The Atlas Six (The Atlas 1)

“Wherever you’ve gone,” Gideon said, “it’s a fortress.”

Nico glanced around, frowning. “Is it?”

“I can’t actually get through,” Gideon said, gesturing to the bars. “And I had to leave Max outside.”

“Outside where?”

“Oh, one of the realms.” They had tried mapping them in college, but it was difficult. Realms of thought were hard enough to grasp, and the realms of the subconscious were extensive and labyrinthine, ever-changing. “He’ll be fine. I’m sure he’s sleeping.”

Nico rose to his feet, approaching the bars. “I didn’t realize it’d be so difficult.” On second thought, though, he probably should have.

“There are a lot of defensive wards up,” Gideon said. “More than I would expect.”

“Even mental ones?”

“Especially mental ones.” Gideon plucked something in the air like a guitar string. “See that? Someone over there is a telepath.”

Parisa, probably, if what Tristan implied was correct, though Nico doubted that particular ward was her doing. It must have been a thread within a larger shield against telepathy, which made sense. Not every variety of theft required a corporeal form of entry.

He glanced up, looking for a camera (or the iteration of one), and spotted it in the corner.

“Well,” Nico said, pointing to it. “Try not to say anything too incriminating.”

Gideon looked over his shoulder, shrugging. “I haven’t got much to say, to tell you the truth.” A pause, and then, “Avez-vous des problèmes? Tout va bien?”

“Si, estoy bien, no te preocupes.” Anyone watching could probably translate, but that wasn’t really the point. “I suppose we shouldn’t do this too often, then.”

Gideon inclined his head in apparent agreement. “You’re not properly sleeping when I’m here,” he pointed out. “And judging by this place’s security, you’re going to need all your energy.”

“Yes,” Nico sighed, “probably.”

“Is Libby there?”

“Yes, somewhere.” He grimaced. “Though you’re not supposed to know that.”

“Well, it was more of a lucky guess, really.” Gideon tilted his head. “You’re being nice to her, aren’t you?”

“I’m always nice. And don’t tell me what to do.”

Gideon’s smile broadened.

“Tu me manques,” he said. “Max hasn’t noticed you’re gone, of course.”

“Of course not.” A pause. “Y yo también.”

“Strange without you around.”

“I know.” Not really. It didn’t feel real yet, but it would soon. “Is it quiet, at least?”

“Yes, and I don’t like quiet,” Gideon said. “Makes me suspect my mother’s going to surface from the garbage disposal.”

“She won’t, we had a talk.”

“Did you?”

“Well, she surprised me in the bath,” said Nico. “Still, I’d say she’s fairly well persuaded.” Or something close enough, he thought grimly.

“Nicolás,” Gideon sighed, “déjate.”