Chapter 9

He's late.

Honestly, who gets mustard and mayonnaise mixed up in a list of allergens?

"You sure you don't want something to eat? I could cook you up something." Vee comes to stand at my table.

"Have you ever heard of someone making deep-fried pickles with mayonnaise?" I ask, though the last three syllables are mangled with a cough. It's hard to get a full breath.

She wasn't expecting that question. "No? It would make the batter greasy. Unless you mean in the dipping sauce?"

The door bangs open and Jasper rushes in, his face etched with concern.

"We'll have two ice waters and a basket of chips and salsa," I say, mostly to get Vee to go away.

"Friend of yours?" she asks, watching Jasper make a beeline to our table.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

Her lips quirk up in a smile, but she has to get out of the way as Jasper more or less throws himself into the chair next to me, and the distraction is enough to send her off to the kitchen.

"Are you okay?" Jasper asks. He's also breathing hard, and even his green hat looks a little more disheveled than usual.

"Never been better," I wheeze.

"That was super scary," he gasps. "She was really apologetic. I don't think she's ever had someone die in her restaurant before."

"Imagine that." I close my eyes, trying to focus on breathing instead of telling Jasper to shut up. It's nervous chatter born of adrenaline, but I have to take care of myself. Being the dying party means I'm not responsible for his feelings in the immediate aftermath.

"She said they put mustard powder in the breading," he continues when I open my eyes again, though the flush on his cheeks is subsiding. "Gives it a bite."

"Gives it more than that." I cough some more. Each breath rattles in my chest like a nest of tap-dancing spiders.

"You okay?" Vee asks, bringing our water and chips.

"Is there mustard in that?" Jasper asks, pointing at the salsa. He slings a protective arm around me, and that helps as much as anything.

She frowns in confusion. "What? No. Morgan's allergic to mustard." As I let loose another volley of chest-shattering coughs, her confusion changes to alarm. "Are you okay?"

"Peachy," I say. "Never felt better." Though, to contradict my point, my lungs constrict violently and I double over. Goddammit, the aftereffects of dying are the worst. Why does my body remember what happened but won't stay dead?

"We'll take this to go," Jasper says.

"You should eat something," I gasp.

"What? No, it's fine." He pats my back a few times. My eyes are watering, and I have to blot them with a napkin.

"You're only going to whine about it later." I blow my nose in the napkin. "Eat it, or order some soup or something so we can get to work."

Vee is watching us, pen poised over her notepad, eyes ping-ponging back and forth, and her shoulders finally relax when Jasper says, "Fine. We'll eat these and I'll have the burger. Extra tomatoes, no lettuce, pickle on the side."

Vee glances at me.

"I'm fine," I say.

"You need to eat," Jasper says.

"The plain chips are fine." Being under both their scrutiny is uncomfortable, though I'm finally starting to breathe easier.

"Morgan." He doesn't seem as reassured as I am.

"Jasper," I answer, mimicking his tone and trying for a smile.

"Wow," Vee says. "You two been together long?"

"We met tonight," I say at the same time Jasper says, "A couple months."

Vee backs away slowly. Just before she turns, I say, "Club sandwich, butter on the toast, not mayo."

She scribbles hastily as she retreats.

"Happy?" I say to Jasper.

He certainly doesn't look like it. His lips are pale and his frown makes it hard to see the sparkly shine of his pretty eyes. He says, "You have to take care of yourself. That cough doesn't sound good."

"It's no worse than anything else." I leave his hold long enough to twist my spine, but the restriction in my midback, the pain I felt yesterday from the stab wound, is still there. Not as bad, but it still feels like something in me is healing. I grimace.

"What?" Jasper says.

"Nothing."

The food is... Okay, actually the food is pretty good. I can't remember the last time I ate something before the murder pickles. And Jasper's burger is as big as his head, so it keeps him busy for a while, and we finally stop bickering.

I don't mean to argue with him. Not all the time like I have been, anyway. I learned a long time ago if you shoot fast, people don't realize you've got nothing in the chamber until they're already running away. But that tactic works best for finite things like a first date. Something like this? I'm not helping things. We'll never escape if we keep wasting time with pointless arguments.

I glance at the painting on the wall. Vee's memorial. When Mother died, I blamed her for it. She and Ezekiel built the light box that was meant to trap Indigo. In the last trial before that night, there was an accident. The room caught fire, and Vee was trapped. She wasn't anywhere near the building the night my mother died, no matter how my brain pieces fact and fiction together while I dream. She was in the ICU, half her torso and one leg covered in bandages as she recovered from the burns.

Vee never had any superpowers. She was handy with a gun and a power drill, better operating behind the scenes than on the front lines. That didn't stop me from blaming her, though. The box had been her idea. They'd all known the risks after the fire, but Mother said they couldn't wait for more trials. The time to catch Indigo was running out. So Vee wasn't there to help when my mother needed her, and I nursed that grudge for a long time. Indigo disappeared, I walked away from that world, and I guess Vee did too. She worked at Wench,where she could see my mother every day and nursed her grief. Maybe she's the one who created this time loop. Forcing me to come back here over and over until I'm finally ready to say what needs to be said.

"So I was thinking," Jasper says, but regardless of all my good intentions, I don't want to hear his idea. We're done with fact finding. It's time for action.

"We're going to Wolfe Tech."

He grimaces. "Was kind of hoping you'd forgotten about that."

"If he's behind this, I need to know." It's not really Vee, despite my musings. If she were that desperate to talk to me, she'd talk. No need for a time machine. Walter Wolfe, on the other hand... "And if you're not up for it, I understand. I'll find a way in myself. What's the worst that can happen? I'll meet you back here and we can try again." I give him a wry smile. "I'll try as many times as it takes." Do I want to die? No. Will I keep dying if it means eventually getting answers? I guess this is what it's come to.

"No." Jasper shakes his head emphatically.

"I don't think you actually get a say in this."

"No." He glances around, and when he speaks, his voice is urgent and hushed. "I mean, that's not the worst thing that could happen. If you do somehow succeed at finding a way in and Wolfe finds out, he won't only kill you." Jasper takes my hands in his and where before, in Ezekiel's office, his touch was comforting, now the way he clings to me is desperate. Scared. He may work for Walter Wolfe, but he's afraid of him too. "It won't be some tidy headshot that you die too fast to feel and then you meet me here so I can say I told you so."

I flinch at the casual way he talks about executing someone, but that's not the point. "Jasper, I can take care?—"

"No." This time he raises his voice loud enough that a few heads turn, but he doesn't seem to care. "Listen. Walter Wolfe is a paranoid bastard. If he catches you?—"

"He won't." I have to believe we can succeed at this, though I wish I'd paid more attention in Mother's Superhero 101 lessons about how to get in and out of places unnoticed.

Jasper won't be persuaded, though. His grip on my hand tightens as he tries to convey how serious he is about this. "He'll hurt you because that's what he does. He'll want to know what you know, and who else knows it too, and he won't stop until he gets answers. He'll go after your family. Ezekiel. Maybe Clarissa. Trust me. I know. I've?—"

My throat goes dry as his warning cuts out and his face goes pale. There's real fear in his expression—and shame.

"Because you've hurt people?" I ask.

He shakes his head violently. "No. Never. But I've seen... after. I've helped... get rid of the evidence. Morgan. It can't be you. Even if you come back after. I couldn't?—"

I pull my hand from his, shoving away from the table, because I don't want to hear what he has to say. I don't want to hear that he cares what happens to me, not in the same breath that he says he's helped it happen to others... or at least hasn't interfered.

"Look, you don't have to get your hands any dirtier than they already are," I say. "I can go in myself. If it means finding out if he's the one trapping us here, I have to know. But you don't have to go. Take the night off or whatever. Go... hang out with your hench friends."

I pack up the laptop bag, checking the inside pocket for the EpiPen I no longer need, grab my coat, and head to the door.

No bus to avoid. It's later now, and the street is quieter. The crosswalk signal is green, so I march straight to my car, throw my stuff in the trunk, and get in.

The passenger-side door swings open as I press the ignition, and Jasper slides wordlessly into the seat next to me.

"I'm not changing my mind on this," I say.

"I know." He's staring out the window, and even if he sounds resolved, he's clearly not happy about the situation.

"So if you're here, you're coming to Wolfe Tech with me."

He takes in a big breath and holds it. "I am," he says on the exhale.

"And you don't get to sit in the parking lot like I've run in for a pint of milk and will be right back."

He laughs softly, but his expression is bleak. "I'll be there with you the whole way."

Jasper's obvious nervousness is making me jumpy when I have zero room to second-guess myself. I say, "And if this is part of some scheme to double-cross me and?—"

"Morgan." He's gripping his hands between his knees, and the pop of his knuckles is audible. "Would you please put the car in gear before I change my mind?"

I wait a second longer, but when his next lecture on putting myself in harm's way doesn't come, I reverse out of the parking spot and head out onto the street.

Time for a little breaking and entering. Not exactly model superhero behaviour, but I never was much of a superhero. Mother always said there was no room for nuance between good and evil, but the longer Jasper and I are stuck together, the more I wonder if that's really true. The normal rules don't apply when you're stuck in a time loop. What's the worst that could happen?