Chapter Twenty #2
Though the crow respected the dictate with an instant nod, acknowledging the compliment she’d folded into her tone, a terse sigh puffed out Kaw’s lungs before he readjusted his clutch on the branch.
Ah. Well. The situation . . . is not what we expected.
Despite her fast frown, Irowen’s reply was tentative.
“Which was what, exactly? Kaw?” But when the bird just kept scooting from one end of the branch to the next, her urgency escalated.
“Did you find Genny or not? Don’t get prissy on me, Captain.
I’ve been around the junkyard a few times.
If they’re holding her in a shithole, then down the hole we’ll go. Just give me a general direction, and—”
He jabbed the air with another throaty sound. This time, the gruff rattle couldn’t be taken as anything like a laugh.
I wouldn’t exactly tell you to head down, kids.
“Which means what, for shit’s sake?”
Irowen, now far too frustrated to notice the attention her outburst garnered, worsened the situation by starting to scramble up the tree and the “innocent bird” everyone else perceived in it.
“Oh no you don’t, little ’Zilla.” Apollo pulled her back down with a restraining arm, at the same time fighting to throw a nothing-to-see-here smile at three gawking girls in Seoul National University sweatshirts.
But then he snarled up into the tree, “She’s got a point.
Some clarity, Kleos? Time isn’t on our side.
Ito isn’t exactly going to be a relenting pussycat about losing the string, especially once he sees Irowen on the airport security cams with the guy who snatched it from Natasha. ”
Kaw trilled with a sardonic sound. You mean snatched it back as the string’s original owner?
“You think the dickwad’s fact-checking?” Irowen snapped, and Apollo gripped her tighter in new admonishment.
“Just tell us what you’ve discovered,” he commanded his captain.
“I assume that’s why you’ve returned at this point.
There’s new intel?” As soon as Kaw cocked his head in a semblance of a nod, he pressed, “So what’s going on?
Which way do we go? Out toward the river? Up to Jiyugoaka? Inland to Kamata?”
But sometimes, new intel didn’t mean the encouraging stuff. When Kaw prologued the IntRep with this damn long of a pause, adding a corvid version of an odd flinch, the fact was glaringly—troublingly—clear.
“Kaw?” He edged the prompt with his new trepidation. “What have you discovered?”
Well, anax, that’s a very interesting question.
“Shit.” Joining Irowen for the rough injection didn’t come near the top fifty list of tandem enjoyment he wanted to have with her.
“Okay, spill it.” Nor did issuing that mutual mandate, since his confidence about the answer dwindled more by the minute.
Kaw was his tactical team’s version of Nick Fury.
When the crow got this twitchy, it was time to brace.
All right. We know two things for certain, the crow finally telepathed to both of them. One: Eugenia Steed and her handler are nowhere to be found in ōta. Two: the car we reported them getting into, right around here . . . has disappeared.
If crows could openly wince, Kaw’s vibe was a pretty twisted version of the look. Instead, the bird’s fluffing feathers and jerking head were enough to spark Irowen’s new backlash.
“Wait. Excuse me? Disappeared? How?”
Kaw danced on his branch. Good question.
“And you have a good answer, right? What happened, Kaw? Did they poof like Wonder Woman’s fucking plane? Or disappeared like they drove out of here and the assumption about their destination was someplace in this ward, but that was proved wrong?”
He smoothed a hand on the air, hoping it dialed down the overall tension by a few notches. Still, he couldn’t control what Irowen obviously already concluded.
“So now what? Are they just back in the wind between here and . . . wherever?”
Uhhh, yep, that one. Kaw tucked his head down. The wind would definitely be the present winner in this case.
He also expected Irowen had a reaction for that, though it took a much different form than he predicted.
A mortal female, no matter how badass, being informed her little sister had been so close yet again was so far, was to be allowed a moment of exasperation, desperation, rage, or all three.
But she unleashed none of that after turning to directly face off with Kaw.
“All right. Is there anything useful you can tell me about where they’ve taken her?”
Though her frustration lent her tone some sharp edges, she never resorted to turning the blade over and going samurai about it. While the crow released a rush of obviously relieved air, it only made Apollo more conflicted.
What was he supposed to think of her now?
She was a woman. All right, that part was blazingly, gloriously obvious. But she’d just jettisoned her emotions with the surgical rigor of a man. He could only guess about the origins of that skill but sensed they lay in more than just hanging out with spec ops guys for a living.
Well, shit.
His fascination jacked to full consternation.
The mental cut-off some mortals possessed .
. . despite what they told themselves, it wasn’t good for them, damn it.
It built up garbage in their minds and hearts, until one day it snuck up on them and killed them.
And unlike the little men in their favorite video games, they didn’t have the ability to simply respawn.
He’d watched it happen to too many mortal friends now, good people who could’ve done their realm some extra good by a few years, if only they’d learned that stress and anxiety were best faced instead of suppressed.
So, what was he supposed to think of her?
That officially became an irrelevant question.
The more accurate issue hit him like a Herc-style bitch slap.
After they found Genny and he returned them to LA, how was he going to let her go?
How was he going to simply step away, knowing what stupid things she did when shit got stressful? What stupid things she’d make him do because of it? The way he’d drag her to therapy—or better yet, his bed—just to pry the stopper from her mental bottle?
Fuck.
His bed.
Or hers.
He wouldn’t be picky about it. Even now he wasn’t.
Kaw spoke up again, not a moment too soon.