“So, other than both being from Winterfell, what do these names have in common?” I asked with blunted irritation. I looked over at Reed, but he already looked stricken, a sick look engulfing his face.
“They’re aliases generated by our travel department at the Directorate,” J.J. said. “Well, not really the travel department. They were generated by me, when I was doing work for the travel department—”
“J.J.,” I said, catching his attention, “if you don’t cut right to the point with your next sentence, I am going to stick you in a heavy bag and beat the living snot out of you to work out my frustration. I may or may not take your glasses off first.” I slapped my hand against the table hard enough to make him jump at the sound. “So. Speak now.”
He adjusted his glasses with shaking hands. “These are vintage.”
“J.J.!”
“Um, sorry. Uh.” His hand left his glasses and fell to his side, leaving him supporting the laptop with one hand. “I generated the IDs myself, for a specific person, and the names were, um ... well, they were kind of an in-joke,” he laughed a little then swallowed heavily. “I tracked them from Los Angeles to Denver, and the next leg brought him here, to Minneapolis, yesterday.” He licked his lips. “So he’s here, in town. And, uh ... it’s, uh ... well, you know, it’s ...”
I didn’t answer him. I didn’t need to. I just stared coldly into the distance, feeling the wild, heart-pounding sense of rage, the desire for revenge that hadn’t left me in the last six months. It hadn’t left at all; it had just faded slightly into the background.
Winter was here.
Chapter 34
Are you going to kill him? Zack’s soft voice asked later that night when I was alone in my room. I hadn’t really paid much attention to anything said after J.J.’s little revelation, because nothing else needed to be said. We were in a holding pattern and would remain there until something broke loose and gave us a sign of the direction we needed to head in. It was not my chosen method of conducting business, being reactive instead of proactive, but waiting for someone to screw up was all I was left with. I just hoped when the time came it wouldn’t be me.
“I don’t know,” I answered Zack quietly. I was sitting on the edge of my bed, a lit candle filling the room with the faint aroma of vanilla. I wasn’t really a candle type of person, but Kat had bought it for me as a peace offering or a friendship gift or something along those lines, and I had accepted it without gnashing my teeth too much. Now it was burning silently in the corner, filling the room with something that was supposed to help soothe me. It was an open question whether it was actually working. I could almost taste the vanilla, heavy, waxy, filling the air.
I closed my eyes and waited for the inevitable backlash from Zack, the angry reply shouted in my head, the snappish remark about how I didn’t care enough about him to bother killing his murderer even when the man was in town. It didn’t come, and after a moment I opened my eyes again to see the darkness outside my expansive window. He’s not a threat at this point, Zack said.
“I wouldn’t go that far,” I whispered. “We underestimate Erich Winter at our peril. He’s a dangerous man in any environment. Just because the government has impounded most of his assets and he’s had his organization cut out from under him doesn’t mean he’s a toothless, clawless tabby.” I sighed. “I just don’t know what to do. I don’t want to drop back into vengeance mode and forget ... everything that’s really important.” I hesitated. “Not that you’re not important—”
I got it, he said gently. Going after Winter to kill him puts you in a sticky position, causes you to lose focus on what’s most important. Makes you divert attention from this impending confrontation with Century. I don’t need you to kill him for me. He strained, and I could almost see him in the back of my mind. I don’t want you to kill him for me.
“I’ll make sure he faces justice,” I said. “That’s within my power. If he shows himself, he’ll get taken down by us.”
You have bigger fish to fry.
I let myself fall back on my bed, curling up with a pillow in my arms. “Always. I always have something else I need to be doing nowadays. Always another thought for what we’re going to do next, how we’re going to gain advantage.”
You should spare a thought for yourself in there somewhere.
“I’ll think about that tomorrow,” I said then frowned. “Or the next day.” The fatigue was setting in, and I was weary. It was well after midnight, and I needed to be up by six. There was so much planning to do, things to consider and move into place, given what was coming our way. The soft bed against my face was a relief.
Like Zollers used to say, Zack went on, you can only do what you can do. After that, maybe it’s time to take a step back and let the rest handle itself?
It wasn’t terrible advice, but I was so tired. “Zollers ...” I murmured. Where was the good doctor, anyway?
I fell into a world of darkness and emerged in the waiting room of his office, the fishtank bubbling in the corner. The chair was hard underneath me, and I wondered for the thousandth time if he’d had any part in selecting them. Then I realized I wasn’t in his actual waiting room, I was in a dream, and everything had a fuzzy, surreal quality. It took me only a second after that to realize it wasn’t actually a dream.
“Ugh,” I said. “Dreamwalking.”
“Sienna Nealon,” came an echoing voice from beyond the door to his office, “Come on in.”
I appeared in the office, not bothering to walk through the door, and found myself on the sofa. Zollers was sitting in his usual chair, a pad of paper across his lap. He looked at me over his glasses, his hair grey around the temples.
“Well, well,” I said, “here we are, not really here.”
He shrugged expansively, and answered in his low, smooth voice, “So it would appear. You summoned me?”
“Not intentionally,” I said. I could feel tension, even in the dream. “I was talking about you before I fell asleep.”
He nodded, as though taking it all in. “So that’s how it works. Simple enough.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “I’m usually better about avoiding it, so ... sorry for the mix-up.”
“So you weren’t actually looking for me?”
I started to roll my eyes again but stopped. “I suppose I should be,” I said, a little reluctantly. “I mean, you do know more about the workings of Century than anyone else.”
“I do,” he agreed, wearing a little halfhearted smile. “And you’ve been in the business of putting a fight in place for them for the last six months. I’ll admit I’m a little ... disappointed you haven’t come to me for help.”
I gave him a cockeyed look. “You really want to come out of hiding for a hopeless fight?”
He shrugged. “Just being asked would mean something.”
I let a breath out through my teeth, making a low, hissing noise that wasn’t frustration so much as a reluctance to admit the truth. “I don’t like to dreamwalk. I hate it, actually.”
“Oh?” He looked at me over his glasses then pulled them off and held them up. “Do I really need these in a dream?”
“No,” I replied. “Or didn’t you catch my teleportation gimmick earlier? You only need them if I think you need them.” I waved a hand at him. “Now you don’t, anymore, so ... enjoy the benefits of clear vision.”
“Much appreciated, at least for as long as it lasts.” He put aside the glasses and stared at the pad on his lap. “Remarkable.”
“Yeah, I’m a real cornucopia of useless talents,” I said, folding my arms.
“I wouldn’t call them useless,” he said, looking back up at me with clear, unimpeded eyes. “But why don’t you like to dreamwalk?”
“God, this is surreal, even for a dream,” I said, looking at him with marked impatience. “Are you really counseling me in your office while I’m sleeping?”
“We fall back into familiar roles,” he said with a smile. “But as always, you don’t hav
e to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
“No, it’s fine,” I said, a little deflated. “Of course I don’t really want to talk about it, but I probably should. I don’t like to dreamwalk because it always reminds me of the person who I most often did it with.” I paused, and felt a cauldron full of regret burn inside me. Dream me or real me? Maybe they were the same person. Or maybe I just had heartburn. “It reminds me of what Zack and I used to do in dreams.” The burn was more pronounced when I gave it voice, but it felt better after a moment. “So now I only use it when I have to.”
“Ahh,” he said, like it was a true revelation. “And since that’s the only way you have to contact me ...”
“Yeah.” I folded my arms tighter. “That’s why I haven’t contacted you.”
“But you’ve used it to contact others?” He peered at me. I wanted to look away, but didn’t.
“Once,” I hissed regretfully.
“Who was that with?” he asked, watching me with the most peculiar expression. I couldn’t tell quite what he was thinking.
“Scott,” I admitted after a moment’s pause. “When I needed a ride home from the airport.”
He gave me something bordering on a smirk. “I’m the most knowledgeable person about Century that you know, and you wouldn’t contact me via the only method you have because of the feelings it generates, but you would use it to save yourself cab fare.” It was definitely a smirk now.
I felt a sizzle of impatience and embarrassment. “When you say it like that, I feel stupid.”
“I wouldn’t feel stupid,” he said casually. “I would perhaps suggest that there may be more complexity to your feelings about this particular power, though.” He let one eyebrow creep higher, and I could see nothing but amusement. “Perhaps something to do with the predominant purpose of use coloring how you view using it now—”
“Thanks for the psychoanalysis, Doc,” I said, and I used my control over the dreamwalk to dispel the feverish blushing sensation I felt under my collar and up my cheekbones. I stared at him, trying to overcome the emotion. “Fine, well, we’re talking now. What can you tell me about him?”
“Hmmm,” he said, pondering. “Sovereign? He’s very strong. He knows this. His reputation is well earned, something he’s spent time building, cultivating.”
“So he’s prideful about it,” I said. “Got a little bit of an ego.”
“Perhaps,” Zollers said, a little too coyly for my taste. “But it really doesn’t matter because you won’t be able to beat him.”
I narrowed my eyes as I looked at him, my first sliver of suspicion poking at me. “I heard he can change his face.”
“Could be,” Zollers said, a little more brusquely now. “I only met him for a few minutes, and that wasn’t an ability he demonstrated to me.” He seemed to get a little thoughtful. “Still, I suppose it’s possible. Never heard of a meta who could do that, but it’s not as though we know every type of meta in the world, do we?” He smiled thinly. “After all, Sovereign is still a mystery.”
It felt just the littlest bit like he was fishing, and I leaned forward. “You said Century had scared the hell out of you when last we met. You told me they wanted me dead, that this storm that was coming would consume me.”
He nodded slowly. “I told you they wanted to kill you back then because it was true. A man named Weissman was my contact with Century, and he quietly made his position plain—he wanted you dead.”
“Why?” I asked, still leaning forward.
“I wasn’t in a position to ask,” he said.
“They changed their minds since,” I said, settling back in the chair. “Weissman said the order came down from Sovereign himself.”
“Did it?” Zollers gave me a slow nod then a smile. “I suppose that’s a good thing for you, then.”
“Or a bad thing for him,” I said, watching him through the haze of the dreamwalk. He wasn’t being evasive, but his eyes were clouded.
“I think you may be harboring some ill-considered notions here,” Zollers said, leaning forward himself. “If you think you can take Sovereign ... you’re wrong. He will destroy you if you try. His power is unlike anything—”
“I thought you said that Weissman was your sole contact with Century?” I asked in a muted tone.
“He was,” Zollers said, and I could see a hint of hesitation in him. “Before—”
“Before you ran from them because they were going to kill you?” I asked, feeling myself smile a little, like a dog who’s caught the scent of fresh meat. “Which, by the way, they seem to be doing a pretty mediocre job of.” I watched him react only a little to my goad. “You ran into him after that?”
“I did,” Zollers said, and I could see him start to hesitate, could sense the emotional friction from him. “He’s ... fearsome—”
“And he let you live,” I said with a twisted smile. “Just let you walk away after you betrayed his organization and left their target—me—alive in spite of their strict orders?” I felt my lips curl up at the corners. “You know what I think? Once a liar, twice a liar—”
“I get the rough sense of what you’re thinking here—”
“That telepathy is real handy,” I snarled, and I was on him in an instant, had him by his faux shirt. “Let me show you the other side of what I can do in a dreamwalk.” I touched a finger to his forehead before he could speak, and I heard a scream rip from his throat in agony, pure anguish and pain that was the absolute opposite of what I’d done with Zack. “Too bad you couldn’t read my mind to know THAT was coming.”
He writhed on the floor and looked up at me with a pained expression. “You have no idea what trouble you’re in.”
“I know that you killed my friends,” I said, looking down at him in silent fury. “Read my mind, Sovereign. Know what I’m thinking—that I’m going to find you and kill you, whatever it takes. You and your one hundred closest pals are going to die by my hand, one at a time or all in bunches. Because that reputation you’ve got of being the biggest badass on the planet?” I started to reach for him and he disappeared, gone from the dreamwalk in a cold second, nothing left behind but a faint wisp of his essence, a surreal haze marking the place where he’d left. “I’m going to take it for my own by killing you.”
Chapter 35
“That was mighty bravadocious of you,” Scott said to me from across the conference table. It was morning, the sun glimmering in from behind him, and I was looking at him across fingers templed in front of my mouth. Ariadne’s coffee was the dominant smell in the room. It carried a hint of hazelnut. It was honestly making me reconsider my personal ban on coffee, it smelled so good.
“I had the upper hand,” I said. “It was my dreamwalk.”
Scott’s eyes got a little dodgy. “Um ... when you touched me the time you dreamwalked to me, it didn’t cause me any pain at all. It was, uh ...” his face got red, “... quite the opposite.”
“It’s something I figured out a while back,” I said, covering my own embarrassment by looking away and catching my mother’s half smile. I’m sure that made me flush harder. “With Zack, unfortunately for him. It’s controlled by mood, and if you dreamwalk while angry ...” I let my voice trail off.
“I made a man go into a coma one time by doing that to him,” my mother added.
“Which was it?” Reed asked, a little sarcastic. “Pain or pleasure?”
She smiled thinly at him. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“Please stop the world of ugh,” I said, ready to throw a flag down between the two of them. “And don’t ever talk like that to each other in my presence again. Ever. There are way too many naughty stepmother ebooks out there for me to feel at all comfortable with that exchange.” She just rolled her eyes.
“If I might interject,” Karthik said a little hesitantly, “you just told the man who has been called the most powerful meta in the world to step off, essentially. Was that the wisest move?”
“I made him angry,”
I said. “I aimed to provoke him.”
“Which brings us back to Karthik’s question,” Reed said sourly.
“It worked,” I said, trying to reassure them. “I needed him focused on one thing and one thing only—being pissed off at me, afraid of me, even. I needed to get him seeing red.” I looked down the quiet table, saw Scott looking at the black glass surface. Li hadn’t spoken throughout the entire meeting, and he was sitting next to Ariadne looking somewhat dead of disposition.
“I suppose if that’s what you were aiming for, then well played,” Reed said acidly. “Can I just say that I’m not thrilled by your plan?”
“That’s all right,” I said. “You don’t have to be thrilled by it.”
“I also have grave reservations,” Karthik said.
“If this was a democracy, I’d be all ears,” I said. “We could set up a voting booth and everything, hand out little stickers once we were done. But as it is, if you don’t want to follow through with it, leave. Please.” I tried not to be brutally blunt but probably fell shy by miles. “This is going to require total buy-in from all of you. It’s a risk, I know—”
“And you’re sure that Quinton Zollers is Sovereign?” Ariadne asked, her hands folded uneasily in front of her. There was a faint twitch at her eye that I wondered about.
“It certainly fits the timeline,” I said. “Century was dead set on killing me the day that they murdered Andromeda, but then after that they decided not to? I think it was Zollers. He decided to spare me. It was his judgment call, nobody else’s, that kept me alive. He told Weissman to let me live, for whatever reason.”
“What is that reason?” Reed asked, humoring me more than anything. He was just as sarcastic as I was, dammit.
“I think he liked me,” I said. “That he felt sorry for me.”
“Well, I’d say you’ve done a fine job of wiping that slate clean,” Reed said. “His mercy is probably good and over by now. That means next time he’ll kill you. You’re walking into a fight with the most powerful meta in the world after you’ve provoked the hell out of him; his restraint is bound to have left town.”
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