perception. But it was the monster who could kill him, called by her scream.
Two entities, and she was connected to both. One desired effect.
The heuristic rule of Occam’s razor said the simplest theory was the best.
Why
Her stomach turned. The room suddenly warped around her, and she clutched the table before her. It couldn’t be, could it? Was her heritage so horrible? Her birthright so despicable?
If she tried, she knew she could probably fit the puzzle together now. If she could summon the courage to face the truth, she could probably name Death. He was her father, Shadowman.
Adam left Custo in the elevator and headed to his office, grim anticipation redoubling in his blood. If Jacob had chosen to become a wraith, then someone must have offered him the choice. Jacob was never going to give away the identity of this individual, but perhaps the algorithms of The Collective tracking program could be modified to isolate the general location of the source.
Adam turned a corner to find Talia rapping on his door. His pulse quickened. His gaze darted up and down her body, but it was hard to get a sense of her curves when she was still wearing the shapeless clothes Patty had selected. He hoped new ones would come in soon. She was too young and pretty to be dressed like that.
“Can I help you with something?” If she was here, then maybe she wasn’t angry anymore. Maybe he could have a real discussion with her. Work through her idea, see if her unique talents offered any solutions.
Talia jumped and whirled. Her hair slipped, strand by strand, from a knot at the nape of her neck. He didn’t know why she bothered—the curls obviously rejected constraint.
“Sorry for startling you.” Adam slowed his approach. First day on the job and she’d shaken up Segue. Of course, that’s what he’d hoped. He’d wanted answers, and she’d given him one big enough to turn his world upside down.
“Do you have a minute?” She tucked a strand behind her ear. Her eyes were strained. Sad, maybe. Or worried. Something had bothered her deeply.
“Of course. Come on in,” Adam said, coding the lock. He reached around her to the lever that opened the door, his body surrounding hers for a moment. Her scent hit him, dark and sweet, an exotic fragrance more suited to her shadows than sterile Segue. The combination made him want to drop his head into her hair. Breathe deeper. His weight on the handle opened the door and she moved out of his circle and into his work space.
It took a moment for his head to clear before he followed her into his own office.
“What can I do for you?” The door closed behind him. His gaze automatically flicked to the monitor—Jacob reposed in a corner, a small smile of satisfaction on his face, still gloating from their argument—and then back to Talia.
“First of all, I need to change the code on my apartment door,” Talia said. She glanced at Jacob as well, her expression carefully circumspect, but she didn’t comment. “Spencer saw me punch it in.”
“You invited Spencer to your apartment?” Adam had already warned her about the implications of SPCI being aware of her abilities. She was too trusting. Next time he sparred with Spencer, he was going to make sure he kicked his ass extra hard.
In her room. Damn.
“He followed me up. Wanted to discuss my ideas about immortality and choice. He spoke as if becoming a wraith weren’t such a bad thing after all. As if what they did wasn’t…abhorrent.” She frowned, a worry line forming between her brows. She, who’d seen what the wraiths were capable of and had been hunted herself, would not be able to tolerate any mind games on the subject.
“You want me to talk to him? Tell him to lay off?”
“I can fight my own battles, thanks. I just want my pass code changed.”
Adam sighed. “Spencer has master codes, regardless. As do Custo and I, for security reasons. We have to be able to get inside any room in the event of an emergency.”
“I don’t want him or anyone else going in my room.”
“Talia…” he argued, but his heart wasn’t in it. The thought of Spencer touching her, of him making himself at home in her apartment, took all the strength out of Adam’s argument. He didn’t want Spencer in there either.
And Segue Security? Perhaps in this one case, a modification was called for. Something along the lines of Talia Security. “All right,” he conceded. “I can disable his access to your office and apartment, but I am going to retain mine and Custo’s. Nonnegotiable.”
She nodded. “I can live with that. Thanks.”
Adam swiveled to face his computer. Called up the security system. Indexed Talia’s account. Entered his administrative override. “What do you want your new code to be?”
“Uhm. Aurora,” she answered.
The word suited her. Aurora borealis. The magical northern lights. She’d look just about perfect with the colors framing her features. Brink of the world, a fairy on its doorstep.
“Thanks,” she said. Request granted, he expected her to beat a hasty retreat. Instead, she chewed on her lower lip.
“Anything else?”
“Yeah. Um…are you okay? You seemed pretty upset at the staff meeting.”
Something had happened during that meeting with Talia, too. She felt sorry for him. Nothing like a little pity to get her talking to him again. At least Jacob was good for something.
“I’m good,” Adam answered. “I needed to hear what you had to say.” He left it at that.
“Well—” She flashed a rueful smile. “I have something that might make up for it.”
“Oh?” The woman was going to be the death of him.
“I was wondering if you have anyone covering the arts.”
“Martial arts?”
Her lids dropped halfway, lips pursed. “Fine arts,” she corrected.
Adam rapidly sorted his thoughts. “I know that the existence of wraiths has bled into pop u lar consciousness. I wouldn’t be surprised if people tried to make sense of what is going on through music and art. But I haven’t pursued it as a research focus at Segue. Why do you ask?”
She inclined her head. “I think you may have missed something.”
Adam sat forward. “How so?”
“It’s what I was working on in Phoenix, before the wraith caught up with me. I was tracking down an artist. If you have a minute, I’d like to show you what I’ve found. I think you’ll find it interesting, at the very least. I don’t know if it will help with Jacob.” Her gaze flicked to the screen. Like Custo and Patty, he knew she’d have understood what Jacob’s choice meant to him.
“Could you come over to my office? Take a look?” She was chewing on her lip again, plumping it to ruby red. The worry was still in her eyes, so it couldn’t have been Spencer that bothered her. Had to be something else. Maybe something she’d found.
Adam stood and gestured toward the exit. “Absolutely.”
She used her new code to open the door, glancing out over her shoulder at him with a look of thanks, and then they stepped inside.
The room echoed with emptiness. Bare shelves lined the far wall, a couple of someone else’s thick books stacked and forgotten on one shelf. The walls were plain white, scuffed here and there from equipment and storage. A dark wood conference table stood in the middle, her laptop open at one end. As far as he could see, her near-death research remained in cardboard boxes, but instead of on the table, where he had put them himself, now they were beneath, acting as a footrest.
“You know you can requisition anything you need or want for this space,” Adam said, looking around for signs of her personality, her work, of someone moving in with the intent to stay. He really wanted her stay. He’d be thrilled if she’d drain Segue’s account to make herself comfortable. If
