“Don't thank me yet.” Noah slid off the guardrail and stood. “You said you want to find out what's protecting your mortal. I think you've been looking in the wrong place.”
Greg frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Dustin wasn't the only person who made unwise decisions in the wake of Tyler's death.”
“What? Who else?”
“That's for you to find out, but I'm sure you will.” Noah straightened his bow tie.
Greg's mind was racing. Who was Noah, and who was he talking about? Who was protecting Dustin?
He had a sudden idea.
Could it be?—?
Before Greg could voice his question,Noah was gone.
He'd vanished just as suddenly as he'd appeared, leaving Greg behind with his clipboard, staring at the empty stretch of guardrail where a man with a rubber duck bow tie had been standing three seconds ago.
Greg lifted his clipboard to glance at his messages. He had three of them from Morrith. All were written in caps-lock.
He should probably read them.
Probably.
Or maybe he should just get back to Dustin.
He started ambling back toward the gas station.
He didn't make it far before he saw a figure approach.
Valerie was walking along the highway shoulder, picking her way through the gravel with an expression of deep personal offense at the terrain.
“There you are.” She crossed her arms, looking approximately as irritated as the last time she'd been sent to fetch him.
“You were looking for me?” Greg asked.
Valerie's face was taken over by a look of full exasperation. “Was I—of course I was looking for you!”
“Sorry,” Greg said, resisting the urge to scratch the back of his neck. “I was having a chat with a man named Noah. He had my clipboard.”
“A man named Noah?”
“He was wearing a bow tie with ducks on it.”
“Naturally.” She didn't ask follow-up questions about Noah, which was either a sign that she knew exactly who he was talking about or that she'd given up on any of this making sense. “Morrith is about to pop a vein. I've been covering for you since yesterday.”
“You have? I'm sorry.”
“You should be. I told him you were conducting essentialfieldwork in an undisclosed location. He asked what kind of fieldwork. I said classified. He asked by whom. I said you.” She exhaled. “He didn't love that.”
“Valerie…”
“I also told him your clipboard was damaged and that's why you weren't responding to messages. Which was absolutely plausible until thirty seconds ago when you picked it up and all three of his messages showed as received.” She gave him a pointed look. “You're welcome.”
Greg didn't know what to say. She'd repeatedly lied for him to their supervisor.
“Why?” he asked.
