Page 53 of Throwing Fire

“I remember. I wasn’t sure you would. Or that you’d care.”

“I care.”

Kez wraps her arms around my neck and starts kissing me again. “I love that you care.”

My kitten. “I’ve always cared. Ever since this crazy kitten grabbed my hand an’ dragged me into her life.”

“If you want me to apologize for that, you’re going to have a long wait,” Kez says. “Oh, I almost forgot. Doc Gray gave me this for you.” She lifts one long leg, tugs up the hem of the pants she’s wearing and unwraps a metal coil from around her ankle. “He says you’ll ache for a day or two after everything he had to do to you. And he said he knows you won’t want pain patches, so he gave me this. It’s some kind of magnetic ring. It vibrates. Eases muscle pain.”

I take the long metal strip from her. Looks like three thick copper strands braided together. I can’t feel any vibration, but I trust the fish-doc. If he says it will help, it’ll help.

“Around your neck, he said. Not too tight. Although, you know, there is some appeal to that.”

I flick her on the ear again before winding the metal strip around my throat. It’s pleasantly warm, maybe from Kez’s body, maybe from some internal source. It stays once I’ve positioned it, resting against my collarbone like a torc. Feels solid without being tight. Even with it sitting on top of my bones, I don’t feel any vibration. Just very comfortable warmth. It spreads into my shoulders. My arms sag as the warmth takes the edge off. “Yeah, that’s nice.”

“He’ll be here in the morning to check on you.”

“What about you? Myhre said you sprained your ankle.”

She nods and holds out her other foot so I can see a similar metal coil wrapped around her ankle, and the pale green bruising that stains her skin above and below the coil. “I landed on it. The Doc bonded the ruptured ligament. He says I’ll be able to run in a day or two.”

Walking’s enough of a challenge for me at the moment.

“Hey, uh, I don’t want to interrupt you two,” Chiara says, pokingher sleek black head around one of the screens that separate the lounge from the kitchen. “But it’s getting on towards lunchtime.”

“Food sounds good,” I say.

Kez kisses me on the cheek and climbs off my lap.

“Hey,” I protest.

“You’re an invalid. Stay put. Watch daytime threedy.” She waggles her eyebrows suggestively, but we both know that with five thousand universal channels, there’s still nothing on. “I’m going to make you lunch and wait on you, hand and foot.”

Now that sounds like a plan. I stretch back into the couch. “I’ll hold you to that.”

“Good.” She waves a hand as she disappears through the archway into the kitchen. “Don’t forget to call Acker.”

I won’t. But the first call I’m making is to Payton. I want to look into those eyes again. Make sure I’m right.

CHAPTER 21

Icould call Payton from the Warren’s plex.

Gig’s security is pretty good. But if the bad guys are watching Kez, then they might be monitoring outgoing signals. Better to bounce the call through my place, which has the best security I could buy, or steal, this side of military intelligence.

I move back through the house, collecting Mingle from the floor and tucking her back into my pocket, waving at Kez and her crew who are gathered in the kitchen. Kez catches my eye, slides her big blues toward two heads, dark brown curls and light-brown crew cut, bent over a counter as they slice stalks of nativekangalong. Sylvie and Gig. They’re cute together.

I grin back at her before ducking into the long communal ‘fresher.

All my plumbing’s working, which is a relief, given the whole pulverized bones thing. The little monster is still sore, and a little red, but that’s the least of my worries. Standing comfortably over the flash can while I empty my bladder makes me aware of how much more easily I’m moving. I’ll have to think of some way to thank Doc Gray.

Back in the control center, I patch into the feed from my house, log in to the HPC, and call out. Wait until Payton answers. The viewie jingles for a long time before Payton picks up.

From what I can see of her, waist up, she looks just like she did when I last saw her. Perfectly and precisely groomed. But she’s wearing the same clothes, and there are dark lines between her brows. Those lines deepen when she sees me. “Mister Snow,” she says coolly.

“Payton. Thought I’d check in. See what arrangements you want made.”

She sniffs. “Are you offering me accommodation at the Cloud Palace? I’ll need a tab, since you’ve frozen all of Father’s accounts.”