Yeah,” I said. “Great.”
“Are you hungry?” he said. “I could make us something.”
I thought of the sandwich in the other room, then pushed it from my mind.
“Sure,” I said. “Whatever you’re having.”
I just stood there as he poured a large can of soup into a pot. He put it on the burner and lit the flame, then walked to a cabinet on the other side of the kitchen. I remained by the door as he pulled out a wooden chessboard that folded with hinges on the side, the black and white pieces housed within. He opened up the box on the marble bar, and started to pull out the pieces when I took another breath, and walked up to where he stood.