Page 24

Chapter Twenty-One

Roland

Nessa sits forward in her seat, her left heel tapping out a pattern on the ground that spells agitation. She’s being honest, and Mr. Singkham’s trying to get his eyeballs melted. “They called themselves number Three. They were—are—a superbeing I’ve never heard of before.”

“That’s not possible.”

“They were dressed as a delivery person walking through the COE lobby, and when I bumped into them, they transported me to my childhood—the place where I lived when I was small. They left me there.” Nessa’s voice gets more aggressive as Mr. Singkham’s denial grows more adamant. “They are alien, but they aren’t one of the Forty-Eight. I’ve never heard of them before, their presence wasn’t disclosed in any of the briefs you provided my team, and their powers were extraordinary and terrible. Roland hasn’t heard of them either.”

“You think there are unknown ones?” Mr. Singkham scoffs, shuffling papers arbitrarily over his new desk; the old one was deemed ruined after the Marduk’s attack. It’s clear he’s flustered. He already dismissed Mrs. Morales and all his guards with an order to turn the cameras in his office off, as if I didn’t hear that. My hearing is sharper than any human’s, and in the last days, my senses have all only gotten sharper. Like my claws. “As in, more than one?”

“Yes. I think there may be as many as sixty-two.” Vanessa nods, and I squeeze her hand. “That’s what Three called Roland.”

She’s seated in the chair next to mine, and I’m leaning forward so that our knees touch, and occasionally I reach out to pick her hand up off her lap. I need it. I’m fucking shaking. I don’t know if she or Mr. Singkham can see it, but I can feel small tremors throughout every inch of my body. I attribute it to hearing Nessa’s full story, down to the detail about how that fucker touched and intimidated her. I know what would make me feel better—this Three fucker dying today in epic violence—but since this is a being who seems to be able to move through space at will and is someone the COE claims doesn’t exist, finding them is going to be my biggest hurdle.

“Ms. Theriot, it is of vital importance that you are honest with me,” Mr. Singkham starts.

Vanessa cuts him off, and I’m fucking proud of her for it. “I am being honest with you, Mr. Singkham.”

“We have the footage, Ms. Theriot. There were forty-eight pods that fell from the sky. Almost all of them shattered upon impact, and the few that were relatively intact are well within the safety of the SDD—those that weren’t stolen in the VNA raid twelve years ago. And if you are sticking to your story, I will have no choice but to report you and have the SDD come here and launch a full investigation.”

“And what of the footage of the COE lobby? Where’s that? I requested it from your security, but according to them, the specific ten-minute block in which I was abducted has been wiped.” She’s leaning forward, rage tinting her cheeks pink.

Mr. Singkham flounders. “That’s ... a security failing. One that will be looked into—”

“That won’t be necessary.” I yank my hands away from Vanessa’s skin just as my palms turn to flame and my claws tingle. “Vanessa is misremembering the event completely. Thank you for your time, Mr. Singkham. We’ll be going.”

Vanessa’s surprise registers, but only for a second before resolve hardens her features. She grabs my hand with vigor, just as the flame in my fingers goes out. She hasn’t commented on my claws yet, even though they’re already pointy, having grown out at an alarming rate throughout last night. I’m gonna have to talk to Nessa about it—a conversation I’m dreading—though to be fair, any conversation is better than the one we’re having now.

“Good day, Mr. Singkham.” Vanessa grips my hand harder and tosses Mr. Singkham an angry glare that’s frankly adorable. Still, it has the intended effect.

“Now, wait a minute. If you think you can simply walk right out of the door after having made such allegations, then you are grossly mistaken ...”

Mr. Singkham is trying to die. I turn to face his desk and take a single step toward him without releasing Vanessa’s hand. My eyes flare orange. I can feel the heat they generate, unlike when the white color periodically shines in my gaze, which feels blessedly cool.

“You mistake my participation in your little program for something else, Mr. Singkham.” Our eyes have locked. He’s holding firm, but I can see the displeased twitch of his mouth. “You threaten her again, and I won’t play your little games anymore.”

Mr. Singkham straightens and runs his hand down the front of his deep-blue suit. He was already in his office when we arrived, having caught up with a delegation from the COE’s Germany branch. Mr. Singkham did not enjoy our interruption, or the adulation the German delegation gave me and Nessa. She didn’t let them take her photo, though, and I didn’t like the reason why. The bruises on her face are still visible.

“You either talk to her with the respect she deserves, or I will kill you.” Vanessa squeaks and tries to pull her hand out of mine, but I don’t let her. “I may be a hero, but I’m only a hero for her. For you, I can be a villain just fine.”

Mr. Singkham gawks at me and is still gawking as I show him my back.

“Let’s go. We’ll see you next week. Vanessa is taking the rest of the week off after her ordeal, and I’m not coming in for any pretty pictures until she’s healed.”

“Monika’s going to be pissed,” Nessa hisses as I wheel her around and nudge her toward the door of Mr. Singkham’s office.

We stop just before reaching it. “We know of six others,” he says.

A feeling unfamiliar to me creeps up the back of my neck. Ice. My skin aches with a cold burn, and a wholly inhuman spasm shoots from my nape to my low back. I can feel my flesh shift, like there’s something pressing at the underside of my skin. My skin is a cage not made for it.

“What?” Nessa whispers, moving to stand beside me, a little closer to Mr. Singkham than I’m comfortable with. “Six ... You mean there weren’t forty-eight? There were fifty-four?”

“I haven’t been given full access to their files from the SDD, but yes. There were six additional carrier pods that fell from the sky ...”

“You just said that the Forty-Eight were recorded falling at the same time,” I bark, annoyed. Smoke wafts out on my breath.

Mr. Singkham has a harder time meeting my gaze now than he did. “They were. But the six arrived two weeks before.”

“Two weeks?” Vanessa and I balk in the same breath. We share a glance, and it feels ... conspiratorial. Like the way she looks at her siblings sometimes, so much depth passing through a look alone. I feel like smiling all of a sudden, even though it’s not the time or place for that. I feel like kissing her until she’s out of breath and passes the fuck out in my arms. Ain’t the place for that either. Soon though ...

“They arrived staggered but in groups. Six were recovered. Contact was made with some of the children who came from the pods, but it wasn’t the same as with the Forty-Eight who arrived two weeks afterward. These children were ... violent. They attacked.

“Defense forces in the countries where they were found were successful in containing them for a short time, but they were ... shocking in their abilities. Not only their gifts, which were impressive enough, but they could and were willing to fight. Children who looked as young as seven and eight fighting grown men and women with the intent to kill. And our forces had a harder time with that. Killing children wasn’t ... isn’t ...” He sighs, rubs his face, and shrugs.

“When I took over as president of the COE, the SDD only gave me so much information about the origins of the Forty-Eight—and the additional six, who haven’t been seen since they landed and fought the ground forces of the nations they arrived in. We don’t know where they went. So while I want to believe you, your account of what happened just doesn’t make sense, Ms. Theriot. I’m sorry for my hostility. I mean no disrespect.”

“Why doesn’t it make sense?” she says.

“There were only six others. Their powers were never properly documented, but even from the transcripts from the soldiers who engaged with them all over the world, not one suggested that any of the children they came across could teleport. What you saw—experienced ...” He shakes his head, his hair never falling out of its perfectly gelled coif even though his face looks like it’s aged a decade or more in the past several minutes. “I don’t know what to tell you, Ms. Theriot. It’s just not possible.”

I’m about to bite his head off—no, I can’t do that. I don’t have fangs. But I do have claws. I’m about to shove my fist through his chin and tear out his tongue—when Nessa intervenes. She takes my hand, holds it, squeezes it, needing me in a way that keeps Mr. Singkham’s head where it is.

“Mr. Singkham, they called Roland Sixty-Two,” she says softly.

“It’s not possible.”

“If six escaped detection so easily and if others have powers we don’t even understand, it stands to reason there could have been more. Not just six, but eight more than that too. Maybe even more.”

“Fourteen aliens is entirely unreasonable. Someone would have seen these fourteen by now. Or they themselves would have come forward. They were children—”

“Children who could fight. You just said so yourself.”

“Weak—” Mr. Singkham says, trying to speak over her.

Vanessa stands up, lifts her sweatshirt, and peels away a bandage on her hip for Mr. Singkham to see. And he does see. “No. They aren’t. And I know what I saw, what I felt.”

Mr. Singkham’s face goes pale. As the bruises have begun to heal, their finger-shaped silhouettes have only become darker and more distinct. As have the little pricks from nails or rings or claws that cover her in scratches.

I ball my hands into fists and go to Vanessa’s side, where I carefully press the bandages back into place and yank down her sweatshirt. “When you come up with something, call us. I don’t want this report filed with the SDD, though. So whatever you tell them, it doesn’t come from Vanessa.”

“I can’t possibly ...” Mr. Singkham starts.

“I should report it ...” good girl Vanessa adds.

“Out of the question. If the SDD isn’t sharing information with the COE, then we don’t need to share ours. Besides, I’m not having them take you away and interrogate you, stick needles in you, put you in a hospital bed—any of that shit. You’re mine, and if Mr. Singkham decides to obey protocol on this, then he’s going to have serious problems because I will sink the SDD, the COE, and the VNA and any other subsidiary they ever create. And if you think about publishing any of this anywhere, I’m going to have to do bad things to you, Nessa.”

I lift her chin, drag the dangerous shards of my claws down the delicate column of her neck. Watch her swallow hard before she says, “What ... kinds of bad things?”

I tap her cheek with the tip of my claw, noting the pressure I apply doesn’t seem to be enough to harm her. She doesn’t cower away, and when she’s very still, I can control just how hard I stroke her with them. “You’ll see when we get home, all right?”

“Okay.” She nods, pupils dilating. Such a good, good girl.

“Yes,” I correct.

“Yes,” she whispers back.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, Rollo?”

“No.” I pinch her chin between my claws so, so lightly. Tenderly. Threateningly. I lean down and brush my lips over her ear, inhaling the decadent scent of her curls. “When you’re naughty, you call me Wyvern.”

She swallows, and when she opens her mouth, I watch her try to respond twice and fail. Finally her gaze drops, and I notice the tight way she holds herself. Not afraid, no. She’s excited . And if that isn’t fucking unfortunate. Because Mr. Singkham’s still in the room, and I don’t exactly feel like putting on a show for him.

“Goodbye, Mr. Singkham,” I say to the red-faced man trying and failing not to watch my interaction with Vanessa. “Find out what you can about the missing six. Find me Three. Until then, don’t expect to hear from me.”

“That’s not ... part of our contract.”

I give him a look. One he does a good job of not entirely withering beneath. But then I grin at him to show all of my teeth, and I feel active flames lick the tops of my cheeks and around my eyelashes. “It’s cute you still think I give a shit about a contract. I’m not your fucking errand boy.” I move to stand behind Vanessa, grab her throat around the front. Kiss her temple. “I’m Vanessa’s. And if you can’t guarantee her safety, then there’s nothing left for us to talk about.”

“We’ll withhold your next payment.”

“Don’t need it. I got a sugar mama and everything else I need. Come on, baby,” I say, dropping my pitch and speaking to Vanessa directly. I give her neck a little squeeze and push her through the door. “I’ve got a few days I need to make up for.”