Unknown

“Evil?” I raised it in surprise, flexing the metal fingers. “Why would this be evil?”

“You’re kidding. I mean, it’s a metal hand.”

“My flesh hand was much worse, I think.” I touched my fingers together. The control was very good, but there was an odd clink as the metal co

Luis continued to stare. “Can you feel anything with that?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

I raised my eyebrows involuntarily, because it was a question that hadn’t rightly occurred to me. I ran the metal fingertips over texture—the sofa, the smooth leather of my jacket, then lightly over Luis’s skin.

All different sensations. All exactly as experience had taught me they should feel.

“The metal,” I said, surprised. “It’s a part of the living Earth. Your powers control metal, so I can interpret the sensations.”

“Does it hurt?”

“No,” I said, and put my metal palm against his warm cheek. “Does it feel odd?”

He seemed startled, raising his hand to lay it over my bronze one. Before he could answer me, my cell phone began to ring, buzzing against my skin like a trapped insect. I slid it free, flipped it open, and held it to my ear. The screen displayed nothing at all except a random pattern of light.

I put it to my ear.

“Human technology.” It was Rashid. He sounded disgusted, and a little smug. “So wasteful, yet so interesting.”

“We can’t all be you,” I said. “Did you get the child?”

“Of course. And before you ask, the man driving the car doesn’t yet know that she’s gone. I retrieved her when he stopped for a traffic signal.”

“Did he see you?”

“Of course not. To all appearances she is still locked in his trunk.” Rashid’s voice took on a slight edge. “Before you ask, yes, I am following him.”

“What about the girl? You’re sure she’s all right?”

“Did I not say—”

“Yes.” I closed my eyes and tried to focus. At Luis’s urgent gesture, I put the phone on speaker so the others could hear. “What did you do with her?”

“I am not insensitive; I didn’t just abandon her at the side of the road. I found a policeman. I handed her over safely enough.”

That eased a weight within me that was staggering once lifted. “Where are you now?”

“In the trunk of his car,” Rashid said. “I thought it would be impolite to take one thing from him and leave nothing in return.”

“No,” Turner snapped. “You need to get out of there. Just get out. If you got the girl, the job’s over. Leave it.”

“Don’t,” I said, overriding him. “Stay with him, Rashid. But understand, if he is heading toward Pearl, you must know when to let go. You can’t allow yourself to get too close. You saw what she can do.” He’d knifed the blackened evidence of it on the kitchen table.

“I saw,” he agreed. “I will be in contact.”

He broke the co

“They’ve got the girl all right,” he said. “She’s in custody, heading for the hospital with an armed escort. I got a Warden to meet them at the hospital. She’ll be watched.”

“And her parents?”

“I’m heading over there now,” he said. “This kind of good news, I’d rather deliver in person.” He picked up his suit jacket, which was as rumpled as his pants and shirt, and shrugged it on, avoiding our eyes. Then he said, “You two want to come along?”

“I’m not sure. She still doesn’t look too good,” Luis said doubtfully, but I was already moving to stand up. He braced me with one hand under my left elbow, but

I felt only a touch of disorientation. The shock was, indeed, passing.

The physical pieces of it, at any rate. I couldn’t yet tell what I felt emotionally, or would feel tomorrow. It was entirely new territory for me, to have been so deeply hurt. Especially by my own choice, and my own action.

“I want to go with you,” I said. “If you’ll allow it.”

We all glanced at the burned spot on the table, the soot-blackened knife, and the white exposed bones that were all that was left of my hand. Turner shuddered.

“Yeah,” he said. “I guess you’ve got the right to do whatever you want to right now. Fine.”

Luis didn’t approve, but he only shook his head and touched my shoulder to turn me toward him. “Hey,” he said. “You need more?” More power, he meant. I hadn’t dared to check, but now I realized that I was as empty of energy within as I had been parched and thirsty.

I nodded. He sighed and took my right hand in his, facing me. “Ready?” he asked.

I held his gaze and nodded.

His energy flowed into me, a trickle that built to a steady pulse within my veins. It left my skin burning hot, and I felt the interface of metal with my arm grow colder by contrast, like a phantom limb of ice. The power coursed through me, repairing damages, and then pooled deep within. I pulled away then, sending a wordless pulse of gratitude between us, and in an unguarded moment saw the drawn look on his face, and the fierce pain in his eyes.

I was hurting him. He was weary and anguished; he had seen me do a terrible thing, and had been helpless to stop it, or to save me from the consequences. On top of that, he’d already been through a great deal. Now, I was taking from his precious reserves of strength.

But he didn’t hold back. Not at all.

I kissed him. I don’t know why; it was wrong, it was the wrong moment, the wrong place. Everything about it was irrational and terribly mistaken, except for the rush of feeling that rose inside me at the soft, and surprised, touch of his lips. At the way his body tensed and leaned toward mine. At the way his hands slipped up my arms and caressed my body.

Luis broke the kiss with a gasp and stepped away, cheeks flaming dark red. His eyes cut toward Turner, who had paused, staring, in the act of turning the knob on the front door.

“What are you looking at?” he demanded. Turner shook his head. “Then get the hell out, man, you never saw people kissing before? Go.”

Turner shut his mouth with a snap and left the house. Luis reached down to take my right hand in his left. His forehead leaned to press against mine.

“Hey,” he said. “Later, okay? We need to talk about this.”

“Yes,” I said. “Later.”

If there was a later.

I reached for the scroll, sealed in its protective coating of enamel that felt as warm as bone, and slipped it back within my jacket as we left.

The FBI sedan was no more pleasant this time than it had been before, but it was mercifully brief, and I was too tired, too distant to take any notice of, or make any objection to, the various stenches and discomforts. My muscles had begun to ache and throb, complaining of the long day and constant fear. I needed rest, I realized. Sleep. Food. The basics to continue human life.

But first, I needed to see this through. That wasn’t logical, but it was necessary.

“Why did she come after you?” Luis asked. “She’s doing it more and more, all these little attacks. It’s like she’s trying to kill you, but not trying too hard.”

It was an excellent question. I kept my eyes closed, adjusted my position in the seat to ease an ache in my back, and said, “Have you ever seen a bullfight, Luis?”

“A—hey, man, just because I’m Hispanic doesn’t mean—”

“I’m talking about the picadors,” I said. “The bull must be angered before the fight. So the picadors torment the beast, stabbing it, arousing its fury until it is willing to charge. It makes a better show.”

He was silent for a moment, and I felt his gaze on me. I didn’t look.

“I’m the bull,” I said. “The sacrifice. She just wants a better fight.”

“What about the rest of us? The Wardens?”

I shrugged. “She’ll kill anyone who gets in her way,” I said. “But her fight isn’t really with you. It’s with me. With the Dji