"Aaaw."
13
Jack hung around until after Vicky went to bed. They gave her half an hour before creeping upstairs to check on her. They found her curled into a ball under her covers, her long-lashed eyes closed, her hair, released from its braids, fanned out like a dark cloud on her pillow. The picture of innocence.
Gia gently slipped her hand under the pillow and extracted the tooth from its resting place. Then she pulled a five-dollar bill from her pocket.
"You're not giving her ten?" Jack whispered.
Gia smiled. "Five's plenty. She knows there's no Tooth Fairy but she's a little operator who likes to see how far she can push the game. Don't worry. She expects five, so she won't be disappointed."
Jack felt his throat tighten as he watched her slip the bill under the pillow. Everything pointed to dark days ahead. He had to find a way to protect these two—make that three—from whatever was coming. But how?
He felt leaden and inadequate as they tiptoed out of the room. Maybe he should look into the MV. Maybe they'd have a way.
"Meet you downstairs," Gia said. "I have to make a quick trip."
"To 'sprinkle'?"
She smiled. "Yes, but don't worry—I don't have diabetes."
"So I've been told."
As Gia stepped into the bathroom, Jack fished a five out of his pocket and tiptoed back into the bedroom where he added it to the stash under Vicky's pillow. As he turned and started back out, he heard a little voice behind him.
"Thanks, Jack."
14
After he got home, Jack sat by his front window and watched the sidewalk across the street. He stayed up till after midnight, but the watcher never showed.
SUNDAY
1
Cal Davis watched Miller yawn.
"Tired?"
Miller gave him one of his patented flat stares. "What do you think?"
They sat at a card table, playing gin. Cal had just won the latest round, but they'd been fairly even through the night. The long night. He glanced at his watch: 7:30. Only half an hour left to the shift. He probably looked as tired as Miller.
"I think I'm glad. I hope you're exhausted."
Miller's stare morphed into a glare. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Just what I said. Because you're the reason we've had to go to twelve-hour shifts."
"Bullshit."
No—truth. And Miller knew it. Sending Zeklos down to the minors had screwed up the customary eight-hour rotation. They'd already been too short-handed to do that right, and the loss of Zeklos had tipped the apple cart.
The Oculus killings and attendant yeniceri losses had thinned the ranks—and not just by death. Some of the less devoted members of the corps had turned tail and run. For a while those who remained had hunted them down and terminated them, but now they didn't have enough manpower for that.
"We could have kept Zeklos for guard duty and just not sent him out on ops."
Miller snorted. "He'd have found a way to mess that up too."
Cal shook his head. "You're really something, man."
"And as for the shift change," Miller said, jabbing a finger at him, "the twelve-hour deal works out better. Sure we're stuck with longer shifts, but now we've got more flexibility. We might even be able to start taking vacations again."
Cal heaved a mental sigh. Vacation… when was the last? Long, long time. That had been in Aruba. He'd found an array of unattached women down there. A true paradise.
Maybe Miller was right. Maybe the twelve-hour rotation would work out.
The door chimed. Miller rose and checked the video monitor.
"Well, well, well. Look who's here."
"Zeklos?"
"No. The Oculus's new best friend."
"The Heir?"
Cal suppressed a grin as he jumped up and joined Miller at the monitor. Yep. Here he was, waiting on the step.
His talk with Jack yesterday must have worked. Cal had come away thinking he'd failed—miserably. Talking to the guy had been like having a heart-to-heart with a wall. Hadn't shown the slightest trace of interest. Either he had an A-class poker face, or something had changed his mind.
"You can call him that," Miller said. "I think he's a phony. What's he doing back here?"
"The 0 invited him, remember? And so did I."
Miller wheeled on him. "You?"
"Yeah. Tracked him down yesterday and pitched him on throwing in with us. My silver tongue must have worked its magic."
"You mean your shit tongue. I thought we were done with this jerk."
"Buzz him in."
Miller shook his head. "Let him cool his heels."
Cal reached past him and pressed the door release.
"Now."
2
Jack was about to hit the CALL button again when the lock buzzed open.
He gripped the knob with a gloved hand, but hesitated to turn it.
Big decision, this. Joining up with these guys, with any guys… it didn't feel right. He'd thought on it all night and had arrived at the conclusion that
Gia had a point: The Otherness was too big to lace alone. So where was the downside of giving it a try? If he didn't like it, or they didn't like him—Miller, he was sure, had already made up his mind about that—he'd walk away. At least he'd have given it a shot.
He rubbed his chest with his free hand. The burning and itching had returned, but not as severe as yesterday. Maybe the scars were getting used to the place.
He turned the knob and heard a bell as he pushed through. Took his eyes a few seconds to adjust from morning sunshine brightness to the dimmer light within. When they did he found himself facing Davis and Miller and two more yenigeri he hadn't seen before. Davis and Miller had empty hands, but the other pair had their pistols out as they moved his way from the partitioned rear of the space.
Davis gave them an all-clear wave. "It's okay, guys." Then he turned to Jack with a smile. "Welcome back."
Miller scowled. "What are you doing here?"
Jack looked at him. "And a gracious good morning to you too, Mister Miller."
"You didn't answer my question."
"Back to have another tete-a-tete with your fearless leader. You okay with that?"
Miller said nothing but his scowl deepened.
Davis turned to one of the yenigeri. "Tell the 0 that the Heir is here."
As the guy headed for the stairs, Jack heard a chime. Davis stepped back and looked at what Jack assumed to be a monitor, then jabbed a button.
The lock buzzed, the bell rang as the door opened, and in stepped Zeklos.
Miller threw his hands in the air. "The rat-faced boy joins the bunco Heir. Now my day's complete."
Zeklos's eyes darted back and forth, hunting for a friendly face, or at least one not overtly hostile. Jack felt sorry for the little guy.
"Zeklos," Davis said, his expression neutral. "What's up?"
"I am going to Idaho camp."
"Fuck!" Miller shouted. "You hear what he just said?" He pointed at Zeklos. "That's why you're outta here!"
Zeklos took a step back. "What? What did I say?"
"You just mentioned the location of a training camp!"
"But he is Heir."
Jack said, "And 'Idaho' isn't exactly a pinpoint location."
Miller's pointer swiveled toward Jack. "You stay out of this! This is a yenigeri matter!"
"A bully is a bully, yenigeri or not."
Miller took a step forward. "You mind your own lucking—"
"Easy," Davis said, grabbing a tree-trunk arm. "Can't we all just get along?"
While Miller gave Davis a long, hard glare, Jack glanced at Zeklos and found the little guy staring at him with an odd look in his eyes. Jack could almost read his mind: First this guy returns my gun, then the Oculus calls him the Heir, and now he sticks up for me.