Chosen - Kiersten White Page 0,20

then if you want to leave, you should.”

Honora slides mirrored aviator sunglasses into place, and her lips part in a smile. If she’s devastated, she doesn’t show it. She never does. “It’s you and me against the world, right?”

Once, Artemis would have said the same to Nina. The memory of Nina’s disappointment in the library sits heavy alongside Honora’s dashed hopes. But until Artemis is what she should be, she’s going to keep disappointing everyone. It’s all a means to an end, and then they’ll understand and everything will be right. She has the book. She knows what to look for, what to wait for, what to do.

“You and me.” Artemis squeezes Honora’s hand. “You’re my girl.”

“Damn straight. Or damn gay, if we’re being accurate.” Honora beams and holds open the door. As soon as they enter the sleek lobby, Honora’s demeanor shifts. Her walk is deliciously sexy and somehow snide at the same time. Artemis doesn’t know how she does it. Honora goes straight to the receptionist’s desk and hops on it, sitting there and leaning back on her arms.

“Can I help you?” The receptionist’s pinched face threatens to pinch completely closed on itself in shock.

“Tell Sean I’m here.”

The receptionist glares. “And you are?”

“He’ll know.” Honora winks at Artemis over the top of her sunglasses. Artemis leans against a wall, unable to be flippant like Honora. She folds her arms and sets her face in stone. She can’t reveal how she feels. Because she’s not nervous. She’s excited.

The receptionist makes a call and not a minute later a man who could only be described as a born minion—small with ratlike eyes and greasy hair—leads them to an elevator and pushes an elaborate series of buttons. They glide up the building to the penthouse floor. All the walls along the hallway are glass, so they see the meeting before they reach it. A huge oval table is surrounded by men in suits. They’re watching a screen filled with graphs and charts. Sean himself is the one presenting, using a stupid laser pointer to emphasize certain points.

Artemis and Honora slip into the back of the room, standing next to a bound and gagged demon cowering in the corner next to a potted plant.

“—projected margins are—” Sean stops midsentence, then points to Artemis with the laser pointer. “Which one is she?” His face has gone several shades redder.

“The good one,” Honora says with a shrug.

“Good as in morally good as in a Slayer, or good as in—”

“Good as in here with me. So what do you think?”

Sean glares but goes back to his droning speech about projections and quarters and other nonsense. All the men at the table are rapt, nodding along and tapping notes onto their devices.

But one of the men, a white guy with black hair and piercing dark eyes, is staring into space. Artemis can’t quite look away from him. He’s like when an older movie is shown on one of those super-high-def televisions, so everything looks somehow too real, which then makes it look fake. Like he’s 3-D on a 2-D background.

“It’s all imaginary,” he says, his voice a soft, melodious tenor. “All these numbers, all this money, all these things you fight and die for.”

Sean smiles patiently. “Right, yes, but we like our imaginary numbers to be very, very high.” The rest of the men laugh uneasily. Sean keeps talking.

The man turns toward them. Artemis’s breath catches. She was right. This is him. This has to be him. He’s not a man at all. He frowns, his eyes lingering on Artemis’s hair. “Autumn is the saddest season. All seasons are sad. Time is death. It’s so quiet here. Do you ever want to pierce the silence?” He has a slender knife in his hands, one finger running up and down the edge.

“Can’t say as I do,” Honora says. Her arms are folded, and she’s not betraying any fear.

Artemis isn’t afraid either. She’s thrilled. If only Rhys were here, he’d pee his pants at this real-world research opportunity. The book she took was right. It’s all going to work. She smiles, and the Sleeping One, the one with no name, the three-form god, tilts his head as he considers her.

“Right, so, supplies.” Sean switches the slideshow off. “Big opportunity coming up. Honora, if you’re back, I’m assuming you’ll lead?”

Honora snaps her gum. “Not a problem.”

“We can’t guarantee we’ll find the right specimen, but there’s a good chance something like this will draw one out. Or at least provide