“That is certainly not true,” I say.
“—into a bunch of glass—”
“That is true.”
“How are you not in need of immediate medical attention right now?”
“We’ll get to that.”
Crowlene has finally gotten the bag of peas open and is taking them out one by one to place on various parts of me. They roll to the floor in littleclinks.
I sit forward and point at CJ. “First, how did you not get caught by Thea?”
Their only answer is a scowl.
“You used your telempathy, didn’t you? Didn’t you?” I can’t hold back my grin.
They sigh heavily. “I projected apathy into her head.”
“I knew it!” I throw my fist in the air and immediately regret it as pain shoots up my shoulder.
CJ’s scowl deepens. “I know how terrible it is to have emotions shoved on you, and now I’ve done that to somebody else.”
“Yeah,” I say. “Your evil aunt.”
CJ’s face flushes in something more than their normal grumpiness. Poppy rests her hand on their shoulder, but they shrug her off.
My chest tightens and not from my injuries. I’m trying to channel my inner Dante, but the fact is, he never would have gotten into this situation in the first place. He would have planned for Thea, or better yet, aborted when he saw Hecate.
I shift in my chair. “I’m sorry, CJ, for being…insensitive to your moral quandary.”
They huff, crossing their arms. “I can feel hownotsorry you are.”
“Someone catch me up?” Ezra moans from an angular white sectional, head in the trash can.
“CJ can feel what other people are feeling,” Poppy calls over her shoulder.
“Oh god.” Ezra makes a gagging sound. “Sorry, CJ.”
“Your anxiety is a lot easier to manage than whatever Elle’s always got going on,” they tell him, not taking their eyes off me.
I frown. “Okay, I would really like to go back to the debriefing now.”
Tolliver leans over to CJ. “What emotions am I feeling?”
Before they can answer, I take a deep breath, and announce, “I was held captive by all five syndicates!”
That does the trick. Silence falls, and all eyes land on me. Tolliver’s mouth hangs open, Rook blanches, and CJ’s eyebrows go from angry to confused. Poppy grabs a bottle of wine out of a giant wine fridge, opens it, then makes a gesture that indicates the floor is mine.
“When I came to,” I tell them, “Adam Waringwas healing my wounds.”
Tolliver’s eyes widen.
Poppy gasps.
“The Secretary of Health?” Ezra’s voice echoes from inside the trash can.
“Yeah, he’s magic, keep up,” I say.
