Henderson sighed.“Oh, Christ.Get going, Delgado.And take care of her.You hear that, Miss Price?Del will take care of you.”
She nodded, a few strands of rapidly-drying hair falling into her face.“Yes, sir,” she whispered.
Delgado sketched a lazy salute.“Headquarters it is, two days or less.Meet you there.Let’s find you some shoes, Rowan.”
He ushered her out the door and looked back over his shoulder.Henderson, his steel-colored eyes cold, nodded.He heaved a silent sigh of relief.The General had weighed Rowan and implicitly accepted her as part of the team—a novice, to be sure, but still part of the whole.The reaction of the others had been favorable—even Catherine, who was the prickliest member of Henderson’s Brigade.
Rowan was rubbing at her arm.
“Hurts?”he asked.
“Yes.”She pushed the too-big sweater sleeve halfway up her upper arm.Delgado whistled out through his teeth when he saw the bruise.It was deep and nasty, clearly a handprint.“The man in the parking lot.At least you haven’t done anything like this to me.”
He wondered if her throat hurt.It was painful to hear her talk.
Delgado caught her wrist, his fingers closing on soft flesh.The shock of touching her lanced through him, but he pushed her sleeve up with his other hand and examined the bruise.“You’ve been carrying this around and haven’t said anything?”His eyes met hers.The feel of her skin under his fingers did something strange to his head, made his heart thud behind his ribs, shortened his breath.
She stared at him, eyes round and dark.A flush crept up her pale cheeks.
He let go of her sleeve, his fingers seeming welded to her skin.He had to try twice to make his fingers loosen.“Sorry.”His tone sounded strange, even to himself.
“It’s okay.”She sounded breathless.“They all call you Del.”
If she was trying to change the subject, it only barely worked.Her wrist slid out of his fingers, and the strange drowning feeling went away.“Short for Delgado.”
“Oh.Okay.”She nodded.“Are all of them… like you?”
“Like me?Psionic?”He started to move down the hall, and she came, walking next to him now.“Yeah.In one way or another.”
She thought this over, biting her lip.“And you think I am.”
“I don’t think.It’s science, Rowan.We’re not table-tippers or crystal-crawlers.Weknow.We have empirical proof.You’re no more a freak than an Olympic athlete.You have lots of talent, and with training, you’ll be able to use that talent effectively.”
She was silent for a long time then, as he piloted them through the house.He finally swept a door open—his room—and she stepped inside.
I have her in my bedroom,he thought, and had to take a deep breath.“I’ve got to pack a few things.The rest will go with them.Have a look around; make yourself at home.”
She nodded and came delicately into the room like a stray cat, looking at everything.His was the least decorated room, as usual.He couldn’t stand all the frilly stuff.
She came to a halt near a low dresser and looked down at the white cloth on its top.Four guns, six knives, and various other implements lay in a neat range across the surface.“Are all these…”
“I was trained that way.”His black messenger bag lay on the bed, a dimple of darkness.He left it there, slung a duffel bag down next to it.A few pairs of clothes, his killbook, a few toiletries.His practice of keeping a bag mostly-packed for emergencies had always stood him in good stead.“What size shoes do you wear?”
“Six.You really carry all these around?”
“Necessary sometimes.You know, be prepared and all that.”Is she going to be frightened now?Please, don’t.“I don’t ever hurt anyone who doesn’t deserve it, Rowan.Like those Sigs.Look, Cath’s shoes are going to be too big for you—she wears a nine.Do you mind wearing a pair of Yoshi’s sandals until we can get you some clothes and some shoes that fit?”
“N-no.”When he looked back, she was touching the hilt of a knife with one finger.
It was uncomfortably like her fingertips brushinghim;he froze, staring.She touched another knife’s sheath, trailing her fingers down the supple leather.Delgado waited, his breath hitching.
“Do you use all of these?”she asked, haltingly.
“Yeah.”
Her eyes swung over to him.“Why?”Then she grimaced and rubbed at her throat.It must hurt her to talk.
“Because the other side has worse.And I like to be prepared.”
