“Rebecca’s coming,” I told Ben. “She should be here in about ten minutes.”
He looked up from his laptop, brows drawing together. “You could tell from that distance?”
“Phoenix fire.” I gave him a rueful smile. “I think my range has tripled at least. I’m still figuring out the new limits.”
Sure enough, ten minutes later, Rebecca pulled into my driveway in a different SUV from the one she’d driven before — this vehicle a Grand Cherokee, dark charcoal gray rather than black. She looked tired but satisfied as she climbed out, and I noticed she wore jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt. The casual clothing told me her plans to take an indefinite leave of absence from the Bureau hadn’t changed.
“Sidney. Ben.” She nodded to each of us as we met her at the door. “You’re both looking better than the last time I saw you.”
“The unicorn’s been helping,” I replied. “Do you want some coffee, or maybe tea?”
“Tea would be great.”
We headed into the kitchen, where I got the kettle going on the stovetop before we all settled around the table. Rebecca reached into the satchel she’d had slung over one arm and pulled out a tablet with enough security protocols that my electromagnetic sense could barely penetrate its hardened shell. She must have noticed me trying, because she raised an eyebrow.
“Your abilities have expanded.”
“Phoenix fire leaves marks in more ways than one.” I showed her my forearms, the delicate patterns catching the afternoon light that drifted through the big window overlooking the garden. “From what I can tell, my range has tripled, and I can sense the global portal network now. I’m still discovering new things I can do.”
Her brows lifted slightly. I noticed she was wearing some actual eye makeup today, just a little liner and mascara for her thick, dark lashes.
“Useful,” she commented before she opened a file on the tablet. “DAPI is officially disbanded as of two days ago. A congressional oversight committee voted unanimously to eliminate the department after reviewing Eric Hargrove’s testimony and the evidence I provided. The Phoenix Project is shut down, the facility — what’s left of it — is under federal seal, and everyone involved is under investigation.”
“And Rosenthal?” Ben asked.
Rebecca’s lips pressed together, and I could tell she wasn’t too happy about what she was about to say. “Disappeared. She fled the country, probably using resources she’d been stockpiling for exactly this scenario. We have warrants out for her arrest, international alerts, and every reciprocal intelligence agency in the world looking for her. But so far, nothing.”
I’d expected that answer, but hearing it still made my stomach clench with worry and anger. Sonya Rosenthal was out there somewhere, probably planning her next move. She’d seen what phoenix fire could do, had seen how the merge worked…had seen everything she needed to continue her research in some new location.
“She’ll surface eventually,” Rebecca continued, her expression untroubled. “People like her always do. And when she does, we’ll be ready.” She paused before going on. “In the meantime, there’s good news. Eric Hargrove’s full testimony cleared you both of any wrongdoing. You’re not under investigation, not being monitored, not facing any charges. Officially, you were victims of an unauthorized research program.”
“That’s generous,” Ben said, although I couldn’t quite tell from his tone whether he was being ironic.
“It’s accurate.” Rebecca’s voice was firm. “Sonya Rosenthal kidnapped you, experimented on supernatural creatures, and deployed military weapons against civilians. You two stopped her. The oversight committee recognizes that.”
She slid her tablet toward us. The documentation cleared our names and provided compensation for damages incurred during federal operations. The amount was substantial, and my eyes widened. I hadn’t been hurting for money, thanks to the way my grandmother and mother had been stockpiling it for years, but even if I had been, what the government was offering would have been enough to start over from scratch.
“There’s also this.” Rebecca set aside her tablet and pulled out a printed document in a manila folder. “Federal protection for Silver Hollow and the forest. Technically, the forest should have already been protected, since most of it belongs to the USFS, but this declaration makes the consequences for meddling there a whole lot steeper.”
I stared at the document, hardly daring to believe it. “You got them to protect the portal?”
A brief nod. “I got them to protect the forest. It’s hard to get a bunch of senators to admit that the supernatural is real, so it’s not perfect. There will always be people like Rosenthal who want to weaponize anything they can. But it’s a start. And it means you can do your guardian work without worrying about federal interference.”
Ben reached for my hand under the table, and I could feel relief radiating through his touch. This was so much more than we’d hoped for. Official protection, cleared names, and the resources to continue protecting Silver Hollow.
“Thank you,” I said simply. “I know you risked your career helping us.”
The smallest lift of her shoulders. “Like I told you before, I became a federal agent to protect people, not to help mad scientists torture supernatural creatures for weapons programs.” She rose from her seat and returned her tablet to her satchel. “You two saved the global portal network. I figure we both did some heavy lifting.”
I supposed we did. Ben and I might have been the ones who’d helped the phoenix complete its rebirth cycle, but we never would have gotten that far without her.
Rebecca paused at the door, and something in her expression softened. “Eric Hargrove sends his regards, by the way. He’s testifying again next week, but he wanted me to tell you both that he’s grateful you gave him the chance to do the right thing.”
“How is he?” I asked. He’d been pretty much at ground zero when the artificial portal collapsed. That couldn’t have been easy.
“He’s healing, just like you two. The dimensional exposure did some damage, but he’ll recover.” A faint smile touched her lips. “We’ve been working on his testimony together. He’s determined to make sure everyone at DAPI who knew what Rosenthal was doing faces consequences.”
The way she spoke those words, the subtle warmth in her voice when she mentioned Eric Hargrove, made me wonder if their coordination had extended beyond the merely professional. I didn’t ask, though. As far as I was concerned, Rebecca Morse had earned her privacy.
