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"That revealing ourselves might be a bad idea."
"At least we should slow down. Then Thomas Nast died and people were talking about angels and demons and . . . it just . . ."
"The liberation movement imploded," I said. "Too much pressure from too many sources. Members bailed. Outside support dried up. Giles went ballistic and swore to show them all the error of their ways by launching the first wave of infections. With a virus that still hadn't been proven. Am I close?"
She nodded. "He said it worked. That they'd finished trials and Bryce Nast was an immortal, superhuman warrior. He even showed us pictures. That's why Dave drank the water."
"Photoshop is a marvelous thing," I said. "My brother is lying in a hospital bed in Miami."
Her gaze dropped, and I knew that whatever she'd been telling herself, she'd still hoped she was wrong.
"Are there two strains of the virus?" Adam said. He'd come back partway through the conversation. "The one in Austin seemed different."
She nodded. "That one has to be injected. The other can be spread through water or food, which is easier, but the chances of it working aren't as high."
"So what's the plan now?" I asked.
"I don't know. Giles stopped talking to me. He just gives orders through Severin and Sierra. I know he was trying to contact Lucifer. He says Lucifer holds the key. Lucifer can make this work."
"Where is he?"
"I--I don't know." She started to shake. "I want to help, but I don't know. No one does."
"The place where they were holding me. Where is it?"
"In Indiana."
"Where in Indiana?"
"N-near Indianapolis. B-but not too near. It isn't in a city. I've never gone there by myself. We just get in the van and Severin or Sierra drives."
I tried to get more--landmarks, distance from the airport, anything. I kept the grilling as gentle as I could, reassuring her that it was okay, no pressure, but of course there was pressure and she knew it, and it wasn't long before she began hyperventilating. Then the medic intervened and said he had to sedate her for the rest of the trip. Whatever else she could share, she'd need to do it in Miami.
Veronica Tucker died before we landed. There was no agonizing, dramatic exit. We weren't even sure exactly when she passed. We were sitting there, talking among ourselves as she slept. Then the medic came in to check on her and said she was gone.
Her injuries had been severe. He told me he'd doubted she'd make it through the trip. He kept reassuring me until Adam told him to shut the fuck up. I hadn't asked him if my interrogation led to her death. I understood that it may not have helped, but we needed that information.
I hadn't liked Roni. She'd gotten me kidnapped and could have gotten my friends killed, all because she wanted supernatural powers so she could be "special."
A silly, selfish twit. Not the best epitaph. I hadn't wanted her dead, but I wouldn't lie awake at night thinking of how it could have been different. She'd done us wrong and then she'd helped us. The slate was clean.
The jet landed right after that. We were getting off when I stopped and hurried back on, Adam behind me. The medic popped his head into the main cabin as I headed for Roni's body.
"I need to grab something from her," I said. "Does she have any rings?"
The medic stared at me.
"It's a personal item," Adam snapped. "In case a necromancer needs to contact her spirit to ask more questions."
The medic mumbled something about tending to the living and withdrew. I folded back Roni's covers. She was indeed wearing rings.
I was tugging one off when Roni tugged back, her arm jerking.
Adam yanked me away. "She's infected."
Roni's eyes opened. They stared at the ceiling. Then her lips parted. They stayed like that for a moment, then she whispered, "Child of Asmondai. Is that you?"
"Who are you?" Adam said.
