Part 20 (2/2)

”Does the situation have to do with Prime Deven?”

Faith's eyebrows lifted. ”You're more observant than I thought.”

Cora wasn't sure whether to consider that a compliment or an insult. She said nothing and merely went on stroking Isis.

”Have you given any thought to what you want to do next?” Faith asked.

”Yes,” Cora said. ”I have no idea.”

The Second smiled. ”There's no hurry, of course. I was just curious. I know after everything you've been through, the peace and quiet here must be heavenly, but I also know that eventually you're going to get bored.”

Cora gave her a sad smile in return. ”I have no education, no money, no family, and I barely even know how to turn on a computer. I do not think I will have many options.”

Faith shrugged. ”I'm sure if you want to go to school the Pair will be happy to help you. I can arrange a tutor for you if you'd like to speed up your English lessons or start learning other subjects. We can get you an American ID. Really, you just have to decide what you want.”

Cora withdrew her hand from Isis and leaned back on the fence as Faith had, looking up at the black dome of the sky. ”I have never been free to want anything,” she said. ”I'm not sure I know how.”

Faith reached over and patted her on the shoulder. ”You'll figure it out. There's time.”

As Faith touched her, for the second time Cora felt the strange s.h.i.+vering she had with Prime Deven, and for a heartbeat's length she saw Faith in her mind's eye, standing at a window somewhere in the Haven, wiping impatiently at her eyes with one hand. Cora's eyes followed Faith's to the scene she was gazing at, but before she could see what had stirred the Second so, her vision cleared, and she heard Faith's voice: ”I almost forgot to give you this.”

Cora looked down at the bracelet Faith was fastening around her wrist, recognizing it as one of the devices the Elite all wore to talk to each other.

”This will let us know where you are in the Haven,” Faith was saying. ”We can already track you on the sensor network, but this way if there's a problem you can call for a.s.sistance. It's easy: Just speak into the com and say, 'Star-three,' and I'll answer. It doesn't have to be in English, either; the system recognizes about thirty languages.”

”Thank you,” Cora said.

”I have to go-I'm due in the city shortly. Are you sure there's nothing you need?”

”A purpose?”

Faith grinned. ”You could always join the Elite.”

Cora couldn't stop herself from laughing aloud. ”I lack the grace to walk without tripping. I would slice off my own arm if given a sword.”

Faith laughed, too, and said, ”You know, I think I have an idea that might help you with that. I'll come back to see you tomorrow.”

”Thank you,” Cora said again. The Second gave her a slight bow and a brief smile and left her at the fence, where Isis was already nosing up to her for an ear scratching, giving her a commanding snort and tossing her head impatiently.

Cora sighed and carefully climbed up on the bottom rung of the fence so she could reach the horse better.

For tonight, at least, this was as close to a purpose as she was going to get.

Baby I bleed

I bleed without you

Kiss me one more time

Then twist the knife

And walk away . . .

Everyone in the studio was crying.

The rented Bosendorfer took up perhaps half the room, but its sound, and the sound of heartbreak, filled every inch of s.p.a.ce, crawling into every nook and cranny like an oak's roots through concrete.

Miranda had decided, seemingly out of nowhere, to record a bonus version of the alb.u.m's t.i.tle track. The first version was lushly produced and had a string quartet. This one was just her and the piano, stripped down and raw.

You carved your name into my heart

You said we were forever

But everything falls

Everything falls apart . . .

She didn't know if her empathic influence would translate through digital media, or if it was only something that worked in live performance, but if it did, no one who heard the song would be able to stop their tears; they would pause in whatever they were doing and find themselves reliving the worst possible breakups, betrayals, and disappointments of their histories. Chances were after hearing the track they would skip it every time they played the CD, preferring the first version of the song. She didn't especially care either way.

As they wrapped the session, she looked into the control room to see that Kat had arrived and was sitting on the stool that Lali usually occupied. Lali had been recording her part for one of the other tracks, so she was out at the car stowing her violin.

Kat looked tired. Pregnancy symptoms had hit her like a truck in the last two weeks, and she spent most of her mornings with her head in the toilet. Under the boyish half inch of hair that had grown since the attack, her face was drawn and looked a little clammy, but at least she seemed glad to be there.

Things were still a bit weird. Miranda hadn't pushed; she knew Kat was having a hard time with what had happened. So was Miranda . . . even worse than Kat, thanks to a heavy dose of guilt on her back knowing she was the reason the a.s.sa.s.sin had targeted her friend.

They were reasonably comfortable with each other again . . . as long as Drew wasn't around. Aside from the fact that he tended to stare at Miranda as if she were about to pop Kat's head like the tab on a c.o.ke and slurp her dry, Miranda found it increasingly difficult to put up with how he doted on Kat. Every other word out of his mouth was honey, and he fussed over her like a child when he wasn't gazing at Kat like she'd hung the moon. There might have been a time when Miranda thought that sort of thing was cute, or at least tolerable.

Now was not that time.

<script>