I hesitate. I could promise that, but I’d be lying. No one in this building is safe.
“No,” I say. “But I’m going to do my best to make sure everyone comes out of this alive.”
He nods a second time. “You need help. I’m coming with you.”
I grimace. But then again, I’m not really in a position to refuse him. I can’t physically stop him from coming with me.
I give him a once-over, trying to see him as an outsider might. He’s perhaps six inches taller than me, and he has a swimmer’s build—all shoulders and hands. He is more intimidating than I am, I’ll give him that.
He really is beautiful. Sharp cheekbones and a strong jaw—the delicate line of his mouth looks as though it should be captured in marble. His complexion is lightly tanned from the summer sun and his dark hair has a few strands of gold in it. Maybe he was blond like his sister when he was a kid.
When I was fifteen, I’d been cute. I was growing into my legs and arms, still finding my balance. After I was pulled from the wreckage of a car, I wasrebuilt—titanium-reinforced bones, a half-mechanical heart, muscles that needed stitching back together.
When ISD decided I was worth resurrecting, they had taken other liberties. My eyesight was lasered to perfection; my nose was straightened; even the angle of my cheekbones was lifted. When I asked about it, a doctor explained parts of my face had needed surgery after being crushed. But part of me always wondered if perhaps it was to distinguish Augusta Pine from the girl I’d once been. To draw a sharp line between the before and the after. To remind me every time I looked in a mirror that I was not the same person.
“Eames,” says Aunt Connie, a slight edge to her voice. She has risen to her feet, one hand on Piper’s shoulder as though to restrain her. Something in Aunt Connie’s voice makes me think that she wishes it was only her and Eames in the room.
“I’ll be careful,” says Eames.
“It’s too risky,” says Aunt Connie.
“Keep her safe,” says Eames quietly.
Aunt Connie opens her mouth to protest. Then she heaves a resigned sigh, as though she has come to the same conclusion I have: She can’t stop him.
Piper wrenches free of Aunt Connie’s grasp. She comes to stand in front of her brother, her arms crossed and mouth set.
Eames squats down in front of her. “I’ll be fine, P.”
“Don’t call me that,” she says at once, her anxiety crumbling into fond irritation. She shakes her head. “Just… come back, okay?”
He gives her that lopsided smile, gently chucking her beneath the chin. “I always do.”
Aunt Connie crosses her arms. I can feel the skepticism coming off her in waves. She looks at me. “You think you can find what the criminals want?” she asks quietly. “Before they do?”
I shrug. “I’m pretty good with deadlines.”
IDENTITY SECURITY DIVISION
WRAITH CASE STUDY: AUGUSTA PINE
THE ESPRESSO INCIDENT DEBRIEF
I plopped down on Prefect’s desk and said, “I should not have to work on weekends.”
Prefect hated when I sat on his desk. The corner of his mouth twitched in displeasure. “You’re not working. You’re studying. Or at least you’re supposed to be.”
“It’s a Saturday,” I said. “I should be asleep.”
“It’s two in the afternoon.”
“My point exactly.” I picked up one of his knickknacks: a snow globe depicting the Manhattan skyline. “Why am I even here? You’re the one writing up the reports on our last three assignments.”
Prefect didn’t look up from his typing. “I am. But I need you just in case I have to corroborate certain details. And they’re due on Monday.”
We had been on the move constantly for two months. There had been a hacked amusement park, the heist of a rather valuable painting, and a thoroughly boring week spent spying on an old lady we thought was a master criminal but it turned out her neighbor was stealing her internet so her crimes wouldn’t be linked to her own IP address. After all that, it was almost a relief to return to the ISD offices.
Almost. But not quite.
