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“You think.”

“Yeah. I think.”

I look at her.

“Serious enough for you?”

She nods.

“Enough,” she says. Then, “Are you really getting a million dollars for working on the mission?”

“I wish. I got talked down to five-­five.”

“Fifty-­five thousand?”

“Five hundred and fifty.”

“Holy shit.”

“I’m a special case. And I had the big weapon, the 8 Ball, so I told them I wanted to be paid like a defense contractor.”

“Wow,” says Sola. “No wonder Wells hates you.”

“Imagine how much more he’ll hate me when he has to hand me the check.”

“Don’t forget to get me those psych forms.”

“Sure. I’ll do them tonight.”

“If you girls have finished gossiping it would be awfully nice if you joined the rest of us on the mission,” says Wells.

Sola snaps to attention.

“Yes, sir. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” he says. “Just do your job. Go back with the others, Sola. It’s obvious I can’t leave you children alone together.”

Sola goes back and disappears into the middle of the Vigil crew. Lots of grins and quiet chuckles back there. Law enforcement. It’s like high school with better guns.

“You don’t have to do that to her,” I say.

“Don’t tell me how to run my ­people,” Wells says.

“Aren’t I one of your ­people now?”

“I’m not a hundred percent sure you are a person. Lots of things can walk on two legs. Monkeys. Dogs. Bears.”

“You should have said parrots. Those others can’t talk.”

“I know. Just wishful thinking on my part.”

We’re well down the spur line now, heading to a dead end. There’s nothing and no one down here.

Wells turns to his team.

“Anything, anyone? Life readings? Heat signatures? Any signs of Angra ritual marks or bodies?”

A few “No sirs” come from the back. Then a high-­pitched whoop from somewhere. Like a howler monkey, but quiet. Then comes chattering, like a hu

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