Parallel 667

Chapter 5

For the first time in his life, Carthy wished pictures could lie. Because somewhere out there in the multiverse there was a girl, with chestnut hair and olive skin and eyes so rich he could have planted a whole field of sunflowers in them, and Carthy was going to kill her.

He kept staring at the face in his hands, how the tip of his thumb covered up the edge of her smile. She could not have been much older than him. The photo appeared to be professionally done. Her posture and smile were practiced, but not so much so that it petrified the life behind them. Energy lingered in the just too deep crinkle of her eyes and the defiant tilt of her jaw, bright and buoyant. Her eyes had a far-off look, as if she were looking past the camera to somewhere only she could see.

The longer he stared the louder his thoughts became whispers. They built upon one another until waves of white noise filled his ears. Throughout the chatter he could pick up only a few words here and there, fragments of the photo's caption like snippets of a movie showing though.

Sable Bevra. Wasn't Sable a beautiful name?

Summer solstice. Her birthday maybe? His thoughts were moving too fast to pick up what event went with the date.

Stars. Were they bright where she came from?

These little bits left his mind whirling inside his numb body. He was still standing there, statuesque and brooding, when Joseph sauntered in with a pair of thick black headphones clamped over his ears and a bag of chips in his hand.

"Dude, you reek," he said, plopping down on Carthy's desk chair and spinning towards the open room. He had come through the door adjoining their shared bathroom, and at first he did not seem to notice anything was wrong. He thumbed through the playlist on his phone while he popped open the bag of chips and shoved a handful into his mouth. "Seriously, we have a shower. Use it," he said with mouth half full.

It was only when Carthy still did not answer that he looked up and saw the expression setting on his friend's face like a coloring bruise.

"Hey." He sprang from the chair and was at Carthy's side in a heartbeat. "What's wrong?"

Wordlessly, Carthy handed him the folder. He did not bother to say anything- as soon as Joseph read it he would know. Instead he picked at a small nick in the table. He was still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that his new target wasn't a two-hundred-pound smuggler with facial hair.

"What in the name of..." Joseph muttered under his breath.

"I know."

"Did Emlyn tell you why on this one?"

Carthy shook his head. They were never told why, and they never asked. No questions was a rule embedded in the job, but it had never really bothered him. The first few times he found someone smuggling children across dimensions, away from their families, crying and bleeding, he stopped needing that clarity.

"I'm sure they wouldn't send you on a job if they weren't sure," Joseph echoed Carthy's previous thoughts, but his words lacked roots. They sounded detached, like he was reading from a placard on someone's grave.

He handed the folder back to Carthy without a word, who strode over to his desk and placed it gently on top. His fingers skimmed the surface of her face again, and without looking up he asked, "Will you do some digging? Just in case?"

"'Course." Joseph was a technological genius, though he would never admit it. "Which Parallel is she in?"

Carthy had not thought to look, and as soon as he found the answer, he wished he had thought a lot sooner.