Up at the house, the sliding door opened. Jamey tucked her phone away as Aisha and Diesel stepped outside to join her.
“Did Gretel pick up?” Aisha asked.
Jamey shook her head. Aisha and Diesel had twin expressions of grief that mirrored Jamey’s heavy heart. It was truethat Gretel was the brains and voice behindEyes on Empaths, and none of them agreed with her views. But all three of them understood loss, and none of them had ever wished something like this on any of the Macys.
“She could be in danger too.” Aisha was bundled in a puffy coat, her dark hair pulled back in a sleek ponytail and a stainless steel tumbler in her hand.
Jamey’s eyes fell on Liam down on the dock, prepping the plane. “I was going to stay until the pacifist empaths arrived, but I think I have to go back to Seattle.” She ran a hand over her own hair. She was so stressed her curls were getting fluffy. “Are the pacifist empaths safe at least?”
“I’m in touch with all of them,” Aisha promised. “They’re all en route to Bellingham today.”
And Liam would pick them up in the morning and bring them to the safe house. Jamey blew out a breath. It would have to be enough.
Aisha and Diesel exchanged a look. Then Aisha cleared her throat. “There’s something else.”
Jamey raised an eyebrow.
“Victor Nichols was supposed be researching how to reverse corruption,” Aisha said. “I want that research.”
Both of Jamey’s eyebrows went up. “You think he was actually doing it?” Jamey said skeptically. “Given—” She waved a hand helplessly, like it could sum upgiven he was an evil mad scientist running a lab out of nightmare.
“He was a sick person with sick methods, but he would have at least been faking it for Grayson. There might be something in there,” Aisha said. “I’m looking for hope anywhere I can find it.”
Fair enough. “Speaking of hope,” Jamey said dryly, “do you think there’s a chance Nichols did die in Polaris?”
Aisha was quiet a long moment. “I wish I thought there was,” she finally said.
Jamey nodded. “Be safe,” she said, and hugged Aisha and Diesel goodbye.
After hanging up on Grayson, Reece tossed the phone on the bed and stormed off. Anger was crackling along his skin again; Alex and Cora would feel him coming before they saw him.
Sure enough, when he stepped into the kitchen, Alex and Cora were already looking his way. “You have to see the news,” Reece said, snatching up the remote for the wall-mounted TV.
A moment later, the headlines were flashing:American Minds Intact president found dead—
“Oh shit,” Cora breathed, as Alex’s eyebrows flew up.
“The part the news doesn’t know,” said Reece, “is the Macys were murdered by Vanessa Whitman. And she was wearingmygloves.”
Alex and Cora listened as Reece told them everything Grayson had told him. Alex’s expression grew darker and darker.
Cora ran a hand over her braid. “So they kept Whitman on life support all this time?”
“Apparently, but why did she kill the Macys?” Reece said. “Last I saw her, you’d put her in a state of gibbering fear, not homicidal rage.”
“There are drugs that could send a person into a rampage,” Cora said. “Some of them are on hospital shelves. But where has she been? And who did this?”
“I think it’s time to talk to Traynor.”
Cora and Reece both turned toward Alex. The three of them exchanged looks for a moment, a conversation of feelings, not words.
“Alex,” Cora finally said. “Are you sure?”
“Traynor’s gonna know a lot of useful stuff,” Alex said.
“But once he’s thralled, we’ll have limited time with him,” Reece pointed out.
“And we’ll make the most of it.” Alex had gotten to his feet. “But someone out there thinks they can fuck around using your thralls and your gloves,” he said, pointing at Cora, then Reece. “And they’re going to find out that I’m not gonna stand for it.”
