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Bliss asked the maid to bring refreshments, and settled into the cushions. Playing the grand hostess came easily; it helped that she had been raised to do this all her life. It stopped her from rubbing her bare feet against the throw rug and from bouncing up and down on the cushions.
She was alive! In her own body! Talking to a friend! But she composed her face as carefully as her thoughts. It would not do to look delirious and ecstatic when half her family was dead or missing. That would certainly arouse suspicion.
"First of all, I'm so sorry about Bobi Anne," Henri said, taking off his fancy eyeglasses and cleaning the lenses with the edge of his shirt. "You did get our flowers, right? Not that we were expecting a thank-you card or anything. Don't even worry about it."
Flowers? What flowers? Henri looked concerned when Bliss didn't answer, and she immediately covered up for her confusion, reaching for his hand.
"Of course! Of course? they were beautiful and so thoughtful."
Of course the agency had sent flowers for Bobi Anne's memorial. Through their conversation, Bliss gathered that the papers had explained the deaths of the Conclave by way of a fire at the Almeida villa. Arson was suspected, but with the slow-moving ways of the Policia, there was little hope that justice would ever be served.
The maid returned bearing a pitcher of Bobi Anne's favorite: Arnold Palmers half iced tea, half lemonade (made from lemons picked fresh from their orchard).
"I can't believe it's been a year since I've seen you?" Henri said, accepting a frosty glass filled with the amber drink.
A year!
That was a shock. Bliss almost dropped her glass, her hands were shaking so badly. She had had no idea so much time had passed since she was last in control of her body, of her life. No wonder she had so much trouble trying to remember things.
That meant she had missed her last birthday. The year she turned fifteen, her family had celebrated at the Rainbow Room. But there had been no one around to mark her Sweet Sixteen. Not even herself, she thought dryly. I wasn't even there for my own birthday. A whole year had gone by while she fought to hold on to a semblance of consciousness. She would never get it back, and time was more and more precious now.
A burning anger rose within her, she had been robbed of an entire year, but again, she suppressed it. She couldn't allow the passenger in the backseat to know how she felt. It was too dangerous. She would have to remain serene.
She turned to her agent, her friend, and tried to pretend she didn't feel like he had just punched her in the stomach.
CHAPTER 14
Mimi
Dawn was breaking over the hillsides. Another fruitless night in the slums. They had scanned every man, woman, and child in the designated area. Tomorrow they would do the same, starting in the northern slums in Jacarezinho. The team's spirits were starting to flag.
Mimi didn't think they were ever going to find Jordan. At least not in Rio. Kingsley put on a good show, but Mimi could tell he was frustrated.
"My instinct tells me I'm right, that she's here," he said as they walked quickly down through the maze of makeshift stairways cut into the hillside.
The narrow streets were empty, save for junkyard dogs and the occasional random rooster.
"The glom says you're wrong, boss," Mimi said. She knew he hated it when she called him that.
He spit out a wad of tobacco, a brown spittle that arched out of his mouth. Impressive, if it weren't so disgusting.
"I wish you wouldn't do that," Mimi said.
"Why not tell me what you wish I would do?" Kingsley smiled.
Mimi did not dignify his teasing with an answer. She wondered what it was like to be a reformed Silver Blood, whatever that meant. Did he still have a soul mate? Did the same rules apply? What did Silver Bloods do, anyway? Did they still need the Red Blood to survive? Or did they just live on caffeine and sugar?, which is what Kingsley seemed to subsist on. The guy was skinny, but he could eat a dozen doughnuts in one sitting.
"Cap," Ted Lennox called. "this little girl wants to talk to Force."
It was the same girl who had followed them earlier that evening. The one to whom Mimi had given the stuffed animal, which the little girl was hugging now.
"Sweetheart, what are you doing walking around by yourself?" Mimi asked. "You should be in bed. It's five in the morning."
"Senhora. Senhora. You are looking for someone, yes?" she said in halting Portuguese.
Mimi nodded. The Venators had a cover. If anyone asked for the reason they were in the slums, they played policemen on a missing person case.
"Yes. We are," Mimi replied in the girl's native language.
