I don’t dare become hopeful, not with the size of the city, but the knot in my chest loosens by a fraction.
“You don’t have any idea where he might be staying?” Leif asks.
“No. My old contact would watch the mid-city markets, but knowing where someone picks up groceries doesn’t narrow it down much. If I know him, he wouldn’t shop at the same placetwice in a row. Could live nearby, could be all the way across town.”
“Travels solo?”
“Mostly,” I say with a nod, “but he’s been seen with a couple of other humans before. A big redheaded man and a petite woman with blue hair.”
A flicker of something that looks like recognition flits across Leif’s face as his brows lift. “Blue hair’s a bold choice if you’re trying to stay invisible. Might give me something to work with.” He pauses as he scratches his beard. “Name?”
“Back then he went by Sebastian. Bash, usually. He’s a human scientist.”
“Military?”
I tilt my head from side to side. “Used to be.”
Leif grunts, folding his thick arms across his chest. “And how is it both of you ‘used to be’ military? They don’t exactly hand out discharge papers with a pat on the back.”
My guard goes up, and I mirror his crossed arms. “Like I’ve already explained, they believe I’m dead.”
“That explainsyou,” he says with another sweep of his eyes down my frame. “Doesn’t explain him.”
I lean forward, tapping my fingers on my thigh. “Joining wasn’t his choice, and neither was leaving. That’s all you need to know.”
He lifts his chin, eyes narrowing in challenge, but I set my jaw and hold his stare. After a few heavy seconds, he gives a curt nod toward the back of the building.
“Most of the real pushback happens out here on the edges of human territory. Don’t wander too deep, though. It doesn’t matter how much sympathy you have when you’ve got military ink in your past. You’re still the enemy. Best I can tell you? Watch, wait, and look for the ones trying hardest not to be noticed. I’ll put out feelers in the meantime.”
“Thanks,” I say quietly. “I mean it.”
He waves it off as he stands, brushing his hands on his apron and scanning the room once more. “Yeah, yeah. Finish eating. And since I’m doing you a favor, you can wash your own damn plate.”
He stomps off toward the bar, and I hide a small grin behind another bite.
Bash
Current time
Thescrapeofthescalpel has left an itchy, irritated line on my hip, but I’m used to ignoring it by now. My breath fogs the microscope, so I pull away and wipe it clean before leaning back in and adjusting the dials until the sample comes into focus.
Same studies, different world.
Cells that appear immobile to the naked eye are full of life. Under the lens, they wiggle and shift in a secret dance of light I’ve been trying to decipher for years. No longer the twinkling glow of a fresh mark, these have the unique ivory-veined connections that are just as beautiful, and stronger by multitudes.
Everything looks the same as last time… and the time before that. But something is different, even if there’s no evidence of a change.
A low whistle from the door breaks my concentration, and I reluctantly pull my face from the microscope to find Ego leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and that trademark smirk already in place.
“Damn,” she calls over, “all those workout sessions are finally paying off. You scared the sleeves right off your shirt.”
“Oh, shut up,” I say with a rueful laugh, running a palm over my hair.
The light catches on her short, bright blue strands as she saunters closer and grabs my upper arm, giving my biceps an exaggerated squeeze.
“These shirts are normally peak douchebag territory… like, have you ever seen a guy actually pull off a cutoff? Bunch of turkeys strutting around like they invented protein and bragging about their bench press. But you? You’re making it work. It’s unfair, honestly.”
“Are you done yet?” I ask, fighting a grin as heat creeps up my neck.
