I have a moment of clarity as I reach for the door. That’s the thing. The Morrigan didn’t really have control of me. When we were one I could control her. I turn the knob and Clinton stands on the other side, knuckles raised.
“Were you going to bust down the door?”
“If you didn’t open it, I would’ve,” he replies. He studies me. “You okay?”
“Just tired.”
He frowns. “Well I hate to tell you, but we’ve got to go out.”
“And do what?”
“We tracked down a few people with symptoms. I figured you’d want to go with me to check them out—see if they’re infected.”
Hell yes I want to go.
“Let me get my jacket.”
*
“Shit,” I say, looking at the man in quarantine. I’ve never seen him before. Never heard or seen his name. Clinton said something to the guard and got us five minutes of access. His gray pallor and glassy eyes look exactly like Xavier’s before he died. “Who is he?”
Clinton shrugs but he takes a quick photo of the medical forms hanging on a clipboard. We move to the next room and there are two more victims. One female and another male.
“Shit, shit, shit,” I mutter again. “What do we do? How do we stop this?”
“Find out where they got it—how or who is spreading it.”
“And if we don’t?”
For a moment I’m filled with relief that there’s no way it could have been me. Quickly, though, the annoyance that with the Morrigan on the loose I have zero control over her. I rest a hand on Clinton’s arm.
“I think I know who to look for.”
“Who?”
“Anita Cross.”
Chapter Fourteen
Clinton
I’m not surprised to hear Morgan suggest we look for Anita, although I am pretty curious that it took her this long to make the connection. Anita and Xavier are both players in the Morrigan’s game. I’m just not sure to what extent.
“Any idea where she may be?” I ask on the way down the elevator.
“None.”
“Seriously?”
“She’s wealthy, gorgeous, and lived in an amazing penthouse,” she says. “Her brother was a banker or something. Other than our writing program, we had very little in common.” The bell chimes, notifying us that we’re on our floor. The doors open and I step out. Morgan hasn’t moved an inch—her eyes narrowed in concentration.
“Morgan? You okay?”
“I think I know where we can get more information on Anita.”
“Yeah?”
She steps forward and slips her hand in mine. “We need to pay a visit to my advisor.”