He clears his throat. “We understand you have concerns. It’s only natural. The NSA operates in the shadows. But we have a public phone number anyone can call. Tomorrow, verify our identities with them. Once you’ve done so,” he pulls a business card from his jacket pocket and passes it through the crack in the door, “call us. Our mobile numbers are on the back.”
My shoulders start to unglue themselves from my ears. Logic. I can handle logic. “What happens if I decide to call?”
Hannah’s brown eyes sparkle, and her smile widens even more. “We can teach you how to control your whisper. How to workwithher. You could be the most powerful witch the world has ever known, Willow. Together, we could save many, many lives.”
SIX
Willow
I pour myself a second cup of coffee and open my laptop. I took one of the pills Dr. Nolan prescribed, but it didn’t do spit for me after my visit from the two NSA agents—other than leave me with the world’s worst hangover and dangerously low blood pressure. I’ve almost passed out twice this morning, and I’ve only been out of bed for an hour.
It’s not hard to verify that Dr. Hannah Smith and Special Agent Isaac Barton work for the National Security Agency. The helpful woman on the phone emails me their ID photos and confirms they’re assigned to a special project at the moment, but she won’t—or can’t—tell me what it is.
I wish I could talk to my whisper. Or that she could talk back to me. Heck, I’d settle forseeingher right now. What if she doesn’t come back?
My laugh hits at the exact wrong time, and I almost choke on a sip of coffee. I finally find people who believe me the same day my whisper disappears forever? I’m notthatunlucky. Am I?
You’re about to be fired from the best job you’ve ever had because your department chair thinks you’re losing your mind. That seems pretty damn unlucky.
Well, shit. My thoughts run wild when I’m sleep deprived, and the marathon they’re currently on feels like it’s leading me right through the Bermuda Triangle.
I stare at the card Barton left for me until the numbers on the back start to blur. What do I have to lose? If my whisper truly is gone, they’ll understand, right? Or they’ll know how to bring her back.
Dr. Smith picks up on the first ring. “Willow? It’s good to hear from you. I hope you were able to get some rest last night.”
“Uh, n-no. Not really. But…I called the NSA. Can we meet?”
“Of course. If you’re up to it. We can always wait until you’ve had a good night’s sleep. We want to help you. Not add even more stress to your life.” The warmth and concern in her voice raises a lump in my throat. She’s not pretending to care like Dr. Nolan did. Not trying to drug me into oblivion rather thanhelpme.
“No. I don’t want to wait. Where should I meet you?” If I have to go one more day without knowingwhyI now have a whisper, I’m not sure I’ll survive it.
“Anywhere you’d like,” Hannah says. “We can come to your apartment, I can give you our address, or, if it would make you more comfortable, choose a public location and we’ll be there within an hour.”
I swallow hard. In for a penny, in for a pound. Or so my dad always says. “I’ll come to you.”
The address Hannahgave me is less than two miles away. The rains have stopped, so I tuck my pepper spray and phone into my crossbody bag. The walk along the waterfront should calm me. So should the presence of my whisper at my side. She appeared the moment I stepped out of my apartment.
She hasn’t pulled me into her head, though. Thank God. Every time she appears, I think she gets a little stronger. I can still see right through her, but from time to time, I catch a flicker of shadow. Not mine. Hers. I wish I could ask her if shefeelsmore real. If she’s doing this on purpose. But though she has occasionally answered a question with a nod or a shake of her head, she’s ignoring me now.
I check my phone outside a plain, almost run-down building two blocks off Market Street. It would look like every other building if not for the fancy security panel next to the heavy metal door.
The screen glows as I approach, and a beam of blue light sweeps across my face.
Welcome, Willow Saunders.
Well, that’s not creepy. Though, this is the NSA. They could probably find out what I had for breakfast this morning. Or get my kindergarten report card.
The door swings open, and I step into a brightly lit waiting area, complete with couches, a fancy espresso machine, and plants in every corner.
I beeline for another cup of coffee. I need all the caffeine I can get. The rich scent comforts me, and I wrap the paper cup in both hands, needing its warmth for what I’m about to do.
Part of the wall slides open without a sound, and Hannah steps into the waiting room. “Oh, Willow. You look like you haven’t slept at all!” She nudges my chin up gently—she’s several inches taller than I am—and stares into my eyes. “This whole ordeal has been hell on you, hasn’t it?”
A wave of emotion clogs my throat. Tears lend a watery glow to the room, and I nod. “I just want to understand…why.”
“I know. You will. I promise.” She’s so earnest. So open. She’ll explain everything.
“Dr. Smith, I?—”
