by Meg Ripley
“Government work,” Vance mused. “Sounds risky.”
“I know it. But if Winston’s right and this little terrorist cult is made up of shifters, then we’ve got a lot more to worry about than just someone blowing up a federal building. We’re talking about recruitment, exposure, all sorts of disasters that we may not be able to handle if we don’t get it under control right now.” That had been bothering him ever since Winston had mentioned it. How many shifters were being preyed upon by this man? How many of them were willing to follow him because they were desperate for that pack mentality that was a natural inclination for their animal sides?
Max bit his lip. “And it’s here in the States?”
Jack nodded. “Right now, the mission’s base is in Kentucky. Winston wouldn’t give me the actual location of where we’ll be headed afterward until I come on board.”
Vance glanced at the pilot and back at Jack. “We’ve got a few things on the list for the week, but it’s nothing the two of us can’t handle. And Ash did say he might be coming down for a bit, so we know we’ll have some backup in the area. I say you do what you feel is right, and we’ll find a way to make it work.”
The tiger nodded his agreement.
“All right,” Jack replied. A heavy feeling had settled in his stomach, but the weight of the decision had been taken off his shoulders. “I guess that’s it, then.”
2
“Ladies and gentlemen, as we prepare to land, please turn off all electronic devices, stow your items, and buckle your seat belts. The weather in Washington, D.C. is bright and sunny today, and we expect a nice, smooth landing. Thank you.”
Erica Brewer closed her book with a sigh and tucked it into the pocket of the seat in front of her. She reached for her seatbelt, only to realize she hadn’t bothered unhitching it during the flight in the first place. She’d been too absorbed in her reading to bother, and she flew often enough that peering out the airplane window no longer enthralled her as much as it had before she’d started working for the Department of Homeland Security.
The man next to her rubbed his thighs and bobbed back and forth in his seat. A sheen of sweat stood out on his forehead. “So, where you from?” he asked with a shaking voice.
His fear inundated her brain. Instantly, Erica could feel the sensation of adrenaline in her veins and tightness in her chest. Her own body wasn’t actually reacting that way, but her empathic mind was a powerful tool. She sucked in a deep, meditative breath, a defensive tactic she’d learned a long time ago. “I’ve moved around a lot. I’m not really from anywhere.”
“Oh, yeah?” The man ran a hand through his hair and left it standing on end. “I’m from Chicago, originally. The nice thing about that town is there’s so much there, you never really have to leave. No need to fly anywhere. Want to go to a museum? Got plenty of ‘em. In the mood for a football game? Got a nice big stadium. Of course, you have to be a Bears fan to enjoy that part.” He let out a forceful laugh.
“Right.” She gave him a smile. The poor guy was clearly terrified of flying. Why did she always get seated next to people like that? She understood that everyone had their fears, but it made her wonder if the universe had put her in the position of comforting strangers. “So, what puts you in the air today?”
“I’m supposed to get a promotion, but that means I have to come out here for training. I wanted to just drive, but there wasn’t enough time. I know they say it’s a lot safer to fly, with traffic accidents, carjackings, and whatnot.” He sucked in a gasping breath. His own attempts to convince himself weren’t working well. “I used to think flying was neat. But not after September 11th. I just can’t help but look around at everyone else on the plane and wonder why they’re here and what they’re up to.”
“An incident like that isn’t very likely,” Erica said in her most soothing voice. “That was really unusual. Besides, the government has put a lot of measures in place to keep us all safe. They know what to look for now.” She was heavily involved in that part of the government herself, although her work all happened on the ground.
“Sure, they say that.” He tugged at the collar of his shirt violently, as if it’d been choking him. “But then I saw this show that said the TSA is all just a front. They don’t really keep us safe; they just make us think we’re safe while they’re taking away our liberties and our shoes.”
Erica pressed her lips together. She’d heard every argument in the book, but she still believed the Department of Homeland Security was doing everything in its power to keep the U.S. citizens as safe as possible. Nothing was perfect, but she’d certainly worked her own ass off and had taken down quite a few threats. “You know, maybe the best thing is to just distract yourself. I like to bring along a book when I fly and just lose myself in it.” She gestured toward the volume she’d just tucked away.
The poor man glanced at the title and then back at her, and now the sweat was dripping down his temples. “Iran?” he asked shakily. “You’re reading about Iran? Aren’t they one of our sworn enemies? Don’t they threaten this country all the time? I read something the other day about how they have a whole army of computer hackers, and they could take us down with one vicious cyberattack.”
He was getting hysterical, beyond the normal fear of takeoff and landing that she usually witnessed. Erica glanced out the window at the swiftly approaching ground. The last thing she needed was for this guy to completely freak out next to her. She was already tired from the mission she’d just finished, and she was getting ready to dive straight into another one with almost no recovery time. No one realized just how hard it was on her to deal with a situation like this. She wasn’t like most folks, who could just sit back and ignore it.
Instead, she moved her hand ever so slightly so that it rested on the back of his forearm. With the crowded confines of the airplane, it wasn’t all that unusual to touch your neighbor accidentally, so the intentional move wasn’t such a stretch. She sent peaceful, happy energy down her arm, through her hand, and into the man’s body. In Erica’s mind, it was a beautiful blue light with threads of white and gold running through it. This light was something she’d come to use as a tool over the years, and she knew it was a very effective one. “What did you say your name was?”
He hadn’t said, but he was too scared to remember that. “Scott.” The plane jumped with turbulence, and his body tensed under her hand.
“Scott, that’s right. My name is Erica.” She fought back the negative energy that tried so hard to work its way into her own body. Though her eyes were open and she could clearly see the interior of the plane around her, she could see his own flashing thoughts overlaid on the image. He was wondering if she was one of them, a terrorist, and he could almost envision her whipping out a tiny knife and taking over the entire aircraft with it. It was beyond probability and even possibility, since there was likely an air marshal on board. But her book about Iran had got him worrying about that on top of his concerns about crashing. Over and over again, he’d imagined the plane crashing into the asphalt, the fuselage ripping to pieces around them, his body being found mixed in with the wreckage. His anxiety was exhausting.
“Everything is going to be all right,” she said, forcing his worries aside and pushing her own positive vibes toward him. This didn’t always work, depending on how accepting the other person was. Erica didn’t even like manipulating people’s thoughts this way if she could help it. The process wore her out, and it felt morally wrong. Still, this man needed her. “I can promise you that we’re going to touch down on the runway with little more than the bump of the wheels, and the next thing you know, you’ll be walking into the airport to buy overpriced souvenirs.”
“You think so?” The tension was slowly leaching out of his muscles, but she didn’t quite have him yet.
“I know so.” Did she really know that? This was something she’d questioned herself many times over. There had been no visions of anything untoward happening. The only images of fire and chao
s in her mind had come from the man next to her. Erica sometimes took comfort in knowing she hadn’t had any foresight of disaster, but she also knew this was no actual guarantee. For all the power of her mind, she couldn’t see everything. Still, it was better to convince this man that everything would be all right.
“Yeah.” He nodded, smiling a little at his own foolishness. “You’re right. I mean, people fly all the time. They wouldn’t keep doing it if it wasn’t at least somewhat safe. And hey, the ride is almost over.”
Her blue light and the affirmative energy in it had won. She patted Scott’s arm right as the plane banked, swooped down toward the runway, and lifted her stomach slightly. She kept her hand in place just in case he needed her again. “That’s right. Isn’t it funny how our imaginations can run away with us?”
The plane landed with the bump she’d predicted, and the pilot’s braking sent them scooting slightly forward in their seats, but they soon taxied to the terminal. The only chaos came from the passengers as they bumped and pushed around each other to retrieve their items from the overhead bins and make their way down the narrow aisles.
“I know you’ll be putting an official writeup on my desk by tomorrow morning, but initial reports make it sound like everything went well.” Randall Holt leaned against her office doorway, a mug of coffee in his hand.
Her eyes hurt from missing sleep, and traveling back to D.C. had made her muscles sore. Yet there she was at her office, first thing in the morning as required. “Of course. I had it all handled without a problem.”
“Mmm.” Mr. Holt looked down into his mug. “I hope you give a few more details than you did in the last report. I have the distinct impression you’re skimming over some important information.”
She consciously kept herself guarded as she looked at him. Erica couldn’t afford to give anything away, especially not to someone like Mr. Holt. He was her boss, but only because he’d been promoted after Mr. Mitchell had retired. Mitchell had hired her readily and liked her work, and he’d never questioned her as long as she got the results the department wanted. Randall Holt was only looking out for himself, and he didn’t trust anyone who wasn’t completely in his control. “Why would you say that?”
Randall sneered. “Don’t play innocent with me. You think just because you’re a woman, you can get away with that kind of shit around here. It’s the same in the field for you, too. Mitchell might’ve bought your ‘feminine intuition’ crap that always saved the day, but I don’t. I want cold, hard facts.”
Erica straightened in her desk chair. She’d dealt with her share of sexist jerks in this field, and it was clear to her that things weren’t going to get better anytime soon. “Cold, hard facts are fine when it comes to who went where and when. But if you want to know why someone acts the way they do, you can’t always rely on such things. People are just wild animals inside, really.”
Holt’s eyes narrowed. He was a short man, and he could never find suits that fit him quite right, nor did he bother to have the pants hemmed. It always made Erica think of a little boy who’d put on his father’s Sunday best while he pretended to be an adult. “That’s more bullshit. Cold, hard, frigid facts are all I need, and that’s what you’re going to have to give me if you want to keep working in this field.”
She could report him for being sexist. Erica had thought about it many times before. She knew, however, that even if Randall got fired, there would just be another misogynist waiting to take his place. And, just like Mr. Holt wanted in his report, there were no cold, hard facts to really prove he’d said what he did. “Right, sir. Of course.”
Thinking he’d won, Randall pushed himself off the doorframe. Erica thought he would turn and go, but he stepped forward and leaned down. He put his hand on the corner of her desk, his fingertips whitening with the pressure. “Women don’t belong in this field, and you and I both know it. They don’t want you for any of the overseas operations because it’s too dangerous. Heaven help the department if one of you wants to go off and have a baby because then you think you deserve all this time off. If I had my way, we’d have a complete remodel of this place.”
She met his eyes, putting all her anger and ferocity behind her glare. “I think a complete remodel is exactly what we need,” she said evenly.
It wasn’t what he expected, and he straightened. “I take it that means you’re looking for a different job? Maybe a nice secretarial position somewhere?”
“No. It means we’d get a lot more done if all the dicks got out of the way. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do.” Pointedly, she turned to her computer and began typing.
Holt sputtered and fumed for a moment before he disappeared.
“You didn’t?” Andrea almost choked on her turkey sandwich a few hours later in the breakroom. “Good God, I would’ve loved to have seen his face.”
Erica had worried a little after her confrontation with Mr. Holt. He was her boss, after all. “I did. I’ve been holding it back for too long with him. He thinks that just because I’m good at my job, there must be something wrong; like if things go smoothly, I must be cheating somehow.” In a way, she was. Her psychic abilities certainly gave her an advantage that no one else had. If she was using them to keep people safe, though, it seemed an easy enough thing to justify.
“So, tell me when the grand inquisition is and if I’ll be called to trial to testify,” Andrea teased.
“I’m guessing there won’t be one,” Erica replied with a shrug. “Believe me, for about an hour after that, I flinched every time someone walked past my door, convinced someone from HR was on their way to get me. But I didn’t hear anything. I figure no news is good news.”
“He’d be an idiot to get wrapped up with you in a war like that, considering everything he’s said to you,” Andrea pointed out. “If you wrote down every incident, you’d have a whole novel to hand over.”
“Maybe, but you and I both know this place is a man’s world. They think we’re delicate little flowers who’ve tried shoving our way boobs-first into the field just because we don’t want to be housewives. It’s awful.” She stabbed her fork into her baked potato, but it wasn’t very satisfying.
“You’re telling me. I’ve made the mistake of referring to myself as Andy so many times that everyone else calls me that, too. Then someone calls my office expecting a man, and they get so baffled when I insist that, yes, I’m Andy.” She laughed and shook her head of tight black curls. “Ridiculous.”
Erica glanced around at the cafeteria, realizing just how familiar of a scene this was. “You know, when I was high school, I spent a lot of time daydreaming about how great everything would be once I was all grown up and I didn’t have to deal with the politics of a small town anymore. It’s a shame to find out that isn’t true.”
Andrea cracked open a Coke. “What do you mean?”
“I mean adult life is just the same as it was back in high school, except we fool ourselves into thinking we’re more mature. Holt thinking I’m not capable isn’t any different than a football team or robotics league that doesn’t want a girl to join their ranks. And look around this room.” She gestured widely at the various tables. “It’s mostly the exact same groups as there were back then.”
Her friend was looking around now, too, understanding what she meant. “There are the preps in their Prada suits, the popular girls wearing all the latest fashions, and even the nerds from IT. Granted, they’re not nearly as nerdy as they used to be when I was in school. We’ve come a long way now that there are better prescription glasses on the market.” Andrea waggled her fingers at one of the tech guys.
“See? Like I said.”
“Okay, we’ve got everyone else categorized, but where does that leave us? What table are we sitting at?” Andrea challenged.
Erica tipped her head to one side. “Well, if all things really are equal, then we’re the weirdos, the freaks, the misfits.”
“I have a hard time imagining that was you.” Andrea da
bbed her mouth with a napkin. “You’ll have to bring in an old photo of you in black lipstick to prove it.”
“No, not a goth,” Erica replied with a sardonic smile. In fact, it would’ve been nice if a difference in style was what had separated her from the other kids her age. She’d tried hard to fit in. That’s a difficult enough task for anyone that age who’s still trying to figure out who they are, but it’s even harder for a girl who’s realizing all those strange feelings she has and the odd things going through her head aren’t just hormones, but psychic powers. Even now, she still couldn’t share her true story there at work. Andrea was a great person, but a secret like that was too much to ask anyone else to keep.
“We moved around a lot when I was a kid,” she explained. “We ended up in a lot of small towns because my mom wasn’t big on city life. She thought she was doing me a favor because of the kinds of troubles you hear about with metropolitan areas, but she never really understood what it was like for me. I mean, I went to schools where all the other students had practically known each other since they were born. I was an instant outsider, and I’d lived in other places and seen different things. There was no possible way for me to fit in, no matter what I did.”
“The guys must have liked you, at least,” Andrea pointed out.
Erica shrugged. “A few here and there, but there’s something about me that just turns guys away. My dad used to say it’s because I’m smart, and they don’t like anyone they can’t control.” She had to laugh at little at that one. “I guess he isn’t entirely wrong in that. Even as an adult, guys only like me until I open my mouth and they realize I have a brain.”
Andrea gave her a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry, sweetie. That’s rough, and even more so because it’s true. Around this place, I’m not sure I’d want to date anyway.”
Erica waved off her concerns. “Don’t mind me. I wasn’t trying to make anyone feel sorry for me. I just think the comparison between then and now is interesting. I have a feeling Holt probably didn’t fit in any better than I did, and that’s why he’s always giving me such hell.” She glanced around the room once again, thinking about that last remark from Andrea. There were plenty of men working in intelligence, but her coworker was right. There wasn’t a single one of them she knew that she’d want to go out with.
