Page 28 of Saint of the Shadows

10

You Up?

Marisol’s apartment door whacked a small box across the entrance like a hockey puck. Another present? From him? The anticipation was enough for her to forget she had used the stair railing to pull her post-shift, heavy limbs up the steps. She kicked her door shut behind her and scurried after the box. She scanned the box for a sign from the sender, but whoever delivered it left it unlabeled. She ripped away the paper, revealing a flat white box that could fit a necklace. She popped the top off and saw a note. It read, I’m sorry. I was a jerk. Consider this an escalation. — A.

She ripped away the tissue paper to reveal a leather domino mask with satin ribbons. Annie used her spare key to leave a nice joke. Marisol shook her head and laughed.

thanks for the little gift! apology accepted, Marisol texted.

After a happy emoji, Annie sent,when we left for the ball, did I do anything weird with my notes?

no on counter like always.

not there… looking

go home!

the lab is my home

They both needed a Workaholics Anonymous meeting if those existed.

Marisol set her phone down on her nightstand and picked up the mask. In the reflection of her bedroom’s elongated mirror, she hovered the mask over her face to preview what could be. Yet beyond her reflection, she sensed something else. It was a vision of herself running through the city and leaping over walls. She had become like him. Her heartbeat pulsed in her ears. To quiet it, she stuffed the mask into the box, burying it under the shards of tissue paper. Masked vigilante adventures could wait until after bedtime. She should send that in a message to Annie too.

After changing into an old XL T-shirt, she climbed into bed and pulled the blanket around herself. It brushed against her cheek. The sensation reminded her of his warm kiss, his gloved hands. The blanket against her bare skin skimmed the other places she wanted to feel his touch. Her pulse drummed again in her ears, echoing through her body. Pressure twisted below her stomach, and heat pooled between her legs.

She sat up in the bed and turned her bedside lamp on. She grabbed her phone, selected Tobias, and typed,you up?

As soon as she hit the send button, she tossed her phone on the nightstand. What was she thinking? She turned off the lamp and pulled the covers over her head.

Her phone rang. Holy shit! He called her. “Hello?” she answered.

“I am up. Thanks for asking.”

“You’re probably wondering why I messaged you.”

He exhaled. “To continue where we left off?”

She toyed with her fixed necklace. “And to thank you for what you did today.”

“My pleasure. You know, I was raised believing nothing good happens after midnight.”

“Me too.” Looking at the mask through tissue paper, she said, “Good thing I only want to do bad things to you.” She froze in a wince. Too much. Again.

“Christ, kid. I’ll be right over.”

One hurdle jumped, another on its way: their nervous first kiss. She needed to feel that edge with him again, achieved by the assured energy of body-hugging formal wear and armored costumes. “Can I make a request?”

“Anything.”

“This might come across as kinky or objectifying, so you can totally say no, but I was wondering if you could—”

“Wear my uniform?”

She would’ve said costume, but uniform cast his vigilantism as a calling. “How’d you know?” she asked. The tension in her body shifted from bracing nerves to the richer pang of desire.

“It would be ungentlemanly for me to share why I know, but that request alone is a pretty G-rated kink.”

“Is that a reverse psychology tactic to make me go crazy on you?”

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