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Leviathan nodded, his expression one of approval. “I presume you will want to see the file?”
She closed her eyes, trying to stay calm. Trying, but she wasn’t sure she was succeeding. “Yes, sir,” she said, opening her eyes to meet his. “I would like that very much.”
When he continued walking, she hurried to keep up. “And you will be able to. If you accept the position.” He paused, then swept his arm, gesturing for her to enter the office they now stood in front of.
It was empty, with the exception of a desk and office chair, a computer, a bookcase, and two guest chairs. She circled the desk, then saw that the familiar logo—a circle with the letters PEC embedded inside—twisted and turned as the computer’s screensaver.Where had she seen that before?
She pushed the question away and focused on the moment. “Is this my office?”
“If you accept the position.”
She clasped her hands in front of her and couldn’t deny that she was interested. An office to herself. New challenges. The possibility of answers after all these years, and the appeal of working in this hidden, dangerous world. “Why do you want me so much that you’re dangling my father’s murder as a carrot?”
“It’s not a carrot, Sara. Just the truth. You decline the job, and you will have nothing.”
“Except I’ll know there’s something. I can still look.”
“No,” he said, then sat in one of the guest chairs.
“No, I can’t look?”
“No, you won’t know that there is something.”
“But I…” She paused, feeling suddenly cold as she remembered Porter’s words. “If I don’t take this job, you’ll make me forget.”
He lifted his hands in a Gallic shrug, but said nothing.
“You can really do that? You can take my memories?”
“I? No. But there are creatures who can. It’s very surgical, I assure you. You’ll remember chatting with Mr. Porter. Nothing else. As far as you’ll be concerned, you spent the day at your desk reviewing memos and such that you’d pushed aside during the Stemmons trial.”
“I see.”
“Division 6—the entire PEC—is confidential. And we intend it to remain so. Think carefully, Sara. The secrets will weigh you down, and the lies will change you. Only you can decide if the tradeoff is worth it.”
She swallowed. “Okay, then. How long do I have to decide?”
“As long as you need. But you can’t go back upstairs until you do. At least not without forgetting today.”
She stood, then sat down again. She understood the implications. There would be no talking about her caseload with Manny over a drink. No settling in with Petra to trade gossip. She’d be able to tell them only that she worked for a division of Homeland, and that she couldn’t talk about her work.
Could she live with that?
The answer came swiftly.Yes.
If it meant finding her father’s killer—if it gave her the opportunity to learn firsthand about the world she’d come to know so deeply as fiction—then hell yes, she could.
She faced Leviathan, prepared to tell him exactly that. But what came out instead was, “Why me, really? Is it because of my father?”
He chuckled. “No. Though knowing Frank’s love of what the outside world calls the supernatural, I imagine that being his daughter left you better prepared than most.”
“Then why?”
“Your mind resists most forms of suggestion, Sara. It’s a handy skill for a prosecutor to have when many of our kind can manipulate thought.”
She sat back, her thoughts spinning. “You’re saying that I—wait. That agent last night. Tucker. He was trying to get into my head?”
“He tried. You resisted.”
