Thief in the Twilight

Aura Borealis

Right, then left, then right again. Just like in kindergarten, except El and I don't hold hands while crossing the road. Checking for traffic like that helped to cover my attempt to pick out any surveillance on us as we approached the red brick townhouse El called home. After we left the bank, we decided it would be better to maintain the ruse and play to expectations. That meant a taxi to a bistro a few blocks from here where we grabbed lunch and chatted aimlessly. I got to find out about El's travels through Europe after high school and how what she now knew about resonance cast that trip in a completely new light. The waiters must have wondered what in hell was causing so much laughter as she described how cities like Edinburgh and Rome had shown up in her sight and the certainty in her mind at the time that the acid she dropped was doing absolutely bonkers things to her senses.

I relayed the story of my first meeting with Kris and the basics of some of our adventures over the years. That probably didn't endear us to the waiters either, as El was an appreciative audience and very loud when she wanted to be. It was a fun time, all in all, and I hoped it put anyone watching us at ease.

Now we had tromped over to El's place, which, she informed me, doubled as home and studio and thus the spot we would be expected to return to. We would additionally have an excellent excuse to spend hours there without raising suspicion and, since there were doors, that meant we could give any watchers the slip. Easy peasy, lemon squeezy.

The key turned easily in the lock but the door stayed stubbornly shut, forcing El to hand me the paper bag with our dessert so that she could give it a practised shove. "I love this place, but there are days I think it's possessed. Always making the worst impression when I invite people over."

"How do you know it's not?" I ask, knowing exactly the sort of reaction this will elicit and struggling to keep the smirk off my face.

El has just stepped into the entrance hall, shrugging out of her jacket and hesitating as she's about to hang it on an antique hall stand, the sort with a mirror and counter. This one had a sorry excuse for a pottery bowl on said counter, several knick-knacks within, and an out of date calendar hanging from one of the hooks. It's all I can do not to giggle at the look she gives me, her jacket looking like it's about to slip from her grasp.

"Please tell me you're joking, Jia. If my house is haunted, on top of everything else you're dropping on my head, I think I'm going to run screaming into the night and never look back."

I can't help it. I crack up, doubling over in laughter. El rushes forward, more concerned about her equipment falling off my shoulders and crashing to the ground than my antics. Realising this, I straighten, still chuckling and hand her the bag, the cheesecake within my priority, and carefully begin disarming myself of her tools of the trade. "Where do you want them?"

"Here," she passes back the dessert as she takes one of the bags from me. "Just hand everything to me and I'll put it where it needs to go. The kitchen is at the end of the hall. Dump this in the fridge and we'll head to the darkroom to get things started."

I follow El's instructions, and then her directions to the kitchen. On my way, I pass an opening to the living room, a comfortable and bright room, sofas forming three sides of a square facing bay windows covered in gauzy curtains. From the corner of my eye, I note El entering and heading for a set of cabinets by the back wall, large drawers across their widths. I pass out of sight before she reaches them, but since she still has her equipment with her, I assume they're where she stores her things.

When I reach the kitchen, it's smaller than I expect. There's just enough space for a central aisle between counters and cupboards. I shudder to think of more than one person attempting to prepare food in it. Two might be able to work together, but only if they stayed in their lanes. Everything is clean, and the formica counters do a reasonable job of pretending to be granite. The appliances are old but in good condition and when I open the fridge to store the cheesecake for later, nothing in there is past its use-by date. Nor is it filled with leftover takeout.