at the powder. “Pure salt. Bad for the skin, but not—”
“—dangerous.” Brynner nodded, letting her go.
Amy took one step onto the salt and collapsed, screaming.
Twenty-Four
BRYNNER
I recoiled, slid my daggers out, and stepped so I stood between Grace and Amy.
Amy rolled over and stood up, laughing as she walked toward us. “You two are so much fun.” She sprinkled salt on her tongue. “Your father looked at everyone from my country with suspicion. I thought I might enjoy a laugh at your expense.”
Dad was a paranoid bastard, primarily because the world was out to get him. “That’s a really good way to get yourself knifed. How about we go with shaving cream balloons or fart cushions for jokes from now on?”
“You would not stand a chance of harming me, Brynner Carson.”
Her smug assurance had gotten more than one co-org sent back to the grave. “Right. Let’s go.” I looked to Grace, who radiated annoyance. Surely she didn’t think I was interested in Amy, did she? We crossed the white salt sand to an arched door. Beyond it stood a stained glass tunnel, with beams of brilliant white light bursting up at intervals.
I used my best museum curator voice. “Welcome to the hall of symbols. The lights above and below replicate all shades and variants of sunlight. The walls feature every symbol from every religion known to man.” I pointed off to the side, imitating the way Director Bismuth had when she showed me. “That’s the only Moai statue ever removed from Easter Island.”
“Jesus Christ,” said Grace.
“In every flavor, color, and depiction imaginable.” I pointed out my favorites, African American Jesus, a man who looked like he grew up in the Mediterranean, and Catholic Jesus, who obviously had a skin condition and a fear of the light.
Amy traced the walls, studying each symbol. “Genius.”
“Dad was a little crazy, and it helped. The big guns are right here.” At the end of the tunnel, we hit a right-angle turn that led to the sealed containment pod, now locked into concrete by metal rods. I patted a set of searchlights, each as large across as I was tall. “These were tested against samples of Re-Animus we recovered from meat-skins. They’ll toast it, even inside the skin.”
Grace pushed past me to look at them. “Then it should be on, all the time, facing the hall of symbols.”
“Not a bad idea, but they tell me it uses more electricity than a small city, and might catch fire if we have it on for more than thirty minutes.” I moved to stand near her, and she moved away, approaching the glass barrier that held the Re-Animus. Double walls of glass combined with ozone electric air filters kept it contained.
“Let me go,” it screamed. “She’s coming for me. I have to get away.”
Grace pressed her hand to the glass. “Who?”
“Ra-Ame, the pharaoh’s daughter, scion of the darkness, our mistress and queen.”
Amy swore under her breath. “How dare you speak that name? It is a name that brings only agony to those who say it. The words themselves are cursed.”
“Ra-Ame.” Grace spoke softly, clearly. “Ra-Ame. Ra-Ame. I don’t believe in curses. Or spells. What I do believe is that in the next few months, we’ll learn enough about how the Re-Animus work that if she shows up, we’ll put her in a box right next to this little guy. They can be buddies.”
Amy shook her head in disbelief.
I rushed to intervene. “All right, ladies, I think that’s enough show-and-tell. How about we head on up to the cafeteria, and Amy can fill us in on what they do differently where she comes from?” I could stay between them, play referee.
“Brynner Carson, report to dispatch, emergency. Director Bismuth, report to dispatch, emergency.” A woman’s voice on the intercom gave me an escape plan.
I would have run to the elevator, but I had to wait for Amy and Grace, and they took their sweet time, trading jabs with each other.
Director Bismuth met me when we exited the elevator, spreading her arms. “I specifically said you were not to be called, Brynner. You are to report to Medical. Ms. Roberts, I need your translation skills.”
Her tone said she was hiding something, what I couldn’t say. I’d spent years learning to read people, especially women, but the cues I learned to focus on didn’t really help in this case. “What’s going on?”
“Medical, Mr. Carson. Right now.” She tried to look imposing, and failed.
“You didn’t say please.”
A troop of field operatives burst around the