“You owe me a favor.”
“Do I?”
“Yes. That little affair involving two foreign Primes and a mysterious briefcase.”
“Still not ringing any bells.”
“The one that was rigged to explode if they didn’t open it in unison.”
“Oh, that briefcase. I’d nearly forgotten the whole thing.”
“Agent Wahl, it was two months ago. I dropped everything and came to your building on a Sunday. You owe the Office of the Warden a favor.”
“I’m not going to like this, am I?”
“It wouldn’t be a favor if you did.”
He sighed. “Lay it on me.”
I gave him the address of the warehouse. Our crew would be long gone by now.
“What’s there?”
“Something I need you to take point on. Consider this an anonymous tip.”
He gave a short chuckle and hung up.
I opened a browser and searched for Konstantin Berezin. A row of images popped up, followed by numerous links. Konstantin in a sharp dark-blue uniform with bloodred trim. Imperial Air Force. Konstantin next to his father, an older hard-faced man, both in suits and overcoats, posing for a publicity shot in the middle of a snow-strewn street, with the golden cupolas of some Russian cathedral behind them. Konstantin with his brothers, all in different military uniforms at some formal function.
One brother wore the black of the Imperial Navy and a magnanimous patient smile. The other brother, dark-haired like their father, looked like he wanted to punch somebody. Anybody. He didn’t seem to care who. His deep green Army uniform fit him like a second skin. Mom would call him squared away. Konstantin stood between them with a dreamy smile, as if he had just taken a long happy nap in a hammock under some tree.
Wolves in human skin, Alessandro called them. Now one of them was here. Why?
A soft beep announced an incoming message from the Wardens. Here we go. Help was on the way. I switched to the Warden Interface and clicked the message.
Understood, Acting Warden Baylor. Permission to investigate Speaker Cabera’s murder granted.
Godspeed.
Shit.
I stared at the screen.
Godspeed.
A soft knock made me raise my head. Mom stood in the doorway.
A spike of anxiety hammered into me. “Linus . . . ?”
“The same. You called the meeting in ten minutes, and the conference room is locked.”
Oh. I realized I was halfway out of my chair and sat down.
Mom shut the door and sat on the couch. Her leg bothered her today. I could tell by the way she moved, slightly stiff, careful how much weight she rested on it. For most of her life, Mom was athletic, strong, and fast. During a conflict in the Balkans, her unit had been caught between two enemy groups. The few survivors ended up in a POW camp in a small town taken over by Bosnians. Mom tried to escape and lead a group of soldiers out. She was caught.
They broke her leg and put her in a hole. It was a sewer shaft that led to a short maintenance tunnel, flooded with rainwater and sewage. The only dry spot was by the wall, about three feet wide. She slept sitting up. They would open the sewer cover once a day and throw down a bag of food, and if she was lucky and quick, she caught it before it fell into the foul water.
She didn’t know how long she stayed in the hole. When the camp was liberated, the military tried to fix her leg, but the damage was permanent. They gave her a handful of medals and an honorable discharge. She’d only told us about it once, to explain why her leg was damaged, and never spoke about it again.
In Mom’s head, she was never fast enough. She was always compensating. If a meeting was set for noon, she would get there by 11:45 a.m.
“What’s up with you?” Mom asked.
“I asked for backup,” I said.
“And?”
“It’s not coming.”
“Did you expect it would?”
“Yes, I kind of did. I asked them for advice, and they made me the Acting Warden and wished me Godspeed.”
“You got a promotion with extra responsibilities but without pay or additional benefits.” Mom smiled. “I’m so proud of you. You’re officially a successful adult.”
“I can now order around the highest level of state law enforcement. I suppose that’s a benefit.”
A very dubious one. Law enforcement didn’t like interference.
“In life, backup is rare. Knowing that is part of being a grown-up. Do you know what I would tell you if you were one of my soldiers?”
“What?”
“Handle your shit.”
I stared at her.
“You’ve been with Linus over eighteen months. You’ve been professionally trained. You have experience, skills, and power, and you know the procedure. Treat whatever it is like any other case.”
“Linus . . .”
“Linus will live or die on his own. There is nothing you can do to help him, so put him out of your mind. Concentrate on what you can do.”
I looked at my desk. She wasn’t wrong.
“What happens if Linus dies?” Mom asked.
“I become the Warden.”
“Which you would eventually anyway. He isn’t going to live forever, Catalina. None of us will. That’s why there is no backup. They want to know if you’re ready to do the job.”
“I’m not sure I’m ready.”
“In battle, when your officer dies, you don’t have the luxury of asking yourself if you’re ready. You assume command because you’re next in line and lives will be lost if you don’t. I have faith in you. So does Alessandro, and the rest of the family, and Linus. He picked you for the job. So, sweetheart, do whatever it is you need to do to get yourself right. If you need to cry, cry. If you need to go to the range, you know where the ammo is.”
I got up and walked over to her. “Can I have a hug?”
Mom opened her arms, and we hugged. She kissed my hair.
I almost cried. She used to hug me like this every time my magic leaked, and someone lost themselves to obsessing over me. She would hold me and tell me that it would be okay, that with practice I would get better. Mom always believed in me without any doubt.
“You and your sisters, you three are so different, and somehow you’re all the same.”
“How are we the same?”
“All of you can do anything you want if only you manage to get out of your own way. You especially. You need to get out of your own head, Catalina. You overthink everything. Put yourself on rails and go forward.”
“Okay,” I promised.
The door swung open, and Arabella stuck her head in. “Why is the conference room locked?” She saw me and Mom. “Are you getting Mom time? What happened? Something bad happened.”
“Close the door,” Mom told her.
Arabella retreated and shut the door.
“Are you ready or do you need a minute?”
“I’m good.”
Mom nodded. “I know. Let’s go do this.”
The entire family had gathered in the hallway, filling it wall to wall.
Leon, tall, lean, dark haired, with a dark tan and a white smile, leaned against the wall, because if there was a vertical surface present, my youngest cousin felt compelled to prop it up. Next to him Bern, his brother, larger, with broad shoulders, a muscular build, and hair that turned dark blond during summer and light brown in the winter, wrapped his arm around Runa. Her hair was blazing red, her eyes were green, and her skin was so pale that we all teased her about glowing in the dark. Bern carried a laptop and Runa held a tablet.
To the right, by the conference room, Arabella crossed her arms. Petite, tan, with an hourglass figure, my sister wore a black-and-white floral Jacquard dress with a crew neckline, fitted waist, and flared skirt. She paired that with black pumps. Her blond hair, which she recently toned to a cool ash shade, rested on her head in an artfully loose updo, which she called “the most popular girl in church hair.” She must’ve had a high-profile business meeting this morning.