Simon.
“Are you under an imminent deadline?” asked Rio.
This was an excellent example of why Rio was about fifty times smarter than Simon. I focused on him instead. “Arthur’s missing. Help me or get out of my way.”
Rio might not understand friendship, but he had a theoretical knowledge of it. I imagined the if-A-then-B flowchart he must use whenever he was confronted with such an inscrutable emotion. I was pretty sure his flowchart told him it was a good thing I had friends, and that if one had a friend and the friend was in trouble, this must logically take top priority.
Though if his flowcharts told him something different, I didn’t give a shit. I was perfectly willing to bulldoze through Rio and Simon both if they didn’t acquiesce in the next ten seconds.
“I am at your service,” said Rio. Good. That was good. Rio had a lot more explosives expertise than I did.
“Cas, you know I’ll help,” put in Simon, spreading his hands earnestly—even though I knew no such thing, and he and his telepathic skills had to be aware of that, the prick. He winced. “I meant, of course I’ll help. Where do we start?”
Simon was not someone I ever spent time with voluntarily, but I wasn’t stupid enough to turn him down. The problem was, he wasn’t ever willing to use his powers unless … wait.
Something itched at my brain.
I rubbed my forehead, but it was gone.
“Rio,” I said instead, “we’re up against someone who likes explosives, and we need to go through Arthur’s office. Can you—”
“It would be my pleasure. Remain here,” Rio said, and swept toward the outside stairs to Arthur’s second-floor office. Yet another reason I liked Rio.
I pointed at Simon. “As for you, stay by your phone. The minute we have someone you could help with, I want you there.”
I started to turn away, ushering Pilar with me.
“Wait,” Simon said.
“I told you, now is not the time to—”
“No. Cas. There’s something you wanted to tell me. I saw it a minute ago, but then it left your mind. I think it’s important.”
“Ego, much?” I said.
“Cas.”
I wasn’t sure if it was Simon’s abilities or my own brain that filled in his tone, but it did occur to me that when a telepath who claimed he was on my side was trying to tell me I wanted something, I should probably consider it. Next to me, Pilar’s expression had creased into worry, mirroring my thoughts.
Goddamn psychics.
“I don’t remember wanting to tell you anything,” I said to Simon, but a lot less aggressively.
He shook his head, as if he were hearing a fly buzzing but he wasn’t sure from where. “There’s something wrong. May I?”
I gave him a look that made the skin around his eyes tighten, but I also jerked my head to invite him closer. He stepped up to me and gazed down into my face. “Give me your eyes, Cas. Run back your day for me.”
“Right before this, I picked up Pilar,” I said, making eye contact and trying not to sneer the words. “I’ve been on the phone with Checker in between trying to figure out what to do ever since my office blew up. And right before that was when—”
“Stop. You skipped something.”
“I skipped a lot of things.”
“Start again with when your office … God, you’re all right physically, right?”
“I’m fine.” I didn’t bother to moderate my tone. “My office blew up, I jacked a car and went to pick up Pilar, and we came here. Talked to Checker in between.”
“You skipped it again. After your office—what happened right before and after the, um, the bomb? Was it a bomb?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I’d just gone outside, and I was trying to call my client—”
Shit.
My would-be client.
“That’s it,” Simon said, unnecessarily.
I tried to hold on to the guy’s image. It felt slippery, the face blurred, as if I were trying to recall someone from a decade ago.
What the fuck.
“I locked him up,” I said. Jesus, he was lucky I’d run into Simon, or he would have died of thirst there. “What the hell did he do to me? And why? Is he one of you lot?” But his powers seemed much weaker—I’d never have been able to imprison Simon so easily, not if he chose to use his mental mojo on me. Nor Dawna Polk, the leader of Pithica—the memory of how easily and thoroughly she’d been able to rewrite my perceptions still gave me nightmares.
“I don’t know,” Simon said. “I haven’t been