Part 5 (1/2)
He did not immediately answer, but when he did, he said, ”I left because I had to. I didn't have a choice.”
”There's always a choice.”
”No. Not when it's biological.”
Aggie frowned. ”I'm not sure I understand what you mean by that. Are you... dreaming somewhere? And then your body woke up?”
Charlie twitched, which under the bathroom light looked more like a ripple surging through his body. ”Something like that. It's a bit more complicated.”
Aggie waited for him to continue. When he did not, she leaned even harder against the lavatory door and folded her arms over her chest.
”You know all my dirt,” Aggie said. ”Everything. I've got no secrets from you.”
”Agatha-”
She held up her hand. ”You've managed to deflect every personal question I've thrown at you, and frankly, I find your lack of trust deeply offensive. You're asking me to risk my life for Emma, and that's fine, something I would do anyway. But I expect some reciprocity on your part. Show me a little respect, Charlie.”
”You want a reason to trust me.”
”Maybe,” Aggie said. ”Or maybe I just want to figure you out. I don't know who you are.”
”I'm a guy who has too much time on his hands.”
”You're a guy who helps kids.”
”I'm a guy who never helped anyone before this kid.”
”I find that hard to believe.”
”Don't. I had secrets to keep. It made me selfish. Isolated.”
”Secrets. The kind of secrets that let you float around like a ghost and read minds?”
”It's related. Part of a larger picture.”
”And last night? Is that picture all biology?”
”Extreme genetics.”
”The kind not found in nature?”
”No. I'm all natural. That's the problem.”
”I don't see how there's a problem in being yourself,” Aggie said.
”Then why do you hide what you can do?”
”Because I want to keep being myself without any scrutiny or interference.”
”Good answer.”
”My momma didn't raise no fool,” she said.
”But you still want to know about... this.”
”Your dream self, yes. I really do.”
”It's not easy. The explanation, I mean.”
”Just spit it out, Charlie! Mr. All-American Charlie.”
For a moment she thought he would not answer, and the frustration that welled up inside her chest mixed unpleasantly with a strong ache of disappointment. She did not know why; it seemed ridiculous to expect any honesty from the... individual in front of her.
But she did. And if she did not receive a straight answer, if all she continued to hear was nothing at all...
”You play hardball,” Charlie said.
”I'm just a hard person,” Aggie replied.
”Now who's lying?” He shook his head. ”Fine. Okay, then. Okay. You want the truth? I'm... I'm not human.”
He sounded as though he was declaring his own death. Aggie chewed the inside of her cheek. ”You're not human? Really?”
”Not at all.”
”Well... what are you, then?”
”You work with shape-s.h.i.+fters. I've seen it in your head. Golden eyes. Animals. Occasionally bad-tempered.”
”I didn't know their tempers were a racial cla.s.sification, but yes, I do. Is that what you are?”
”No. My kind are related, though. Distantly.”
Aggie covered her eyes. Someone knocked on the door behind her.
”Miss?” asked the flight attendant in a loud voice. ”Are you okay in there?”
”Fine!” Aggie shouted back. ”My stomach! It's bad! Bad!”
If there was a response, she did not hear one. No one else knocked on the door.
”Okay,” she whispered. ”You're not human, and you're not a shape-s.h.i.+fter. What else is there?”
”Um, a lot, actually.”
”Charlie.”
”The technical term is gargoyle. That's what I am. A gargoyle.”
Aggie blinked hard. She was going insane. Forget acting crazy; she was already there. ”What the h.e.l.l does that mean? Aren't gargoyles little stone... watchdogs, or something?”