Or will Ava Clark be gone for good?
Thinking of changing my name immediately takes me back to when I was a little girl playing pretend with Rachel. We’d invent characters and speak in silly accents, and sometimes carry our game all the way to school. Rachel was always pretty great at it, always made up really glamorous princess names like Arianna or Belle or Anastasia. I, on the other hand, was not so creative. I made my first grade teacher call me Heart from Valentine’s Day until Thanksgiving break, when I then decided I wanted to be named Cranberry. Like the sauce.
Clearly, I’m not so great at thinking up new names.
“Actually, wait,” I smile involuntarily. “I think I got one. How about last name Kent, first name Rachel? Rachel Kent.”
Kent like Clark Kent, Superman’s alter ego: a play on my real last name. And Rachel, like my sister. This way, I can take my family with me to my new life—even if only by name.
Blair shrugs and arches an eyebrow at Bane. “Feelings?”
“Yeah, why not?” He shrugs. “As long as that’s not a real family name, Kent. Don’t want to leave any breadcrumbs.”
“Nope,” I confirm. “No Kents.”
Bane’s gaze is steady on me, probing and clinical again. “What about Rachel?” When I don’t answer he sighs. “Alright Red, who’s Rachel?”
“Sorry if we haven’t had time to swap life stories,” I snap, “but there’s been a lot happening! Let’s just focus on getting out of here and then I’ll tell you whatever boring thing you want to know about me. Rachel’s a common enough name. There are tons of Rachels.”
Bane gives me a long hard look. “Ok.”
“It should be fine,” Blair cuts in. “The only tricky part will be the first twenty-four hours, getting you out of the country safely. I did all the arrangements myself, so there’s not much margin for error. It just depends on how smart and fast your little motorcycle enthusiast friends are when you hit the road. As long as you get to Uncle Crisp’s in one piece, no one will be able to trace you.”
“Uncle Crisp?” I ask.
Blair nonchalantly kicks at Bane’s boots with hers. “Way to keep her up to speed, jerk. You expect the poor girl to just change her identity like a pair of pants and you haven’t even told her where you’re going?”
“I told her Canada.,” Bane clears his throat. “Sorry, Red. In all the excitement I didn’t bother to really explain. Blair’s Uncle Crisp is my Dad, Crispin Davies. I always went by Harme, my mom’s last name, but my new papers are under Davies. My Dad went back to Canada after he and my mom broke up. He’s got a country house we can use. Death Layer doesn’t know he exists, so it should be safe.”
I process this quickly and point to Blair, comprehension dawning. “You’re cousins?”
“Yup.” She pops another bubble with her gum, grinning. “Blair Davies, forger extraordinaire. I got all the good genes and brains, as you can see. All that was left for loser here was brute strength.”
“Right,” Bane smirks. “Which is how I just earned us both an early retirement, and don’t you forget it. Fight money, Red. Good old-fashioned bets on a boxing match. Isn’t it beautiful?” Bane rises to his feet, patting the leather satchel filled with cash as he slings it over his shoulder. He glares at Blair. “You’re welcome, by the way.”
I’m smiling, a bit dumbfounded. “You guys look nothing alike.”
“That’s cuz Bane’s ugly,” Blair says, sticking out her tongue and laughing.
Bane rolls his eyes. “It’s cuz your Mom’s ugly.”
Blair kicks him again, prompting a moment of horseplay. Clearly they never got over being seven. It ends when Blair kicks Bane sharply on the shinbone.
“Ow!”
“Shh!” I say, noticing that the guy behind the counter is staring. “Wait, though. Isn’t going to your Dad’s a little obvious? I mean, isn’t that the first place they’ll look?”
“Nah, Bane’s Daddy don’t exist on paper,” Blair says cryptically. “At least not on real paper. He’s off the grid. No birth certificate, no nothing. Not even on Bane’s birth certificate.”
I frown. “How is that possible?” Neither answer me. “Seriously, how? Is he, like, a pirate? Does he have a time machine and he’s here from the past? How do you not have an ID?”
Bane and Blair exchange a look that says ‘it’s not worth it,’ and Bane checks his watch.
“Yeah, well, I’ll explain later.” Bane grunts. “I hate to bust up this little family reunion, but Blair’s got to get her ass moving and make those IDs. Stat! And you and I have some loose ends to tie up.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Blair waves her hand. “Piece of cake. Just, I need a passport photo of your lady friend. Stand right there, sweetie.”
She moves me in front of a section of white wall and holds up her iPhone. “Smile real pretty. One, two, three.” She peers at her screen and wrinkles her nose. “It looks just awful enough to be real, no offense.”
She holds it up for me to see and I laugh. There are dark circles under my eyes from the fading bruises and my coppery hair is a mess, flowing in all directions like Medusa. It looks uncannily like my real passport photo.
“You have a talent,” I tell Blair.
“Yup,” she says. “Ok, that’s all I need from you creeps, I’ll touch this photo up a bit to get rid of the bruises so it doesn’t look like we took the picture today. The rest is up to butthead here.” She elbows Bane as she walks past him. “Tell Crisp hi for me!”
“Wait,” Bane calls, halting Blair from her fast track to the door. “Birth certificate too, for her.”
“Uh-huh. Okay.” Blair gives us a knowing wink and turns to leave.
“Hey!” Bane’s voice halts her at the door. “I may not see you again, cuz. C’mere.”
Frowning, Blair turns back and wraps her arms quickly and firmly around Bane’s shoulders, planting a kiss on his cheek.
“Sure you will,” she says. “Christmas in Cornwall! We’ll cook a goose and eat figgy pudding and have high tea at Buckingham Palace with Sherlock Holmes and Jane Austen. Of course you’ll see me again, loser. You two behave yourselves on the run.”