Red Rainbow G Johanson (i am malala young readers edition .txt) 📖

Marcella said, perching on a chair arm. “She’s got my address; it’s not like she couldn’t find out.”

“True, true. We are aware that bad shit happened at that theatre and heads are going to roll. We’ll ensure it’s not yours. I need you to tell us everything. No pressure, you’re among friends here. Do you want me to explain more about me first? You can probably guess why I go with Phantom.”

“The book? I’m aware of it but I’ve never read it.”

“I’ve only seen the film. The Phantom covers his face because of his hideous features. I don’t crack too many mirrors, do I?” he said, looking to Marcella. She smiled broadly at this, shaking her head in agreement and reaching across to put her hand on his thigh. Whoa, not that high in company. And a bit higher later. “I wear this mask to protect others from seeing my face. But I do not look like him, Mademoiselle. Those that gaze upon my full face fall in love with me. This is mostly a blessing, the downside is not enough to be called a curse. We use it to our advantage.”

“How can I put this?” Patience said, her tone polite as she said diplomatically, “I’m not sure it would work even if you did take off your mask. I’m sure you’re handsome, it’s just I don’t date white men.”

“Can’t say I’m drawn to them either,” he joked. “Pity as that would be advantageous. People hear love and think of romance when that’s just a small part of it. I define love as wanting to see someone flourish, to succeed in all endeavours. To want to be close to someone.”

“That’s a good way of putting it.”

It was and he knew it. Far more palatable than telling her how many people wanted his cock. And how many had had it before his conscience kicked in. She didn’t seem to fully get it yet, though. She believed she would not fall in love with a white man, but magic removed choices and overrode preferences. Heterosexual men and homosexual women still put themselves out for him, so it was not always sexual. The acid test to their resolve would be if he threw himself at them, not something he would ever do as he knew all too well that people were not test subjects to be experimented on without their consent.

“This goes back a long time.” His birth, in fact, as far as he could tell. “I’ve had practice.”

“I don’t even know if my love for him is legit – but the world’s burning, let’s fucking get on with it. Other men have taken advantage of me far worse,” Marcella said.

“I don’t crowd you, we don’t live together.” He gave her space so that she could leave him if she felt it was just an obsession rather than true love – if she had the power to do so. She had no powers like some of the others but was still instrumental in the group, particularly in its formation and helping him with contacts. “Let’s not have a domestic in front of poor Patience. So you don’t hear their voices at all when they write through your hand?”

“No. If I try and focus on it, then the words stop coming.”

“I honestly can’t think of anyone who’s passed who knows of my identity and of our relationship.” There were no candidates that sprung to mind for this dead snitch, not unless his secrets weren’t as closely guarded as he believed.

“Yes, that is very top secret,” Marcella teased. She often made out to him that she was his dirty little secret, the stripper girlfriend of a highflier that nobody knew about. He’d told her things would change after the war. It was better that there was no visible connection between them in case of a domino effect. He wasn’t going to reassure her every time she made a comment of this ilk whether in company or not. That would only encourage her.

The Love Phantom was disturbed by Patience’s tales of Florence Pascoe, both her own personal experiences and the Gestapo’s accounts. They’d take a French life for every German life lost – if not double. Help like that – Florence would have been better off staying in America. He had a lot to think about, and just like with his campaigns, he’d do this better alone and out and about. Marcella walked with him to his car, the Love Phantom asking her what she wanted to do about her visitor.

“Do you want her moved elsewhere?” They would provide sanctuary for her. Patience could help them too, if she wished, but it was not conditional. Her power was hard to utilise – possibly better for adverts.

“It’s a bit of a hassle, moving her. It’ll only increase the chances of her being seen.”

“Do you want to go somewhere else for the duration?” He agreed with Marcella’s assessment that moving her was problematic. He did not want to voice what he was thinking as he knew how prejudiced it would sound. Patience’s colour worked against her, made her stand out more, which was not ideal as a fugitive from the Nazis. They’d shelter her, of course, but they had to be careful about it, which meant the fewer moves, the better. If he did move them, it would have to be to somewhere they could see out these last few months.

“I was wondering when you were going to invite me to stay at yours. Joking, calm down. The girl’s petrified. She’ll get worse alone. She’ll be bad enough while I’m at work. I’m not scared at all, so I’ll be able to help her.”

“Teach me that skill, will you?”

“You’re hardly scared of anything. Bar one thing.” Commitment, yeah, yeah, yeah. That wasn’t even true – he’d been engaged and monogamous for almost three years. “Are you going to recruit Florence too? She’ll do more damage than Patience will.”

“I’m not sure about that.” Resistance did not have to mean