“Try not to be afraid,” he whispered as he opened the door for me. “Some of them find it … exciting.”
ICE, ICE, BABY
Wedderburn, Mawer & Graf had offices downtown, a glittering glass and steel monstrosity some twenty stories tall. The only hint as to who owned the building came in the form of a bronze plaque beside the front door with the names graven in copperplate lettering; the sign looked much older than the skyscraper, burnished with a patina created by time and the elements. Doubtless Kian wondered why I went out front to look around when we’d come up from the garage elevator, but I wanted to get a better sense of where I was.
Call it recon.
The reception area was banal to the point of seeming ironic—with beige upholstered chairs in the waiting area and abstract art in shades of brown. Even the receptionist seemed to have been hired to go along with the room, as she had ash-blond hair and brown eyes, skin that almost matched the walls. And she was wearing, you guessed it, an ensemble in various hues of brown and beige. She followed us with her gaze as we went past her to the elevator, but she didn’t speak.
“She’s unnerving,” I whispered to Kian.
“Iris has that effect on people. She … discourages walk-in problems.”
“I imagine. It’s weird the way she blends in with the décor.”
“She’d do that no matter what color scheme they chose.” The worst part was, I had no idea if he was kidding, and I didn’t want to ask.
The elevator seemed really, really cold, so I exhaled as a test, and my breath showed in a puff of white smoke. “It’s warmer outside.”
“Technically, we’re not in Massachusetts anymore.”
While I chewed on that, the car zoomed us to the tenth floor, then the doors dinged and opened. “This is my department.”
“Do you have a cubicle with a desk?” I made the joke because I was growing shakier with every step, and I had no idea why. It wasn’t just the cold, but something about this building just … was not right.
From the elevator, I glanced down an interminable white hallway. In fact, the length of that corridor seemed to exceed the diameter of the building, though I wasn’t sure how that was possible. Occasionally, I’d dream about an infinite hallway, interspersed with identical doors. Dream dictionaries said halls meant untapped portions of your psyche and closed doors symbolized missed opportunities. In symbolic combination, this place burgeoned with loss and untapped potential. We passed eight doors, all spaced equidistant, and from behind a couple of them, came the sound of muffled screaming.
“You said you were afraid this place would freak me out,” I said softly. “Good call.”
It felt like we walked for a good five minutes, but when I checked my phone to find out, it had frozen on the time when we entered the building, and no matter what buttons I pushed, it wouldn’t respond. I glanced up at Kian and he mouthed, Later. Okay, now I was genuinely losing my shit. Only a lifetime of training in the school of If You Cry, We Win kept my poker face intact. I clenched one hand into a fist at my sides, nails biting into my palm.
At last we came to a door at the end of the hallway. When I turned, I could no longer see the elevator from here. This one was distinguishable from the others only in that it had a nameplate on it, K. Wedderburn. I had no idea what madness or horror lay beyond, but Kian entered without knocking. If possible, it was even colder in the office, a big room wrapped with windows on two sides, and those were frosted over so I couldn’t see what lay beyond. Some tiny voice inside me whispered that was best.
Wedderburn was even more inhuman than his photo suggested. Oh, he had all the right parts in the correct places, but he radiated a cold that surpassed the chill in the room. His hair was more like hoarfrost and his eyes were pools of black ice. Even his skin looked like it might crack if you touched it. No wonder they need agents like Kian. They can’t travel too easily in the mortal world. I had no idea why I’d chosen that word, but it fit. This wasn’t a human creature, if it ever had been. He was doing something at an odd white metal desk, only it was no compound I’d ever seen before, as it held the opalescent gleam of mother of pearl. While the back framework looked like a computer, Wedderburn had his fingers in the screen, stretching and pulling at the surface so that shimmers of what looked like liquid mercury clung his fingertips.
On noticing our arrival, he flicked his hands, so that the computer-thing let him go and he rose with the sound of someone moving over fresh fallen snow. “Ah. Miss Kramer. You are a fascinating asset.”
“Thank you.” I had no idea if that was the right response, but when Wedderburn’s cheeks crackled in a smile, I guessed it was.
“I hope Kian has been taking good care of you?”
“He’s made it clear that I’m special.” Why, I had no idea, and I wasn’t sure Kian did, either. WM&G seemed to operate on a need-to-know basis.
There were no furnishings, nothing with which to entertain or make another person comfortable. So I stood in the icy air, wishing I dared reach for Kian’s hand. Even though he was supposed to be making me fall madly in love with him, I wasn’t sure how far along we were supposed to be, and I didn’t want extra attention from Wedderburn. Kian always used a particular tone when he mentioned his boss, and now I understood why. A whimper boiled up in my throat, but I choked it down.
“I see that you’re uneasy,” Wedderburn said. “I apologize. But certain necessities preclude a more welcoming environment.”
If it’s warmer, you melt into a puddle of goo? That wouldn’t surprise me at all.
“It’s all right. I’m more interested in hearing what you have to say than in taking tea.”
“Excellent. I appreciate efficiency. Just ask Kian.”
Despite myself, I glanced at Kian, who nodded. His expression was as flat as I’d ever seen it. Even his normally expressive eyes gave nothing away. This is the creature he works for, the one he’s trying to save me from. I wished I could be sure of it, and not fear he was secretly working in tandem to make me do exactly as they wanted.
God, I sound so nuts.
“He said you wanted to meet me,” I murmured.
“Indeed. Come around the desk, my girl.” The proprietary tone sent a shiver down my spine and I moved quickly to avoid one of his long, spidery fingers lighting on my shoulder.
What had looked slightly like a computer from the other side now looked like nothing I’d ever seen before. It seemed to be part creature, part machine, with a square head, for lack of a better word, and a metallic neck that led down to shoulders and arms that seemed to have been fused with the desk, which might also be alive, as far as I knew. The otherness of it was so appalling I had to look away.
“What is it?” I whispered.
“My interface to the Oracle. Through her, I can sort through various alternate futures, shadow threads, and encourage others.”
“Like the Moirae.”
“Ah, an educated girl. How charming.” But he reacted as if knowledge were a persimmon, unexpectedly tart on his tongue.