Dropping Like Spies - A Gallagher Girls Story

Chapter Ten

The two of them each cut me a look through the tops of their eyes. Bill crossed his arms in a rather accusatory fashion and that’s when I felt it. The blood in my face. The tightness in my shoulders. Each and every cut and scrape across my skin. “Maybe I’ll go take a shower.”

Will nodded, the corner of his mouth ticking up into a smile. “Great idea, Cap.”

Bill grabbed my shoulders and turned me in the right direction.“Bathroom’s right over there.”

That was when I knew. That was the exact moment I knew that Will and Bill knew me better than I knew myself.

The first thing I saw when I closed the door behind me was the mirror. It was massive, taking up the majority of the wall. It seemed like the bouquet in front of it swallowed most of the reflection, but there was just enough room to see myself. The boys were right. I looked pretty torn up. My face wouldn’t be horribly scarred forever, but there were definitely a few scrapes that would stick around for a while. The one over my temple was the worst by far, but one had come dangerously close to my eye and another stretched from ear to lip.

I reached past the shower curtain to the golden handle, letting the water run as I tried to figure out which way was hot and which was cold. Stupid hotel showers. Who could ever tell with those things?

At first the water stung as it hit the fresh cuts, igniting my entire body in a sore, slow flame. Thin pink streaks spiraled down the drain until the water turned clear, running smoothly down my back like slow, curling lava. I felt my shoulders unwind. My skin loosend. When I finally let my hair down and ran water through it, it turned to silk, my curls deflating under the weight.

I tried to detach from the mission, thinking of my grandfather’s words to me so many weeks ago. Most people stop. It was time for me to stop, but my mind kept wandering back to the mission. To Subject X and his thorn bush and something else. Something I couldn’t quite identify. It was that gut feeling that everyone talks about. Something jumping out at me, even if I didn’t know what. Natasha Azarov. I’d heard the name Natasha Azarov before.

No, Maggie.  Forget about it.  Just detach.  Gather yourself.

You know it a voice whispered at me.  Mom’s voice.  How was it that she was always there still?  It wasn’t fair.  She didn’t get to talk to me if she was going to insist on being dead.  You know the name.

Yeah.  I did know the name.

Stop this.  Relax.  You’re going to burn yourself out.

Focus Maggie.

Focus Maggie.

You’ve seen the name.

I tried to shake her out of my head.  I think I knocked myself around a bit and that worked for a while.  There was a long time when Mom didn’t come back and I thought she was gone.

Natasha Azarov.

The words were slow and quiet, not quite a whisper, but not quite a breath.  They hit me in the chest and suddenly I knew.  I hadn’t heard the name before—I’d seen it.

I slammed the water off, hopping out of the shower as fast as I could, not even bothering to dry myself off before throwing clothes on again.  I bolted towards the door, hardly turning the knob before ripping it open.  “I’ve got it!”

I was met with a gentle shushing, looking to Will as he threw his thumb towards Bill, asleep on the sofa with a bag of Cheetos opened in his lap.  “I’ve got it,” I said again, quieter this time.

Will was leaning up against the long windowsill, the light of the pool below swimming across his face. He didn’t look at me as he spoke, his gaze lost in the swirls and the waves. “Got what?”