Tell Me Lies

3: Blade of Heart

"Nadia, for the love of fuck, please speed up!" Deon screams as she hits the breaks for the millionth time in the past five minutes. I'm in the passenger seat, my head whipping between them. Cars continue to flow past Sparrow; I've long ago lost track of how many evil glares have been launched at poor Nadia while the vehicle responsible for passing her speeds away, leaving her in a cyclone of its powdery dust.

"I'm trying!" she screeches in return, placing a bit more pressure on the gas. The speedometer lurches forward and Nadia instantly cries out, rushing to bring us back down to the speed limit again. "Do you see? I can't speed, Deon, that's illegal!"

He rolls his eyes and struggles against his seatbelt, reaching for his water bottle. After taking a swig, he nearly chokes on it as he jabs a finger at a police car parked in the distance. Its lights flash, pulling onto the highway behind Nadia.

"No, please don't tell me we're getting pulled over," she mutters, carefully switching lanes. The siren continues blaring. "No, this can't be happening. I'm innocent!"

She drives onto the side of the highway. The police car swerves in behind us, and a middle-aged woman climbs out. She taps on the window. Nadia begrudgingly rolls it down.

Before the cop can speak, Nadia rushes to explain herself. "I'm sorry," she says, and it bursts out of her in one prolonged breath. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to."

The cop looks at the car. She rests her hand on the hood and asks: "Do you know how fast you were going?"

"Too slow!" Deon yells.

She nods. "Don't worry, it's not a huge problem. I pulled you over because you were going over thirty miles under the speed limit." Pointing to the sign posted a few feet in front of us, she continues, "That can cause problems for the flow of traffic. Okay?"

My heart thuds in my chest. Nadia tries to speak, but I place my hand on her thigh. "It's okay," I assure her. My voice wavers, an octave higher than it should be. Deon stifles a chuckle. "We won't do it again. Dia, let's switch. I should be driving."

The cop heads back to her car. I place my hand against the window as I open the Sparrow's passenger door. Dry bile rises in my throat, but I force it back down. Before I swap places with Nadia, I ask her if she wants anything.

"I'll have another water!" Deon calls.

I amble over to the trunk to fetch him one. My eyes scan the perimeter; the cop car is back in its hiding place. Nadia is in the passenger seat, and Deon's face is buried in his phone. I pop the trunk open. It creaks like the floorboards of an old house, and it doesn't raise any further than halfway. I have to duck to search for Deon's bag. When I find it, I grab him a water bottle. My fingers trace the bottom of the trunk, searching for the slight gap in the hatch where the spare tyre usually stays.

My finger hits the opening. I peek inside.

I let out a breath. The Blade of Heart sits in the back of my trunk, its metal glinting in the sun like a thousand-watt lightbulb.

"Did you find it?" Deon shouts.

"Yeah!" I reply, covering the blade again.

🗡🗡

As the story goes, the Blade of Heart was hidden in Ciranne Harbour in a chest in the back of my mother's closet for years. I have no idea how long it stayed there, or what it was doing in the closet. Technically, Deon is coming because that's where it should be. Technically, that's why heroes keep materializing in my hometown, over and over, in search of the fabled sword that glows like a nightlight and weighs about as heavy as a feather.

As the story goes, my mother bought it at a yard sale for twenty-two dollars (after some haggling) because she thought it was, and I quote, kind of neat.

Now it's mine because my brother cleaned out my mother's house after she passed, and brother dearest didn't want it.

I've never told Deon about it because I'm not an idiot. I trust the guy with my life, but I don't trust him with world domination. (And I have to draw the line somewhere.)

The next morning, I wake up and get changed. I brush my teeth in synch with Nadia, and I shove the complimentary soap into my bag when she isn't looking.

"Forgot my socks." She exits the bathroom, and I hear her shuffling around outside.

Her phone is sitting on the basin, the tinny audio of an Avicii song playing through her speakers. The screen lights up. Automatically, my eyes flick over to it, but I turn back to the sink and ignore it.

The music shuts off, replaced by the vibrations of an incoming call. I don't recognize the name; Wanda. I know Nadia's friends, and I've never heard that name mentioned before—not even in passing.

Curiously, I tilt my head to read the message.

SOS, it reads. M is back. Where are you?

"Was that my phone?" Nadia asks, waltzing back into the bathroom. I nod, and she moves to grab it. She turns away from the mirror while she types, then whispers inaudibly under her breath.

She leaves again. I finish getting ready and trail behind her. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. It's... you know Mallory, right? It's just her. She's having some relationship troubles." She punctuates each sentence with a laugh that doesn't quite fit. And, beyond even that, she's lying to me.

Why would she lie about that?

"Of course she is," I say, smiling at her.

After we're checked out of the hotel, I get back into the car. The engine rattles as it starts up. On the horizon, the clouds have darkened. They look like giant blueberries, round and ready to burst open with rain at any moment.

I sigh. I brush the hair from my eyes. My focus stays on the road. Nadia chooses a Lights CD this time, but I can't find it within me to sing along with her. My heart clenches, knocking the air from my lungs.

And who the hell was texting her?