Word and Breath (Wordless Chronicles)

by Susannah Noel

  Connor, however—careful and calculated as always—didn’t feel the same kind of urgency she did. And why should he? Jannie wasn’t his sister.

  But Riana couldn’t possibly wait two or three more days to get into the Archives. And then maybe two or three more days before they had a plan Connor was satisfied with.

  She couldn’t wait at all.

  Mikel had been surprising silent at the end of their meeting with Connor. So, when she looked up at him as they walked down the sidewalk together, she had no idea what he was thinking. His handsome face was impassive, and his eyes were thoughtful and focused.

  “I’m not going to wait a couple of days to break into the Archives,” Riana said baldly, having no idea what Mikel’s reaction would be. “Will you help me?”

  He didn’t even look surprised. Just gave her a quirky half-smile. “Of course. I already have part of a plan.”

  Thirteen

  Mikel’s plan was simpler than Riana had expected. It would only work for a Soul-Breather, and even then it was a significant risk.

  Riana didn’t care. She didn’t care about her physical safety nearly as much as she did her sister, and she didn’t even feel all that afraid because Mikel was with her. It was irrational perhaps, but he seemed so strong and competent that she somehow assumed he would get them through this successfully.

  Whatever they needed, he was able to come up with—from the security system layout of the Newtown Regional Archives to the outfit she wore. The sleek gray business suit with knee length skirt even fit her perfectly. She was posing as Mikel’s assistant, and she was supposed to look polished and professional. So she’d smoothed down her long hair into a shiny fall down her back and added the thin silver headband and small, trendy glasses he’d included in the ensemble he’d picked out.

  It was a cool day and looked like it might rain—the Indian summer finally shifting back into normal October weather. She had an umbrella in her briefcase, as well as the taser Mikel had given her. He’d wanted her to carry a real gun—like the one he had in his jacket pocket—but she’d had to tell him no. Having never even touched a gun before, she didn’t feel confident enough to use one effectively. So he’d given her the stun gun instead, insisting that she carry something for her own protection.

  As she walked a pace behind him as they entered the main doors of the Archives, she felt the predictable nervousness but also an inexplicable excitement.

  She felt like someone else—like a spy from the old movies that used to be made before the Union put a stop to potentially anti-establishment entertainment. She didn’t feel at all like her regular, boring self, which gave her confidence that they might actually be able to pull this off.

  Obviously, they hadn’t told anyone else about their plan. Connor would have done everything he could to stop them, and Riana probably would have started to have second thoughts.

  But now she was finally doing something to find her sister. With Mikel on her side, she might actually succeed.

  Mikel had wanted to do this by himself. He’d insisted it was too dangerous and he wasn’t going to risk her life. He wouldn’t have backed down had she not calmly pointed out one obvious fact.

  Mikel couldn’t read. Even if he was able to find and access the correct archived document, he wouldn’t be able to read what it said.

  So Riana had to come with him, if they were going to find the information about the Steeple project they needed.

  The Regional Archives were housed in a brand new building with a state-of-the-art security system and trendy architecture. The polished floors shone with light reflected from the wall of windows at the front entrance, and Riana’s heels clipped loudly as she walked. There was a decorative waterfall on one side of the lobby and an atrium of tropical plants on the other. In the center was the receptionist desk, and behind it the security station leading into the Archives themselves.

  Mikel, wearing a stylish black suit and carrying a long black coat, walked right up to the receptionist—young, attractive, and blonde—and gave her his most charming smile.

  Riana was familiar with that smile. She’d been the recipient of it herself.

  When the receptionist asked for identification and for their scheduled appointment, she was already slanting Mikel a flirtatious look. So Riana wasn’t surprised when—as soon as Mikel gently rested his fingers on her hand, opening a faint connection—her expression grew absolutely fatuous.

  With a sudden twist in her gut, Riana wondered if that was how she had looked when Mikel first approached her.

  Only Mikel could have made such a brazen plan work. At only a few quiet suggestions from him, the receptionist had added them to the appointment schedule—the one that guidelines required had to be cleared and verified at least two weeks in advance—and was printing out visitor passes for them to clip to their lapels.

  She’d even gotten one of the guards to come over to give Mikel instructions on how to navigate the halls of the Archives. The guard didn’t look remotely suspicious. He just glanced blandly at the visitor passes and scanned Mikel’s Union ID (conveniently lacking his Soul-Breather designation).

  So all that was left was for Mikel, on the pretense of admiring the watch of the guard in charge of scanning their belongings for weapons, to open enough of a connection with the man to distract him from registering the gun in his coat and the taser in Riana’s briefcase, both of which they’d placed on the belt of the electronic scanner.

  After that, Mikel and Riana simply walked through the metal detectors. Riana’s phone—in her pocket—triggered a beep, so she handed it to one of the guards willingly.

  “If it has a camera, we’ll have to hold it here,” the guard explained, giving her legs an appreciative once-over.

  “It’s doesn’t have one,” she assured him. “I know the rules.”

  As he was handing it back, the phone rang, making Riana jump. She flushed as Mikel gave her a significant look—a silent warning not to appear nervous—and she was happy for the distraction of glancing at the caller ID.

  It was Connor. The third time he’d called her this morning. She’d spoken to him briefly first thing, knowing he’d get suspicious if she didn’t. She hadn’t taken his second call, however, and she didn’t take this one either.

  She couldn’t help but feel a sharp pang of guilt.

  She knew Connor wouldn’t want her to be doing this. He’d think it was far too dangerous, far too rash. Everything he did was careful and calculated, and Riana respected that about him. She knew it had allowed him to be as successful a leader as he was.

  But she wasn’t going to be careful or calculated in this. Mikel wasn’t an idiot. He had resources and gifts no one else had, and his plan appeared to be working smoothly.

  They got through security without even a raised eyebrow, and the receptionist finally had to tear herself away from Mikel to go back to her station.

  “I get off for lunch at 12:30,” the woman murmured, gazing up at Mikel adoringly.

  “I’ll remember that,” he replied, with one last brush of his fingers against the woman’s hand.

  Riana knew it was necessary. She knew Mikel didn’t have a choice if they were going to get into the Archives.

  But the sight of it—the woman’s foolish, entranced expression and Mikel’s charming, teasing smile—made her sick.

  “Who was the call?” Mikel asked softly as they entered the main hall of the Archives.

  “Connor.” Riana looked straight ahead, trying to hide her expression from his observant eyes. But when he put his hand on the small of her back to guide her toward the hallway to their left, she couldn’t help but pull away from him with an awkward jerk.

  “Riana?” he asked, his voice still low in the nearly silent hall.

  “Sorry,” she mumbled, wanting to shake herself for giving away her thoughts the way she had. This was hardly the time to indulge in personal feelings, no matter how confused and conflicted they were.

  Mikel firmly
took her arm, making sure she kept pace with his fast stride. They were in a precarious situation here, and both of them knew they couldn’t waste any time. But, as they walked, he asked in a thick voice, “What’s wrong?”

  She shook her head. She’d just been relearning to like and trust him—letting herself wonder if they might have a future after they found Jannie—but now she felt betrayed all over again.

  “Riana?” he prompted as they turned into another hallway. His expression made it clear he wasn’t going to let it go.

  Unable to keep the hurt accusation out of her eyes, she asked, “What you did to that poor girl—the receptionist. Is that the same thing you did to me?”

  ***

  Mikel should have known to expect it.

  He’d thought he’d planned for every eventuality. He knew his plan was risky, so he’d spent most of the night trying to cover all the bases. He’d scavenged the necessary supplies, scouted out the layout and security measures of the Regional Archives, prepared a number of possible escape routes should the need arise, and prepped Riana as much as he could.

  He hadn’t expected this though, and he felt her withdrawing from him even before she spoke the words out loud.

  “No,” he said, wishing his voice didn’t sound quite so rough. “It’s not the same thing.”

  They hadn’t stopped walking, but she stared up at him as they made their way down the empty hall, her eyes wide and distrustful. “Isn’t it?”

  “With you, it was different. I can’t brainwash people, you know.” His voice sounded a little bitter, so he forced himself to control the automatic defensiveness. All his life, he’d been trying to explain who and what he was to people who automatically judged him. “I can just sense, intensify, or relieve what’s already there.”

  Riana’s forehead wrinkled, as if she were considering this. “Oh. So I was already as dopey for you as that woman was.”

  “No. I told you it was different. She was attracted to my appearance. Nothing more.”

  “And me?”

  This was a ridiculous discussion to be having in their current situation, but if he put a stop to it Riana might withdraw from him completely. “You were attracted to more than that,” he told her, glad his attention was distracted by pushing through a pair of double doors into a stairwell. “You saw me for real.”

  For a moment, he wondered how she’d respond to that. The knowledge that her immediate interest in him hadn’t been imposed artificially on her.

  He’d thought about it a lot over the last few days, and he’d realized why she was so different from everyone else he’d encountered. Even without a Breather’s gift, she’d instinctively known him—beyond the mask he put on for the world.

  She stopped in the hallway, her breath hitching.

  He stopped too, wondering how any human woman could be so incredibly beautiful. He was momentarily overwhelmed with the desire to touch her, taste her, know her again.

  As if she read his mind, she gently touched his hand with hers.

  He wasn’t expecting it, so the connection opened without his volition. He breathed in the spicy, untouched taste of her, feeling a rush of sensation and feeling at what she shared with him.

  She was telling him this without words. She was still hurt and confused, but she did see him for real. And she still wanted him.

  He yanked his hand away before he got carried away. His mind was flooded with her—her sweetness, her intelligence, her generosity, her courage, her affection, her trust in him—but he couldn’t let himself indulge in it right now.

  “Thank you,” he said hoarsely. He put his hand on the small of her back again and urged her to keep walking up the stairs.

  Riana had been as affected by the connection as he was. Her cheeks were deeply flushed, and her breathing had quickened. But her voice was teasing as she asked, “So what if it had been an ornery, middle-aged woman at the desk, one not predisposed to be attracted to you?”

  He gave her a half-smile and waited until they’d passed a couple of Union employees who’d come from the third floor and were clattering down the stairs. The two men glanced at their visitor passes and moved by them without a second look.

  “I’d done my research,” Mikel told her. “I knew who would be at the desk. And, if for some reason there was a substitute, I would have improvised.”

  “I bet you’re good at improvising.”

  A quick glance at her face showed she was smiling at him fondly.

  He couldn’t help but smile back.

  Before they left the stairwell, he told her to move her taser from the briefcase to the inside pocket of her jacket, which she did without argument. He put his coat back on so he’d have his own gun in easy access before they entered the floor.

  Then they just had one more hall, and the room was on the left.

  To his relief, no one was present. Noting the security camera above the entrance to the room, he carefully looked down as he walked in.

  Riana entered behind him, and she must have noticed his posture.

  “I hadn’t thought about that,” she whispered. “You might have blown your cover with the Union by doing this. They’ll have you on video—not to mention your ID.”

  Mikel gave a half-shrug. He’d known this from the beginning. One by one, he was burning his bridges, making it impossible for him to return to his old life.

  And, strangely enough, it didn’t even bother him that much. He wasn’t sure he wanted to go back to his life the way it had been before.

  Despite the emotional ups-and-downs of his feelings for Riana, he’d felt more interest and purpose in the last week than he’d had for years.

  “Too bad,” he murmured dryly, brushing off her anxious look.

  He sat down in front of a computer monitor, and they both focused on why they were here.

  He stared down at the keyboard and realized he would have been screwed if he’d come here alone. It wasn’t the normal computer touchpad—made up of symbols, numerical formulas, and standard images.

  It was an alphabetical keypad. He never would have been able to use it.

  Feeling like an ignorant fool, he slid the keyboard over to Riana. She didn’t even appear to notice—certainly didn’t look at him condescendingly or insultingly. She just started to type.

  He couldn’t follow her search very well. It was done mostly in silence and—although he carefully observed the keys she punched on the board—he couldn’t read the words they formed on the monitor. He assumed she was searching the word “Steeple,” however, and the number of hits her search brought up was very discouraging.

  They had no choice but to look through them all. The archives were cataloged on the computers—accessible only from this building—with a brief sample of the document included with each entry to make it easier to search. To read the document itself, you had to go find where the paper copy was filed.

  It was too dangerous, Union officials had decided several decades ago when the archives had been created, to keep all of the documents and records of the Union in computerized form, in case the network could be hacked.

  Mikel watched silently as Riana worked on the computer. She murmured to herself as she searched. Sometimes hopeful expressions, “Maybe this one...” or “Oh, this could be it.” And sometimes disappointment, “Just a random reference,” or “I have no idea what that one is about.”

  It took about a half-hour for her to find what she needed. A half-hour during which Mikel became more and more on his guard. The longer they stayed here, the more risk there was of being discovered.

  Things were going smoothly now, but any number of random incidents could blow their cover.

  Finally, Riana said, “Here it is. The Steeple Project. Classified program with the Newtown Office of Public Security.” She mumbled the call numbers to herself to remember them and jumped up to search for the document in the walls of files that filled the large room.

  Mikel followed her.

  She found the co
rrect file drawer easily and rifled through it until she pulled out a thick file.

  Mikel smothered a groan as he saw the size of it. It would take forever to read though that whole thing.

  But Riana didn’t look discouraged. She was already starting, her eyes alight with an appealing excitement. She glanced over the first pages and flipped them to the side, obviously recognizing they weren’t what she needed.

  “Here we go,” she said, keeping her voice low. “An overview of the project.” She started to read out loud, and Mikel listened carefully, intent on remembering all of the details.

  The Steeple Project was, as Connor had claimed, an attempt to use experimental technology to eavesdrop on the covert communications of the free islands and the uncivilized tribes across the ocean.