| abstract
| - Emil Broaden, also known as The Shade, lounged against the bar with Scotch in hand, his eyes darting through the crowd of familiar and unfamiliar faces. It was early yet and all the big wigs were busy rubbing elbows. The main event wasn't to start for some time. Next to him, the most unsuspecting man stood watch as well; Lloyd Feit, also known as Bulldog. The little man's drink of choice was tonic water with a twist of lemon. “Why are these functions always so boring?” Emil looked around, his British accent cutting through the murmur of other voices. “Tell me, Lloyd, don't you just once wish for something other then black tie events? Couldn't our national leaders have liked to go on Safari?” The little man sniffed into his drink. “You worry too much Emil.” said Bulldog as he took a sip, “Why don't you try and enjoy yourself? I mean hell, we are at war, after all.” Some hundreds of miles away, a motley group of individuals stood around a desk in a service closet. “If there are no more questions, go get packed. We head out in an hour. Dress nice.” Puddles, Deja Vú, Mitch, and Shade began filing out of the closet one by one. “Shade, you stay.” Charity paused in her steps, the others looking back at her before moving off. “Close the door.” She did as instructed and turned to face Agent Price. He perched on the edge of his desk before speaking, “I suspect that some of your incredible feats of agility might have something to do with your Talent. When you pick pockets, pick locks...” Charity leaned a hip against the door and crossed her arms, “This story going to have a point any time soon? I still have to pack." Agent Price shot her a look to behave and tossed the dossier he was holding onto the desk. “When you steal Shade. You use your talent every time you steal. And I can't have you breaking cover tonight.” He pointed a finger at her. “So you keep your twitchy fingers to yourself. Do I make my self clear?” She held her hands up in mock surrender. “Of course, Agent Price, whatever you say Agent Price.” She jerked open the door and stormed out cursing under her breath. Agent Price opened the left drawer of his desk and pulled out a roll of antacids. “That one's going to kill me.” “Thank God, that's over! Come on Emil, let's get into our monkey suits for tonight's festivities.” Lloyd plucked at Emil's sleeve. “We've got an hour to get ready.” “Should be fun.” The Shade knocked back the last of his scotch and set the glass down on the counter. “Alright, everyone, once we check in, you've got an hour to get ready.” Agent Price said as the Limousine pulled up to the Willard International. “The party's in the ball room. We'll meet in the conference room with all the other press and wait for the time to head in. Remember, you are here to observe only. No powers.” He looked pointedly at Charity. “Smile Shade, you want to look like you actually enjoy being here when the journalist get in, don't you?” Lloyd, with tonic water in hand again, poked at his friend. “I feel like we're in shark infested waters and we're the chum.” Emil shot back. “We're not the chum young man. We're the main course.” Lloyd said in mockery. He pointed to the faces around him. “I mean, never has there been a larger gathering of all the worlds Talent...” “Except Germany's.” Emil added for him. “Except Germany's,” Lloyd continued, “than right now. It's a regular feeding frenzy for those old vultures.” The doors swung open and the journalists began pouring through. “Speaking of which...” He finished. “Looks like all the regulars." Lloyd scanned the crowd of faces. "Wait...” He sat up a little straighter. “They're new.” “Yes, they are...” Emil set down his scotch on the bar. Mitch, Puddles, and Deja Vu filed through the door. Puddles already had her notebook in hand and was shaking her pen as if the ink wouldn't flow. Mitch was asking very loud questions in his thick southern accent and Deja Vu was eyeballing everyone with a quick once over. “They look pretty harmless. That one, though,” Bull dog pointed at Deja Vu. “looks like an ex cop.” Emil gave them a discerning eye and turned back to his drink on the bar. “Doubt any of them can cause any trouble in this crowd.” Bulldog let out a low whistle. “I don't know. That one looks like she could eat a man for lunch and still be hungry for dinner.” “The one with the water-logged pen, don't get me wrong, she's cute and all. Not exactly my style...” Emil swirled the contents of his glass around. “Oh no, not that one.” Bull dog shouldered him. “Her.” Emil turned to see the second woman at the threshold of the ballroom doors. She wore a pale cream silk dress that moved with every step she took and flowed around her like it had been poured on. When she turned to meet someone she was being introduced to, it revealed the plunging back that showed off creamy skin. Her black hair was piled high on her head, and every time she turned to look around, the loose tendrils would tickle her long neck. In one hand, she held a notepad and in the other a pen, which she stuck behind one dainty ear to free up her hand to offer when a name was presented to her. In the soft glow of the electric lights and various candles, she looked like a Siren. “Your mouth's hanging open.” Bull dog sipped from his drink again, smirking. “Oh Jesus.” was the first thing Shade thought to herself. “No stealing, No stealing, No stealing...” the thought whispered over and over her head as she presented a false smile and shook another hand. Everyone was covered in jewels. They sparkled seductively at her, promising wealth and comfort for ages, not to mention the sexy thrill of the heist. Every nerve in her body went tense about ten seconds after she had entered the room. “She must be new.” Lloyd leaned back against the bar. “She looks nervous.” He glanced over at Emil. “You've got that look in your eyes.” He looked at the girl making her way through the crowd. She had been given a glass of champagne and was being led around by Cien, his hand riding low on her bare back. Jealously settled low in his stomach. “Looks like that old hound beat you to the punch,” remarked Lloyd with amusement. Emil simply could not take his eyes from her. The Polish man who had introduced himself as Cien led her around the room, talking loudly of his exploits and offering her introductions to almost all the Talents. Two in particular caught her ear. The first was the famous American, Lawrence Moreland, also known as The Indestructible Man. Puddles was seething from what Charity could see out of the corner of her eye. The other was Pevnost, a Czech who could open any door and have it lead to any place he had already been. “You know,” Pevnost's accent was almost too thick to make out. “If you are good journalist, perhaps I show you how it vorks. Say to my room, Da?” he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and she gave a false laugh to placate him. “Do not pay him any mind!” Cien laughed, clasping Pevnost on the shoulder, “He is big kidder.” Charity smiled brightly, then drank down her champaign in one go. “You must be thirsty!” With a wave of Cien's hand, another glass floated into Charity's reach. “Have another!.” It was like having a shadow cross over the sun on a cloudless day. Almost a punch to the gut. She knew... KNEW that the power had come from Cien. But something more important caught her eye. It was the exquisite emerald ring Cien was wearing. He waved his hand about to give it the best effect in the light. “Would that possibly be a Prince cut gold inlaid Emerald ring with a gold hand twisted braid for a band you are wearing?” It slipped out before she could call the words back in. “Why beautiful lady, you know your gems.” “Well I do write about high fashion, and what ever a Talent wears MUST be in the best of fashion.” And just like that, she found herself sizing up a mark. Confidence flowed through her. This was territory she was comfortable with. “Seems whatever Cien is saying is working, because she just became very comfortable in his presence.” Lloyd was enjoying himself immensely. Emil shot his friend a dirty look and felt a sudden hate for Cien he knew the other man did not deserve. Something primal twisted in his guts “Why are you letting the Pollack and Chesky have all the fun?” Lloyd knew he was lighting a fire. “Why don't you show her how the Brits get it done?” When Emil didn't move, Lloyd took matters into his own hands. “Cien!” he called out to the giant of a man. The man turned to see where the voice had come from. When Cien turned, it was a contest of strength to keep her fingers off that ring. What he said next almost had her bolting for the door. “Bulldog... SHADE!” Charity looked up at the Polish man in surprise. How could she have been found out so fast? Emil saw the way she looked up at Cien when he called out his name. Did he know her from some other place? Did she know him? He couldn't place her and he was certain that he would never forget someone like her. A flame of hope was lit. He turned away quickly to hide the confusion on his face as they approached. Cien put his large hand once again at the small of her back and steered her to the bar. A very slender man waited expectantly, beside someone facing the bar. “Bulldog, it is a pleasure as always to see an old friend.” He held out one giant paw and the smaller man took it in a firm grip. “Easy old man!” Cien pulled his hand away shaking it as if it had been crushed. And Charity once again had that feeling in her stomach. He hadn't done anything... had he? “Easy with that grip, I should not want you to crush my new lovely young friend.” he pushed her forward. “Bulldog, please to meet Charity.” Bulldog offered her this hand and she took it daintily in hers. He bent forward and placed a kiss upon her glove. “A pleasure.” His accent was British. Bulldog turned to the man next to him, “And this rude fellow here would be my friend. The one we call The Shade.” “The Shade?” Charity asked. “Yes, The Shade.” the man at the bar turned around, drink in hand. His features composed in a mask of nonchalant. “A pleasure to meet you.” He took her hand and kissed it as the little man had done, but he never broke eye contact. Receiving her hand back she stared at the man before her. His own eyes were almost as black as hers and she was caught in them. “You are staring, my lady.” The Shade smiled. Clearing her throat, she plucked the pen from its place behind her ear and scribbled the name down. “I don't think I've heard of you before.” She stepped closer to his side, drawn to him. Cien seemed to recognize that he had just lost in a very old game. He stepped around to Bulldogs side and ordered Vodka. “Me thinks Ms. Swift likes this one. She did not write anything down for me.” Bulldog stayed wisely silent. Emil watched as a flush colored Charity's cheeks. “You cut me to the quick Ms. Swift.” “I was unaware I was so unknown.” So she hadn't known who he was, he thought to himself. “Oh no, Mr. Shade,” she started. “Emil. Call me Emil.” His voice rolled over her like a warm breeze. “Emil,” she corrected. “I'm new to journalism. I should have prepared more before arriving.” “Can I order you something to drink?” he asked. “Whiskey on the rocks please.” “Of course.” He turned to put in her drink order and get another one of his. Charity took the moment to study him. From his immaculately styled hair to his shined shoes, he was every inch a gentleman. But there was something else. Was it the way he held his shoulders in with confidence? How he raised up the right side of his mouth before a full smile graced his lips, which were sin themselves? Or was it the way he smelled like fresh cut wood and spices? Whatever it was, the room grew very warm. The only other thing competing for her attention was the two karat diamond cuff links adorning each of his wrist. Flawlessly cut, perfect clarity, and not a visible blemish on either of them. A perfectly matched set. A one in a million perfectly matched set. When Emil turned back around with her drink, her expression had changed. When he had turned away, a woman had stood before him. When he'd turned back, a tigress. She was hunting; he just wasn't sure what for. He handed her the drink. “Strong drink for a woman like yourself.” “What can I say? I'm a strong woman.” She raised the glass to her lips. Charity had the insane urge to flirt with this man. She let the liquid burn a hole down to her stomach and with any luck some logic back into her brain. “So Emil, would you mind telling me about yourself?” She let him take her by the elbow and lead her to a table in the back of the room. The heat from his hand burned her. Frank Sinatra was crooning softly on stage. “Anything you want.” He pulled out her chair and pushed it back in again before seating himself beside her. “Anything?” Charity's voice took on a husky quality. She leaned in close. “Of course.” Emil cleared his throat. “What is...” She then dragged the pen tip down his arm, stopping short at the cuff link, “your talent?” Emil sat up and barked out a laugh. She sat back in her chair and poised her pen over the paper. “Well... you did say I could ask anything.” “That I did.” He took a sip from his glass. “Insubstantiality.” He raised his glass in a toast. “Good luck spelling that. I'm not even sure it's proper Queens English." Charity penned out the word carefully. “Two 'L's?” she asked over the notebook, mentally kicking herself. That would teach her to ask better questions. “I haven't the foggiest idea.” Emil laid a hand on Charity's to stop her scribbling. “I've been interviewed many times. A word of advice. Put the notebook down. You'll remember my answers when it comes time to write up your report.” he left his hand covering hers. “Many times? Then why haven't I heard of you?” Charity sassed. “Perhaps because it was in all the British papers. And we all know how you Americans never seem to look past the end of your own noses.” She had never considered herself overly patriotic before, but that one cut a bit to close to the quick. “Perhaps we keep our interests close to home, but at least we can fight our own battles.” she took a breath. “Considering that your little island has more of the Talented, beaten only by Germany and yet you need my country's help.” She glared at him. “And further more...” Emil silenced her with a kiss. “I've been wanting to do that since the minute I first saw you.” “Do you want to go someplace more quiet?” It was Charity that asked the question. Emil, ran a finger down her cheek. “Oh yes.” "Hey fellas!" The Indestructible Man, Lawrence Moreland, wrapped his arms around both Cien and Prevast and gave them a squeeze. "What are you up to without me?" He pounded down his drink in one gulp. "It seems Shade has found himself some one to ring in da new year vith." Prevast indicated the retreating figures of Emil and Charity. The Indestructible Man sized up Charity. "Nice." he turned back to the group of men. "Speaking of skirts..." "Can I get you anything sir?" asked the bartender just then. Lawrence turned to him, "I'm going to need three more of those," he pointed to the empty glass. "Speaking of skirts,” He fixed his attention back on his friends, “I think I found my own admirer." He popped an olive in his mouth. "Oh really? Bulldog asked. "Oh yeah." He pounded the second drink as it was set down in front of him. "Check out the dame with the long legs and brown hair." He tipped his head in Puddles' direction. "She's been eye'n me all night." "She doesn't exactly look pleased." Bulldog commented. "Take em how you can get em boys!" He clapped Bulldog on the back, sloshing his tonic water onto his lapel. "I'm going hunting!" Lawrence scooped up the other two glasses and walked back into the crowd while Cien and Prevast laughed after him. "Bloody Americans..." mumbled Bulldog, scrubbing at his suit with a napkin. Charity tried a door down the hall. “Drat, locked.” she whispered. “Don't' worry about it.” Emil said over her shoulder and took her hand. He walked through first and pulled Charity in after him. The second she cleared the door, she found herself pushed back against it. Emil's body pressed into hers, his lips stealing her breath away. Her handbag hit the floor with a thud. Emil wound his fingers through Charity's hair, drawing her closer. Hairpins popped out in all directions as her hair tumbled free of its bindings. Taking his time, he savored each sigh she let slip. His other hand worked its way down the silky material to the V sliced in the fabric. He ran his hand over a soft thigh and up to mold his fingers to her flesh. He felt her arms encircle his neck, then slender fingers followed the curves of his arms. A familiar feeling hit him hard in the gut. Charity felt Emil's hands twist quickly and capture her wrists in a vice-like grip. His mouth stilled over hers, and he pulled away to reveal a look of equal parts suspicion and surprise. His eyes glittered hard in the moonlight, the only illumination in the room. He raised each hand and pressed it against the wall. With his thumbs, he applied pressure to her small wrists until with a short cry, she opened each hand. A cuff link glittered in each one. “Shit.” The thought slammed through her mind. “Should have listened to Agent Price.” Emil watched as Charity's face did not show guilt but displeasure at being caught. “You are a Talent.” He hissed at her. His right hand clamped hard around her throat. “One I've never seen or heard of before.” Emil felt betrayed to the center of his being. “So you must be a spy.” He tossed her hard into the center of the room. It made no sense and that made him angry. She crashed hard into a stack of chairs and twisted in time to see Emil storm over her. “Who is your contact here?” He grabbed her by the hair and raised her up to her feet. “Who do you owe allegiance to?” He shook her hard. Her eyes glaring at him. It was his job to protect people from the likes of her. Yet his heart kept screaming at him. It felt wrong. Something was all wrong. He lifted her off her feet and slammed her down onto a table. “Start talking, spy.” Charity's vision blurred a moment from the impact, but it only served as fuel to a sudden anger she couldn't place. In essence, she was pissed. “I. Am. Not. A. SPY!” she coughed out. Charity vanished before his eyes. His hands held only shadows. A chair crashed over his head a second later and he went to his knees. “I don't work for Germans!” She swung the legs like a bat, clocking him in the head. He went rolling across the floor. “And I do NOT like being tossed around like a rag doll!” She tossed the remaining splinters of wood to the side and kicked him in the ribs once. Her heart felt oddly broken. Lloyd looked at his pocket watch. It was 20 till midnight. He snapped it shut. Emil had been gone for some time. “Lucky bastard.” Bulldog breathed into his drink. “If you're not a spy, then what are you?” He coughed and felt along his ribs. Nothing was broken, most everything was bruised. “I'm a thief.” She said proudly. “An admission?” He struggled to his feet. Blood dripped down the side of his head. She looked hurt, her stance defensive in that woman's way. She must have hit him harder then he thought, because all he wanted to do was comfort her. “Of thievery, absolutely.” She crossed her arms over her chest. Walking backwards over to the door they had entered from. Charity refused to cry. “So you admit to wanting to steal national secrets?” He glanced around the room. She must be a teleporter to have moved that way. Keep focused, he admonished himself. Her glittering eyes was almost his undoing. “What? No! Cuff links, yes. They are a beautiful matched set.” She bent over and picked up the diamonds from the floor along with her purse. Their sparkle lacked the luster it once had, the thrill destroyed. She tucked the cuff links into her purse. Her dress lacked pockets. “Look, I'm sorry. It got the better of me. Sticky fingers and all.” She took a step out of the moonlight and into the shadows. “The excitement of you and the thought of stealing at the same time. It was more then a girl should have to resist.” Emil was silent a moment. “So if I choose to believe you are nothing more then a thief and not with the Germans... someone's got to have noticed you. Who are you with?” He fingered his tender head and winced when they came away bloody. “The US government.” He snorted rudely. “Your country only has two Talents.” “If one of your country's next Talents was a thief, would you advertise the fact?” Charity straightened the straps on her shoulders. They had fallen in the scuffle. “Or perhaps, your country is hiding their Talents. Letting the other countries kill theirs off in this war.” Emil spit out. “I wouldn't know anything about that!” she yelled back at him. She dropped her face into her palm and sighed. Emil couldn't breath. “Emil, I'm not a spy, I swear it.” she stepped towards him. “I'm here to learn about other Talents. How to recognize them. That's all. Things just got out of hand when I saw you. My head stopped working.” The party goers cheered in drunken glee. The drummer was beating furiously on his drums, sending the crowd into fits of anticipation. “Ten!” They all screamed out when the conductor waved his baton. “I'm sorry Charity. I'm still going to have to take you into custody for questioning.” He took a step in her direction. “Nine!” “Please don't do this. I'm already going to be in big enough trouble when Agent Price finds out I broke one of his precious rules.” She took a step back. “Eight!” “Then you shouldn't have broken it.” He lunged at her, willing her not to teleport. Get it over with quick, he thought. “Seven!” Charity lost her composure a moment when she couldn't jump away. She twisted just so and Emil missed his tackle but just barely. His fingers whispered along her dress. “I saw it in your eyes, Emil. You've got the same problem I do.” “Six!” Emil did not deny the validity of her statement. “I have a duty to my country first. Chasing skirts is a far second.” He turned quickly, she had been fast but not enough for his counter move. He got his arm around her neck, the other locking her hand behind her back. “Five!” Charity went dangerously still. That one hurt. Twisting with a dancer's grace, she undid his choke hold and knocked him to the floor. “I'm no skirt.” She spit out at him, towering from above. “Four!” “No, you're a thief.” He knocked her legs out from under her and pinned. Phasing, he shifted them through the floor. They landed in a vacant bedroom. The frame exploded and collapsed out from under them. The mattress broke the fall. He was thankful she was merely winded, not crushed. “Three!” She raised her hands to defend, to push him off. She stilled when she looked his eyes. “You don't really want to turn me in.” she grazed her knuckles over his cheek “Two!” He leaned into her caress. “Yes, I do.” It sounded hollow to his own ears. “One!” “No, you don....” He growled his defeat before his mouth came crashing down on hers, silencing her. She pushed at his chest, but he ignored her token protests and slid one hand through her hair, the other locking her flailing fists down. “HAPPY NEW YEAR!!” The crowd erupted into a chorus of Auld Lang Syne and paper confetti rained from the ceiling. “What time is it?” Charity asked. She curled up against Emil, running her fingers over his chest. “Hmm?” He reached for his watch. “It's ten till one.” They lay curled up on the mattress a sheet tossed casual over the two of them. Charity lay in the crook of Emil's arm. He lazily threaded his fingers through her long hair. “We should get up.” Charity said it with a sigh of regret. Emil planted a kiss on her brow. “I know.” She pulled herself up, snatching her dress off the floor. “Blast...” It was torn to pieces. “Next time, don't be so rough on my cloths.” “If it means I get to see you stand there naked, don't count on it.” He looked up from his prone position. "Well I can't very well go back to the party looking like this.” she ripped the sheets off the bed and wrapped them about herself. “You have to get me back to my room.” She stuck her hands on her hips. “Going down is easy. Going up, well that's going to take stairs.” He sat up, pulling his pants on. “I'm not climbing 5 flights of stairs to my room.” Charity adjusted the sheet. “Then we could always take the elevator.” Emil pulled on his shirt. “Then we take the elevator.” Charity agreed. The bell hop kept his eyes fixed directly ahead of him. Why did he always pull the New Years shift? This year, some crazy woman was standing naked in his elevator wearing nothing but a bed sheet. Hotel issue, no less. “Seventh floor.” He said dutifully. “Thank you,” the woman patted him on the shoulder when she passed. “You're incorrigible.” Emil grabbed Charity about the waist, and they both rushed down the hallway. “This isn't my room.” She said when they stopped outside a door. “No, it's mine. I can't go back to the party covered in blood.” She giggled when he pulled her inside and drew her close. Their lips seeking each other out. Emil heard the door click seconds before it opened. Pushing her quickly through one of his adjacent walls he turned just in time to see Pevnost open the door. “Dere you are comrade! Ve were vondering if she had killed you!” Behind him the party was in full swing and the others were obviously drunk and curious as hell. “Vere has the little vixen gone?” “Her room. I think to change.” Emil, kicked the torn dress discreetly under the bed. “Da da, very good. Don't take to long getting back to the party.” Pevnost looked at the state of Emil's clothes. “Is dat blood Shade? Charity had her ear to the wall listening. A snort turned her quickly in the dark. A figure stirred on the bed from the sudden influx of noise. Just as he jerked up right she wrapped herself in shadows. “Damn Talents,” the voice grumbled. The man got up and banged on the wall not inches from Charity's nose. “Quiet down in there!” Pevnost and Emil looked in the direction of the wall, panic on Emil's face. “Yes, Pevnost, it's blood. You say vixen, I say tiger.” He gave the older man a knowing look, then began pushing him back through the door. “I've got to get back over to her room and you are making me late, Pevnost.” Drunken cheers rang out among the men peeking through the door. “Of course! Of course! Don't let me keep you.” he stepped over the threshold and closed the door with a wink. Emil rushed to the wall he had pushed Charity through. “Charity!” He pushed his head through and had his mouth covered by a slender hand, just as the man in the bed bolted upright once again. He peered through the darkness, but saw nothing and finally settled back in for sleep. He pulled Charity through with him. “Did you do that too?” He asked. “I thought you just teleported.” “Not exactly.” She shrugged. “It's the shadows.” “The shadows?” he snatched up his extra suit “Yea, I'll explain in my room.” The door creaked open and Emil and Charity popped their heads out and made a beeline for her room. The bathroom was full of steam. “I found out December 2nd,” Charity stuck her face under the shower head. Gasping as she came back up for air. “I was in a museum stealing an old Egyptian tablet for a buyer.” She shifted out of the way to make room for Emil. He rinsed the soap out of his hair. “They had added extra patrols that night, something must have tipped them off that I was going to be there.” She soaped up a wash rag and applied it to his back. “Well, I was on my way out when one particularly astute guard decided to check the Egyptian wing.” Emil turned around, “He almost found you?” “Yea, but something weird happened." Charity squeezed out the rag and flipped it over the shower bar. "He should have been able to but he couldn't see me. I was in plan sight, tablet in hand, guilty as the fox in the hen house, and he walked right by me." She paused in thought. "I remember thinking, don't' see me don't see me. It went over and over in my mind. And he couldn't.” Charity, snapped the towel off of its rack and stepped out of the shower. She went to the closet and fished out an extra for him. “So then what happened?” He shut off the valve. Charity wound her hair up in the towel. “I got cocky." she said while sorting through the closet for cloths. "I thought I was invincible, you know, like The Indestructible Man.” She laughed and stuck her arms through the sleeve of her blouse.. “I got bold and sloppy with my heists and I think the government started to catch on." Her skirt followed. "One night when I was coming out of the building, they had a trap for me. I was on the lawn, a large open expanse. Next thing I know I can't see a shadow for 200 yards. Hell I couldn't see. They had every single light they could find fixated on that spot. I couldn't jump or hide. Then I ended up in this program.” Charity buckled her stocking to the garter belt and slipped on her black pumps. She toweled out her hair and put it up in a simple bun. “How do I look?” Charity poised. “Fantastic.” Emil gathered her up in his arms. Charity hugged him back. “Oh! I almost forgot!” she plucked up her purse and pulled out his cuff links. “Again, I'm sorry.” Emil let her drop them into his open hand and fixed one to his sleeve. The other he affixed to her collar. “You keep this one.” he smoothed his hands out along her shoulders. “A perfectly matched pair.” She rolled her eyes. “I bet you tell that to all the dames.” she tapped him in the stomach. Emil caught up her arms and pulled her close to his chest. He took her chin in his hand and brought her gaze up to his. "I don't know if it's God or the Devil, but something about you and me is right. We fit Charity." he pressed a light kiss to her lips. "Shade." "Yes?" he asked She gave a short chuckle. "No, that's my name. The call me Shade." "Really?!" he leaned back to study her face. "See, even more proof." his white teeth flashed in a large grin "We fit Shade." "Please don't tell anyone." Charity suddenly frowned. "Not yet. I don't know how Agent Price is going to take it." He gave her a solemn face. "I'll give you one day, but then I've got to tell Lloyd. He's my best friend and I owe him that much." "I'll take what I can get." she looked to the floor. "Hey," he pulled her eyes back up to his. "When this war is over, you and I are going to have to talk about the future." "I know." Emil leaned down and planted a kiss on the tip of her nose before claiming her lips deeply. It was a promise of something more. “Shall we go back to the party?” he asked. “Yes.” she said. For many years after that, Shade would always wish she had said no.
|
![[RDF Data]](/fct/images/sw-rdf-blue.png)