At least she wasn’t threatening to disappear again. Blowing off steam was probably a healthy choice. It was one I never felt as though I got to make, but I was happy for her to. “Yeah,” I agreed. “There’s key cards by the door. Grab one before you go. I’ll get your DNA coded in tomorrow.”
“Fine.” She sighed. “Okay if I bring the rest of my stuff back from storage?”
So, she had a storage unit somewhere. That’s how she’d gotten her Saint’s-charms and my jacket back. At least that was one mystery cleared up. Just twenty-three thousand left to unravel, but I had all the time in the world.
“Of course,” I murmured, worried that I might scare her off entirely if I so much as spoke too loud.
“Get a grip while I’m gone, Verona,” Lara said as she stalked out the door.
I stifled the urge to snap back at her. If we stood here scrapping over the last word, I’d never get a call into Rhi. I retrieved my errant chair and sat back down at my desk, to the sound ofthe front door opening and closing. I pulled up the security footage on the floor, watching Lara go for the elevator.
I don’t know what made me do it, but I accessed the CCTV for the whole block through the Consulate feed, and watched Lara leave. She headed back downtown, towards where the old storage units were. I had no reason not to believe Lara, but it had been twenty years. It wasn’t long in the scheme of things, but there was a lot I still didn’t know.
There was nothing more in the world I wanted than to trust my sistren. The trouble was, not a single one of them was actually trustworthy by any standard. Perseverating over the fact wasn’t going to make it any better, or any less true. I picked up the heavy receiver of the black phone on my desk and dialed. It took forever to hammer out the numbers individually, a massive pain in the ass. I rarely used this phone, but it was a completely secure line.
It barely rang before she picked up.
“You’ve seen the swords,” a low, breathy voice said by way of hello. Same old Rhiannon. Right to the point.
“Hello to you too, Rhi,” I said, mocking a tone of cheery friendliness that I certainly didn’t feel. “Howareyou? What’s life like in Aradios? Still have that dog?”
“Ihada cat,” Rhiannon replied, her tone curt. “And I don’t relish catching up. I don’t know who the seller is, and yes, I’ve already used all the leverage I have to find out.”
I noticed she didn’t tell me what happened to the cat. That made me sad for about a second. Before I remembered how irritated I was with her, anyway. “But you didn’t call me,” I said, unable to keep the edge of resentment out of my voice. “Ares Fucking Necroline told me about this shit. Do you have any idea how bad that makes me look?”
Rhiannon was quiet for a moment before asking, “Is Lara with you?”
I glanced at the CCTV. She’d disappeared from myimmediate sight. “Yes. Well, not right this second. She’s gone to her storage unit.”
Rhi made a noncommittal sound. This whole call was annoying, but now I was getting angry. I’d never sanctioned any of them for leaving. I could have filed complaints with the Consulate, with the Authority—and worse. For Rhiannon, Sera and Max, at least. I could have had them raked across whatever coals I liked for abandoning their posts, and no one in this godsforsaken world would have batted an eye.
But I didn’t. I’d asked nicely. I’d begged. I’d made an ass of myself for twenty years for the whole lot of them, and I was beyond exhausted. Yes, I’d made my fair share of mistakes. We all had. But this was unacceptable.
“What do you know?” I asked.
I stared at my nails while I waited for whatever bullshit Rhiannon came up with next. I needed to re-paint them, maybe oxblood this time to emphasize my ragey interior landscape. Something that screamed “slaughter” might be nice.
“Nothing,” she replied.
My lip curled in response. She was lying. I could tell because I knew the way Rhiannon Brontë spoke, and the little lilt up in the way she said “nothing” was a tell.
A tell that she knew full well that I knew. We had dozens of such tricks. Having multiple and various ways to communicate indirectly had kept us on top of things for a very long time. Until, of course, it hadn’t. But still. Perhaps this line wasn’t as secure as I’d thought.
“Damn,” I said, drawing the word out a little as I worked through what to say next. “Well, that’s a shame. It’s my birthday next week. Did you remember?”
“Of course,” she breathed, her interest obviously piqued.
Good, good. We were back on the same page.
We didn’t celebrate birthdays. Ever. It wasn’t a Maere thing; it was an us thing. We’d always celebrated other milestones, butnone of us wanted to remember our mundane lives before ascension and our birthdays were ugly reminders of those lives.
“Are you coming to my brunch?” I asked, sure to inject a heavy dose of irritation into my voice for whoever might be listening in. Was it the Consulate, or…No. I didn’t want to think about the possibility of the island’s involvement—that would be the cherry on top of this shit sundae.
“Are you finally inviting me?” she snapped back. Now I was sure she knew the line wasn’t secure. When Rhiannon was actually angry, she never got snappy. She got infuriatingly calm.
This was a ruse. She knew more than she was letting on and she wanted me to know. We were in trouble. “Yes,” I replied, keeping my voice full of barely leashed irritation. “Maybe it’s been long enough.”
“Fine,” she said. “But you’ll never get Max and Sera to come. They’re well and truly done with us.”
