It looked, in fact, like a carpet of brightly colored candy.Radioactive bonbons.Cancerous little sweets.
Rowan set her bag gingerly down on the burgundy bedspread.“My entire body hurts,” she moaned, mournfully.“My ass most of all.”
“Stretch out.”Cath was unsympathetic.She flung herself down on the bed, short black hair puffing out like thistledown.“I’m gonna check the room.”
Rowan nodded, fists against her lower back.She bent backward like the old painting of the Lady of Shalott, shaking her hair and stretching.There were cameras everywhere; she’d kept the baseball cap on the entire time to cover her hair.Probably had the world’s worst case of hat-head by now.
Cath closed her eyes.Breathless silence filled the room as a faint psychic crackling, like faraway crickets, swept from one corner to the next.Rowan, mental defenses still absurdly sensitive, shivered and crossed to the windows, looking out on the carpet of light.
It’s beautiful.Hilary would have loved this.
Thinking of Hilary, with her sleek cap of dark hair and her charcoal business suits, still hurt.It was probably a blessing she couldn’t remember seeing her childhood friend dead.That was one memory Justin had refused to share with her, even though she’d asked.Don’t, Rowan.He’d stroked her back, his fingers gentle, kissed her temple and hugged her tighter.You don’t want to.You don’tneedto see that.
The old pain rose, and the old rage with it.She stared at the lights, spread her hand against chill glass.Mist outlined her fingers, living warmth meeting cold hardness.
Justin was alive.She had hoped, prayed, thought… but notknown.Now she did.And if he was alive, was he following them?Had he already made contact with Henderson?
The strangeness nagged at her.Who the hell are you?
As if he didn’t know, or didn’t remember.Had Sigma done something to him, made him forget?It was ridiculous, but… perhaps.If she couldtouchhim without hurting them both, someone else might be able to.If that someone was a Sigma operative, they might well try to strip him of every memory he possessed of her, both to try to catch her and to break any emotional attachment he might have.
It was standard in Sigma to break up relationships that didn’t serve the purposes of the handlers and higher-ups, psions moved around like human chess pieces, manipulated like puppets.
Cath sighed from the bed.“Room’s clear,” she said, in the heavy slurred voice of exhaustion.“Get some shut-eye.Tomorrow’s a busy day.”
Yeah, we have to score a few hundred thousand and get out of the city without anyone noticing.Her eyes burned with fatigue.At least her shoulder wasn’t throbbing.No, the only thing hurting was her chest.
Or to be more specific, her heart.It was a fresh pain, one she thought she’d left behind months ago when she had finally accepted Justin wasn’t returning.
That Sigma had stolen him too.
“Go to sleep,” she told Cath.“I’ll be up for a little bit.”
The girl was already asleep, her breathing soft and rhythmic.
Rowan had learned not to like sleeping alone.It was nice to have the sense of another psion near.If she pretended hard enough, she might be able to believe it was Justin for a few moments.
Rowan sighed, eased out of her jacket, unbuckled the shoulder holster.Tomorrow she’d wear a full rig.It would cost her in energy to keep the bulges hidden from the crowd of deadheads and security cameras, but it well worth the effort if trouble occurred.The way her nape and upper arms were prickling, trouble was a definite possibility.
This trip should fund them through the next critical period as well as finishing the remodeling of the new Headquarters.By the time that was accomplished, the rest of Henderson’s preparations should be in place—for tapping into the reserves the Society had left.Slow going, since they had to make sure Sigma hadn’t trapped or frozen the financials from records acquired at the wreck of the old Headquarters.
The safeguards had probably protected most, but Henderson wanted to be sure before he drew on the funds and possibly brought a whole house of cards down.
Rowan rubbed at the back of her neck.She should be sleeping.If anything untoward happened tomorrow, she was going to need every scrap of energy she possessed.
She couldn’t help it.She gathered herself, sent a thread-thin call through the city, subtle as a single gold thread buried in wool carpet.There was only one other mind who could find that call, one other mind that would possibly answer her.Are you there?
Nothing.Her hook slid through dark waters, not a nibble.No bite.
Please, if you’re there, if you’ve followed me, please talk to me.I miss you.
She waited, the call blurring as her concentration faded.Nothing.If he was there, he wasn’t answering.
Why?If she hadn’t imagined it while running for her life, where was he now?
She sent out one more wistful call.Please.I miss you so much.
Nothing.
