No matter thathe’dgiven himself a name.
Or thatheseemed to be watching over me most of the time.
“And if someone says they ‘don’t bite’ here, the odds are 23% that they do,” he added.
I snorted.
He was a gift from Arcus Marlow, an eccentric billionaire—and weren’t all of them crazy?—whose daughter we’d rescued years ago. After he’d gotten over the shock of her marrying her bodyguard, his two grandchildren were born. Twins, despite the fact that the girl seemed to be entirely human and the boy took after his father. He’d sent over Nex the very next day. Presumably so we could keep Nine, his son-in-law, safe, although who knew—and how could anyone make an Arachnaea any safer, anyhow?—but ever since then, the AI had embedded himself in our day-to-day work lives.
With his perennial helpfulness, occasional bouts of sarcasm, and, what I was afraid to admit out loud, charm.
Except he wasn’treal, really.
For all that on all my missions, every mission, he was always with me.
If not physically . . . then at least in my ear.
“Would you like me to pull a fire alarm? I can clear 51% of the club in 90 seconds. 73% if I fake sprinklers, assuming they’re not knotted down.”
I settled my shoulders and shook my head.
“Then Thorne is in the next room, along with what I believe to be a small, angry female human,” he announced, and sure enough, Bram paused to knock on an unobtrusive door.
Rather than the door opening, Thorne came out to meet us in the hall. He was in a getup I’d never seen before, dark trousers, a halfway unbuttoned, lighter-colored shirt showing off a rock-hard chest, literally, and suspenders, which probably helped to keep his pants up around his prehensile tail. I’d never gotten to find out what else his tail could do, alas. We’d only dated for like a month and a half, probably not even long enough to qualify him for ‘boyfriend’ status, but when most men were afraid of youreading their minds, you had to let every second someone was willing to hang out with you count.
“You came,” he said, tucking his wings behind himself.
“You asked,” I said, with a shrug. “Is this a social visit or a work one?”
“It’s a favor—so it’s kind of in between.” I raised an eyebrow as he continued. “You were the only person I could turn to, Sirena—I wouldn’t have asked you here otherwise.” I didn’t like the sound of that. Thorne had worked at the MSA for almost a decade, and now that he was out, he surely didn’t lack for cash or connections.
“I won’t do anything illegal.” All of the MSA knew I never shared any of the random thoughts I heard—and I didn’t go looking for things to listen to. My two choices when I wasn’t wearing my crown were to either pretend to be some variant of a superhero and try to solve everything—and I’d tried that for a while, until it’d become personally injurious and exhausting, seeing as my abilities were bound by my very mortal flesh—or just to turn my mind into a steel vault, where other people’s thoughts disappeared.
“I know that,” Thorne said, waving a thick, gray-skinned hand. “It’s just that this situation might lead to work, of a sort,” he went on, tilting his head, the implication of future violence heavy in the air. “But that’s my call to make. Not yours.”
I squinted up at his implacable face. I’d once found the thought of dating someone whose mind I’d have a hard time reading intriguing. But I liked daylight, sleeping at night, and swimming with someone who wouldn’t sink to the bottom of the sea.
And Thorne, I’d discovered, liked himself.
And money.
“If there’s a girl tied up behind this door, Thorne, so help me God,” I muttered, pushing past him.
3 /NEX
Sirena slipped into the room.Bass held at 72 decibels; the walls ate the rest. Dark wood, a low table, a couch that was all cushions and no use. Cameras: two. Reflective decorative elements on the walls: many. Blind spots: none.
At the table, a girl waited—nervous smile, a wince, a small wave. Soft features. Full mouth. Hair color inconclusive; my feeds disagree by 12%.
“Sirena, this is Sophia—Sophia, this is Sirena.”
Thorne took the seat beside her. The nearer wing unfurled—canopy posture. I didn’t need telepathy to parse that. Proximity read as claim as much as cover; I logged both.
Sirena pulled out the nearest chair and sat—hands flat on the table, pendant centered on the girl. Heart rate ticked up; crown noise compensation held.
“And I assume you’re here of your own accord?” Sirena asked, voice even but a shade tight.
The girl’s eyes cut to Thorne, then back. Delay: 0.6 seconds. “As much as I know anything about me.”
