Parking Garage. Eugene, Oregon

  “I want these people pushed back,” Penn shouted into his comm as soon as his feet had touched the ground from the teleportation. He should have been able to see the body, but there were too many people, far too many people too close. He should have been in a Neptune officers’ meeting ten minutes ago, but he’d been stuck trying to remotely assist with a knack misfire in Cairo and then this call happened.

  A dark splatter on the concrete pillar was visible to him and everyone gathered—and all their phones too, held up to record over the heads of the crowd.

  “We're trying, sir,” an agent replied in his ear. “We need more hands.”

  There was a buzz in the air. The unyielding crush of bodies clustered around the entrance to the parking garage, with more just across the narrow street in the park, was a mix of civilians rubbernecking and the first responders that had been waylaid into a torpor state by Cleanup.

  Penn put his hand on the comm as he shouldered past two paramedics, pushing into their heads and sending them off to help corral the crowd. “Telepaths, deputize the responders. Make them your extra hands. I need these people back and no one leaves without their devices scrubbed.”

  The scene was hard to take in. Phagi exposures always were. The grisly heap of carnage was charnel red, striped with exposed bone.

  “Kelly, ping Mercury to get approval to kill local private phone traffic for an hour.” His tech team was going to be pulling these videos off social media like weeds for a week if they didn’t. Penn glanced around. “Where's the second victim?”

  Gage pointed at the heap. When Penn frowned at him, he explained. “Phagi ate enough of them that it looks like it's one body.”

  Penn shuddered, images of bloodied faces threatening to close in on him, but then flinched at a flash from behind. “Fuck's sake,” he ground out and barked to Gage, “Get me more telepaths.”

  “From where? The store? This was an all-hands.”

  Penn shot him a look and tried to shove down the cold feeling in his stomach. Cleanup was stretched thin, more than ever these days. Too thin. Calls required more and more agents to control. It wasn't just the phones. People had gotten bolder, colder. More likely to snap a video instead of help. If they got two major calls at the same time, they'd be screwed. He turned back to Gage. “Grab a few from the Chicago office. Go.”

  Gage ducked low to hide from the cameras and teleported away.

  The crush was easing as his agents and the local responders began to push the crowd back, keeping them in the park across the street, so his technopaths could erase anything from their phones.

  “Media?” he said into his comm.

  “Local news only has ‘suspicious death found’.”

  Suspicious death. Penn shook his head. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he sighed. He’d be lucky if he got to that meeting at all.

  Yes, Sage, I am fully aware of what you are engaged with right now. I do not think you are fully aware of what I am engaged with.

  He ignored the call and stared at what used to be people. Gage was right. Too much had been eaten away. Had to have been a few Phagi. This was beyond a bear or dog attack. They couldn't hand these bodies over to the medical examiner. It was going to have to be a full clean.

  “Stake out a boundary,” he announced. “We live here until it's clean.”

  A chorus of, “Yes, sir,” echoed in his ear.

  He took a step forward and his foot skidded a few inches. He looked down and saw a battered machete under his boot. His pulse quickened. There was no smell of smoke in the air, so they must not have gotten the job done. Glancing around, he spotted one dark coat. In the chaos, it was easy for his eyes to glaze over her as just another dark figure like the rest of his agents. She was inside the parking garage, away from the crowd. She was watching him and it felt wrong to meet her eyes.

  “Are we FBI? CDC?” a voice in the comm asked him.

  It broke his concentration and he blinked. “FBI. I want a tent here ASAP to cover these poor people.”

  “Five new telepaths on scene,” Gage called.

  “Thank you, Gage.”

  He looked at the Church member then, as sick as it made him feel. There was no judgment from her, no acknowledgement. Just a knowing look. He noticed she was holding her arm awkwardly, likely hurt. Shifting it to the side, Penn kicked the machete in her direction and then turned his back on her.

  He radioed, “Have we got someone holding the west entrance of the garage?”

  “Yes, sir,” an agent replied.

  “Good. Let the Child through.”

  “Sir?”

  His temple was beating like it had a heart of its own. “The Church member. Let her leave.”

  “Yes, sir,” came a halting reply.

  He could feel the tide of the crowd beginning to turn, his senses no longer overwhelmed with the sharp way his telepathy interpreted fear. By the time they had taped off a perimeter, covered the bodies with a white tent, and brought in a Cleanup agent to interface with media and act as the FBI liaison, Penn was no longer actively needed to coordinate. Gage hopped him back, leaving him just outside of the Neptune conference room.

  Sage was at the table working on his laptop with Fredericka beside him. Sage looked at him and there was a thread of anxiety there, more than the usual. “Under control?”

  “It will be. What’d I miss?” Penn asked as he took a seat across from him. Penn hadn’t bothered changing and sitting down in his Blacks was clunky and awkward.

  She cocked an eyebrow. “Besides the entire meeting?”

  Sage sighed. “Penn, you have to learn to delegate.”

  Maybe it was the smell of the parking garage still lingering on his skin, but the comment hit a nerve. “Delegate?” As if Sage delegated anything.

  “Yes,” Fredericka reiterated. “Delegate.”

  “If this is some sort of intervention, it is ill-timed.”

  Freddie shot Sage a look and Sage continued. Ah. So that’s how it was.

  “All of our divisions have life or death crises, same as Cleanup. As an officer, you can’t be there for every single one.”

  He flashed his eyes at Freddie, the culprit behind this conversation, then back to Sage. “Respectfully, sir, no they all don’t. A lapse with Reintegration is bad—or Retrieval could get, at most, a dozen people killed. I think that’s the highest recorded loss off the top of my head.” He folded his hands and leaned forward. “Sir, if a lapse could get every single knacked person on this planet killed, could you sit in your office and trust it was being taken care of by someone else? Could you focus on a meeting?”

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  “He does that with you every single time there’s an exposure crisis,” Freddie argued.

  Penn bit his lip. He was coming up on a line here that he was too tired to walk. He addressed Freddie directly. “Respectfully, neither of you could do a better job than I would if you were there, so it’s a little different.” The Church member’s stoic face flashed in his mind. “Sir, the bodies I just dealt with would keep most people up at night for a month. I’m sorry I missed the meeting. I’ll read the minutes later but is there anything time-sensitive I need to know?”

  “Gerrit lost a team to 37A,” Sage said after a pause.

  His face dropped. “37A? Oh, God. That’s awful.” He sat back, defensiveness retreating into exhaustion. “How quickly do my people need to get there?” Speaking of bodies that would keep him up for a month.

  “No threat of exposure. Manchester office is taking point.”

  He nodded. That was something. “Gerrit out there running them down?” Penn wanted to know. He also wanted to make a point.

  “Yes.” Sage took his meaning. So did Freddie.

  “I’ll read the minutes and have someone send you a report at the end of the day.” He stood up.

  “Thank you.” Sage’s voice softened. “I’m sorry if I was testy. 37A—”

  “I know, sir. It’s fine.”

  He looked at Freddie. I appreciate that you’re concerned about me but I’m fine, he thought to her. They’d have to try to plan lunch sometime soon.

  I’d appreciate it if you did more than just appreciate my concern for your burn out. You’ve been running on fumes for years. You’re worrying me.

  Burn out. He wanted to laugh. Reintegration agents burnt out and had time-limited terms with the hard stuff. Cleanup agents pushed through. Yes, it was a different kind of hard, but there was no space for burn out in their vocabulary. They needed every hand they had. They needed more hands than they had. Something was going to have to give.

  ---

  Apartment building. Chi?in?u, Moldova.

  Anise heaved out a shuddering breath. Her face was hot. It was a bad look to need someone to come pick you up, and she hated that it would be on her file. More than anything, she worried what Adler would say.

  Two figures teleported into the kitchen and her brows lifted to see Saturn’s Third had shown up himself. In turn, they raised their brows to see a family of four sitting in front of the TV, watching news coverage.

  “They can’t see or hear us.”

  “Where are we?” Fox del Sol asked. He was as tall as she remembered and, as much as she had other things to worry about, she couldn’t help but notice he looked pretty great in a suit.

  She pointed to the ceiling. “One floor below the safe house.” She glanced at the messenger bag on her shoulder. “Nothing of mine is up there anymore, but I still turned away SIS, who wanted to search it.”

  “Alright, let’s get out here.”

  She didn’t let herself hesitate. “Back to Kyiv?” She didn’t think they’d be very happy about Fox showing up there.

  “LA to debrief.”

  That was better and worse. The teleporter huddled close to them and her world stretched, tying her insides in knots. She took a few slow breaths once she could feel the ground under her feet again and managed to keep herself steady. If nothing else, the teleportation hangover might help disguise the nerves.

  They’d landed right outside a room that looked more than a little like an interrogation room. It was not the first impression she’d ever dreamed of with LAHQ’s Saturn department.

  “Sir,” she began, letting a tremor into her voice. It wouldn’t hurt.

  “It’s just protocol.” He gestured inside and she went and sat down.

  Fox sat down across from her, appraising her in an odd way. It would have been nice to clarify his intentions with her telepathy, but that was the last thing that would help her right now. His eyes were nice to look at, if nothing else. It was something to focus on other than the nerves.

  He pointed at her, brow lowered. “Monet, right?”

  She'd felt it coming and feigned subdued surprise with a smile. “You remember.” Of course he remembered. He'd had to have referenced her file today. Back in Paris, he'd recognized her by her face alone. Maybe it was simply that there weren't that many agents as short as she was, but she knew the reason she'd never forget his face had nothing to do with his unusual height.

  “I never forget an Impressionist that bad,” he replied with a twinkle in his eye.

  That put her at ease. Sure, he could have been purposefully expressing that to lull her into a sense of security, but she could only gain ground by outwardly relaxing at that.

  Anise let herself smile, lowering her lashes coyly. "You just got yourself uninvited to my art show, then."

  Fox suppressed a grin, remembering where they were, and cleared his throat. “Now,” he began, “did you attempt to assassinate the president of Moldova?”

  Anise choked mildly. “No, I did not.”

  He drilled her on her whereabouts and movements, which she supplied.

  “Did you assassinate the judge?” he asked just as dispassionately.

  “Yes, sir, though any examination should reveal that he had a brain bleed.”

  “Did you have any prior knowledge of a coup?”

  “No. I wish I had. I believe it originated from the military, and that is not where I was spending any of my time. Damn inconvenient timing.”

  “Why?” His voice was neutral, empty in a way that was meant for her to fill.

  She exhaled sharply through her nose. “Because I hadn’t been especially clandestine in the affair beyond keeping it from his wife, because that sort of effort would raise more suspicions than it prevented. His office staff and hotel of choice know what I look like. Well, in the wig, that is. No one would have thought twice about the fact that I up and disappeared after he died if this hadn’t happened on the same day. But now I’m the suspicious anomaly in his schedule that they’re latching onto as a scapegoat. It’s embarrassing.” Her ears burned.

  “Embarrassing?” He was leading her, but she was mad enough to take the opening to defend herself.

  “I'm sorry to have caused so much trouble, and if I made the wrong decision to call in an extraction, I'm doubly sorry. I could probably have made my way home through telepathy, but the streets are packed like sardines and with all the street closings and checkpoints, I was worried some stray camera would pick me up and that would only add gas to the fire with a manhunt.”

  “No, it was the right call. Nothing to be embarrassed about. We've all been there." Fox shrugged one shoulder. "Plus, you didn’t accidentally start a coup, which is what we've been preparing for."

  She nodded, letting her lighter tone match his. "I will only start a coup when instructed, sir."

  “That’s what the boss likes to hear.”

  If he’d been a mark, she’d have asked what else he likes to hear, but that’s not what he was. “Anyway, mine would have been successful a lot faster than this.”

  A voice chimed in from the hall. “Sir, I have Kyiv on the line asking for an update.”

  She wondered who it was on the line. Probably Nina, but she wouldn’t put it past Adler to get on the phone with LAHQ.

  Fox’s face sombered. “Alright, tell Kyiv we’ll have the teleporter bounce her back right now.” He stood and she stood with him. “You have the jump drive from the judge?”

  She pulled it out of a hidden pocket on her waistband. “Yes, sir.”

  “Leave it here. Good work, Monet.”

  Anise smiled. “Thank you, sir.” She followed him out into the hall and hovered by the door as he strode off on his long legs.

  “Are you ready?” the teleporter asked.

  “Always.”

  Despite the gut-wrenching travel, Anise felt her body relax as soon as she was back in Kyiv, and then relaxed further when she saw it was just Nina in the office, and again when the LAHQ teleporter had left.

  “You okay?” Nina’s eyes were studying her entire body.

  “I’m fine,” she insisted. “Annoyed I got extracted and then interrogated by a Saturn officer.”

  Nina tensed. “Are we okay?” Did they find out anything about Kyiv?

  “Of course, we’re fine,” she rolled her eyes and walked across the hall to her private office. “Who do you think I am?”

  Nina waited while she stripped out of her sweaty shirt into a fresh, Saturn-branded tee from a drawer in Anise’s desk. It felt good to feel cleaner. A shower would feel even better, but she wanted to get right on her paperwork first.

  “You should be running this office, not me.”

  “Just say the word,” Anise smirked.

  Nina pursed her lips. “Mark would never go for it.”

  Anise looked up and chose to ignore that. “Speaking of, does Mark know about this?”

  “I only called him when they told me they’d taken you to debrief in LA. He said to call if there’s an actual problem. But that’s why Mark would never go for it. He needs you out in the field. LAHQ just questioned you to see if you’re on the up and up and you’re rolling your eyes at my nerves.”

  “Well that’s easy,” Anise shrugged. “I am on the up and up.”

  “Anise,” she scolded.

  She would have been lying if she’d told Nina that she had no anxiety about the nature of their mission becoming an issue when Fox had said she was being taken to LAHQ. Of course there was an ember of fear there, ready to be fanned if she let it, but she knew Adler wouldn’t recognize her if she did. She knew her job. She was exceedingly good at it. In her mind, there was nothing anti-Sol to uncover.

  “It’s true,” she told Nina, not sure how else to explain. “We’re mending the heart of SolCorp instead of letting it rot. Is there anything more loyal than that?”

  Nina cocked an eyebrow. “I think Saturn LA would have an answer to that.”

  “That’s fine. We’re going to drag the rest of them into this century without them even realizing it. You know what he says.”

  Nina abandoned the argument and recited Mark’s occasional reminder when they were angry about LA’s pushback on Reformation ideas. “It doesn’t matter if they know you’re right…”

  Anise finished it. “As long as they do what you want.”

  ***