Word and Breath (13 page)

She’d paid the price for her decision—brutally.

Who knew what price she would have paid had she not betrayed them?

She’d been a good woman—torn in ways that were horribly unfair.

But Jenson might be alive now had it not been for her.

At the thought, Connor shut down his mind instinctively.

He just couldn’t go on thinking about this. Not now. Not in these circumstances.

People were counting on him.

Tava brought Donn into the kitchen discreetly. Donn was a big man in his fifties. He’d been a low-level administrator with the Union all his life. Six years ago he’d been forced to participate in a certain project—experimental research that ended up hurting dozens of people—and he’d silently rebelled against Union values and priorities. He’d sought out the Front shortly after it organized as a way to channel his rebellion. He wasn’t high enough in the Union hierarchy to tap them into the core, but he consistently provided them with good information, and Connor had always liked him.

His face was flushed, and he was perspiring slightly. He was out of shape, and Connor assumed he’d hurried over here with his news. “You said in your communication to look into anything concerning Riana Cole,” Donn began, a little breathless. “I think I might have found something.”

“Good. What is it?” Connor took off his glasses and cleaned them on his shirt, mostly for something to do with his hands.

“I’m working in payroll now—they transferred me a few months ago, did you know that?”

Connor grunted noncommittally and tried not to shake the man in impatience.

“Anyway, I don’t have access to classified information, but I figured I might as well check the expenditures for the last weeks. And I saw something.” He paused—probably just to catch his breath.

Connor made himself put his glasses back on very carefully, so he wouldn’t act out in frustration. “What did you see?”

“Just a couple of days ago, there was a payout. It was a line item in the Soul-Breather category, so it was vague. They never put details in those expenses. I don’t know which Soul-Breather was assigned, but it was a lot of money so it must have been one of the top ones. And, of course, they gave no details about the assignment except the target was a woman in the Office of Readers. So I thought…” He trailed off, shrugging and making an expansive gesture with his hands.

“A Soul-Breather? They assigned a Breather to Riana?”

“I don’t know for sure, but that would be my guess—unless you think another female Reader would warrant that kind of attention.”

“It has to be her,” Tava said, taking a step forward. “If they used one of the most experienced Breathers, it would have to be for an important job. They don’t come cheap. That settles it then. They’d never spend that kind of money and then turn around and try to kill her. We’re definitely dealing with two different parties.”

“At least two,” Connor murmured, thinking as quickly as he could. “Would they spend that kind of money and still kidnap her sister? Maybe there are three different groups.”

He closed his eyes and pictured Riana—clever, pretty, and efficient but always staying out of other people’s way. Could she really be that important to so many people?

“My word,” he breathed. “What’s going on?”

The lines of their mission had always been clear—the black-and-white distinction between their ideals and Union values. But nothing about what was happening here was clear.

“Oh no!” Tava gasped, causing his eyes to fly open in alarm. “I should have realized—Oh no!”

“What?” Tired of being patient, Connor reached out and squeezed her arm. “What’s wrong?”

“I thought I’d caught a wisp of another Breather.” Tava’s dark eyes were wide and scared. “Last night. I was helping her sleep, so I opened a connection to relieve some of her worst panic. I thought I noticed a trace of something—it’s hard to explain. But it indicated the presence of another Breather.”

Connor fingers tightened on her arm. “Why didn’t you mention this before?”

“I didn’t think about it.” Tava’s voice grew a little shrill and she shook her arm, trying to free herself from his grip.

Realizing what he was doing, Connor released her immediately. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine. Connor, this could be bad. What if this man in her life is the Soul-Breather? It would explain why there are no signs of her having a boyfriend—all this would have happened in the last few days.” Tava raised her hand to her mouth, as she thought through the implications. “Some of the Breathers the Union uses are incredibly attractive—and they work by…by seducing their targets to get them to let down their guard.”

Connor was having trouble swallowing over the knot of fear in his throat. He managed to say, “Riana is smart. She wouldn’t be bowled over by a handsome face.”

“They couldn’t force her to do anything without damaging her, but they’re Breathers! They can be hard to resist.” Tava was almost gurgling with horror. “Oh, that poor girl. What if this Breather—”

“Stop!” Connor spoke so sharply that both Tava and Donn jumped. But he couldn’t stand for her to continue. He couldn’t let fear overwhelm him. “We don’t know what’s happened, but we need to find her now more than ever.”

He stretched his fingers and thumb over his forehead, trying to rub away the dull headache that had been present for most of the day. “Donn, is there any way you can get more information on this Breather?”

“I don’t know. It would take looking into records I don’t have access to.”

Connor raised his eyebrows meaningfully.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you. But don’t be sloppy or take too many risks.” He turned to Tava, when Donn had left the kitchen. “I don’t suppose that trace you felt from Riana could give us more information.”

She shook her head helplessly. “Sorry. It doesn’t work like that. Maybe she’ll get in touch with us. We were helping her, after all. And I’m sure she was starting to like us.” With a gulp and a twist of her lips, she added, “Particularly Jenson.”

Connor looked away. “Which might be why she’ll stay as far away from us as possible. We can’t count on her getting in touch with us. We need to do whatever we can to find her on our own—before any of these other people do.”

“I know.” Tava had composed herself again, although her eyes were slightly reddened from grief. “But, Connor, you need to let yourself rest a little while. You’re pushing too hard. And you haven’t let yourself even start to grieve for—”

“I can’t. You have to see why.”

“I see why you think you can’t. I know it’s important to find Riana, but she’s not the only one who’s important.”

Connor swallowed hard, staring at the far wall, willing himself not to imagine Jenson—his cousin, his friend, the only real family he had left—lying limp and bloody on the ground.

“He was your family, Connor.” There were tears in Tava’s voice now, although he couldn’t bear to turn and see them there. “If you ignore it, it will only catch up to you eventually. If you just let go for a little while—”

“I can’t.” His words were curt, almost rude, and he turned abruptly to leave the kitchen. His throat and head and chest were so heavy he thought he might suffocate. “Let it go.”

Jenson was gone. And Connor had loved him. But this wasn’t the time to indulge in grief.

Maybe if he could find Riana, things would start to make more sense.

***

When Riana fell asleep, Mikel gently extricated himself from her relaxed form and got up to walk into the kitchen.

He’d had to be so careful as he was tending to her wound, careful not to open a connection, careful not to breathe in any of her feelings, memory, or spirit. He’d wanted to—remembering how distinct and intoxicating she was—but he’d resisted.

She was vulnerable, and he wasn’t going to take advantage of that. He’d already taken advantage of her enough. He had to be careful anyway or she’d recognize who and what he was.

He pulled out some vegetables he’d bought the day before and started to clean them off in the sink, mostly for something to do.

He wasn’t sure why he’d lied to Largan earlier. He should have told his employer the truth—that he was with Riana. There was no good reason not to. The lie had come to his lips easily, unconsciously, and even now Mikel wasn’t sure how to explain it.

But he wasn’t going to turn Riana over to the Union, not when they may have just tried to kill her. He didn’t think Largan was responsible for the shooting, but there were forces at work that Largan wasn’t in control of.

Someone wanted Riana dead, and Mikel wasn’t going to let that happen.

He’d never felt protective like this before, and he wasn’t entirely comfortable with the feeling. He’d been a loner all his life—isolated by his nature and his gifts. Money and the challenge had been enough to motivate him to do his job, and he’d never asked himself whether there could be anything else worth living or dying for.

At times, when his defenses were down, he was swallowed by a wave of depression at the apparent emptiness of the world. He always talked himself out of it, though, impatient of anything that smacked of brooding.

It was irrational, perhaps, that Riana could have affected him so deeply, so quickly. But he’d felt her spirit. Recognized it for what it was. And he couldn’t seem to shake the feeling that it might offer him something he’d never experienced before.

He wanted it.

Things were complicated by the fact that his assignment compelled him to betray her. He’d play things by ear, see how things fell out after the chaos of the shooting.

Then he’d decide what to do.

He wasn’t going to hand Riana over to get killed. That much he knew already. And he wasn’t yet ready to just walk out of her life.

He checked a few drawers until he found a knife. After testing the blade for sharpness, he began to chop up the carrots. There was something satisfying about concentrating on precise cuts and watching the pile of orange disks stack up on the cutting board.

When he finished the carrots, he started on the green peppers. Then the onions and garlic.

Riana had leaned against him so trustingly earlier, apologizing for getting him into all this trouble.

Women were drawn to him all the time. Mikel was used to having them come on to him. But he wasn’t used to people truly trusting him.

He’d felt the trust tangibly when he’d stroked her hair. He’d brought his hand up to the back of her neck and touched her skin very briefly, letting the connection open.

She’d been hurting again—racked with agonized guilt over slipping into a temporary enjoyment of his company, after so many terrible things had happened. He’d recognized what she was feeling even before he’d touched her skin.

It was perfectly natural. Guilt was always strongest in grief when you were momentarily distracted from it.

But Mikel had felt a lowering heaviness—in his belly and in his chest—as he’d tried to comfort her. He was horribly uncomfortable with that feeling of helplessness, so he did the only thing he could to soothe her pain.

He’d touched her, breathing in just the faintest bit of her pain so she could find some solace.

She’d fallen asleep shortly afterwards.

Mikel could still taste the echo of her spirit inside him. The guilt, the grief, the anxiety.

And the trust. In him.

Shaking his head and wishing he could shake the knowledge and resulting feelings away, he bent over to retrieve a big pan and set it on the stove. After turning the eye on, he poured out olive oil and waited for it to heat up.

Swirling the pan to cover the bottom with oil, he made a rough sound in his throat, trying to dispel these uncomfortable thoughts.

When he’d put his cut vegetables into the pan to sauté, he stirred them a little and then went back into the main room to check on Riana.

She was curled up on her side on the sofa, her soft brown hair spilling forward over her shoulder and face.

What was wrong with him? He wasn’t a fatuous boy who could be beguiled by a pretty face. He’d had the chance of relationships with some of the most beautiful, alluring women on the continent.

Yet here he was—obsessing over this one and acting like an absolute fool.

Riana stirred as he watched her, and he started to leave so his presence wouldn’t wake her up.

It was too late, though. Her eyes opened and blinked a few times, moving instinctively to rest on him.

Her cheeks were flushed now and she smiled as she saw him, as if her conscious brain hadn’t caught up to her responses and the sight of him there made her happy.

He smiled back—touched despite himself—and hoped he didn’t look too much like a sap.

“Mikel,” Riana said, her voice cracking on the word.

He walked over to her, kneeling down on the floor beside the sofa. Without thinking, he brushed the hair back from her face, letting the smooth strands slip between his fingers.