Outlined in Ink

Chapter 2-1

Chapter 2

The sky might be clear, but the wind was a b***h, shrieking around Eli’s ankles as he waited for the train back to Loyola. Gretchen was going to kill him. She’d warned him that morning before he took off that tonight was important to her. She’d been angling for an invite to one of her history professor’s Tuesday night teas for over two years, taking course after course that had absolutely nothing to do with her Econ major just to suck up to the object of her weird affection. The old geezer had finally broken down and asked her to join his usual hangers-on, and now, there was every possibility she was going to miss it because Eli had her U-Pass.

He really hoped she lacked faith in his ability to be on time—which she should, because he was f*****g awful at it—and shelled out the two bucks to get on the El without it. He’d pay her back, and then find some other way to make up for his scheduling gaffe. Otherwise, he’d have to start looking for another place to crash before she got home, and with this kind of short notice, he’d probably end up sleeping at O’Hare again. Not fun.

People crowded the platform when the train finally rolled into the station. Eli ducked through the open doors as soon as the passengers getting off had cleared the doorway, and slid into the first empty seat he saw, sagging with relief when he realized most everybody else would be stuck standing. He was exhausted. Today had been one failure after another, starting with almost getting arrested downtown when the new manager at the Starbucks he’d picked to work in front of today had decided he was loitering and called the cops, and ending with some kid stealing his spare set of pencils while he’d been finishing up a sketch. At this point, he just wanted to get home, get online, and hang out with people who didn’t make him feel like such a loser.

A couple darted through the doors just before they whisked shut, nearly tripping over each other in their haste not to get caught. The heavyset girl giggled, while the tall, lanky guy with her scooped an arm around her back to pull her away from stepping on Eli’s toes.

“Sorry, man.”

“Sorry,” the girl singsonged, then burst into laughter again, half collapsing into her companion.

Eli met the guy’s eyes over her head, and nodded in sympathy. She was either stoned out of her mind, or not quite there. “Here.” Hefting his pack back onto his shoulder, he rose from his seat and edged out of their way. “You can have mine.”

The girl lifted her head, dark blonde hair obscuring her eyes, but her gaping mouth gave away her surprise. “No s**t?”

“No shit.”

The train slid forward, forcing Eli to grab onto a rail. He was an i***t for giving up his seat, but seeing her boyfriend’s grateful smile when she plopped down and let him be made up for it. A little.

Now that they were practically face to face, something familiar about the other guy nagged at the back of Eli’s brain. He was dressed as casually as his girlfriend, in a faded Zeppelin T-shirt and black canvas jacket, with a dingy bookbag strapped manpurse-style across his chest. He was young enough to go to Loyola, which would explain why he triggered Eli’s I think I know you reflex, but up close and personal, his brown eyes seemed a lot shrewder than Eli had originally assessed. Older. Like he’d seen more of the world than made him happy.

“Hope you don’t have a long ride,” the guy said.

“Not too long. You?”

“After the day we’ve had? Any ride is too long.”

Eli chuckled. “Yeah, tell me about it.”

Now that his girlfriend was sitting down, the guy wasn’t paying any attention to her, though she didn’t seem to be balking at the lack. “You look so familiar, man. I can’t put my finger on it, but I know I’ve seen you around somewhere.”

“Maybe I’ve got one of those faces.” Except then, so did the other guy, because that sense of déjà vu was just getting stronger.

“Nah, that’s not it.”

“You go to Loyola?” Maybe he knew Gretchen. That would explain it.

“Do you?” He glanced at the map on the wall, his face brightening when he saw Loyola was on the line. “Hey, I guess you do.”

He hadn’t actually answered Eli’s question. The fact of that sent a small sliver of alarm down his spine.

The train coasted to a stop, and people pressed sideways to allow others to get off. As soon as there was space behind him, Eli edged a few feet away, hoping the added distance would put an end to the conversation.

“No, wait a minute. I know how I know you.”

He glanced back because it was the polite thing to do, not because he actually wanted the answer any longer. Their eyes met, and though the guy wore a half smile, Eli wasn’t reassured. His girlfriend was finally paying attention, too, the frenzied energy that had pushed her into Eli’s path locked and focused on him.

“How?”

“Sovereign.”

Eli froze. Nobody said that to him in the real world. Online, yeah, because that’s where it belonged. But here, surrounded by a hundred strangers, none of whom understood the blood and sweat he’d poured into the webcomic, it was fodder for attacks. He kept his identity anonymous for a reason. This was exactly it.

“Who are you?” he asked.

“A friend of Fong’s.” He dropped a hand, casually—too casually—to rest on the flap of his bag. Eli’s gaze tracked the motion, but jerked back up when he realized that was exactly what the guy probably wanted. “He loves your work, by the way.”

Eli had no idea who the hell Fong was, which only made it worse. He had no choice but to play along, though. “Tell him thanks.”

“You should tell him yourself.”

“Then he should’ve told me himself.”

The grin widened. It was cold as Lake Michigan winds in the middle of January. How’d he ever think this guy looked friendly? “That sounds like something Sovereign would say.”

Who do you think put the words in his mouth, dipshit? But he bit the words back. They’d make the scene worse, and without knowing what was actually going on—and lacking superpowers to be able to do anything about it anyway—he couldn’t play the smartass more than he already was.

Though he’d give his left nut to be Superman for two seconds and knock this son of a b***h to the moon.

The train squealed to a stop, the passengers lurching sideways as their momentum continued for a couple seconds longer. A middle-aged woman in a Blackhawks windbreaker temporarily blocked his view of the strange guy, but that also meant she got in the other guy’s line of sight, too. Eli grabbed onto the opportunity without hesitation. As soon as the door whispered open, he shoved his way past the people congregating to get off and leapt onto the platform.

Shouts chased him as he ran for the turnstile. He barely got the U-Pass out in time to swipe it through. The strap of his backpack caught for precious seconds, until he twisted to the side to set it free. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the girlfriend trying to elbow her way off the train, but too many people barred the path, too crowded for her to throw herself through.

The doors slid shut on her frustrated shout. With a relieved grin, Eli gave her a wave as the train pulled out of the station.

His adrenaline vanished once it was gone, leaving him hollowed and a little anxious about what had just transpired. Odds were it was just a fan—an obsessed one, if he’d found out who was behind The Lockeford Files. But the weird conversation didn’t make much sense. He acted like Eli should know who this Fong character was. And he was still somehow familiar, but f**k if Eli knew where he’d seen him before. The girl was obviously in on it, too, though how and why remained to be seen.

He glanced up at the clock. The next train would be along soon. But he had no way of being sure the so-called fan wouldn’t be waiting for him at the Loyola stop.

Fuck it. He was getting a cab. With the shitty day he’d had, he owed it to himself.