Page 24

CHAPTER 24

Diana felt wretched, so much so that she barely registered the discomfort of another brief trip through wherever Caine went when he transported people. She raised her head as there was a sudden clatter, and she became aware of a much less profound darkness around them.

“Where are we?” Costa asked out of the dark. Diana reached back and felt a wall behind her.

“Employee bathroom in the residential wing of the SCB headquarters,” Caine said, sounding hoarse. “I’m not used to moving this many people around. Tight fit. Just a minute.”

The lights came on an instant later. They were, indeed, on the bathroom floor. Diana was abruptly aware of her nearly naked state and also that her toes felt halfway to frozen.

“Caine,” Costa said, rubbing his bare legs, “please remind me next time that you are correct. I should have put on pants.”

“Yes, you should have,” Caine said. His face looked pale and pinched. “And remind me next time not to transport this many unfamiliar people this far. We’re gonna need a gurney for this guy, unless you want to carry him.”

“I’ll get Mavis down here,” Costa said. He squeezed Diana’s shoulder. “You gonna be okay?”

“Yes,” she told him. “Go, go.”

Costa departed, leaving the bathroom door open. Diana checked on Farley. His breathing was shallow and rapid, and he felt slightly feverish to the touch. She felt as if she was running a fever herself, too hot and too cold at once.

“Agent Caine, do you have any medical training?”

“None whatsoever,” Caine said. “Nor do I want to. My skills lie in a different area.” He put a hand lightly on her shoulder, a respectfully restrained pressure. “There is a small lounge area with some chairs if you’d like to sit somewhere other than the bathroom floor. I’m going back to the fight in a minute, as soon as my head stops exploding.”

Caine helped Diana out into the hall with a light hand under her elbow. She looked at him thoughtfully, pushing past her own weakness and illness to see that he did look shaky and unwell. “Does it always do that to you?” she asked, as he helped her sit down on one of a pair of padded chairs at the end of the short hallway.

For a minute she didn’t think he was going to answer. Then he sat down beside her. “Not for short hops to familiar places. Transporting more than one person is hard. Long distances too.”

Diana laced her fingers together over her bare knees and looked at him sideways. He had his sunglasses over his eyes again, so it was harder to make out his expression. “Can I ask what it is that you do when you—do what you just did?”

He looked faintly amused. “You can ask.”

“But you won’t answer.”

“No.” After a moment he said, “Perhaps someday. You and Costa—may I ask what’s going on there?”

“You may ask.”

The corner of his mouth tugged up in the most genuine smile she’d ever seen from him. “Ah.”

“It’s not so much that I don’t want to answer. It’s that I don’t know.”

“Reasonable.” He reached out and, to her great shock, gave her shoulder an awkward pat. “For whatever it’s worth, you definitely get him riled up like no one else.”

She remembered the heat of Costa’s mouth on hers, the slick joy of having him inside her. A rush of heat overwhelmed her. “Good,” she said faintly, and rested her head in her hands. “I’d hate to think he doesn’t ...”

Whatever she was going to say faded out of her mind. “I don’t,” she began, and tried to stand up, gripping for Caine. Her hand closed on his arm, but the world seemed to come up sideways and smack at her. She was dimly aware of Caine catching her and lowering her to the floor.

“Hey—Diana?”

She couldn’t seem to answer. She lost a little time, glimpsed the ceiling of a corridor, was aware of movement.

She dreamed.

Monsters lunged at her from feverish depths, an uncoiling black snakelike thing and clawing animals that were straight out of nightmare. She hallucinated herself in the desert, morning light rising around her, standing in front of a giant shape that she gradually realized was a roadrunner, but the size of a T-rex.

“Are you my shift shape?” she asked hesitantly, reaching a hand out toward it.

The creature dipped its head. At this size, the vast beak was like a jackhammer; it could have skewered her in an instant. But she felt no fear. She wasn’t sure if she got bigger or if it got smaller, but it was no taller than she was when she placed her hand cautiously on the side of its head.

It turned its head to the side so it could regard her from a golden bird’s eye.

“Are you trying to tell me something? I don’t understand.”

There was no reply. Diana blinked, and found herself peeling sticky, sleep-gummed eyes open as she woke. She turned her head weakly to the side. She was resting somewhere soft, head propped up by a pillow, and there was a blanket on top of her. Costa was holding her hand.

For a few minutes she just lay there and gazed at him. He had one hand wrapped around hers, and was holding a book in the other. He was dressed in sweatpants and a loose Phoenix Suns sweatshirt, which Diana guessed were either workout clothes he kept at the office or borrowed from someone. The same day, then? There were no windows or sources of natural daylight to give her guidance; in fact, a curtain drawn around her bed prevented her from seeing exactly where she was. But the fact that Costa was with her, and didn’t look worried or alarmed, soothed her fears. She wasn’t back in the lab; she was still at the SCB. And there were no medical personnel clustered around her bed, so she probably wasn’t dying.

Costa’s hair was tousled in a way that suggested a recent shower. It looked very touchable. Her hand twitched to reach out for it, and that was what tipped him off that she was awake.

He raised his head swiftly. “Diana,” he said, and the next thing she knew, he was leaning forward and kissing her.

What started out as a swift, dry brush of lips rapidly turned deeper and more heated, and when he finally pulled away, she was gasping—and also felt a lot more awake. “Well,” she breathed. “All of a sudden I understand why a kiss got Sleeping Beauty’s motor running.”

Costa laughed. He cupped his hand against her cheek and stroked lightly up to run his fingers through her hair. “How are you feeling?”

“Weird. Achy. Thirsty. Am I allowed to drink anything?”

“Yes, of course.” Costa reached for a plastic cup with a straw on the bedside table. He helped her sit up, supported her while she waited out a head rush, then handed it to her.

While she sipped what turned out to be refreshing ice water, Diana turned her hand over and examined the back of it, where an IV was taped. The line ran to a slack bag on a stand beside her bed, so it looked like whatever they had been giving her was finished. The shoulder where she had been injected felt stiff and sore, as if from receiving a vaccine, but other than that, she didn’t feel too bad. There were sticky tabs on her chest holding EKG leads, which showed a steady, reassuring rhythm.

“What’s the word from the docs?” she asked. “For that matter, what time is it? How long have I been out?”

“Oh. Sorry. I forgot that you wouldn’t know.” Costa started to look at the watch he wasn’t wearing, then reached for a phone he also didn’t have on him, and laughed ruefully. “It’s been almost twenty-four hours.”

“You’re kidding.” No wonder she felt so heavy and achy. “You haven’t been here the whole time, I hope?”

“I got some sleep,” Costa said, not very convincingly. “Farley woke up early this morning, and the last I heard, he was doing fine. He’s off in guest quarters with a guard on him. So they were expecting you to come around any time, but, you know—it’s hard to say for sure until it happens.”

Although his voice was light, Diana sensed the unspoken edges of the desperate worry underneath. Not sure what to do with that situation, she turned her attention to finishing the water instead. With her thirst slaked, she became aware that she was very hungry and also wearing nothing but a hospital gown. She could feel sand on her feet and legs every time she moved.

“So what are the chances of me getting food, some clothes, and a shower? Not necessarily in that order.”

Costa grinned and squeezed her arm. “Let me go get the doc.”

A moment later he returned with Mavis and several other doctors and technicians she hadn’t met yet, at least not while conscious. Mavis firmly shooed Costa out. Diana submitted to being prodded, having her temperature and blood pressure taken, and giving more vials of blood from an already perforated arm.

“So what’s happening to me?” she asked.

“I know this isn’t going to be as reassuring as you’d like, but at the moment, apparently nothing,” Mavis said, making some notes on her tablet. “Farley also seemed to be fine when he woke up. Your BP is a bit elevated and we’re getting high white blood cell counts from both of you, but that’s it. We’re still analyzing the substance that was recovered from the lab in Alamagordo. I can tell you it’s not a virus or a bacterial substance, it’s chemical, but beyond that, we have no idea what it does yet.”

“You’re right, that’s not reassuring.”

“Well, maybe it’ll be more reassuring if I tell you that you certainly don’t seem to be contagious in any way, so there’s no reason why you can’t leave. I can get something for you to wear; I’m sure there must be female agents here who are about your size. We’d like you to check in if you experience any unusual symptoms, and come back for more bloodwork in a few days, but otherwise it seems pointless to keep you here.”

“Music to my ears, Doc.”

Ten minutes later, she was sitting in the SCB cafeteria with Costa, dressed in borrowed jeans, a T-shirt, and a pair of low-topped boots that were slightly too big for her. Outside the window, the desert was brilliant in early afternoon sunlight. Diana demolished two sandwiches from the cafeteria vending machines, washed down with two cups of coffee and an energy drink.

“Yes, I know I’m making sure I’m not going to sleep anytime soon,” she said at Costa’s look. He also had a cup of coffee in front of him, along with a slice of pie. “I’ve slept enough. In fact, I’ve had enough. I am completely done with all of this. I’ve been kidnapped, experimented on, and had my house burned down. I literally lost my last set of clothes in the desert. I have hit my limit.”

“What are you planning to do? For the record,” Costa added, “I’m behind you a hundred percent.”

Diana squeezed his hand. “I appreciate that. But honestly I’m not sure, at least not yet. The SCB arrested a bunch of people at the Alamagordo lab, right? What have they found out?”

“I’m not really the person to ask,” Costa admitted. “I’ve been out of the loop on most of it.” He brightened. “Oh, but look who just walked in: the exact person who would know.”

Caine had entered the cafeteria, moving in a way that suggested weariness. Costa waved him vigorously over toward their table. With glacial speed—evidently he didn’t like being summoned—Caine collected a couple of sandwiches, a chocolate bar, and a cup of coffee, and approached their table.

“Just the man we wanted to see,” Costa said. “How is progress on securing the Alamagordo facility?”

“No longer my problem.” Caine stirred two packets of sugar into his coffee. “Delgado is handling the scene, along with the new guy from the Seattle office. They’re going to be trucking over material for our labs to look at.” He glanced at Diana. “You look better than the last time I saw you.”

Diana grinned; coming from Caine, that was concern indeed. “I’m doing fine. The doctors couldn’t find anything seriously wrong with me. Hopefully whatever they’re bringing over will shed some light on it.”

“We don’t have much light to shed anywhere, but we’re just getting started on questioning suspects,” Caine said. “Well, okay, we did get one useful confession. The fire at your house was definitely arson. One of their security team spilled the details.”

Diana rubbed a hand over her face. “I thought so. I guess it’s good to know.” She turned to Costa. “You know, speaking of which, my car’s still over there. I’d like to go pick it up.”

“Today?”

“Why wait? I just drank three cups of coffee and a Red Bull.”

Costa snorted and shook his head. “Well, I won’t be driving us, because my car is still at the Desert Tours hangars unless someone’s moved it back here.”

They both looked at Caine.

“No,” Caine said flatly. “I’m not your travel agent. Take a company car and drive yourselves.” He unwrapped a sandwich. “I’ve been on the go for two days solid since someone decided to get kidnapped. I’m sitting here and eating, and then I’m going home.”

Costa stretched and stood. “We’ll take a car from the SCB garage, then. You’re driving, Ms. Three Cups of Coffee and a Red Bull.”

“Try not to get kidnapped again,” Caine said before taking a bite.