Infinite Risk by Ann Aguirre

bored?”
    â€œNot at all. I love this movie. I’ve seen it like ten times.”
    And always with you.
    That seemed too much to bear; I was alone in my love story, whispering the secret to myself in the dark. Somehow I mustered a smile that must’ve convinced him, and I tore my gaze away and locked it on the screen. You can’t ruin this by being sad and weird. His life is already different because of you.
    As the credits rolled, I wiped the tears from my cheeks. Fortunately, the ending made it credible, so Kian patted my shoulder. “I know, right? No matter how many times I watch it, it always gets me. Part of me wishes they could have a happy ending but—”
    â€œIf Ilsa stayed with Rick, she wouldn’t be the woman he fell in love with. She was always fighting for a cause that mattered more than her own happiness.” In that moment, I identified with her so hard.
    â€œExactly.” His green eyes sparkled with the pleasure of talking to someone who got it.
    In the lobby, moviegoers seemed in no hurry to leave. The magic of the Marquee was that afterward, you could drink in the lobby and chat people up. They were showing another movie in twenty minutes, but it was a seventies college comedy, so it drew a different audience, mostly middle-aged men, some of whom stared at me creepily as I bundled up.
    Outside, it had gotten colder. My lips felt like they were freezing as I fought for a breath that didn’t hurt my lungs. Someone swung away from the wall, a stranger in a long dark coat with an inky waterfall of hair adorned with a red knit hat. His face was lean and lovely, sharply sculpted, eyes gray as a thundercloud. When he smiled, my stomach dropped.
    â€œI’m here for Nine.” That was unmistakably the Harbinger’s voice, and by the sweetly malicious smile curving his pretty mouth, I was in so much trouble. Since he was pretending to be human, his aura didn’t stagger me.
    Shit. Why didn’t I cut him off?
    Kian took a step back, his expression equal measures hurt and puzzled. “You’re—”
    â€œHer boyfriend. Colin.” He offered a black-gloved hand in a semblance of manners while I ground my teeth.
    There was no way to argue without this encounter getting weird. The guys shook, and I could already tell Kian was hastily evaluating everything we’d done together, wondering if any lines had been crossed. Am I getting my ass kicked? was practically written on his wrinkled forehead. I needed to take control before the Harbinger screwed things up further.
    â€œShe hasn’t mentioned you,” Kian said, studying my face.
    â€œI wasn’t sure where we stood,” I bit out. “Colin has this habit of vanishing when it’s convenient and showing up later to cause trouble.”
    â€œI always come back, don’t I?” The Harbinger tapped my nose in what might approximate an affectionate gesture, but I felt more like a dog being swatted with a newspaper.
    My gaze slammed into his as I choked down all the shit I really wanted to say. Like, What the hell are you doing? “So far, yes.”
    â€œI should let you two—”
    â€œIt’s fine,” the Harbinger said, smiling. “Why don’t I buy coffee? It’s the least I can do since you’ve looked after my lovely girl so well.”
    Despite my halfhearted protests, we ended up in a diner four blocks away. The garish fluorescent lights stung my eyes, throwing the faults in the décor into sharp relief, a sort of chiaroscuro in neglect. The place reminded me a little of the place where Kian made me an offer I couldn’t refuse, only these people weren’t pieces set in place by Wedderburn. Most of them were layered in worn winter gear, counting coins to pay for their coffee.
    I rubbed my fingers across a tear in the beige vinyl booth seat as the Harbinger shoved in beside me. Should’ve seen that coming. He waited until the tired