Rowan leaned against the lion, ignoring the chill seeping through her coat.Nausea rose briefly under her breastbone.She took a deep breath, the back of her neck prickling.“I agree.”
“You okay?”Catherine stubbed her cigarette on the lion’s paw and tossed the remainder into a coffee can set to the side.“You look kind of pale.”
“I’m always pale.”Rowan attempted a cheerful tone.“I think my blood sugar’s bottoming out.Let’s go eat.”
Catherine slid her arm through Rowan’s and grinned down at her.“Good idea, sistah.If it’s spaghetti, I want tons of garlic bread.”
“Meatballs,” Rowan agreed, good-naturedly.“Sounds great.”
CHAPTERTHIRTY-SEVEN
He stood in the dark,staring out through the French doors and listening to the subliminal sounds of Headquarters.He’d chosen this room because it was far away from the bustle of others; he wasn’t immersed in the chatter of other minds.
And the light from the windows, light any time he wanted it, a room where he could shut and lock the door at any moment, a bathroom to himself—all these things more precious than a civilian could imagine.
Just being able to lock a door was like every Christmas he’d ever had rolled into one.
His memory of the first year at Headquarters was a blur of prowling the corridors fighting the burning need for Zed, sometimes holing up in a faraway lonely spot to curl in a ball and sob while the agony of breaking the addiction tore through bone, muscle, brain.When he had finally recovered enough to be useful, Henderson suggested he find some rooms he liked; Delgado had used them sparingly in the years since, not bothering to hang anything on the walls, not daring to make anything about them personal.
Now the room was alive with reminders of Rowan.Plants and bookcases, one of her fluttering blue scarves wrapped about a bedstead pillar, a stack of art books she’d bought in town holding up a terracotta pot with a blooming blue orchid.More than that, though, was the aura clinging to the air; a scent so faint he doubted anyone else would recognize it.
Delgado filled his lungs with that subliminal smell.Sooner or later she’d come back, unless she was going to abandon everything in here.
His conscience pricked.He should be standing guard, watching over her.He’d promised she wasn’t going anywhere alone.But nothing had happened for weeks and Delgado, for all his quiet snooping, hadn’t found anything to make him think Jilssen was anything more than simply obsessed with Rowan’s manifold and manifest talents.
Besides, she was angry; she wouldn’t appreciate him following her around.
I hate you!I wish I’d never seen you!Her voice echoed down the dark well of his brain.Had heeverthought she would understand?
She’ll come back eventually.Then you can apologize.Hell, you can get down on your knees and beg.She’s got a soft spot; you can use that.You’re the biggest idiot on the face of the Earth.
“I don’t care.”His breath fogged the glass.“If I’m cruel here, she’ll be ready for out there.Facingthem.”
That wasn’t training,the sharp calculating voice he hated jeered.You saw her sparring with Ellis, and you’re jealous of anyone who gets that much of her time.Hell, you’re even jealous of her patients.You’re obsessed, Del, and you miscalculated bigtime.
“She’ll forgive me.”He didn’t care about talking to himself; here at Headquarters it was practically required to mutter to yourself and look grim.
Some of the telepaths had to subvocalize to make their talents work.
What if she doesn’t?She’s never yelled at anyone like that before.She told you she hated you.
“She doesn’t hate anyone, that’s her problem.”
Still, you’ve done a good job of teaching her to hate Sigma.What if she uses that lesson on you?
“She’ll forgive me.”
Maybe she won’t.Maybe this will be the thing that shows her what you are.Whoyou are.And you pushed her, right over the edge.
Shadows lengthened, dusk turning into night.The fields surrounding Headquarters fell under folds of darkness.Past dinnertime.Where was she?
If hereached, he could probably tell.But that was a violation of her privacy.Just because she shared a slice of her mind with him didn’t mean she wanted him spying on her… even if she was the only thing he could think about.
The only thing he couldcareabout.
Even if he was worried, standing here trying not to strain for the sound of footsteps in the hall outside.Worried enough to make a fist.Worried enough to curse under his breath, touching the fogged glass, and tracing the letters with a fingertip.R.O.W.
Footsteps outside, a low laugh, and the door slid aside.The air inside the room tightened in anticipation.“Let me grab my purse,” she said over her shoulder.
