changing constellation

Layla plucked up one of the contact sheets, peering at it critically. This had been the most painful moment at the start, trying not to sit there squirming while someone with a professional’s eye looked over them. She’d poured everything into that first attempt at trying to make money out of something other than death. Desolate views of a place that had been home, stark black and white prints, bleached skies and scoured land. A paradise.

Alix picked up the coffee Layla had set down in front of her the moment she’d sat down in front of her desk. A routine for the two of them now, one that hadn’t changed since those first shots of the towering falls had been removed from her portfolio. The gallery owner would’ve called it a two way street between them, but it was a narrow one. A single aspect of her life presented for opinions and purchase. For display out in the store, a lure for her brother when he’d arrived, a flag displayed proudly to her uncle (although she hoped Ralphy would fall on the damn pole and do them all a favour). The other narrow alleyways of her life here had been blown wide open – rarely willingly – and were now rubble filled. Eventually she’d turn an ankle, or worse, trying to pick her way down them. The one to the gallery was the last clear one and it was staying that way as long as Layla was willing to do business with her.

Green eyes ticked up from the contact sheets to the woman’s face as they were set down. Alix swallowed her mouthful of coffee slowly, waiting for someone to toss the grenade in. Jesus, was she going to drag it out more? Layla grinned slowly, one corner of her wide mouth lifting as she nudged the contact sheet back across the table.

”You know what I’m gonna say…”

Did she?

”All of them. That shot of the owl … that’s going big. Maybe cropped a little more from what you have there, but a six foot canvas at least.” She tapped manicured nails on the shot she’d mentioned. Taken three days after the full moon that had blown up another of those avenues, she’d been out in the woods alone after dark had fallen. The owl had been silent as it had swooped overhead. It had missed one meal, but had made the next and she’d been waiting. Crouched down behind a fallen oak, catching the owl as it came in to land on its prey, wings silhouetted against the moon, light catching the hollow of its face, claws extended. She’d still been breathless with the wonder of it when she’d walked back into the warehouse and had immediately found herself amongst the rubble again.

Stilted words, a slow dance around one another. Maybe it had eased since, but there was still a trepidation in the pit of her stomach every time she opened the door to his scent. Eyes skittering away, scared to look too long in case what reflected back wasn’t silvered light – like it had been with the owl – but that darkness she’d dreaded seeing there, the sort that would swallow her whole. It was like they were still caught in that breathless bubble, waiting to see if anything else would blow and take them both with it, what had already been there was scarred – healing, but still bearing those marks of an attempt not to hurt him further.

The corners of Alix’s mouth tipped up as she set the cup down. ”I’ll get the files sent over.” Relief settled in, a bandage for those wounds that she imagined would eventually be cast aside, or twisted into a tourniquet to try and save her life.

Layla had kept her another five minutes, talking another exhibition, and had then left her to slip away. It was still early, perhaps early enough that Christian wouldn’t be back yet. A note on the fridge, a warning that she’d be back late, and a drive out to the woods again, seeing out the day alone in the dark, except for maybe the owl. Nothing to mark the day out as special – as though getting another year older in the middle of all of this destruction was anything to celebrate.

She checked her phone again, finding nothing from Rohan, nothing from anybody in her family. A relief maybe, but those wounds still ached. Once upon a time her life had stretched wide open, boulevards filled with celebrations, candles, gifts (even if most were of the useful variety rather than the fanciful), her place in the world certain. Now it was a maze of those narrow, choked alleys, and that throb deep down.

Alix idled back through town, a route that took her through those picturesque streets where everybody else was already getting into the festive mood. Windows lit. faces pressed to windows, the darkness that lurked in the shadows not touching them … for now. The warehouse was still bleak when she eventually pulled up, but the scent hit, something rich, as she unlocked the door and slid it open. Not too early, that sudden catch of breath as he looked up from the stove to smile at her, like those claws hadn’t dug deep into both of them.

Swallowing heavily, Alix drummed up one of her own. She set the large portfolio and her camera case down against the wall of her dark room. ”Hi,” she said softly. It was almost homely, the way it had been the night she’d come clean, their roles just reversed now. ”You didn’t have to, but … thank you.” That ache squeezed, working its way up beneath her ribs as she glanced aside at the table. The usual stack of bills, one of Layla’s cloud grey envelopes, probably a cheque from a sale, although she hadn’t mentioned it.

Picking it up gave her an excuse not to meet his eye, although Alix saw him Christian working his way close as she started to leaf through. Her brows furrowed as the apology spilled out. A card. He hadn’t meant to look, but … he was a considerate house guest, almost painfully so. After months of living here together it was still like he’d only allowed himself that tiny oasis in the middle of all that was hers. Her fingers felt almost numb as she shuffled them, that envelope ending up on the bottom, the card on top. No envelope. Alix opened it, scanned the birthday wishes – Rohan, not yet cutting the cord that had grown hair thin since she’d come clean to him. ”It’s from my brother,” she said hoarsely. ”I guess he thought if it wasn’t in an envelope I’d have to read it.” A calculated chance. It might’ve gone in the trash – but he’d known it wouldn’t.

She pressed her lips together at the wishes that spilled out of Christian, someone who hadn’t walked far through that maze with her, but the avenue he had walked with her had been torn apart, shrapnel taking its toll on them both. ”I wasn’t hiding it,” she assured him. ”It’s … it’s been a long time since I celebrated it. Thank you.” The gratitude rolled out low, her gaze finally lifted from the card as she nodded. Maybe this would be one night where she could forget about the obstacles. ”It smells good.” Better than the meal that had been beyond rescue by the time she emerged from her room that last time. Every scrape of a fork over the baked on remnants in the pans then had felt it was working over her nerves. Alix set the post down, including the card, her hand reaching for his bicep to squeeze in gratitude.

Tagged: CHRISTIAN CALLAWAY * Word Count: 1297

Alix didn’t think Christian had particularly liked the woman he’d met in the woods. Brash, not afraid to tell him where he was screwing up, probably more than a little arrogant in his eye. Honestly, Alix wasn’t so sure she’d liked her either, but the initial rap on the knuckles had been necessary. The deaths of those she’d been ordered to kill could weigh on her conscience, they’d been out of her control in a way after all (not that it excused any of the executions of innocent people), but Christian’s death would have been entirely on her if she’d let him wander into the woods after something he was wholly unprepared for. Over time she’d trained him, let him catch glimpses of the side of her life she’d never been able to escape from. The good parts of it at least, few as they were.

There wasn’t much about her grand reveal that she would’ve called lucky – it had been brutal, something that might have irrevocably changed what had been between them – but the rest of her life not intruding here in that delicate time certainly was. That was all coming, the weighty conversations she knew would follow, but it had seemed like she’d have time to explain it all before it all collided again. Except that Rohan had chosen that moment to nudge.

She felt the pressure of those separated worlds colliding building in her chest as she looked down at Rohan’s card. In those few words she revealed to Christian almost as much about her family as she had previously. The bit that wasn’t rotten to the core, at least she believed wasn’t. Still, until now she’d kept her brothers close to her chest, even with Brady. Some part of her couldn’t believe that any of them would’ve had any knowledge of what had happened, certainly no complicity in it. Alix’s eyes remained on the card, one corner of her mouth lifting and falling immediately. ”I have four,” she admitted. ”Rohan and my youngest came to town a while ago. I’m right in the middle – two younger, two older.” But Rohan had always been the one she was closest to. Her rock, the same way she imagined Christian had probably been for his brother and sisters.

When she’d needed him Christian had been that rock for her. Solid as she’d clung to him in the home he’d shared with his wife, the one now so corrupted by what had happened there that he couldn’t step foot in it. Some part of her had felt adrift again after he’d walked out on her. Now with just a few words and the sort of well wishes she hadn’t anticipated, Alix felt like her fingertips had at least brushed it again and found some anchor in what should have been strange, overly familiar.

The kindness that could have burned from him with grief and betrayal was still there, a sweetness she could almost taste in the air as she smiled. ”I’m glad too,” Alix managed honestly. The damage could’ve have been too great to allow it, the hold she thought she had now crumbling beneath her touch, instead of remaining solid. ”Nothing that smells that good is going to taste awful.” She didn’t know if it had been Christian or his wife who’d taken charge in the kitchen, not even after held helped her the last time He’d called himself a professional with dressings, but maybe Sofia had been one of those women who made juggling work and home seemed like the easiest thing in the world. There with a smile and dinner already on the table when her husband came home. They would have had a rhythm at least, one that had maybe been distorted by the attack at the hospital that had turned her, but one they both knew at least.

Trying to recover the one she’d had with him was going to take more than a single night – if it could ever be recaptured. Something in it had started to change before Sofia’s betrayal and then her own had shattered it. Alix felt the pressure in her chest ease as she let her fingers linger for a moment, saw it happen in him too as he exhaled. Not shattered perhaps, like the rock it held – just reshaped. Her eyes searched his face as his hand rose and covered hers, then darted away as the timer rang out and Christian withdrew, heading for the stove.

Alix glanced back at the stack of post as she trailed after him – sooner, rather than later, she was going to have to talk to Rohan and try to refind the rhythm there too. The table was already set, cutlery laid out fully instead of a knife and fork just being slipped on the side of the plate as it was delivered. He’d really gone to town (unless this was how it had always been with his wife, another aspect she wasn’t privvy to). Alix settled in her seat, her smile warm. ”You’ve really gone all out,” she noted softly. This was more than she would’ve managed, even if the fish had been a step way above the frozen pizzas that still lingered in the freezer. Meat on the inside of the pastry wrapped parcel perfectly pink. The sides all equally at that point of looking perfect.

Settling the napkin in her lap, Alix reached for her knife and fork. She cut one of the spears of asparagus, chewed it and found it spot on. She went for the Wellington next, carefully carving a corner to get the pastry, a piece of the beef and whatever surrounded it. ”It’s definitely out of my ordinary. I’ve never had it before.” She tried it now, gave a little groan of pleasure as she chewed. The layer she hadn’t identified on site was mushrooms of some sort, minced small into a pâté that perfectly complimented the beef. ”It’s incredible. Thank you.” For a moment Alix continued to eat, small mouthfuls going down to the sound of appreciation.

It was still awkward, stilted in a way that tonight didn’t deserve to be after all the effort he’d put into it. Alix kept the fork and knife in her hands, but she glanced up from the plate, to his hands, to his face. ”We never went all out for birthdays when I was a kid. There were presents – usually something useful from my parents.” Like the bow she’d received as an 8 year old, a prelude to the archery lessons she’d be starting to compliment the rest of her training. Anything fanciful – like the camera that had given her so much since – had come from her brothers. ”We’d eat somewhere, usually the same place we had dinner at the night before. It … just felt like a normal day. This … this is special and I’m grateful for it. Did your family do this?” The formal dinner, the warm wishes. They’d likely waited until after dinner for the gifts, all gathered around together to see what had been bought, and the gratitude it brought. She didn’t expect that, hadn’t expected any of this, but now she was getting it she realised how much she wanted it and him - what she’d had with him before everything had been changed by those bitter truths.

Tagged: CHRISTIAN CALLAWAY * Word Count: 1225

Coming to in her bedroom the morning after it felt as though some vital shield had been stripped away. Christian could see deeper than he ever had before, the thin bare layer of her skin vulnerable. He could’ve taken the opportunity, slipping a blade into her heart while she’d been in that strange liminal zone between what she became and who she was the rest of the month. Instead he’d been there, clothes clutched in his hands, that same care he’d shown today in the gesture. This wasn’t a man who deserved the pain he’d suffered twice over. He should’ve had a long, happy life with his wife, kids running around that house with their dad putting together special meals for their birthdays, off-kilter cakes covered in bright icing, presenting it with the candles blazing and his love for them all lighting up his face.

She had an echo of it today, those smiles that were coming to her again. There were still layers between them, but now they felt thin as gauze, as though she could tear through them and reveal everything that had been hidden for so long. The brothers she’d pretended hadn’t existed for years, except in her nightmares where they’d be the ones tearing through her lies, shredding them with blades and bullets.

Alix smiled wryly, brushing her knuckles over her lips like she could chase back the sound she’d made. She wouldn’t have wished the same. There were a thousand places she could’ve eaten, but it all would’ve been with those shields up, the role she played wrapped thick enough around her that the pleasure of it wouldn’t have reached the part of her that he had. ”No, this is right for it,” she assured him. ”It makes it special. You’ve made today special.” Her lips pressed together, the nod brief as he met her eye. Of course he was brushing off the compliments, as self-effacing as always. There was a gratitude she wanted to voice though, for so much more than just a meal. Getting it all past the lump in her throat was the difficult part.

Another layer peeled effortless away as she opened up about what had been special in the Quinn household. Alix tilted her head, the corner of her mouth quirking higher. Her gaze skittered from his, returned to hold it. ”Nope, that was my tenth birthday. Had to make sure I was big enough not to get knocked on my ass by the recoil.” There was a thread of humour in her voice, but she wasn’t joking. She’d been two years older than Calum, but they’d received their guns the same year. By then he’d been an inch taller than her and Luther might have only been six at the time, but he was catching up fast. ”Seventh birthday was a pocket knife, eighth a bow. You can see their theme.” The camera Rohan had given her was the one thing outside of that, the one thing other than those weapons she’d taken with her when she’d run. A tie to them that wasn’t wrapped in violence.

That wouldn’t have been the childhood Christian had lived. All of this had been new, a change in direction after what had happened to Sofia, one moment in the hospital changing everything. She studied his face, imagining a settled life in some fancy pile of a house – a glossy dining table that probably seated a dozen, kitchen staff to bring the food out, kids on their best behaviour scattered around the trouble, properly appreciative of what they were given. Alix tried to be now, making her gratitude clear, scooping up another mouthful of the asparagus and beef just to make it extra clear as she tried to flip the conversation around to his childhood instead of the harshness of her own. Her fork was set down on the plate, the food still on the end of it. ”You don’t have to do that,” she assured him, her throat tightening as her fingers curled in like she was hiding their nakedness. ”This is enough, honestly.” He’d noticed, had considered so much in the time between him getting out of work and her getting home. It was enough to make her head spin.

The veil was so thin now that it was like he could read every part of him while she’d shied away from her side of it, not wanting to dig too far into how his marriage had been before that brutal end. Like it wasn’t her place to find out, wasn’t what she should be bringing up to tear away the scar tissue that must’ve been forming around that life for him. Alix picked her fork up again, eating the gift she had been given like that would settle the scales between them. Christian had launched into his story, birthdays grander than the ones she’d imagined him giving for his kids. Extravagance, parents treating their kids like grown-ups far too early. She almost felt like she needed to apologise for them, but it wasn’t what it all warranted. It was rude. ”It sounds … formal,” she managed finally. Pressure must have been heavy on his shoulders the entire time. ”Must have been difficult, especially as a kid.” But he’d managed it, paving the way for his younger siblings to be able to stretch those confines out by taking the weight for them.

Rohan probably would’ve felt that. The responsibility for leading the way weighing heavy on his shoulders, crushing him when his only sister had bolted away from it all. He’d almost told her as much, laying the guilt on thick when he’d arrived here. Maybe that guilt had slid back far enough now that he felt it enough to have dropped that card off to her. ”She sounds like maybe she has the best of it, because of you,” she said lightly. ”Do you see her for them? Do you get to see them all much?” Alix set her cutlery down on the almost empty plate, balling her napkin up in her fingers instead of reaching for his hand while he was still eating. ”You don’t have to,” she assured him as he tried to apologise for letting her into his world. ”Did you prefer those quiet dinners?” Time with his family when it didn’t feel like some sort of excuse to do business.

Alix couldn’t imagine going back to her family and have it still be the same way it had been. Too many of the ugly truths had been revealed in that closet now. She’d tried to give Rohan a glimpse of them, but she’d thought maybe he’d gone back there, the silence a sign that there was a storm to come later. Instead it had been as though he was trying to find his feet again, the same way she had after she’d realised what had happened. Reaching for her knife and fork again to polish off the remains of the meal he’d prepared for her, Alix nodded. ”Yeah, that was Rohan,” she said hoarsely. ”Out of all of them, I was closest to him. He was the one to start me off with my first camera, the one I followed around when I was just a kid. He saved my life on my first solo hunt.” And that had made him all the more likely to be the one her parents would force to kill her.

She glanced down at her plate, forcing a smile as she looked back up and shook her head. ”Not often. That’s my fault, I came clean to him the same way I did you. I guess now he’s trying to tell me he’s made peace with it. After what happened, I left, went out on my own so that they weren’t forced to make a decision that would hurt all of us.” That would kill her, and in a way do the same to them. Alix drew in a breath, let it out before she tried to muster up a brighter smile. ”That’s probably a conversation for another day. I shouldn’t bring down the mood when you’ve done all of this.” This time she did reach for him, her fingers curling lightly around his wrist, squeezing gently. ”I know I’ve already said it, but thank you.” It wasn’t a gift she’d expected, but now she had it, she was more grateful than she thought she could’ve been. For dinner, for the man who’d held out despite the added blow he’d received.

Tagged: CHRISTIAN CALLAWAY * Word Count: 1421