Black Harvest

CHAPTER FORTY

Selena opened the door to her new condo. The place was empty and clean and smelled of new construction. She loved that smell. Ready for life, full of potential, a blank canvas for new possibilities. Sunlight streamed through the windows. It filled the empty rooms with light and spilled gold over the hardwood floors.

She closed the door and stood for a moment looking at the space. The kitchen opened onto the living area across a curving expanse of polished granite. It was one of the things she loved about the design. She walked across the room. Her footsteps echoed in the silence. The floor was on top of the building. Somewhere a siren wound through the streets far below and faded into the distance.

Her things from San Francisco would arrive in a few days. She hadn't had time to look for furniture yet. Selena pictured the Klee on the living room wall. Or maybe in the bedroom. She'd arranged to upgrade the alarms. A former CIA operative and friend of her uncle would take care of it.

She toured the bedrooms, the baths, came back to the kitchen. She leaned against the counter. What would it be like, living here? With Nick, if that worked out? She'd been on her own for a long time. She liked her privacy, her space. She liked doing things her own way. She liked arranging things as she pleased.

She was having strong second thoughts. Nick had done nothing about subletting his apartment. Why was she pushing it?

She opened the sleek refrigerator. It was empty except for a six pack of bottled water. She took one of the bottles and closed the door. Walked over to the counter with the bottle.

She took in the beautiful space and suddenly felt depressed. That happened a lot recently. Feeling depressed. As if all the light was leaving.

Her life had changed so much since her uncle's murder, since she'd met Nick. She could never have imagined it, not in her wildest fantasies. It was as if she'd stepped through an invisible barrier into an insane video game, where nothing was fixed and people stayed dead for real.

She didn't think much about her safety. She thought that was weird. She ought to be worried. But she wasn't. When something bad went down, she became the moment. She was the moment, doing whatever she had to do. It wasn't a conscious thing. After, she might think about what it meant, what she'd done. That was part of the problem. Nick had told her once not to think about things before they happened or much about them after. Easy for him to say. It wasn't easy for her. She didn't think it was really as easy for him as he made it out to be. Otherwise, why did he have nightmares? Now she had them too.

Maybe it was all meaningless. Maybe what she did wouldn't change anything. But if it was meaningless, she couldn't justify the deaths she caused. Not only that, she was good at killing people. It bothered her. She'd always tried to be the best at whatever she did. It carried over into killing.

In the beginning, the first time she'd killed someone, she'd felt guilty about not feeling guilty. It wasn't like that now. Now she just felt plain guilty.

Did she really love Nick? Maybe she was just hooked on his Alpha Male competence. Not to mention the sex. He took her places in bed like no one she'd slept with before. Not that she'd had many lovers, she'd never been promiscuous. Where would it go, after he moved in with her? Where would it be ten years from now?

If he's still alive. If I'm still alive. What about children?

The thought was unexpected. Unwelcome. She couldn't imagine children here. She couldn't imagine children anywhere. Her gut twisted. If she kept doing this there would never be children. Any path she walked with Nick didn't have children on it. She didn't know if she wanted children. Her mind was a stew of conflicting thoughts.

"Screw this," she said to the empty room.

She let herself out. She thought she'd have a drink somewhere. Maybe she could meet Nick for dinner and they could pretend they were like everybody else.

Normal.