“Isn’t it great? The judges have been around twice and I think they’re really impressed.” Her smile was ear to ear, her words lilting with excitement. “I have a really good feeling about this, Brynna. I really do.”
Brynna smiled, but inside she could still feel her nerves jumping over one another. She wanted to believe everything was going to work out, that Mireva was going to be okay and, as they say, life would go on. But there was still that pesky little problem of Mireva completing her task. The tricky thing was knowing whether or not it had been accomplished. Sometimes these things were so tiny, a matter of being in the right place at the right time to do the most insignificant of deeds, that a nephilim could fulfill his or her destiny and never realize it—the butterfly effect that Eran had mentioned.
“Great job, Mireva,” Eran said warmly. “All that work, and it’s finally going to pay off. That’s excellent.”
Still smiling, Mireva inhaled deeply, then let out her breath in a long, slow sigh that reminded Brynna of meditating. The girl’s next words, however, were like a razor blade running down Brynna’s spine. “I still feel like I’ve forgotten something,” she said. She scanned her table, the plants, the poster presentations hanging on the easels behind her. “But I’ve gone over my checklist a dozen times and I can’t find where anything’s been left off.”
“Excuse me,” a female voice said from behind Brynna.
Brynna turned, then her eyes widened. The last time she’d seen the blond-haired teenager standing before her was over a month ago, and she hadn’t been looking particularly energetic after a go-around with a group of prostitutes in a holding cell. This young woman was clean, pretty, and well dressed; the only evidence of that ugly late-night encounter was a line of faint pink scars along one cheek. They were carefully covered with makeup and would probably fade away in another six months. With all the dirt gone, Brynna could see the girl’s Irish heritage in her lightly freckled skin and blue eyes.
“Hi,” the girl said. “Do you remember me?”
“Of course,” Brynna said. She glanced at Eran, who was looking from the girl to Brynna with a pleased expression on his face. She was puzzled for a moment, then she realized how seldom he probably saw someone who’d been in a jail cell reappear in any environment other than a courtroom. She wasn’t sure what was next or what she was expected to say, but the girl took it from there.
“My name’s Kodi. I never got a chance to say thank you for helping me that night.”
“Brynna always seems to be helping people,” Mireva put in before Brynna could respond. “What did she do for you?”
Brynna shot Mireva a glance but Mireva stubbornly refused to look at her. Kodi surprised both Brynna and Eran by answering truthfully. “I snuck out of the house and went to a party with a bunch of friends. Things got kind of out of control—they were doing X and drinking, and the neighbors called the police. I wasn’t into the illegal part, but I freaked out and tried to run away when the cops showed up. Of course I got caught. I’d lost my purse and didn’t have any ID, so I didn’t have any proof I was underage. When they tried to call my dad, he and my mom had gone out and he’d forgotten his cell phone. I ended up in jail for the night.”
Mireva’s expression had gone from inquisitive to alarmed. “Yikes.”
“Yeah, well, getting thrown in jail was the easy part. Staying in there turned out to be a totally big problem. I got beat up and she—Brynna, right?—stopped things before they got really bad.” She sent Brynna a grateful glance. “I wish I could do something for you in return. My dad said you probably saved my life.”
Brynna shrugged. “No problem.” She wasn’t sure why, but she felt a little embarrassed at being thanked in front of people like this. Stuff like this was supposed to be low key, not public. “I’m glad you’re all right.”
Kodi smiled. “A cracked rib and some bumps and scrapes, but they’re all healing.” She touched her scarred cheek. “I sure won’t do something like that again.”
“That’s an awesome story,” Mireva put in.
“So what are you doing here?” Eran asked. His timing was perfect in redirecting the conversation before Mireva could dig deeper, and Brynna couldn’t help feeling relieved. She didn’t think the story of how she’d landed in jail because she was talking to that first nephilim when he was shot in the head was a great subject for conversation.
“My dad is head of the museum’s committee on local events. He takes a big interest in the science fairs because he also teaches environmental science at U of I. He was telling me about your project, so I thought I’d come over and take a look.” She grinned and looked again at Brynna. “So you guys know each other, huh? Small world?”
“He noticed my exhibit?” Mireva’s eyes were bright.
Kodi nodded, then gave Mireva a smile that could only be described as secretive. “Oh, yeah. A lot of people did.”
“Really,” Mireva breathed. “That’s great.” She looked down at her table and its careful arrangement of plants, each with a meticulously lettered placard that corresponded to the complicated ecological plan on the poster-board behind her table. “I’m gonna run to the restroom for a minute.”
Brynna frowned. “You all right?”
“Yeah. My stomach’s just a little funky—nerves, that’s all. It’s been building ever since I got the notice that I’d won an exhibition slot here.” She shrugged. “My own fault for obsessing too much over it. I’ll be glad when it’s all over.”
“Hey,” Eran said. “Anyone would. It’s a big deal.”
“I’ll be right back.” The girl started to slip out from behind the table, but an adult voice made her stop.
“Now’s not a good time to leave your exhibit, miss,” said an older man with glasses. A tag on the lapel of his jacket read Dave N., Science Fair Staff. He looked down at a piece of paper on a clipboard. “Mireva Cocinero, right? You’re one of the finalists, and the judges are doing their last walk-through. You really need to be here in case they have any questions.”
He moved on without waiting for a response, and Brynna saw Mireva’s shoulders tense. “Mireva?”
“I really need to take a quick break,” she said unhappily. “I should’ve gone ten minutes ago, and now …”
“I’ll stand in for you,” Kodi said. She leaned around Brynna and Eran, peering down the center aisle. “I’ve been to dozens of these things, and they don’t move that quickly. You’ve got at least ten minutes, and even if they get here before you return, I know every person on the panel. I know I can persuade them to hold off, maybe talk to one or two others and then come back.”
Mireva looked relieved. “Really?”
“Sure.” Kodi turned the other way, where Dave’s retreating figure could just be glimpsed heading out of the exhibit hall. “I’ve never seen that guy before. He’s probably just some new clerk on a little control trip—do this, move here, don’t breathe. You know the type.” She looked back at Mireva. “Go. Turn right when you get out of the exhibition hall. You’ll see the coal mine room, and the restrooms are to the left of it.”
“Thanks,” Mireva said. “Just give me five minutes.”
Then she was out from behind her table and slipping into the crowd. Brynna watched her go as Eran regarded Kodi. “So,” he said. “That was quite the experience you had over at the precinct, huh? You know, I never got the full skinny on what happened.”
“Oh, God,” Kodi said. “You aren’t kidding. I never want to go through something like that again. I must’ve had VICTIM invisibly tattooed across my forehead, because those women went after me the second I got put in there. If it hadn’t been for Brynna—”
Brynna heard the conversation, but she wasn’t really listening. Her thoughts were twisting around and around, like a bunch of mental snakes trying to become untangled. How strange was it that Kodi, whose name she’d never bothered to learn at the police station, had turned up here at Mireva’s science fair? The idea that it was a “small world” wa
s bullshit; with over eight million people, the city of Chicago was the third largest in the country, and the odds of meeting Kodi again when you had completely different lifestyles were astronomical. Add to the situation that Kodi’s father was involved with the museum and the girl knew the judges … well, it was pretty solidly on the side of not-a-coincidence. Then there was Dave, the staff member Kodi had never met and who’d told Mireva she couldn’t leave her table. Yet because of her ties at the museum, Kodi had been here to let Mireva do just that.
Everything happens for a reason.
Kodi would not have been here had Brynna not been at the police station to pull her out of the piranha-infested holding cell. Mireva would have sucked it up and stayed put, not wanting to chance that the judges would knock her out of the running on the basis of a few unanswered questions.
Brynna scowled, thinking about how Mireva had said her stomach was bugging her. That just didn’t seem right—nephilim never got ill, were never plagued by the multitude of biological ailments that generally tormented a normal human’s body. She squinted toward the hall’s main entrance, but there was no sign of Mireva, or of the elusive Dave. Who was he? Just another new employee? Or someone else, another tool being wielded by Lahash? There was too much at stake here—namely Mireva—for Brynna not to make sure everything was copacetic.
“I’m going to check on Mireva.”
Eran looked at her in surprise. “What—is something wrong?”
Brynna was already moving, and he followed without hesitating. Kodi watched them go, her expression bewildered. “I hope not,” Brynna said over her shoulder. “But I’m going to make damned sure.”
IT WAS UNSETTLING HOW quickly the lie had come out of her mouth.
Mireva hurried toward the women’s restroom, weaving smoothly among the people milling in front of the tables. There wasn’t a thing in the world wrong with her, and it was a good thing her mom and uncle hadn’t been around to hear that complete fabrication about her nerves and the science fair making her stomach disagreeable. Had she been nervous? Well, duh. But she’d never been physically sick a day in her life.
There were even more visitors milling around the museum’s huge central foyer, drawn, no doubt, by the Harry Potter exhibition. Maybe when the science fair was over, for better or worse—and she sure hoped it would be for better—she could go up front and take a look. Normally she wouldn’t have been able to afford it, but the science fair contestants had been given a special day pass. She’d like to take a look at the baby chick hatchery too.
The restrooms were right where Kodi had said they’d be, and Mireva hurried into the women’s room, still not sure why she’d felt so strongly that she had to get here. And to lie about it? Wow—she’d never been a liar. Hearing those words come out of her own mouth had been like having her brain taken over by aliens or something. Plus, now that she was inside, well … hey. It looked perfectly normal, like countless other women’s restrooms she’d seen. Tiled walls and a water-splashed floor beneath a row of sinks with mirrors above them, paper towel holders, square trash bins, a row of stalls. Mireva’s need to get in here had been all-consuming, like a firefighter responding to a midnight alarm. So where the hell was the fire?
There was a woman washing her hands at a sink while another lady a few feet away refreshed her lipstick. Feeling self-conscious, Mireva went to an empty sink and smoothed her hair, trying to look like she had a reason for being there when in reality she thought she was acting like some kind of weirdo. Mrs. Lipstick finished up and walked out, while the first, a pleasant-looking woman in her midfifties, was still studiously scrubbing her hands; she reminded Mireva of the way surgeons on reality medical shows scrubbed up. She had dark hair that was starting to go silver at the temples, and when she glanced at Mireva and smiled, her brown eyes were warm and friendly. An expensive leather bag that Mireva assumed belonged to her was resting on the narrow metal shelf beneath the mirror. “Enjoying the museum?”
Mireva made herself smile back. “Yes, thank you.” Why did she suddenly feel so tense?
“I saw you in the science fair, didn’t I?” When Mireva nodded, the woman continued, “That’s the whole reason I came downtown on a Saturday, you know. I’m a professor at Wright College. I teach human and organismal biology. I’ve been through the museum a dozen times, but I’m always interested in the competitive science fairs, especially at the precollege level. Seeing what the high school students come up with is like looking through a telescope into the future.” She finally rinsed and gave her hands a shake, then turned and stepped toward the paper towel dispenser. “Refresh my memory, please. What’s your project—”
It happened so fast that Mireva almost didn’t make it.
One wrong step, the slightly off-balance turn of a low-heel shoe, the smallest pool of water in front of one of the sinks.
The professor’s hip twisted and she fell sideways as her foot slipped forward. Nothing in the restroom was soft, but Mireva was there before the older woman lost it completely; faster than she’d ever thought she could move, both hands shot out and Mireva grabbed the woman by the shoulders and pulled her forward. Momentum carried them both down but Mireva’s hold softened the impact. The landing was still hard enough to make Mireva’s teeth click together, but nothing, on either of them, was broken. The professor’s breath went out of her in a gasp, then her eyes widened when she turned her head and realized that her temple had missed the sharp corner of the metal trash bin by scarcely half an inch.
“Wow,” Mireva said as she untangled herself. “That was close. Are you okay?”
“I am, thank you very much. Banged my knee pretty hard, though.” The professor shook her head. “That was certainly … embarrassing.”
Mireva gave the woman a shaky grin and got to her feet, then extended her hand. It was so ridiculous—was being here to stop this teacher from hitting her head the whole reason she’d felt such an urge to get to the restroom? First of all, it didn’t make any sense; secondly, if that had been it, why didn’t she feel any better? The woman reached for the hand Mireva offered. “My name is Lydia D’Amato. And you—”
“Hel-lo, ladies.”
Mireva’s head snapped around at the sound of the oily male voice. Beneath her fingers, she felt Professor D’Amato’s hand stiffen. “What are you doing in here, young man? The men’s room is down the hall.” The professor grabbed the side of the sink and started to pull herself up, but Mireva instinctively stepped backward, cutting her off and forcing her to stay on the floor. She looked up at Mireva, surprised. “Would you help me up, please?”
“Yeah, Mireva. Help her up, why don’t you?” The guy had let the restroom door swing shut behind him and now he blocked it with his foot. He looked young and gang dangerous; despite the air-conditioning he was sweating heavily and the dark, curly hair that was bunched under his baseball cap was stringy and wet. The eyes that regarded her from beneath the cap’s brim were black as coal and callous, utterly without feeling.
Mireva’s brow furrowed and she stared at him. Instead of giving the professor some room, she let go of the woman’s hand and crowded her even more, pinning the woman against the tiled wall. “Who are you? How do you know my name?”
He shrugged one muscular shoulder, and the movement reminded her, strangely, of Gavino. “Let’s just say we have a mutual amigo.”
Stress was making Mireva’s temples pulse, but still she tried to sort it out. A mutual friend? Who? Gavino was dead, and this hoodlum sure wouldn’t be on Face-book terms with Brynna or Detective Redmond. So who—
Her stomach twisted as a not-so-long-ago conversation with Brynna flashed through her memory. It had to be Mr. Lahash, the creep who’d masqueraded as a sponsor from Purdue University, and who Brynna said had sent Gavino, and that crazy serial killer, to try to murder her. This guy must be Lahash’s latest mercenary. “Look,” she said. “What’s the deal with all this, anyway? I’m nobody. There’s nothing to be gained by killing me.” Her words tr
iggered a sharp breath from the professor, but Mireva still wouldn’t budge.
“You got that right.” The guy pulled a knife from his pocket and flipped it open. Mireva inhaled, but instead of coming after her, he leaned back against the door and started scraping at the filth under his fingernails with the tip.
Behind her, Professor D’Amato tried again to push her way free. “Mireva—that’s your name, right? Mireva, get out of the way and let me talk to him.”
“No,” Mireva hissed. She reached back with one hand and easily pressed the older woman back down. People were always surprised at how strong she was, had even said she was stronger than she should be. But Mireva had always taken her strength for granted. After all, she was over six feet tall—of course she was strong. “You stay there.”
The guy’s snakelike gaze fixed not on Mireva but on the woman on the floor behind her. “As I was saying, you’re right. Our friend isn’t much interested in you anymore.” He dug below another fingernail and Mireva grimaced inside; his nails were sharp and long—too long for a man—and so dirty they were discolored. For some reason she knew they were very, very strong. “See,” he continued, “I was supposed to get over here and take care of you before you met up with the old lady. You weren’t even supposed to get to the bathroom. Sadly, I’m late.” He made a tsk sound with his lips. “Gotta love the Saturday crowds.”
“So go away, then.” Mireva lifted her chin. She was dizzy, her breath coming in short, shallow inhalations that were just shy of hyperventilating. But she would not show fear to this piece of street garbage. “If you blew it, then there’s nothing—”
“Oh, but there is.” He smirked. “The man don’t take failure for an answer, you get my meaning? He said if I’m late, then I have to do a two-for-one once I find out who you’re talking to. So now I know. That means Grandma goes first, then you.” The guy straightened and flipped the knife around and up. The movement had a fluidity to it that spoke of way too much practice. “I don’t usually work that cheap, but this time it seems I gotta make an exception. Because, you know, witnesses have big, noisy mouths.”
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