by Molly White
That sounded bad, even in his head.
How had things between them gone so wrong so quickly? They’d had such a sweet moment together in his living room, but the next day, she’d turn so cold.
He tried to tell himself that it didn’t matter, that she was just a coworker in this mad project that would be over within just a few months, and then he would never see her again. But somehow, the idea that she was angry and avoiding him weighed on his chest like an anchor.
He leaned against the car they were assigned from the League fleet. The metal felt warm as bathwater through his clothes, but it was still more palatable than the temperatures when they’d first arrived. It wasn’t cold exactly, just less humid and less abominably hot. It was bizarre the difference a couple of weeks could make.
Very little had changed about his limbo-like situation beyond the weather and some executive-type moving into the trailer at the end of the row. Bael told Brendan that the man’s name was Alex Lancaster, and he was the cause of most of Jillian’s recent heartburn, so he’d taken what was an instant and probably undeserved dislike to the man. Lancaster seemed to have a bit of city spit-and-polish to him, all bespoke clothes and grammar too perfect to be natural. It all came across as someone that was trying too hard to cover up rough roots.
Brendan noted that Lancaster had visited Cordelia’s door a few times, though she’d never invited him inside and had only spoken to him briefly. Still, she seemed familiar with Lancaster, relaxed with him in a way that she certainly wasn’t with Brendan. And Brendan tried not to let it eat at him, much like he tried not to watch for Cordelia through the window like a bloody stalker.
He was the living embodiment of that creepy Police song, which was the wrong damned Police song to emulate.
“Morning.” He heard a soft mumble from behind him as Cordelia let herself into the passenger side.
He took a deep breath. This did not bode well for their workday. He slid behind the wheel of the car, catching a whiff of her perfume as he did, all berries and biscuits. It made his still heart ache. “You want to drive?”
“I thought you’d want more practice, driving on the wrong side of the road,” she said, pulling a book out of her bag. The drive out to the site was silent and awkward, no matter how many conversations he tried to start. She didn’t seem to be angry anymore, just resigned and distant. The site trailer was just as they left it, with the canoe-sized lead shield propped up against the swamp-ward side.
The rift was still there, of course, vibrating in fractal colors over the water, though Brendan felt none of the famous pressure the local magique mentioned. It was more than a little unnerving, knowing that there was a sniper team watching them through scopes as they approached their workspace, but he was grateful for them. Bael, Zed, and Will had given him more than enough background about incidents at the site to make him worry for Cordelia’s safety out here.
“You’re sure about this?” Brendan asked as she pressed her thumb to the trailer’s biometric pad. “I don’t think I can watch you pass out again.”
She offered him that quick upward movement of her lips, barely qualifying as a smile. “I just need to stay grounded. Keep focus. I’ll be fine.”
“I would feel better if you looked like you believe that,” Brendan replied.
The corner of her mouth lifted into a more definite shape, this time reflecting a little bit more humor. The door buzzed and she pushed it open.
“Look, I don’t know where I went wrong, but I’m sorry, for what I did that hurt your feelings,” he said, following her into the trailer.
Again, everything was just as they’d left it, as if the space had been left untouched while they were out of commission. The casket rested in its clear box on the light table, emanating a raw power even Brendan could sense throbbing through its Plexiglas cage.
She met his glance for the first time in weeks and he could see the hurt in those deep blue depths. “You pushed me, when I made it clear I didn’t like being pushed.”
He blinked at her. He thought he’d managed not to push her beyond that rather lovely kiss, despite wanting to, very badly. But rather than justifying it even in his own head, all he felt was sadness, like he’d broken something fragile and precious…which he supposed he had. “I’m sorry. I was overeager. It’s been a long time since I’ve spent time with someone I liked so much. I won’t push again, I promise.”
The little line formed between her brows, the line he’d come to recognize as her “thinking line.” She nodded. “All right.”
“Can we please start fresh? It’s been awful, not being able to talk to you. Bael and Dr. Carmody and that enormous bear-mayor tried to fill the gap with American beer and camaraderie. But it’s just been…have I mentioned the word ‘awful?’”
She snorted. “Yes, I would like that. I didn’t like not talking to you, either. And I’m sorry you had friendship and domestic beer forced upon you.”
“Eh, the company wasn’t so bad,” he admitted. “The beer, however…” He gave an exaggerated shudder, making her laugh.
“I’ve missed your laugh,” he told her. “I missed you.”
She gave him an awkward little smile, her cheeks flushing a lovely pink. His hands itched to reach out and touch her, to curl his fingers through that thick dark hair. But he kept them in his pockets. She’d made it clear that she didn’t want him touching her, and he would respect that.
“We should get to work, yes?” she suggested. “We’ve let it go long enough, I think.”
“You needed the time to rest up,” he assured her. He pushed the big red “record” button on the wall as she shot him a confused, possibly even irritated look that she shook off quickly. The vitals monitor on the wall lit up with bright green numbers, which she took to be a good sign. She glanced up at the overhead cameras as a beeping noise sounded from the ceiling.
“Morning, everybody, it’s Jillian,” a cheerful voice said from the speaker. “I don’t want to make you feel weird by telling you I’m watching the camera feed, but I also didn’t want to be a creeper and watch you without letting you know. My desire not to be a creeper won out.”
“I’m here, too, by the way,” Sonja added. “In the interest of transparency. And so is Mr. Lancaster.”
“Just monitoring your progress,” Lancaster said. “Nothing to worry about.”
Cordelia’s shoulders went tense and Brendan shot a curious look up at the camera. Was there trouble between Cordelia and Mr. Spit-and-Polish? He wasn’t about to make things awkward for her by asking what was wrong, but he was small enough to take a tiny bit of enjoyment from the tension.
Cordelia tied her dark hair back with an elastic. “I think what would help this time would be for me to speak aloud what I see when I read the box, because, well, last time I went unconscious for several hours and details can be lost when you’re in a mini-coma.”
Brendan frowned at her.
“Too soon?” she asked, making him nod. “I thought it was funny.”
“It’s a little too soon,” Sonja agreed over the speaker.
“What’s she talking about?” Lancaster demanded.
“Read page twelve of the report,” Jillian told him, making a shushing noise. Brendan made a mental note to ask Bael her favorite pie flavor and buy his boss an entire pie of her very own.
“The running commentary is sort of distracting,” Cordelia noted lightly.
“Sorry,” came the chorused reply.
Brendan used his thumbprint to unlock the case and lifted the casket out, setting it on the light table. He didn’t like how eagerly she drifted toward the table, smiling dreamily at the casket. He had a bizarre urge to pull the casket away from her, lock it back in the storage box and fireman carry her out of the trailer. But he knew, without being psychic, that she would not appreciate that and would probably pepper spray him the moment her feet touched the earth.
Rightfully so. This was her job. It was important to her and frankly, she needed t
o do it, to maintain the life she wanted. He couldn’t just abduct her because that job made him uncomfortable. Also, he could only imagine Jillian provided her friends-slash-subordinates high quality pepper spray.
“Do you want us to open it?” Brendan asked.
“I did mention the whole ‘don’t summon Cthulhu’ thing, right?” Jillian replied.
“That’s fine. I don’t think I can lift the lid anyway,” he said.
Cordelia stepped forward and cupped her hands over the casket. A shudder of dread went down his spine as he saw something ripple across the slick surface. It could have been his imagination, he supposed, a trick of these false, too-bright lights. He bit his lip, watching her intently as she closed her eyes. He could see the moment the connection was made. She gritted her teeth and squared her shoulders as if a weight was shoving at them from above.
“Are you all right?” asked Brendan.
“Stop at any time, Cordelia,” Jillian chimed in. “Don’t push too hard.”
“What are you talking about?” Lancaster asked. “This is a top-priority project. She needs to push.”
“Read. Page. Twelve,” Jillian said with icy politeness.
“I’m fine. It’s just happy to see me…which is weird.” Cordelia’s voice was smokier, strained as she murmured, “It’s that same want, like it’s pulling me into its consciousness instead of just showing me a memory. It’s weird. I’ve never done anything like this before.”
“Is there a difference in the sensation?” Jillian asked. “How it feels as the information enters your brain?”
“Maybe we should let her concentrate now and science later,” Sonja suggested gently.
“Actually, no, conversation with me—as opposed to running commentary—is helping me stay rooted in the moment instead of getting sucked in,” Cordelia said. “It is different, like there’s a pair of cold, clammy hands on either side of my head. Oof, it didn’t like the cold and clammy bit. It’s mildly offended.”
Jillian murmured. “So it is sentient. Dani thought it was the rift, but it’s the casket. Sonja.”
“Yeah, I’m making notes for Dani. She’s going to have to make adjustments to her book,” Sonja muttered.
“But still, it’s progress, if it’s sentient and capable of communicating, maybe we can negotiate with it,” Jillian said.
“No, not it...she. She doesn’t like being called ‘it,’” said Cordelia. “She is definitively female.”
“Duly noted,” Jillian said. “Um, I’m sorry, Lady Casket Entity. I will be more mindful in the future. Does that help, Cordelia?”
“No response to that.” Cordelia shook her head. “She doesn’t seem to appreciate questions. She’s switched to showing a memory now—back to my normal reading feelings. There are hands on the surface of the casket. She doesn’t seem to have any bad intentions towards these people. She doesn’t want to hurt anyone. She loved those hands and she…she could love me, too. She’s back to making offers. She could love everybody here in this strange place, if they’d just come closer. She wants me to touch her, to trace the edges on her surface with my fingertips, to pick her up and take her to where people gather. She wants to be worshipped.”
Brendan caught her hands before she closed her hands around the obsidian edges. She sagged against him as the connection seemed to break.
“I don’t think that’s a good plan,” he told her. She nodded, taking a deep breath.
“Why is he touching her?” Brendan heard Alex asking over the speaker. “She doesn’t like to be touched.”
Jillian and Sonja both shushed him, which Brendan found oddly endearing.
“You all right?” Brendan asked, pressing her to his chest. She nodded, her sweet-smelling hair brushing against his throat. He resisted the urge to tuck his chin over the top of her head, but it was a near thing.
“Why did you stop her?” Lancaster asked. “Why did he stop her from touching the casket? That’s what she does.”
“Because touching the casket could be very dangerous for her. Did you read the material we provided at all?” Jillian demanded.
“Why is he still touching her?” Lancaster demanded.
“What business is it of his?” Brendan asked Cordelia.
“Um, we have a history,” Cordelia said, straightening. “Alex and I grew up together in the same carnival.”
Brendan tensed. “What?”
“Oh, dear,” Jillian muttered over the speaker.
“He was my childhood sweetheart. Now really isn’t the time to talk about it,” Cordelia whispered.
Whereas he was rather neutral about the man before, Brendan now hated the bastard’s handsome face with the fire of a thousand suns.
“And he just turned up, magically, as a high-ranking League employee? You don’t think that’s a little bit odd?” Brendan asked.
“Yes, I did, and again, not the time,” Cordelia whispered.
“Why would he even care?” Lancaster asked. “She’s just a coworker to him—oh.”
“Yeah,” Brendan repeated. “Oh.”
“If they’re a couple, they shouldn’t be working on a high-profile project in a remote location together,” Lancaster insisted, his tone suddenly very official. “It’s against League policy."
“We’re not a couple,” Cordelia insisted. “And that’s none of your business—wait, no, it would be your business because of your job. But, it’s a moot point because we’re not a couple. Anyway, thank you for jumping to a conclusion that under normal circumstances would be none of your business.”
“I’m so confused,” Brendan said.
“I think I am, too,” Jillian noted. “Cordelia, do you think you’re done for the day or do you think you can go on?”
Cordelia nodded. “Um, I think I might—”
On the other end of the intercom, they heard a door opening, both women making startled noises. Brendan half-expected to hear guns being cocked. Honestly, it sounded like they were being taken hostage. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, wondering if he should call Bael and to tell him to run to Jillian’s office right that minute.
“Mr. Messina?” Lancaster sounded even more distressed than Jillian. “We weren’t expecting you, sir.”
Cordelia turned to Brendan, all wide, frightened eyes and pale cheeks. He shook his head and nodded subtly to the cameras.
Messina’s voice was a rich baritone with an Italian accent so faint it felt like a habit, rather than a speech pattern. “Lancaster, report. Please.”
The “please” definitely sounded like an afterthought, making Brendan think perhaps Messina had added it for the ladies’ benefit. That petty little monster in the corner of Brendan’s head enjoyed the way Lancaster seemed to flounder for a full minute before finally saying, “This is a live feed from the rift site trailer. Ms. Canton and Mr. O’Connor have just completed a successful reading of the artifact and have reported new information.”
“Did she find out what the artifact wants? How to stop the expansion of the rift?” Messina demanded.
“No, she’s not quite there yet,” Jillian said.
“Then she needs to read that thing again,” Messina commanded. “Now.”
“It’s a delicate process, Mr. Messina,” Jillian protested. “Ms. Canton has already landed herself in the on-site clinic once during a reading.”
There was an awkward pause on the other end of the feed, and Brendan could practically feel the unspoken and?
“She’s no use to us if she’s burnt out and hospitalized,” Lancaster murmured softly. Cordelia shot an irritated look towards the cameras.
She cupped her hands over the casket, brow furrowed in irritation.
“Don’t push yourself,” Brendan said quietly. “And definitely don’t touch it. Leave that to me.”
Cordelia grumbled. “Great. We’ve waffled back to nice guy position.”
Brendan glanced down at her, confused. Was this some American idiom he didn’t know? Maybe the fellas were right and
he should spend more time watching stateside TV.
As if to spite him, she let her fingertips hover just a breath away from the glassy black surface of the casket. Instead of stiffening, she let out a little cackle. Honestly, it was almost refreshing after their previous encounters with the casket.
“What does it want?” Messina demanded.
“She doesn’t answer questions. At least, not yet. And she doesn’t like you, Mr. Messina,” Cordelia said, trying and failing to control the apprehension twisting her facial expression.
Brendan kept his head down, face away from the camera. He didn’t know much about Darwin Messina, but he was sure smirking at him would be a very poor life decision.
“And she has decided that she’s done with this conversation,” Cordelia said, shooting a prim little smile at the ceiling. It was more advisable than a smirk, but not by much. “She won’t be back until you are nowhere near.”
“Very well. Please report back to the main office within thirty minutes,” Messina commanded.
Sonja piped in, “Sir, the drive takes almost thirty minutes.”
“Then they should leave now,” Messina said.
The trailer went silent as the audio connection broke.
Cordelia turned to Brendan. “Darwin Messina is in Mystic Bayou. Why is Darwin Messina in Mystic Bayou?”
“We need to go now,” Brendan told her.
She nodded and grabbed for her purse, scurrying out of the trailer as Brendan restored the casket to the storage box.
“This doesn’t make any sense,” Cordelia said as Brendan climbed into the car. “The whole point of Alex being here in the bayou is to keep Messina in DC or wherever the priority projects are. Why would he show up here now?”
“Sounds like he thought that Jillian and Lancaster weren’t pushing us hard enough, what with their concern with our health and safety.”
“What does that mean for us?” Cordelia wondered, staring out the window. “If the DC office is really that worried, why don’t they just send another touch-know down here to work when I’m out of commission?”
