Durance by Lyn Gala Page 0,48

you can even find a header code in html.”

“Should I be offended?” Darren looked toward Les, who rolled his eyes. Milton was abrasive, but Darren liked his honesty and understood his insecurities.

Milton focused on his computer. “Only if you have hidden skills in Java or Python that I’ve managed to miss.”

Considering those sounded like names for coffee and snakes, Darren kept his mouth shut. He was saved from the conversation when Kavon strode into the office. He kept right on going toward the back, projecting weariness and relief and anxiety all at once. On the rare occasion when Kavon left the bond open, Darren wondered how he handled all the emotions that roiled under the surface.

Darren followed Kavon to the breakroom and then watched as Kavon poured a cup of coffee before stirring it idly . “You told White,” Darren said. That was the only explanation for the odd mix of emotions.

A jumbled flood of emotion rushed through the bond. Kavon nodded.

“How did he take it?”

Kavon looked up from his coffee. “Better than I thought he would.”

“How much did you tell him?” Darren asked as he tried to sort the emotions in the bond. What the hell had White said to him?

Kavon hesitated, drank some coffee and then answered. “Everything except the fact that you have a docent guide.”

Darren blew out a breath. That was unexpected. A shadow of doubt and defensive anger seeped into the bond. Darren crossed the room and rested his hand on Kavon’s arm. “I know we had to share. This is the world in danger, and he needs the information if he’s going to make the right calls.”

While Kavon’s expression didn’t change, the bond settled. “He pulled Unit Three off the case, so I got us out of doing that interview.”

Relief washed through Darren. He didn’t want to lie to fellow FBI agents. “Who is investigating?” It wasn’t like an Assistant Director could call off a criminal investigation on a whim, especially when the attack was frontline news.

“He handed it over to the Djedi center on the grounds that the FBI has no facilities to contain the magical spill or handle the sort of criminal who could create it.

Darren frowned. “Won’t that make people paranoid about Talent? If Joe Schmo on the street thinks the FBI is incapable of containing a shaman that will play into the anti-Talent propaganda.”

“Yes,” Kavon said, “it will. It will also make people realize that law enforcement is badly understaffed. White plans to point out that I am the only high-level shaman in the agency, and since the conflict of interest rules me out as an investigator, the agency is left with no one with the required skills.”

Darren blew out a long breath. White was making political hay while the catastrophic sun was shining. Damn. That was mercenary. Smart, but mercenary. “What about Joe? He’s a shaman.”

“He hasn’t been on the team a full month yet. White wouldn’t make him lead on a plagiarism case out of Georgetown.”

The door opened and Jen stuck her head in. “We have something.”

Kavon headed for the door before even demanding more information with a curt, “‘Something’?” He passed her at the door and headed for the main room.

For a second, Jen appeared frozen in place, but then she found her voice. “Milton found something in his computer,” she told Kavon’s back. Darren gave her a quick smile before hurrying after Kavon.

“What do you have?” Kavon asked. Just before Darren walked into the room, he heard a loud crash.

“Don’t sneak up on me!” Milton protested.

“What did you find?” Kavon demanded louder. Darren hurried to Kavon’s side, pushing calm and friendly feelings toward Kavon. After the meeting with White, his temper was too short to deal with Milton.

“I was looking at the magical sinks. I don’t have the files you asked me to request. So this isn’t about the attack on Agent Oberton,” Milton said quickly, as if he was trying to defend himself. Then again, Darren could see how someone might mistake Kavon’s determined expression for an angry one.

“Tell him what you found,” Jen said.

“It’s probably nothing!” Milton waved his hand as if brushing away invisible mosquitos.

“He found a name,” Ahtisham said. “Someone associated with each crime scene.”

Milton whirled around and poked a finger in Ahtisham’s direction. “No I didn’t. I absolutely did not. I am not throwing around accusations. I simply found an interesting association. A distant, potentially unrelated association.”

Kavon’s aggravation levels were rising so high that the emotions rushing through the bond was