I wondered if it was still Charlie, the way he had been. Intelligence, emotion, memory—was that what was trying to return home, or was it a blind amorphous urge and nothing more? Just a leftover instinct with nothing behind it?
“How will that go?” I asked with reluctant curiosity.
“We’ll have teams at the most logical locations. The ones authenticated and with the highest violence quotient. The higher the latter, the more extensive the ‘fraying.’ The teams will move in if a violence cycle begins to repeat and, hopefully, prevent any further deaths. You’ll have a few of Charlie’s things and see if you can pinpoint it when he does come through. If you can get the location the moment he appears, that team can move in immediately, and we can rush the equipment in.” He exhaled, one corner of his mouth twisting. “Piece of cake, right?”
Since he didn’t believe it, either, I wasn’t going to make the effort. “Why doesn’t every team have its own Charlie-busting device? It’d make things a helluva lot easier.”
“It cost three and a half million to build the one we have, and we’re not exactly high on any politician’s funding list.”
Good reason.
• • •
Back at headquarters
… I’d always wanted to say that as a kid. That’s the way it had always gone in the superhero cartoons or the buddy cop shows. Back at headquarters was where you figured out what you’d learned, regrouped, then went out to kick ass.
At that moment, I couldn’t have kicked anyone’s ass unless they were under four and in the middle of naptime. I eased onto the narrow bed, bit back a groan, and lay back to stare at the ceiling. Meleah had said that I’d have residual muscle soreness from the seizure. She knew her stuff, unfortunately, Meleah did. Meleah, not Dr. Guerrera … and that’s why I ignored Hector’s offer.
“You can stay in the infirmary, Jackson,” he repeated. “There’s plenty of empty beds, not to mention painkillers and muscle relaxants at your fingertips.”
When you move like an eighty-year-old man, apparently people will notice. And while the infirmary was a slightly nicer cage, it was still a cage. I could deal with that, at least for a while, but I didn’t
want to deal with seeing Meleah with too-familiar eyes and wondering where Charlie began and I ended.
“I’ll be okay.” I covered my eyes against the buzzing light with a forearm. “Turn that out before you lock me in, would you? It’s like a laser beam from hell.”
“I’m not locking you in.”
I moved my arm enough to give him a disbelieving glance. “You’re kidding, right?”
“No. Fuck regulations.” Hector showing he was the big dog and Thackery could kiss his ass. “I think your clearance level has gone about as high as it could go now.” His pale eyes were tainted with exhaustion, like dirty ice. “I’m through being an asshole because circumstances dictate it. Charlie wouldn’t be happy with me, and I’m not too happy with myself.” He moved to the door and opened it. “You’ll stay because we can help your sister and because you want to help Charlie, whether you admit that or not.” He shook his head. “Even to yourself. I’ll send Eden with some pills. See you at five.”
Five
A.M.
? I groaned mentally as he shut the door. It was easier to focus on that than on the grab bag of goodies he’d thrown in my lap. My cage door was open. Of course, Glory was the real cage; they had never needed a locked door to keep me here. But … I looked at it—gray, metal, ugly, and unlocked—and suddenly, I could breathe. The claustrophobia was still there, but knowing that I could open the
door anytime lifted it enough to let me breathe without feeling as if I were strangling.
As for the other things, Hector giving me his trust and being so sure that I would’ve stayed regardless if only to help Charlie—as if he thought he knew me now. Knew who I was on the inside. He ignored my snark and was acting more like his brother. Too damn perceptive. I wasn’t comfortable with that. I’d let Abby in. I didn’t think I had room for any others.
• • •
Once I was loaded up with Tylenol, muscle relaxants, and more of Eden’s sympathetic pats and anger at my condition, the night passed in a blink, and I was faced with the ugly reality of too-damn-early. There was the smell of eggs and toast under my nose, and I pried up eyelids with a mind of their own and fifty pounds of concrete on their side. At least, it felt that way. I did get them open, though, to see the blurry vision of gray scrambled eggs and limp soggy toast.
“This is a joke,” I mumbled thickly. “A bad joke. Go away.”
“It’s not much to look at, Mr. Eye, I know, but I did bring a cinnamon roll and coffee from the outside world. I hope that will make up for our cafeteria’s failings.”
My eyes widened to fully alert. I’d assumed it was Hector. I must’ve been stupid with sleep; Hector had never smelled like that. She smelled like
oranges and cinnamon. When Charlie’s memory didn’t pop up to comment on the change from lemon, I decided either the scent was new or Charlie was beginning to fade. It didn’t matter which, because either one was a good way to start the day. I’d liked Charlie, but it was time for him to go. I couldn’t be his tombstone, eulogy, and life’s history all rolled into one forever.
I sat up and reached immediately for my gloves. After pulling them on, I shoved my hair back and snapped a rubber band around it. “I’ll take the roll and coffee, thanks.”
She aimed gray eyes at the eggs and gave a philosophical sigh. “I’d throw them to the crows, but they won’t touch them, either.” She deposited the tray on the desk and handed me a paper bag fragrant with the smells of butter, icing, and dark roast.
“I didn’t know doctors made house calls anymore, much less with cinnamon rolls.” And a damn fine cinnamon roll it was, too. It was the size of a saucer and dripping with all the things that made life worthwhile—sugar, butter, grease. I had to take my gloves back off to eat it, and it was more than worth the trouble.
“Yes, well, most doctors don’t tend to patients who are being held against their will.” Her lips tightened. “Who are being blackmailed.”
Maybe, like Eden, she was on my side, too. Charlie had nothing to contradict absolute integrity in
her. Then again, Charlie had been too good for his own good. And good people are gullible.
“True.” My eyes narrowed as I wiped sticky fingers on a napkin from the bag. “And you think a roll and coffee makes up for that?” She was an amazing woman, and I didn’t need Charlie to tell me so, but that didn’t let her off the hook for all this.
“No,” she responded quietly. “I’m not sure anything would.” Laying warm fingers on my arm, she added, “I am sorry. I know it counts for very little, but I am.”
Behind the words, I saw her. Five years old and standing by the window where the cage hung. Her
abuela
kept two doves, gray and white with soft pink eyes. They watched the sky through silver bars, and that wasn’t right. No one should be in a cage. Everyone should know freedom.
Libertad
. Everyone should know the sky. And so she’d opened the window and then the door to the cage, and off they flew, without hesitation. As if they’d been waiting for this moment all their short lives. Meleah had waved in joy until she couldn’t see them anymore. Waved and waved.
I looked blankly at her hand on my arm. “Don’t.”
She removed it instantly, mortified, I could tell by the flush under warm amber skin. “I’m sorry. I forgot. It is inexcusable of me.” Because a good doctor didn’t forget that one patient was a diabetic, and she didn’t forget that another was psychic.
“It’s okay.” I took another bite of the roll. “It’s not
an easy thing to remember.” I smiled, ready for a little harmless payback and because, hell, I was curious. “Did your granny bust your ass for letting her birds go?” I raised a hand for a short wave, a simple one-two bend of the fingers. “
Libertad, pequeñas palomas.”
Freedom, little doves.
Her mouth opened slightly, and the flush faded. Then, amazingly, she smiled back, her gray eyes warm. “She scolded me quite fiercely, but it was worth it. Of course, the silly birds came back the next day looking for supper.” She gave a gentle shrug. “I did what I could.”
Which is what she was doing now. For Charlie. He was in a cage, the same as I was, the same as the birds, but the door to it was much more difficult to open than when she’d been five. Maybe if we were lucky, both Charlie and I would get our
libertad
.
Maybe.
I finished up the roll and the coffee just as Hector came through the door. “It’s a party,” I drawled, toasting him with an empty paper cup. “BYOCB, though. Bring your own cinnamon bun.”
Hector was not amused. Tense and on edge behind his usual stone mask, no amusement to be found. “Get dressed, Jackson. We have to get set up at our location.”
“Not the cavern, right?” I demanded with a little tension of my own. I’d had enough of that place—more than enough. Charlie could come through
there wearing bells and whistles and dancing a goddamn jig, I didn’t care. I was
not
going to be there.
“No. I made sure we pulled another site. The last thing I want, Eye, is you gnawing on my shinbone.”
Well, I stood corrected. There was a little humor in Allgood after all. Desperate and dark battlefield humor but humor all the same. “Stringy as hell,” I said, wrinkling my upper lip. “I wouldn’t waste my time.”
Meleah’s smile widened then faded. “Hector? You’ll let me know when something happens, yes? Thackery certainly will not.”
“Of course.” He rested a hand on her shoulder and squeezed lightly. “You’re as much a part of this as anyone, no matter what that bastard says.”
Thackery apparently knew everything about winning friends and influencing people—and had tossed that knowledge into the toilet and flushed repeatedly. I definitely wouldn’t be sorry to see the last of that bastard. If I had to take bets on who might murder Charlie, although I was very carefully
not
thinking about that, he’d top the list.
Meleah, though, and even blackmailing Hector—they weren’t that bad. Good people in a bad situation, I was forced to admit, as much as I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to be sympathetic to their situation and them, I just wanted out. Wasn’t that right? I told myself. Wasn’t it? As Meleah left, she raised her own coffee cup to me. “
A la libertad,
” she said solemnly. “To liberty.”
Here was hoping it was that easy, I thought as she closed the door behind her.
Hector eyed me, assessing, but said nothing—at least, not about Meleah. “Get dressed,” he repeated. “We don’t have all day.”
“That statement has Mom written all over it.” I tossed my cup into the garbage can. “You want to remind me to use the bathroom before we go? Maybe tell me to wear clean underwear, too, while you’re at it.”
This time, he said nothing at all, the pale eyes narrowed to slits.
“Okay, okay,” I said. “Sheesh. Do I have time for a shower?”
“No.”
“Great,” I mumbled as I stripped and changed into jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt. “If Charlie does show up, he’ll be promptly driven away by my funky stench. There’s a ghostbusting tool Murray and Aykroyd never tried.”
“Actually, you smell like a giant cinnamon bun. Very manly. Now, get your goddamn ass in gear.” There was humor in the words, but his eyes didn’t show it. Why would they? Today was the day he was hoping to take what was left of his brother and end it permanently. It had to be done, but that didn’t mean it hurt any less.
I finished tying my sneakers, put on my gloves, and stood. “Okay. Let’s go save Charlie.”
It wasn’t as cool as, say, let’s go kick some noncorporeal
ass, but it was far more true. We might be ending Charlie, but we would be saving him, too, because Hector was right. Charlie would far rather be gone than continue hurting people. The nonexistence of the grave would be vastly preferable. Then again, Charlie believed in life after death … real life, not the lab-created kind. Funny how someone so brilliant could be so damn naive. And may a heavenly choir of angels sing you to sleep.
Shit.
• • •
Our location turned out to be an old mill. Lassie could’ve told us those were never good places to hang out. Trouble was bound to pop up—it was the law.
It
was
nice, though. Weeping willows bowing over a chuckling creek. The silver wood and stone of the mill was like a pool of moonlight at odds with the bright morning sun. I tossed a rock into the water with my left hand. In my right, I held Charlie’s key chain. When the time came, I’d strip my glove off and try to track Charlie, try to get the jump on him by at least a few seconds, give the team at the chosen location a heads-up.
Our location didn’t have the big guns this time. The equipment had been taken to the place with the highest body count: the cavern. It was considered the most likely place with the highest amount of “fraying.” When I asked Hector why he hadn’t gone there with that team, he hadn’t responded, unless
you consider jaw clenching a response. Thackery. The son of a bitch had a lot of power, maybe enough to get Hector thrown off the project. It was the only thing that explained Hector’s presence behind me at the stream and made Thackery seem more suspicious—keeping Charlie’s brother at arm’s length from Charlie was what a murderer would do.