Fintan and Anselmo are placed in gelatinous—I’m not even freaking kidding—liquid. I watch Fintan go in up to his neck, his face mashed all to hell (I guess Father Emmanuel gave him a serious what for in St. Peter’s Square). The gel apparently cancels or suppresses metahuman motion to the point where our strength can’t be applied. I watch them both drift for a few minutes, their cuffs still on, and it’s interesting to watch. Anselmo goes in his own container, still not quite awake, which is just as well. I think he and I have said all we need to say to each other at this point.
The liquid runs along their jawline, and their toes barely touch the bottom of the container. I see Fintan try and squat down to see what it gets him. It gets him an eyeful of jelly, which, judging by his reaction, burns. He caterwauls for a while, yelling shit in Irish I don’t really understand. Just another language I don’t get the nuance of. Wait: is Irish a language?
“Prisoners secure,” Sienna says, sighing relief. “We’re ready for takeoff. You might want to say goodbye to your friends, unless they’re coming along.” She makes a kind of shooing gesture, another reflection of how excited she is to be in the company of people, and I take the hint to say my goodbyes.
“Diana,” I say, as she looks around the plane like a caged animal trying to figure out how to break free. There are some other modules besides the ones we brought for the idiots three, and I get the sense she’s going to be a lot happier once she’s out of here. “Thanks for all the help.”
She’s stiff, but she manages a nod. “It was … good to be back in the righteous cause again. It was a good fight.” She looks me up and down. “I will sleep well tonight, I think—and Giuseppe will rest in peace.” Then she grabs me by the front of my shirt and kisses me full on, with savagery. I think two things: number one, I hope Isabella doesn’t see this. Two: I don’t dare return it, I just play dead and hope she leaves eventually.
She does stop after a moment, and she pulls clear of me. “I’m not sure what that has to do with Giuseppe,” I say.
The green eyes flash. “Next time, maybe,” she says, and I feel like territory that someone just marked, like I’ve just been doused by the female version of Anselmo.
Bonus thought: Muscle control. Mine is totally dedicated to keeping from peeing myself at the idea of what that woman would do to me in a bedroom. Yikes.
I make my way back to where Father Emmanuel is lingering just next to the rear cargo door. I watch Diana go past him with barely a nod, and he catches my eye.
“Father,” I say, and shake his hand when it’s proffered. “Thank you.”
“Thank you,” he says.
I don’t need a detailed explanation of what he’s thanking me for; I’m kind of afraid to know, actually. “You’re welcome,” I say instead. “I’m just glad you decided to join us.”
“I am just glad that you reminded me that a good man and holy man are not necessarily the same thing,” he says. With a last nod, he heads down to the tarmac.
I glance back as I climb down the ramp. Sienna is milling around up near the front of the plane, staring at the crosshatched decking like it looks familiar or something. She’s got the prisoners safely under watch, so I don’t even feel bad for ducking outside for a minute. I’m even happier she can’t watch me at the moment.
I make my way over to Isabella, who’s waiting by the van, watching me coolly, her arms crossed in front of her, dark hair blowing lightly in the wind. Her sunglasses are impenetrable, and the fact that she’s wearing a skirt in this weather suggests she’s at least a little acclimated to Minneapolis at this point. And she looks very good in said skirt, I might add.
“Thanks for waiting,” I say as I lean against the van next to her. She doesn’t look over at me, still playing it cool.
“I’m going to stay with family over here for a few days,” she says, matter-of-factly. “Would you tell Ariadne I’ll be back to work next week?”
“I can do that,” I say, wondering if she’s just going to give me a message and say not a thing more. She hasn’t really spoken to me since our conversation on the train, after all. “Have you … thought about what I said at all?”
She looks sidelong at me, the glasses maybe defraying 20% of what looks like aggravation. “Have you thought about thanking me for coming over here and helping you with your very obvious problems?”
“I’ve thought about it,” I say slyly, “but I’m afraid it’ll lose something in the translation.” Using my meta speed, I quickly kiss her before she can get her argument out.
It sort of works. She frowns at me. “Did you kiss someone else?”
“No,” I say a little darkly, “but Diana tried to cram her tongue down my throat. Unsuccessfully, I might add.”
She still frowns. “And then you try and kiss me?”
That gives me pause. “More successfully, I might hope?” Lots of uncertainty.
She narrows her eyes. “You are young.” She shakes her head. “This was my concern when we started. I am … over fifteen years older than you.” I sense she’s maybe being a little cagey on the actual number; she’d have seen my file and know the specifics in my case.
“Well,” I say, “I did just have a woman a little older than you—by several thousand years—try and kiss me with a little more enthusiasm than you exhibited just now, so I would take the lesson of experience there if I were you.”
She glares at me, and the glasses, they do nothing to hide it. “You are so very terrible at this. So very terrible.”
“I’m … young,” I say, and it sounds like a flimsy excuse to me. “I’m … lacking experience.”
She looks at me skeptically. “Not that I could tell. Or are you a gifted amateur?”
“Not there,” I say hurriedly, “I mean … in relationships. I’ve been moving around most of my life, since my dad died. Lived with mom for a while, with grandparents, with found family, sort of … but I didn’t …” I sort of wave my hands like I can’t get it out. “I’m not … experienced like that.”
“You are young,” she says with a nod, and leans back against the van with me. “And blown on the wind, eh? In this way … maybe we are alike.” She looks slightly uncomfortable. “And in relationships, perhaps I am a bit young in experience as well.”
I look over at her. “Really?”
She wavers a bit. “Perhaps it is not obvious, but I have an occasionally off-putting personality.” I can see her looking at me through the glasses, waiting to see my response.
I don’t give her a hint. “Huh. You and I always seem to get along well enough.” That much is true.
She seems to be thinking about it for a minute. “It is possible we could try.” She looks over at me. “When I get back. Perhaps we could … get to know each other. Slowly.”
“I like the sound of that,” I say, giving her a smile.
“Do you?” she asks. “Are you ready for a grown-up relationship?” I sense she’s testing me, poking at me a little, like the thought of being immature would be enough to sting me. But over the last few days, I’ve been called “boy” more times than I can count by a pig who thought it was the epitome of insults. Well, other than calling someone a woman.
I just smile at her, my little insecurity all gone. “I’m willing to change,” I say, and I mean it.
84.
“So that was Janus’s sister?” Sienna asks, letting out a low whistle. She looks exhausted, the bags under her eyes full enough to keep her clothed for a week’s vacation. “Why does she look so good when he looks so damned old?”
“I thought older guys looked sexy?” I ask. We’re in seats in the front of the cargo plane, rattling along. It’s the single roughest damned flight that I’ve ever been on, and the bathroom is—seriously—a curtained off area at the rear of the plane. It smells worse than the can in Giuseppe’s shop. I’m determined to hold it in for the entire trip.
“Ewww,” she says, shaking her head. “Janus is just old, not silver-foxy. He’s like a dad-type.�
�� She hesitates. “Uh … not that I think he looks like Dad.” I can tell by the look on her face she’s uncomfortable; she never even saw our father, after all; she only has old photos to go by. She leans a little closer, and drops her voice so low that it becomes a conspiratorial whisper. “So … you slept with her?”
I blink. “Uhm …”
She nudges me with her shoulder. “Come on. I know you did.”
“Who?” I ask, blinking. “Diana?”
“So,” Sienna says, smiling, “how did it feel, sleeping with one of the wonders of the ancient world?”
I’m pretty flabbergasted, and a little relieved she thinks I slept with Diana, because I doubt Isabella would be happy to hear me discussing what happened between the two of us with her worst enemy. I know my reaction is giving something away, but I’m not sure what. “I, uh …”
The overhead speakers fill the cargo hold with a sudden burst of static. “Say again, Florence tower?” I realize a second later it’s our captain speaking, but he’s not exactly making an in-flight status update. It’s a radio transmission in real-time, and the other party clicks on a second later.
“U.S. military flight, please follow your current heading out to the Mediterranean Sea,” the voice says, thickly accented. “From there, you must remain over international waters for your entire flight.”
“Negative, Florence tower,” our pilot says, and I realize he’s broadcasting this down here for our benefit. “We’re to head—”
“You are not to cross European Union sovereign airspace,” the voice says sharply. “You are not welcome here with your current passengers.”
“You talking about our prisoners, Florence Tower?” the pilot asks. “Because they are secure—”
“Negative, U.S. military flight,” comes the reply, a little slower this time, almost like they’re savoring it. “Brussels has issued new regulations—after the incident today in Rome, metahumans will no longer be allowed in the European Union. Do not deviate from your present course. We have fighter escort at—” The speaker clicks off, presumably because our pilot has made his point. It’s an elegant one, that’s for sure. I wonder if he’d heard the chatter in advance before the tower radioed him.
“Aw, hell,” Sienna says, looking over at me, “you broke the whole EU.”
A week ago, this sort of thing might have really bothered me. Okay, it still does, at least a little. But maybe not as much as it would have before this. I just sigh, throw up my hands, and shake my head. “Just as well,” I say, going the path of sarcasm, “I was never gonna be able to top this trip anyway.” And I turn and look across the cargo bay at the prisoners, and that little sense of insecurity is pretty much all gone. Because the EU or Italy can blame me—and every other meta—as much as they want; these three guys would have made a hell of a lot bigger mess if I hadn’t been there to stop them.
“Is that all you’ve got to say for yourself?” Sienna asks, and I can tell by the snark that she’s just playing at this point. She’s not blaming me at all. “For shame, you dirty meta with your clearly evil intent.”
“Yes,” I say, “shame on me, for sticking my nose where it clearly doesn’t belong.” Anselmo is now awake and kicking in the goo. He’s having zero luck, too, and it’s almost fun to watch. It’s like a souped-up version of Father Emmanuel’s water prison for him.
“Good thing we’re heading home,” Sienna says, and the snark is just flowing, “where everyone loves us and no one ever thinks bad things about us or our kind.” She lets that sit for a moment, the loud, ambient noise of the cargo hold rumbling around us. When she speaks again, her voice is a lot smaller. “Do you think … it’ll ever change?” And it’s the voice of a child, of insecurity, of someone who wants to be told it’ll all get better.
It’s the voice of my little sister.
The only family I’ve got.
“It’ll get better,” I say, the voice of confidence. “Absolutely.” And we settle back for the rest of the flight in peace.
Sienna Nealon Will Return in
RUTHLESS
Out of the Box, Book 3
Coming March 31, 2015!
Pre-order now!
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Note from the Author
Okay, so that was Reed's story. It did not come out quite like I thought it would, to be honest. I realized something about him pretty quickly: Reed is a really good second banana, but he didn't have the confidence yet to lead like Sienna developed throughout the Girl in the Box series. But he hides it really well. Next book, we're back to Sienna, though we'll see a little more from Reed in Book #5 (Tormented), where he and his sister will split the narrative duties (for a very good reason, I swear). However, that story won't be in present tense. In fact, I can pretty well promise you I won't be writing in present tense ever again. This was purely for experimental purposes. Also, while Limitless and In the Wind were able to somewhat stand on their own (I might have put a couple little seeds in them for future harvest), Out of the Box #3 will begin a new storyline that will last about four books and culminate in…well, death and destruction, of course. This is one of my books, after all.
I've set a release date for book three. I make no promises about doing this for future installments. If you want to know when future books become available, take sixty seconds and sign up for my NEW RELEASE EMAIL ALERTS by CLICKING HERE. Don't let the caps lock scare you; I don't sell your information and I only send out emails when I have a new book out. The reason you should sign up for this is because I don't like to set release dates (it's this whole thing, you can find an answer on my website in the FAQ section), and even if you're following me on Facebook or Twitter, it's easy to miss my book announcements because…well, because social media is an imprecise thing.
Come join the Girl in the Box discussion on my website: http://www.robertjcrane.com !
Cheers,
Robert J. Crane
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
My thanks to these fine folks, without whom this book would not be possible:
Sarah Barbour, Jeff Bryan and Jo Evans – Editorial clean-up crew.
Nicolette Solomita – First reader.
Brian and Jean Elms and Kombe Ngari – For their excellent assistance on developing the character of Father Emmanuel.
Karri Klawiter – Cover by.
Polgarus Studios – Formatting.
The fans – For reading.
My parents, my kids, my wife – For all their help.
About the Author
Robert J. Crane is kind of an a-hole. Still, if you want to contact him:
Website: http://www.robertJcrane.com
Facebook: robertJcrane (Author)
Twitter: @robertJcrane
Email: [email protected]
Other Works by Robert J. Crane
The Sanctuary Series
Epic Fantasy
Defender: The Sanctuary Series, Volume One
Avenger: The Sanctuary Series, Volume Two
Champion: The Sanctuary Series, Volume Three
Crusader: The Sanctuary Series, Volume Four
Sanctuary Tales, Volume One - A Short Story Collection
Thy Father's Shadow: The Sanctuary Series, Volume 4.5
Master: The Sanctuary Series, Volume Five
Fated in Darkness: The Sanctuary Series, Volume 5.5* (Coming in 2015!)
Warlord: The Sanctuary Series, Volume Six* (Coming in late 2015!)
The Girl in the Box
and
Out of the Box
Contemporary Urban Fantasy
Alone: The Girl in the Box, Book 1
Untouched: The Girl in the Box, Book 2
Soulless: The Girl in the Box, Book 3
Family: The G
irl in the Box, Book 4
Omega: The Girl in the Box, Book 5
Broken: The Girl in the Box, Book 6
Enemies: The Girl in the Box, Book 7
Legacy: The Girl in the Box, Book 8
Destiny: The Girl in the Box, Book 9
Power: The Girl in the Box, Book 10
Limitless: Out of the Box, Book 1
In the Wind: Out of the Box, Book 2
Ruthless: Out of the Box, Book 3* (Coming March 31, 2015!)
Grounded: Out of the Box, Book 4* (Coming June 2015!)
Tormented: Out of the Box, Book 5* (Coming September 2015!)
Vengeful: Out of the Box, Book 6* (Coming December 2015!)
Southern Watch
Contemporary Urban Fantasy
Called: Southern Watch, Book 1
Depths: Southern Watch, Book 2
Corrupted: Southern Watch, Book 3
Unearthed: Southern Watch, Book 4* (Coming Early 2015!)
*Forthcoming and subject to change
Table of Contents
Prologue
In the Wind (Out of the Box Book 2) Page 22