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But it was more than just being ordinary. When one knew the exhilarating power of dual citizenship in two vastly different worlds, losing connection to one of those worlds was like losing one’s limbs. It had never occurred to Milos before, but to the “ordinary” Afterlight, the living world might as well have been the moon, for it was just as unreachable. How could anyone exist with such disconnection?
Milos went to Mary, knowing that she would have some wisdom and some comforting words for him, as she always did . . . but when he went into the press box to talk to her, he found that she already had company:
Rotsie.
The two of them sat facing one another. Rotsie was all smiles and Mary laughed at a joke that Milos hadn’t heard. A vending machine that had crossed with the arena was still partially stocked, and so the two of them were sharing a can of Coke, passing it back and forth between them. Watching Mary’s lips touch the same can that Rotsie had just drank from made Milos’s afterglow falter. It felt like his body was dying all over again. Rotsie noticed him first.
“Hello, Milos,” he said, seeming both arrogant and self-conscious at the same time. It made Milos feel uncomfortably off-balance. He had to remind himself that Rotsie was the intruder here, not him.
Mary took a moment to gather her thoughts, then stood, smoothing out her shimmering gown. She sauntered to Milos, and took one of his hands in both of hers, clasping it tightly.
“Milos, I am so, so sorry.” She didn’t move to embrace him, she just held his hand. “I know you’re strong, I know you’ll get past this.”
“Yes,” said Milos. “We’ll get past this together.”
Mary’s smile became a little slim, then she squeezed his hand, and let go.
Rotsie, who still hadn’t stood up, said, “I just want you to know, I have every respect for you.”
Milos had no response to this.
“What Rotsie means,” Mary explained, “is that it won’t be the same without you on his skinjacking team, but we’ll all have to manage.”
“His team?”
“Well,” said Mary, turning her eyes to Rotsie and offering him a smile that should have been aimed at Milos. “I had considered putting Jill in charge, but she doesn’t exactly work and play well with others. Then I considered Moose, but he’s much more of a follower than a leader, wouldn’t you agree? Rotsie, on the other hand, already has the respect of the new skinjackers.”
“But . . . but I can still lead the team,” Milos insisted.
“Denial doesn’t help anyone,” Mary told him. “Circumstances have changed. Your body has died, and we all need to face that.” Then Mary sat back down, took the can from Rotsie, and took a long sip of soda, savoring the flavor. That’s when Milos realized that this was more than just a shared can of soda. It was like a champagne toast between the two of them, to celebrate a decision that had already been made in Milos’s absence.
“Why don’t you go down to the arena floor with the other Afterlights?” Mary suggested, indicating the endless basketball game below. “You could watch the game—maybe join in if you like. You’ve been so busy for so long, it’s been forever since you’ve played anything at all. Why, I bet if you thought about it, Milos, you could find something you’d like to do more than anything else. One special thing that would keep you content.”
“Think of it as retirement,” Rotsie said. “I’m sure you’ll find something useful to do.”
“That’s right,” echoed Mary. “Useful and fulfilling.”
“No,” insisted Milos feeling his last ounce of hope fading away. “Please, Mary . . . you still need me. . . .”
Mary sighed and rose again as if it was an effort. Finally she gave him an embrace and a kiss, but none of it held the passion it did before. The embrace was perfunctory, a mere requirement of common courtesy. And the kiss was a peck on the cheek. He felt the way a beloved pet must feel the moment before being “put down.”
“Please, Milos,” she said. “There’s no need to make this so . . . awkward.”
Finally Rotsie stood. “Why don’t I escort him out?”
But Milos would not allow the humiliation of being kicked out by Rotsie. Milos backed away, holding Mary’s gaze, hoping she would look away in shame, but she didn’t, because Miss Mary Hightower wasn’t ashamed of anything she did. Ever.
“I will go,” Milos said. “I will go and make myself . . . useful.” And he left, turning all his attention to the supreme task of remembering his name.
CHAPTER 38
Blame It on Mavis
One by one, Jackin’ Jill had teased out the real names of Mary’s new skinjackers—even though Mary had insisted they all take on nicknames to keep their identities secret. Mary was shrewd, but Jill was far more cunning, and she was already feeling the thrill of the hunt—a different kind of hunt, but, in its own way, rewarding. She knew who they all were within a few days, and then she memorized their names, knowing that even if she found a way to write them down, she could not take the list with her when she skinjacked.
AmberAguilar
Now all that remained was getting the information to Allie. Jill hated the fact that she was on Allie’s side now, and she had to remind herself that she was on nobody’s side but her own. This next part turned out to be harder than finding out their names. There simply was no way for Jill to sneak off and send the information to Allie. She was under the constant scrutiny of Rotsie and the other skinjackers. She couldn’t get away from Mary’s structured little world without raising suspicion. Finally she came up with a plan.
