It’s there that I find him.
The crushed remains of a robotic bumblebee.
IDENTITY SECURITY DIVISION
WRAITH CASE STUDY: AUGUSTA PINE
THE EDGAR INCIDENT DEBRIEF6
I was dead for four months when I broke several international laws.
I wore a girls’ school uniform, with a pleated skirt and hair woven into a French braid. My smart-dye had been programmed for a lustrous red brown, and I looked every inch an innocent fifteen-year-old girl.
“It’s so nice to meet you,” said Mr. Bergvall. He wore slacks, a buttoned shirt, and slippers that looked like alligators. “I’ve heard about you from Becca, of course.”
Becca had her arm through mine. She wore an identical uniform.
Mr. Bergvall leaned against his kitchen counter. It was a nice kitchen—large, with a fancy sink and gas range. But the counters were startlingly empty of the normal kitchen clutter. The Bergvall family had only moved into this town house a month ago, and they hadn’t had time yet to truly settle in. It was how I’d managed to befriend Becca in a matter of days instead of weeks—she knew no one at her fancy prep school.
Becca had asked her dad to send his car to schoolto pick us both up. The thought of the autopilot had sent me sprinting into the school’s bathroom. I’d explained away my vomiting as anxiety, and Becca had insisted we could walk the three miles to her place.
Becca was kind. Which made my job a lot harder.
“You’re new at school, too,” said Mr. Bergvall.
I nodded. “My dad enrolled me only a few days before Becca showed up. We just moved here.”
Prefect would’ve been grinding his teeth if he heard me calling him “Dad.” I almost smiled at the thought.
“That’s nice,” said Mr. Bergvall. “Bex and I are the same. New city, new beginnings. How’re you liking Detroit?”
I shrugged. “It’s… fine.”
He laughed. “She’s much more polite about it than you, Bex.”
Becca rolled her eyes at him. “We’re going to study in my room.”
“Sure.” Mr. Bergvall nodded at her. “I’ve got some work to do. When you want dinner, let me know.”
We went up to Becca’s room. “Sorry, it’s still not all unpacked yet,” she said.
The room had a twin bed, a brand-new desk, and several half-unpacked boxes. She had set up her bookshelf first, adorning it with worn paperbacks and a few well-loved stuffed animals.
Atop the bedside table was an electronic picture frame, the kind designed to show a different imageevery few minutes. This one depicted a much younger Becca with a blond woman that must have been her mom. They were hugging each other in front of a large mountain, grinning at the camera.
While the rest of the room was still in disarray, Becca had placed this frame with care. There was no clutter around it, and it was positioned so that she would see it when she woke in the morning.
“Come on,” I said, pulling open my backpack. “Let’s get algebra done with.”
That night, Prefect was waiting outside my dorm room.
“That’s not creepy at all,” I said, waving my hand over the door scanner. After four months, my new tattoo had faded into my skin. Now the silvery barcode was mostly only visible when it caught the light. “An adult man waiting outside a teenager’s bedroom.”
“A handler,” said Prefect, “waiting to debrief his asset.”
“That sounds even creepier.” I opened the door and stepped inside my bedroom, if it could even be called that. The rooms were housed in an ISD black site. They reminded me of the pictures I’d seen of college dormitories, but with none of the human touch. It was a place for wraiths to rest and eat, but not tolive.
I dropped my backpack on the floor beside my desk, then sat backward in the chair. “I’d offer you a place to sit, but I don’t have another chair.”
