they left. Such mirrors were standard issue for glymera houses. Always right by the front entry.
No mirror anymore.
Now? It was a picture of four hubcaps. That probably cost more than a Lambo.
Unbelievable.
Qhuinn mounted the steps one at a time. Funny, when he’d thought about coming here, he’d imagined himself rushing through the rooms and the hallways, all scrambled and freaking out. Not it. Instead, he took his time, looking at the weird shit hanging along the staircase’s wall—he was pretty sure it was a school of taxidermied goldfish, except they had Barbie heads on them?
What a transformation.
And it was not hard to find a metaphor in all of it. When he’d been here with his parents, he’d assumed everything in the house, like his destiny, had been unalterable. Not true, as it turned out.
When he got to the head of the stairs, he looked to the right. Just more barren black-and-white floors, and stuff on the walls that could have been created by first-graders. Then he turned to the left. Luchas’s bedroom was all the way down at the far end. As the preferred son, he’d been given the second-best-appointed suite in the house, behind only the master and mistress’s.
God, his chest hurt, he thought as he started walking again.
When he got to his brother’s door, he glanced down at his feet to gather himself—only to have a chilling thought when he focused on the hall’s glossy tiles. Mother . . . fucker. That hiding space of his brother’s. When they’d redone his room, had they pulled up the floorboards, too—
He shoved the door open. And let his head fall back. “Shit.”
The whole room was black and white. Including the floor, which had been—surprise!—tiled in black marble. Whatever his brother had hidden there, under that old, loose board? Was no doubt gone.
“Whatcha doing, mister?”
At the sound of the squeaky voice, Qhuinn cranked his head around—and had to look down again. Standing in the hall, in a Frozen nightgown, was a human young of about five or six. So not the one who’d sunk the phone in the loo.
The little girl was staring up at the intruder in her house without any fear. “That’s my older brother’s room,” she said.
Qhuinn cleared his throat. “It was my older brother’s, too.”
“Really?”
“Uh-huh.”
As she tilted her head to the side, her hair, which was the color of Ron’s, moved over her tiny shoulder.
After a moment, she said with suspicion, “Are you allowed to be here, mister?”
Look, you need to just go.”
As the words were spoken to him, Blay stopped in the middle of the plowed downtown street and looked over at Z.
“I’m sorry?”
They were deep in the field, walking a row of urban apartment houses, all of which were dark and pockmarked with broken windows. There had been nothing enemy-like anywhere to be seen, but that was not to be trusted. Somewhere in the winter moonlight, shadows were lurking, stalking. Taking orders from the new evil.
“You need to go to your boy.” The Brother’s yellow eyes scanned around. “That’s where your head’s at.”
“No, I’m here.”
“Physically.” Z focused on him. “Mentally, you’re checked out, so you better head back home and see about him. He needs you.”
Blay made a show of looking up and down the street, doing the two-can-play thing. As he thought about how to respond, he was aware of Z just staring at him. So yeah, fronting was not going to be his best option, was it.
Clearing his throat, he said, “He’s not at home.”
“Where is he?”
“He went home.”
Z shook his head. “You just said he wasn’t there—”
“Sorry, to his old home. His parents’ old place.”
“Shit.”
“But listen, I can still function out here—”
“After the raids, you buried his parents there, didn’t you. And his sister. And you think he’s okay going back to that property?”
Blay cursed and rubbed his nose. After he sneezed from the cold, he said, “Luchas sent him there on a mission. According to Luchas’s note, he left something in his room and he wants Qhuinn to handle it.”
Putting his hands on his hips, Z closed his eyes. Then he cursed and activated the communicator on his shoulder. “Tohr, we’re taking ten. I’ll check in when we’re ready to resume.”
Blay started waving his arms. “No, really, I can just—”
There was a soft hiss. Then Tohr’s voice: “Roger that. I’m shifting V and Butch over to your quadrant.”
“Thank you.” Zsadist released the communicator and stared across levelly. “Where are we going? I know what happened at the house, but I never