slit from his palms to his elbows, and the same black fumes that came from a dead meat-skin leaked from his wounds.
“Let me out. Sin Eater, save me.” His eyes locked on to me, and fear swept across his face. He hurled himself away from the door, huddling in the far corner.
I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe. This wasn’t a mindless corpse. Or a lesser body, picked up by the Re-Animus and thrown away when it was no longer useful.
Grace put her arm around my waist. “So what if one of them got away? One of them didn’t.”
GRACE
For the first time since taking a field assignment, I felt like the equal, perhaps even better, of Brynner Carson. A Re-Animus captured. Controlled. The look of shock on his face as I relayed my story made me think I might have jealousy problems.
“Well? Did I do good?” I waited for him to say something. Anything.
He swept me up in a hug that nearly crushed me, lifting me so my feet hung a good two inches off the ground. “You are amazing. More amazing. Amazinger. You’re going to be more famous than me. Wait until the director hears about this.”
He reached into his pocket and took out a cracked cell phone. “This is Carson. Send everything. Army. Marines. We caught one.” He looked down at me. “Grace caught one.”
We sat together in the ruins of County Hospital. Brynner killed the occasional co-org when it stumbled from the shadows to pass time. Waves of police arrived within minutes, then army troops established a perimeter, followed by defenses on the room.
“What’s with the troops? What exactly are you expecting?” I asked Brynner as another troop of machine gunners set up.
He shook his head. “We have no idea. Mom—Mom always said capturing one would be the key. Dad said it would be an act of war.”
Someone hadn’t been paying attention around here today. “You want to tell me we aren’t already in a war?”
He sat beside me, his shoulder brushing mine. “I want to believe this is good, but every time something good happens in my life, it’s followed by something worse.”
“You need a better life.” I leaned up against him, thinking I needed one, too. Maybe I finally had what I needed to make one.
Around midnight, the first BSI support landed, followed by a film crew. While Brynner talked security and showed them where he’d expect attacks, I encountered a new type of terror: an interview.
I expected debriefing. I expected conference calls and lab tests. Instead, a mostly plastic newscaster ushered me to a hastily set up interview booth, where I struggled to form coherent sentences in response to questions that didn’t make any sense.
I mean, they made sense, but they weren’t the questions that mattered. Who cared how I felt about capturing a Re-Animus? What mattered was what we could learn from it. Where I was from, how old I was, was I single? I think it was the last question that made me tear the microphone off and storm away.
I found Brynner doing his own version of the microphone torture, and he’d obviously had more practice. He smiled at the camera, not a fake smile, the same one he used around his aunt’s table. And denied any involvement in the capture.
“We were fortunate to have the services of a crack BSI analyst on this operation.” He paused a moment. “If we could have a dozen Grace Roberts and a couple of me, we’d put an end to the Re-Animus threat once and for all.”
When the interview concluded, he brushed off the adoring women and stalked away to check on the Re-Animus. I followed, amazed that these people deferred to me as much as him. “Brynner.”
He turned and saw me, his face troubled. “Grace.”
I grabbed his arm. “If there were a dozen of me, I’d want at least a dozen of you. Maybe a few spares in case I wear one out.”
He faced the Re-Animus, which screamed mutedly behind its sealed pod. “There’s only one of you and me. Dad was right. This is the first battle in a war.”
The doorway behind us opened, a gasp of air tainted by smoke drifting in. “Well, if it isn’t my two favorite field operatives.” Director Bismuth walked forward, flanked by a pair of bodyguards the height and weight of Brynner, though not, in my opinion, as handsome.
Brynner tipped his head. “Maggie.”
She frowned. Not nearly enough, more like a calculated amount of distaste. “You know your father insisted