They continued to meander, through small towns and back roads, until they reached a suburb with winding streets and charming residential neighborhoods. The car stopped in front of a brick-and-butter-yellow house with a moving van in its driveway.
“Welcome to your new home base,” Ben said.
Oliver leaned forward, the better to examine the two-story residence. It looked like something off a postcard, with mock shutters on the upper windows and an ornamental tree in the front yard.
This quiet observation ended when Ben hit a button to pop the trunk. “Go right up the walkway and inside like you own the place.”
Oliver’s fingers hesitated on the door handle, evidence of how reluctant he was to leave behind the last thread of his former life—even if that thread was the devious man beside him. “You’re still going to keep tabs on me?”
Ben tipped his head. “I’ll be in touch. If Tallmadge has need of a null-projector, we may call on you. It’s entirely your choice whether to accept any assignments, though.”
“And what about General Stone?”
“We’re betting that he puts his focus on Sparta going forward, given that they’re the ones he thinks stole you and Cedric both. But he has enough on his plate with rebuilding Prometheus. He won’t be scouring the countryside on the off-chance that you’re still here instead of abroad.”
Oliver swallowed his misgivings with a nod. They bubbled right back up. “What if these people hate me?” he asked, barely more than a whisper.
“What if you hate them?” Ben replied. Oliver met his gaze with a blank stare. The man shifted in his seat, leaning in as he spoke. “Listen: if things get too uncomfortable, if for any reason at all you want out, just say the word and I’ll find you a new placement.”
The knot in Oliver’s chest loosened. Even so, he lingered.
A wry grin curved up Ben’s face. “You wanna come with me instead?”
With a disgusted huff Oliver shoved the car door open. He retrieved his duffel from the trunk and slammed it, but paused again outside the passenger side door. Stooping low, he met his temporary handler’s gaze. His pulse jittered, and a treacherous wetness prickled at the corners of his eyes, but he couldn’t leave without expressing gratitude, simple though it was.
“Thanks, Birchard,” he said.
A smile tugged at the Tallmadge agent’s mouth. He handed Oliver the manila envelope he’d forgotten on the seat. “My pleasure. Go and live your best life, kid.”
Oliver tucked his new profile under his arm and shut the door. With trembling hands he approached the butter-yellow house. The electric car idled behind him, but he refused to look back. Instead, he willed his nerves to calm as he climbed the porch steps. When he grasped the door handle, he ventured one final glance toward the street.
Ben saluted him from the driver’s seat and drove away. Oliver swallowed and pushed down the latch.
Cool air enveloped him as he stepped into an entryway stacked with boxes. Couches and more boxes occupied the front room, and from further in the house—the kitchen, he supposed—a clink of dishes sounded.
Carefully he set down his duffel and the file. “Hello?” he called, glad that his voice didn’t shake as much as the rest of him.
The clinking abruptly stopped, followed by footsteps dashing across a wood floor. A woman rounded the corner and paused with her hand on the wall, her expression both wary and hopeful.
Oliver’s heart spasmed, his stomach in his knees. Disbelief robbed him of anything more than a whisper. “Emily?”
Her hair was shorter, with side-swept bangs now, but everything else was unmistakably Emily Brent, right down to the flowy blouse and the tears that shimmered in her eyes.
Before he could move, she crossed the intervening space and wrapped him in a tight embrace. “What took you so long?”
He blinked hard, staring at the bisque-colored wall behind her as he wrestled his writhing emotions under control. This was a dream. It had to be.
She thrust him backward, the better to examine him. “Look at you. You’ve gotten so big!”
Oliver, completely off-guard, couldn’t retreat into the callous attitude he had used with her in bygone days. Wary of a bait-and-switch, he asked, “You’re Melody Harrison?”
A smile broke on her face, and the shimmering tears fell. She wiped them away with the back of her wrist. “I’m still getting used to that. It helps that people can call me Em.”
A sneaking suspicion pierced him. “So who’s Daniel?” he started to ask, but the door behind him cracked open. He instinctively stepped out of the way, only for Ben to poke his head inside with a giant, cheesy grin.
“Honey, I’m home.”
Surprise turned to wrath in an instant. “You—!” Oliver cried.
The man, laughing, crossed the threshold and shut the door, leaning back against it. “Don’t look at me like that. It was so much more fun this way.”
Oliver cast an accusing finger in the direction of the street. “You drove away!”
“I turned the car around and parked it in the drive.” He reached for Emily’s hand as she watched this interchange in guarded silence.
That hand-holding clicked the chaos in Oliver’s brain into order. “You’re married?”
“It’s part of our cover,” she said, acting innocent despite the pink that tinged her cheeks.
“I told you I had a wife and two kids,” said Ben.
Oliver bucked his head, looking around at the piles of boxes as he processed this information. “So where’s the other one, then?”
Ben nodded toward Emily. “She’s still working on it. Give us a few more months and we’ll introduce you.”
It was too much. Oliver staggered past the pair into the front room, where he promptly dropped onto the longer couch. He buried his head against his palms. Through the gaps between his knuckles he watched Emily and Ben approach. They were still holding hands, their fingers interlaced.
“It’s only until you feel confident enough to be on your own,” Emily said, her voice small. “You have your own room here, and your own bathroom, and as much privacy as you want.”
Oliver lifted his gaze, but it was Ben who received his baleful glare. “You said your name was Calvin Morris right now.”
“It is when I’m out with Tallmadge. It’s Daniel Harrison when I’m here. And it’s Dad whenever we’re out in public together,” he finished with a farcical grin.
Emily thrust an elbow into his ribcage, cutting short his mirth. “I still call him Ben, and he still calls me Emily, and you’re free to call us whatever you want.”
A breathy laugh escaped Oliver. This was ludicrous and wonderful and embarrassing all wrapped together. These two, for no benefit of their own, had meticulously carved him a place in an upside-down world. He hardly knew how to respond. So he took refuge in brusqueness.
“Idiots,” he said, with all the affection he couldn’t express in words.
About the Author
Kate Stradling is a redheaded specimen of Homo sapiens commonly found in the Sonoran Desert of Arizona. Her habitat is a specialized type of nest constructed of wood and concrete and embellished with an odd array of found items. Although vespertine in nature, she has been observed in the daylight hours, usually in company of one or more fellow H. sapiens who have coaxed her out of hiding.
Find out more about this reticent creature at katestradling.com.
Also by Kate Stradling
The Annals of Altair series
A Boy Called Hawk
A Rumor of Real Irish Tea
The Ruses series
Kingdom of Ruses
Tournament of Ruses
Goldmayne: A Fairy Tale
The Legendary Inge
Namesake
Brine and Bone
Soot and Slipper
Oliver Invictus (Annals of Altair Book 3) Page 25
