Page 190 of Interion

“No. I understand—I think if I were her, I'd do the same. The chimera seems to really like you,” Kaori said, settling back on the bed and taking a deep breath.

“She does. I'm the one who feeds her.” I remembered how I'd convinced Kiara to trust me during my first years in Interion. I pulled the nude-colored armchair closer to the bed and sat down to get a better look at the gorgon.

“Of course she does. Zion's said a lot of good things about you.”

I noticed that as she spoke, her eyebrows arched and the corners of her lips tugged slightly—an expression I could read several ways, one of them being mockery and deception. At the same time, I chided myself for seeing things that weren't there. I didn't know this woman. Maybe this was just her expressive way of talking.

“I'm glad to hear that,” I replied, composing myself and clearing my mind. “He speaks very highly of you too. He was really worried when you got hurt.”

Kaori arched an eyebrow, this time with a hint of surprise, but that air of arrogance still lingered. I wasn't handling this very well. For years, I'd stared at her photo, wondering what her personality would be like, but now that I was face to face with the girl in the picture, I didn't know how to read her. So I cut straight to what mattered, standing up and pointing to her forehead.

“May I examine you?” Kaori blinked, a bit surprised, but quickly composed herself.

“Of course!”

I touched her forehead, scanning the entire neural area and making sure there were no abnormalities. Then I examined her pupils with the small flashlight I carried in my pocket—they dilated normally—while Kaori's eyes followed my every movement.

“Are you feeling anything unusual with your head? Does it still hurt?”

“I don't feel anything. Just hungry.”

As I massaged her temples, scanning all the reconstructed tissues, Kaori's eyes briefly drifted to a vulnerable point on my neck. There was a disconcerting intensity in her gaze that made my heart race.

“Have you eaten since you woke up?”

“Not yet.”

I swallowed hard, telling myself it was just senseless paranoia—gorgons weren't monsters.

“I'll have someone sent up.”

She nodded, still focused on a pulsing vein in my neck. Feeling a bit awkward under her intense gaze, I returned to my armchair and noted all the results on the clipboard. While I wrote, Kaori cleared her throat.

“They told me about the state I arrived in and the lack of professionals to help you. I know it was a difficult surgery, and I want to thank you for saving my life.”

She started to get up, but I stopped her, holding her hand so she wouldn't move.

“No! You don't need to get up to thank me. I just did what I was trained and paid to do.”

Kaori lowered her gaze to our joined hands. She seemed surprised. I immediately pulled my hand away—the touch had felt invasive, and gorgons, like Vinturians, didn't much like being touched. In her case, she was both.

“You're different,” she murmured, looking at me as if she could see hidden words beneath my skin.

I frowned in confusion.

“Different how?” I touched my hair. Was she referring to my genetics?

“No, your essence is different. You and Zion are the same.” She seemed to grow sad. “I think that's why you're partners.”

“I don't think I understand,” I replied, even more confused, studying her oddly wounded expression. The confusion and vague words reminded me of the sonar, but Kaori wasn't as strange as him.

“I'm sorry. I'm an ultrasonic.” I kept looking at her, not understanding. “I guess you don't know what that is—it's a nearly extinct gift in the gorgon bloodline. It works like an energy radar, so I can sense what kind of power people have within a 200-meter radius. With a touch, I can identify more intimate things about someone, and each person has a different frequency. What surprised me was that you and Zion vibrate at the same frequency.”

“I didn't know anyone like that existed,” I exclaimed, amazed. “Maybe our frequency is the same because we're partners.”

“Maybe.” She shrugged, and this time I caught the emotion behind it. Sadness. Something that didn't make sense—she should already know about the partnership. Zion was her best friend. He would have told her.

I picked up the clipboard beside the bed and looked over the reports. As I read, I noticed her watching me, so I looked back, expecting a question or something to say. She just stared at me without a word. Her gaze reminded me of Ampér desert cobras: hypnotic and intelligent. Not that I'd ever seen one in person—only in photos from research I'd done to better understand Aish culture. I looked away awkwardly and focused on the reports, trying to escape the unusual interaction.