“The Army had you taking head shots at shamans?” Les demanded in a horrified voice.
The casual air fell away, and Ahtisham looked old and weary. “I took head shots at a lot of bad guys. And I generally hit my mark. When I didn't, I regretted it later. After years in war zones, I can safely say social upheaval corrupts any goodness in a person. Upheaval plus power...” He whistled. “That's why I’ll take a shot at this shaman if I have one. But I need a special set of skills normally only found in the Army. I need a shaman who can see reality, even when another shaman is fucking with my perception.”
Kavon hadn’t expected that, but he should have. Talent had been a growing part of the world over the last two centuries, so it made sense that the military was working to either counter or take advantage of that power source. “We’ll have to quietly ask around. Sometimes shamans are slow to share their abilities, but I’ll add finding someone to our to-do list.”
Ahtisham nodded. The silence that followed was painfully awkward. “Come on, Darren,” Ahtisham said as he stood, “you can explain why Kavon thinks your bird is next to worthless.”
“Use the meditation room,” Kavon said.
Darren headed for the door. The rest of the team followed until Kavon sat at the table alone with Coretta. She waited until the door closed before she spoke.
“What is Pochi’s motivation and how much should I worry about his relationship to an Aztec god of human sacrifice?” she asked.
Kavon leaned back and tried to find an answer that was both honest and useful. “I suspect he’s a battlefield general who has the authority to make a decision about starting a new purge, but I still believe the ifrit want to fix the planet. They don’t intend any harm.”
“According to you, they didn’t intend harm last time they carried out genocide. I find myself less concerned with intent than consequences.”
Kavon felt the hard edge of her disapproval. He stomped down on a flare of anger. “That’s why I don’t want to make a general announcement about the changes in the Talent community. And some mundanes need to know what’s going on in case the worst happens.” If Kavon and all the other people with Talent ended up on the next plane of existence, he didn’t want to be left with the guilt of knowing he’d left behind an Earth full of confused and panicked people.
“Jesus Christ on a pogo stick.” Coretta stood and moved to a window. When she pulled back the privacy blind, sun divided the room into two unequal pieces. She stared out for a long time, and Kavon gave her time to collect her thoughts. He had spent a sleepless night trying to get his own brain around the problem, so he couldn’t begrudge her a few moments of prayer or planning or raw terror.
When she turned around, her expression lacked any emotion. “We will get through this, but next time, you talk to me about what needs to happen, team lead to team lead. Don’t come to the office and ambush my agents with Armageddon.”
Kavon sat up, but before he could defend himself, Coretta held up a hand. “I understand. These are extenuating circumstances, but I came out of a meeting with White and the director where they made a damn good argument that magical sinks and spills are our new normal. We can’t have the entire Talent team tangled in this problem with Anzu. Someone has to be here for the murders and rapes and bank robberies. Someone has to make sure that at least some of our team members take nights off and go on vacation and get their heads out of their asses. And since I can’t do that for your team, I’m doing it for mine.”
Kavon swallowed a bone-deep need to defend himself. She was right. The bureau had rules about hours worked in a week to avoid the sort of burnout Coretta feared. He gritted his teeth before forcing himself to nod. “Understood.”
With a sigh, Coretta came around the table and chose the chair next to Kavon. “How did we get here?” she asked.
“I think we’ve always been on this train. We just didn’t know it.” He didn’t have a better answer.
“At least I like the company, even if the conductor is driving toward a cliff.” Coretta rested her hand on his forearm for a second before she stood to leave.
