Teo touched my elbow, startling me. “Let’s go up to my room,” he murmured. I was too disconcerted to make any smart-ass remarks; I just nodded and tried to follow as Teo gave a wide berth to the tableau and practically vaulted up the stairs. I stumbled on the steps myself, dropping my cane as I grabbed for the rail with both hands. Teo doubled back, picking up my cane and helping me up the stairs none too gently.
“Unless the rent is dirt cheap here,” I said breathlessly once we’d reached the top, “I think I’ll take my chances on some other living arrangements.”
“Three things,” he said crisply, handing me back my cane. “One, Gloria’s normally very sweet, and when she’s not, it’s always Phil who gets it. Two, rent is free here. Three, employees at our level have to live in a Project Residence.”
“Why?”
“There are wards on the property and stuff; it’s a little complicated for your pay grade.”
“I’m not being paid.”
“My point is, there are reasons we all live together. Working for the Project isn’t dangerous, but only because we follow the rules to the letter. It’s extra important that new people don’t do stuff on their own, but the perks get better as you work your way up. You should see Caryl’s place.”
I wanted to, once I stepped into Teo’s room. There was barely enough space for his loft bed and the computer desk he’d shoehorned under it. His Avengers bedspread hung off the footboard in a lumpy tangle, and I could smell the dirty laundry that had piled up all the way to the windowsill. His closet was partially blocked by a chest of drawers that was missing the bottom drawer. The only available floor space was dominated by a suspiciously streaked beanbag chair.
“Ugh,” I said. “Doesn’t it seem like a terrible idea to you, hiring a bunch of crazy people and penning them up together?”
“I like it here,” said Teo. “It’s nice not to be judged all the time. So maybe don’t start, okay?”
“Seriously, what’s the deal? Does mental illness give people some kind of sensitivity to magic?”
“I dunno; Caryl’s cagey about it. But I get the feeling it’s just—we’re all creative people who might not get a shot anywhere else, you know? And I guess we’re open-minded ’cause we’ve got no illusions that life makes any sense.” He gestured toward his “chair” as he rifled through the file drawer in his desk. “Sit if you want.”
“Even if I had a prayer of getting back out of that thing, I wouldn’t sit in it for a hundred dollars.”
“How about a thousand?” he said absently as he flipped through folder after folder at near-light speed.
“Nope.” I was only half listening to him; I could still hear Gloria’s raised voice from downstairs, and it twisted my stomach into a knot. I wanted to get away from it, but where was there to go?
“Everybody has a price,” he said without looking at me.
“Yeah?” I forced my attention away from the confrontation downstairs. “What’s yours?”
“That depends. For what?”
“Oh, I dunno. An hour in a cheap motel.”
He shot me a look. “With you? Not enough money in the world.”
He said something after that, but I didn’t hear it. It was as though a glass capsule of boiling acid broke inside my head. Before I knew what I was doing, my cane swung in a swift arc and struck the side of Teo’s head.
9
My swing wasn’t hard enough to seriously hurt Teo, but it was more than enough to throw me off balance and send me toppling to the floor by way of the beanbag chair. Even with all those little plastic beans to absorb the shock, it felt like every pin and nail and plate that held my shattered bones together suddenly jarred loose and sent me back to pieces.
“Shit, you okay?” I heard Teo say somewhere over me.
A few moments went by before I could speak. I lay half propped up on my side, staring down. I’d twisted my ankle hard enough to break the suction suspension on my BK prosthetic.
“My leg came off,” I said, staring at it.
“I see that. Do you need—”
“And my elbow’s bleeding.”
He knelt next to me, smelling of hair product and stale ciga-rette smoke, sitting me up with careful hands. It had been a year since I had a hug, so I sort of turned it into one.
“You dumb shit,” he said. “Why did you hit me? Now I have to report you.”
“Please don’t.”
“Don’t move; I’ll be right back.” He tried to pull away. “Let go, you nut job; I’m not reporting you this minute, I’m getting something for your elbow.” He eased me onto the beanbag chair and hurried out, returning with a wet washcloth.
I grabbed his arm. “Please don’t report me.”
He pulled free, then handed me the cloth. “I have to; it’s the rules.”
“I don’t want to go back to the hospital. I’ve got nowhere else to go. Please.”
“I’ll tell her I provoked you. And I’m sorry about that, I only meant—”
“I know what you meant, just shut up now please.” I adjusted the silicone sheath on my shin and slid it back into the suspension, but the seal was sloppy.
“No, you shut up,” Teo said. “Even if you were Inaya West, I wouldn’t touch you. Among other things, if I molested a newbie, Caryl would have Elliott rip out my entrails.”
“Who’s Elliott? The black guy?”
“Wow.” He blinked at me. “Racist much?”