“Yes. We just need them to contact us first.”
“Right.”
Thatcher’s expression was passive, impossible to read. “Meeting with those kids could be a trap.”
“You’re right,” I said. I almost added that Bethany getting captured by the bad guys wouldn’t be a huge loss, but held my tongue. She meant something to Landon, and I didn’t want to upset him while he was stuck in a hospital bed, because that would just piss off his father. I much preferred Thatcher smiling to snarling. “But the potential benefit is worth the risk.”
“You sound like Trance.”
I shrugged, surprised by the compliment. “She’s my hero.”
He started to say something, then stopped. Changed course. “We’re in the middle of reading
I’d read it what seemed like a million years ago. My foster parents had been almost militant in their insistence that I read a huge swath of literature from all countries and centuries. While I didn’t have their same abiding love for Mark Twain, I appreciated his work for what it was and could at least hold my own in a conversation about him. Being smart always flabbergasted people who couldn’t see past the blond hair and big boobs.
“Thanks, but I should go,” I said. If I stayed . . . It wouldn’t do me any good to get any more attached to a man I should simply tolerate and nothing else. To Landon I added, “We’ll let you know when we hear something from Sasha.”
“Thank you,” Landon said. “For the soup, too.”
“No problem.”
I held Thatcher’s gaze a little longer than I probably should have, then left. In the hall, I nearly ran into Dr. Kinsey. We avoided a collision, and my arm silently thanked him for that.
“Renee,” he said. “How do you feel?”
You know how irritating it gets when everyone asks how you feel, and your answer never changes? Yeah, that.
“I’m on my feet,” I said.
“What’s your pain level like?”
“About a six, I guess.” Carrying that tray of soup hadn’t helped.
“Come on.”
I followed him into his office. He punched a code into a locked cabinet, then withdrew a white bottle. I couldn’t read the label. He shook a dozen pills out into another, smaller bottle.
“Take one of these with a glass of water when the pain gets above a five,” he said, handing me the bottle. “But no more often than every six hours, okay?”
“Thanks.”
“They’re formulated for Meta physiology, so if you don’t use them all, make sure you return the rest to me.”
“Of course.”
“I’d like to see you tomorrow, too, just to check the wound.”
“Right, I’ll stop by, barring the usual emergency or five.”
My attempt at a joke didn’t ease the tension in his shoulders or the tightness around his jaw. The man looked like a rubber band about to snap. I glanced at the half-open door, then lowered my voice. “I’m sorry about what’s happening with Noah.”
He blinked. “What?”
“I accidentally saw him here yesterday. I talked to Teresa about it.”
“Oh.” He wilted a little bit, the father in him overtaking the medical professional, and I got a flash of just how upset he was. “The Changelings were my project. They’re my sons. I should be able to fix this.”
“I bet you never imagined a scenario in which Ace fell in love with one of his two hosts.”
“You’re right. I never imagined a lot of this, including loving those boys so much.” He cleared his throat, and then the doctor mask was back on. “We’re doing everything we can for both of them.”
“I know. I wish I could help.”
“Thank you, Renee.”
The words sounded kind of like a dismissal, so I left. Two very different men remained behind in the infirmary. One father celebrating a reunion with the son he thought he’d lost years ago and who had spent a meager three days getting to know him again. Another father battling to save a son he’d raised from a test tube and ushered into adulthood. Despite myself, my heart hurt for both of them.
I took my aching heart down to the lounge. Little groups had assembled on couches and around tables, chatting, reading, and playing games. The whole thing often felt like a college dorm; some days I expected someone to break out a keg and start a party. But the mood tonight was subdued. Bad news traveled fast, and I got enough sympathetic looks to incite violence against the first person who asked how I felt.
Two people in the corner of the lounge drew my attention, mostly due to her familiar purple-streaked head. Teresa and Sebastian were sitting on a couch near one of the windows, facing each other and talking. They weren’t sitting close, and the conversation didn’t look intimate, but I couldn’t stop a flare of annoyance that felt a little like jealousy. Teresa had assured me she wasn’t cheating on Gage with Sebastian, but the pair were definitely sharing
Sebastian said something that made Teresa tilt her head back and laugh. A full, throaty laugh that pissed me off. I hadn’t seen her laugh like that in weeks, and Sebastian did it? Where was Gage? Gage was amazing and patient and perfect for her, damn it. She had him and loved him, and no one judged her for it.
Why the hell did one belly laugh feel like a betrayal?
Jealous because the one person I’d been genuinely attracted to since William died was completely unavailable to me. He’d be back in prison in a week, and I’d be alone. As usual.
I didn’t register Teresa getting up until she was halfway to me, her expression one of open concern. I must have been scowling at her pretty good, because she hooked her arm through my good one and led me to a corner of the room.
“You all right?” she asked.
“I wish people would stop asking me that,” I snapped.
“Yeah? Well, just now you looked like you wanted to throw something through a window, so I thought I’d ask.”
“Sorry.”
She studied me. “We were just talking.”
“I know.”
“Do you? Really?”
I shrugged with my free shoulder, which was a huge mistake. Fire raced through my arm and shoulder, and I flinched.
“Sebastian knew my father,” Teresa said. “When he was a teenager. They met a few times. Dad tried to recruit Sebastian into the Rangers.”
“But he wanted to be a bad guy instead?”
“No. Remember what Freddy McTaggert told us? That any Meta who didn’t join the Rangers was considered, by law enforcement, to be a Bane and an enemy? That happened to Sebastian when the War began.”
McTaggert, aka Ethan’s biological father, had briefly been a Ranger and had an affair with Ethan’s mom. When McTaggert took issue with how the Rangers were used for publicity stunts, basically as marketing tools, he quit. ATF and its fellow agencies didn’t like that very much. McTaggert and Sebastian weren’t the only imprisoned Banes who’d told similar stories of being labeled criminals simply because they refused to register and submit to Ranger Corps rules.
“I like hearing stories about my dad,” Teresa continued. “He was such a great leader, Renee. I need to know how he did it.”
“You’re a pretty fabulous leader, too, you know,” I said. “Stop comparing yourself to your father.”
