they didn’t betray the spirit of this place. Often, I wondered how that was possible, what kind of magic protected Starway 8 beyond loyalty, because even that sometimes wasn’t enough.
Mareeka’s mouth curved with a subtle smile. “Ask me that again someday. Right now, I fear the answer would betray a trust.”
That was cryptic—and not at all what I’d expected. I’d expected her to roll her eyes and jokingly say, The Sky Mother, of course, because we both knew what that was worth. Now, I was dying to know what she was talking about, but I knew better than to push.
“Take this,” she suddenly said, going over to a key-coded cabinet. She opened it and pulled out a Grayhawk handgun and ammunition clip. “Long story short, it was left here, and I don’t want it on the premises.”
I took the gun from her and locked in the ammo clip, making sure the safety was on before slipping it under my shirt and into the wide elastic waistband of my borrowed scrubs. The weapon felt cold against the small of my back.
“I’m worth two hundred million in universal currency because of the enhancer I took.”
Mareeka paled, her eyes widening. It was no wonder; you could buy a small city on a decent rock for that.
“If anyone comes here looking for me, tell them I came to say goodbye.” I thought about Shade Ganavan, money symbols lighting up his mercenary eyeballs. “You can tell them I blew myself up with the stolen goods right outside your window. I’m now one with the nebula.” I glanced at the colors outside. That was exactly where I wanted to be when I died.
“You saw the whole thing,” I added. “Saddest day of your life.”
Mareeka’s expression soured. “It certainly was.”
I gave her a hug goodbye, refusing to acknowledge that it could be our last. Every departure was the same; we could only hope for a reunion.
“Stay safe.” She hugged me back. “No sign of Gabe?” she asked, drawing away enough to look at me again.
It suddenly struck me as odd that everyone would still think I was pining for Gabe. Of course I cared what had happened to him, but it had been years…
I shook my head. “You, either, Surral said.”
Mareeka smiled vaguely, seeming sad—mostly for me. “You two… When I think back.”
We’d been in love. There was no doubt. My heart still sometimes gave a hard thump when I thought about him. Every now and then, I felt a phantom touch, a memory, and my belly clenched.
Unfortunately, that belly clench had shifted to Shade over the last week, but it was tainted now, a cramp more than a thing of warmth.
Chapter 26
I was four levels from the Endeavor’s dock when I heard the firearm cock behind me. My steps slowed at the distinctive sound. Cautiously, I turned.
“I knew you’d come.” Nathaniel Bridgebane’s words came at me down the barrel of a gun.
My pulse jumped hard. My uncle stood not thirty feet from me. He’d always been tall and handsome, and he’d aged remarkably well. Too bad inside was so much uglier than outside. I remembered when the two parts of him had still matched.
I asked the only question that seemed important to me right now. “Did you infect children to draw me here?”
He didn’t even flinch. “No, but I made sure no one came to help. I knew you’d do that yourself.”
“How?” I didn’t bother telling him that there had been deaths. He wouldn’t care.
“Because you came back onto my radar for stealing what you thought were cure-all vaccines. That tells me public health means something to you, and you grew up here…” He shrugged, trailing off.
“Public health should mean something to you! To anyone!” I spat.
“I think I’m beyond that.” He sounded toneless. Dead.
What an asshole.
“Put your hands behind your back where I can cuff them,” he ordered. “Then turn into the wall and kneel.”
Mareeka hadn’t said anything about the security cameras coming back online yet. No one was seeing this and would come to my rescue. If Bridgebane had arrived in a discreet, small cruiser, there was a good chance no one even knew he was here. There were guards around, as usual, but they couldn’t have eyes everywhere without the cameras. And with the sickness on Starway 8, the sentinels may have been fewer and less vigilant, thinking no one would want to come anywhere near the orphanage now anyway.
I slowly lowered my hands behind me, but I didn’t turn. I drew the