Tony patted his pockets, coming up empty. He only had the new phone he'd been given, nothing else.
He pulled it out and set it on the bar.
"That's all I've got."
Fenella picked it up, turning it over in her hands with exaggerated reverence. "A phone is a window to the soul. Let's see what secrets it holds."
She closed her eyes, pressing the phone to her forehead just as she had with Rodney's pen. The crowd quieted again, getting ready for another performance.
Tony felt suddenly exposed, like he'd handed over something far more intimate than a piece of technology he'd owned for less than a week. She couldn't possibly read anything real from it.
But she could invent a story that would embarrass him, and he wouldn't be able to turn it around as gracefully as Rodney had. He wasn't that smooth, and he didn't know any lewd ballads, Scottish or Italian.
Fenella's eyes snapped open, and for a brief moment, her expression flickered with something that looked like surprise. Then the showman's mask slid back into place, and she smiled.
"This phone," she began, her voice carrying across the suddenly silent bar, "has heard some things, has been places, recorded some interesting things."
That was generic enough.
"It's witnessed heartache and loss," Fenella continued, her tone softening.
Tony's throat tightened. The crowd had gone quiet in a different way now—not anticipatory, but attentive. Sympathetic.
"But it's also witnessed courage. The courage to start over." Fenella turned the phone over in her hands, studying it as if she could actually see the history written in its circuits. "This phone is expecting a transformation. Physical, emotional, and spiritual."
The words hit too close to home. Way too close.
"It wants its owner to know," Fenella said, her eyes meeting Tony's with an intensity that felt nothing like performance, "that the best is still to come."
The bar was completely silent now.
Then Fenella grinned, and the spell broke.
"It also says that you should stop using it as a paperweight. It's not an inanimate object, and it's deeply offended by being used like one."
The crowd laughed, the tension dissolving as quickly as it had formed. Fenella handed back the phone with a wink, and someone else was already pushing forward with a ring for her to read.
Shira touched his arm. "Hey. You okay?"
"Yeah." He forced a smile. "I'm fine. That was just a little awkward. Optimistic, but awkward."
"The best is still to come," Shira repeated. "I wonder what that's supposed to mean." She waggled her brows. "Could it be that she meant me?"
Grinning, Tony slipped the phone into his pocket. "I have no doubt." He pulled her closer to him and dipped his head, stopping a fraction of an inch from her pink, painted lips.
Shira lifted on her toes and closed the distance.
24
ANNANI
The Monday morning traffic was heavy as usual, and as Annani watched the city pass by through the SUV's windows, her thoughts about the upcoming confrontation were churning.
Because it was going to be a confrontation, and it might turn uncivilized. Navuh despised her, and the feeling was mutual. He might blame her for the demise of the gods, but she blamed him for all the dark ages humanity had gone through since then.
He had been the architect of many of the worst moments in human history, but not all of them. Humans were capable of no less cruelty than this immortal who thought of them as little more than livestock.
Beside her, Kian sat with his phone in hand, scrolling through emails, reports, and the summaries Shai prepared for him to save him time.
