David…His name, delivered softly but layered with quiet weight, made it very clear that Zach wasn’t asking for updates about coffee shop pranks.
David’s response was immediate and sincere.Yes, I’ll bring you in if I escalate to black.David had no problem promising that. Zach had an evil mind too and probably had an entire mental library of black-hat tactics he’d never voiced. Oh, he might have to sit through a lecture, but Zach would help.
Good.
Of course, that left a lot of lovely gray…
His eyes narrowed, and a shiver of anticipation danced up his spine. Something a little more nuanced now. A subtle haunting, perhaps. Nothing obvious. Just enough to make Chester glance over his shoulder. Maybe hear a whisper when he was alone, or find his devices turning on for no reason.
First, intel.
What kind of tech did Chester have in his office? In his home? He was dumb with passwords, so he was probably equally lazy with device security. Lena had said he didn’t do actual work—he made appearances and soaked in credit. So where did he perch most often?
David didn’t want to ask Lena. She’d hidden her pain behind that brave smile for too long, and asking her now risked cracking open wounds that hadn’t yet healed.
With a sharp exhale through his nose, he slipped back into cyberspace. Again his consciousness descended, gliding like a razor through data streams. He targeted Chester’s phone and pulled up GPS records, filtering for the B&B’s coordinates.The digital feed opened before him like stained glass throwing patterns across a floor—segments of time and movement, compressed into glowing lines.
He sifted rapidly through the data, pleased with the web appearing. Chester spent a ton of time at the B&B, more than anywhere else. Of course, he did. He played King of the Hill in a business he barely understood, posturing behind faux charm and fake authority.
David’s focus wavered. He exhaled long and slow, allowing his mind to claw its way back to the surface at its own pace. He blinked, leaning back as his office swung into focus—as if it had been gone for hours.
He glanced at the clock and frowned. That had been a heavy dive. Longer and deeper than usual. By all rights, he should’ve felt it by now—the sluggish limbs, the fuzzy edges, the bone-deep lag that always followed a long hack.
He felt… almost normal
No spatial dissonance. Slightly tired, like he’d worked for ten hours. A minor throbbing in his head. That’s all.
He stared at his hands, flexing his fingers once. Steady. Alert.
Yesterday’s elevator excursion should have done it, too.
Instead, he’d felt... aware. Energized. Clear. Which made no sense at all.
A chill drifted down his spine. Not fear. Closer to awe. What had changed? He stared at the ceiling where shadows danced between the slats of light thrown by his monitor.
Time to ask some uncomfortable questions.
Hey, guys. Just thought of something, since we were talking about Nick’s range. When I fixed the elevators yesterday, it didn’t have any cost. I wasn’t tired, no headache. No price at all. I should have felt it.
A moment passed, then Nick responded.Interesting. So your scope is expanding, too. Zach, have you noticed anything?
No, but my abilities don’t work the same way yours do. I’m not sure what it would take for me to notice an escalation.
Okay, let’s table this for later. David, if you are done playing with Chester, I’d like an update on our current system problems.
David groaned. Of course he did.I’m in my office now. Drop by.
Chapter 9
Dark Clouds Gathering
The sun was clawingits way over the horizon when Lena stepped onto her front porch, a chipped, oversized mug in one hand. Her bare foot hit smooth wood, and she stopped dead.
The railing was empty.
She tilted her head, scratched her cheek, and frowned before wrapping her free hand around her neck. The little family of seashells she’d arranged there only yesterday—every one meticulously scrubbed, sorted, and grouped like they were about to stage a beachside production of the Little Mermaid—had vanished.
She blinked once, twice. Sipped her coffee, grimaced at the bitterness (forgot to sweeten it again), then bent over and peered under the porch. Sand, some windblown leaves, and a lone flip-flop that wasn’t hers. No shells.
