You keep saying that, Bear mused. Even though we always are on missions such as this.
“That’s because I don’t trust the people we’re dealing with, so just humor me with a ‘Yes, we’ll be careful.’”
Yes, we’ll be careful, they both intoned solemnly, and promptly shattered the illusion by giggling merrily as they left to investigate.
I walked over to the bed to put on my boots, and then quickly altered my form, becoming myself once again. And Rhea, it felt good.
I took a deep breath, let it filter through every part of me to sweep out the remnants of those other identities, then wrapped a light shield around myself and clambered out the window. No one was in the small walkway, and there were no faces peering out the windows of the nearby apartments that I could see. I relaxed a little but didn’t release the shield. The museum was officially out-of-bounds, so I couldn’t risk being spotted walking to the place.
It didn’t take me long to get there. I rapped on the metal door as hard as I dared and then waited.
Footsteps echoed as Jonas approached. “Who is it?”
“Me.”
He didn’t reply, but a heartbeat later the door was pushed open. I swept inside and released the shield with a sigh of relief. The little ones buzzed around me excitedly, some of them dropping tingly kisses on my cheeks and others patting my arms. Relief that I’d returned was uppermost in their energy, even though they’d had fun following Jonas about as he investigated both the tower and the pile of rubble. It made me feel guilty about having to return to Central
so soon.
“Tough night?” Jonas left the doors open and walked over to the autocook, ordering two coffees.
“Yeah, but only because I was bored out of my brain.” I followed him across, then leaned a shoulder against the museum’s outer wall and watched the autocook fill two mugs. “Sharran was attacked, just as we’d thought.”
His gaze briefly scanned my length, then rose and lingered on my neck. I hadn’t bothered healing the wound, so it was still red and puffy looking. And while my attacker might have had access to a spray that had healed the needle’s entry point, the medical center doc had declared it was a waste of resources to use it on the neck wound and that it’d heal just fine. Obviously, the financial problems Charles had mentioned were hitting all departments.
“Were you able to see who it was?” He handed me a mug and motioned me toward the table.
I took a sip, then gave him a brief description. “It was Rath Winter. Or, rather, the imposter who has usurped his life.”
“I’m a little surprised he’s doing his own dirty work. In an organization that large, he’d surely have people he could completely trust.”
“Obviously, given the dissections they’re doing upstairs.”
He just about choked on his coffee. “They’re what?”
I updated him on everything my ghosts had seen, then grimaced and added, “The fact that they’re drugging the women in the holding cells creates a major problem, however.”
“One that means we might have to get you in there tonight rather than wait for Sharran to be promoted upstairs.” He began to pace instead of sitting at the table with me, his strides long, powerful, and filled with frustration. “Our only obvious chance of doing that is via the freight elevator, which is another problem, given we had no idea it existed until now. And I’m not sure Nuri’s family can risk pulling up any information about it without raising alarms in the wrong quarters.”
“They don’t need to. I’ve got Cat and Bear trying to find the entry point at the moment.”
Amusement momentarily broke the tension radiating from him. “They’re very handy allies, these ghosts of yours.”
“They’re not my allies. They’re my friends.”
He paused, his gaze on mine and his expression . . . odd. Odd in a way that had the hairs at the back of my neck rising and my pulse racing. But it wasn’t fear. It was something far baser than that.
“What sort of life did you have here?” he asked.
I took another sip of coffee, pretending to consider the question as I tried to get my reactions under some semblance of control. Which, as usual, seemed damn near impossible in the presence of this man. “You’ve read the texts, haven’t you? Surely you can guess.”
He came back to the table and sat opposite me. “I’ve guessed many things about you, and all but one have been wrong.”
A smile touched my lips. “That one thing being the fact that I’m déchet?”
“Yes. And I killed my fair share of you during the war and never once did I see the spark that I see in you.”
I raised an eyebrow and tried to ignore the internal havoc his comment caused. “And what spark might that be?”