Part 12 (2/2)

”I don't care! You should be scared! We have to leave, Sarah, and we have to leave now, or we're not going to be leaving at all.”

Sarah stared at me for a long moment. Then, in a small, tight voice, she said, ”I'll go pack.” She wheeled and stomped off toward her room. It was more fear than anger. I didn't care either way. As long as I got her out of here . . .

The idea of what might happen if I didn't was unthinkable, and so I did my best not to think it.

The existence of the cuckoos wasn't proven until my great-grandfather went to Colorado to look into the movement of a local hive of Apraxis wasps. Before that, there had been rumors, but never any hard proof. One of the last communications my grandfather sent to the Covenant before cutting off all ties was a letter describing everything we knew about the cuckoos. Warning people about them was more important than hiding information from the Covenant. That's how dangerous we thought they were, and how dangerous we still think they are.

According to our contacts in Europe, the Covenant has been trying to get their hands on a cuckoo for research purposes ever since. It's one of those things that causes a lot of ethical debate at home, since we have a shoot on sight order on most cuckoos, but they're still sapient beings. They deserve better than the Covenant's idea of ”study.” If Margaret figured out who I was, and what Sarah was, she could kill two birds with one stone-take out a member of the traitorous branch of the family tree, and finally get a cuckoo they could take apart at their leisure. They'd just need to keep her unconscious. Cuckoos can only scramble your head when they're awake.

All the discussions I'd had about the danger of staying in New York had included warnings about keeping Sarah safe, and endless rea.s.surances that of course I wouldn't let anything happen to her; of course she would be fine. She was a cuckoo. What was going to hurt her?

What, if not a Healy in the same hotel, with the potential to recognize her for what she was? Dad used to joke about Healy family luck, how sometimes it was good and sometimes it was bad, but it was always interesting. Margaret Healy clearly had that kind of luck, and she had it in spades.

Sarah emerged from her bedroom with a small suitcase in one hand and an overstuffed backpack in the other. ”Let me get my laptops and my homework from the table, and we can go,” she said. She didn't sound happy. I didn't blame her. We'd been planning a relaxing evening, out of the line of fire. Having the fight follow me to her door was never the idea. ”Where are we going?”

”You can stay with the rest of us.” The dragons weren't going to be thrilled about me turning their old Nest into the new Grand Central Station, but with as much as we were paying them, they could cope.

”Oh, goody. Slumber party of the d.a.m.ned.” Sarah started for the dining room. (One thing about her taste in hotel rooms: she never gets anything smaller than a suite, and she's never had a suite smaller than a good apartment. It seems extravagant, and maybe it is, a little, but it's really one more precaution against having her brain come melting out of her ears in the middle of the night. Living as a telepath in a non-telepathic society was definitely not all wine and roses.) Someone knocked on the door. We both turned.

”Did you order room service before I got here?” I asked, instinctively dropping to a whisper. I realized only after I spoke that I probably should have done it telepathically.

No, said Sarah, who was smart enough to do what I hadn't. There was a soft thump as she put down her bags. Then she stepped up next to me, squinting a little at the door. I don't . . . I can't hear who's out there. I'm not sure there is anybody there.

One more problem with being a telepath in a non-telepathic society: sometimes there aren't words for the things you're trying to describe. Sarah doesn't really ”hear” people thinking, but there isn't any other way to say it. It gets clearer when she's attuned to a person, and strangers can sometimes be almost inaudible to her mental ear. Still, she usually knows when there's someone to be listened to. That means it's Margaret. Maybe she'll go away.

The knock came again.

. . . maybe not, I thought. I looked toward Sarah. Okay. Here's what we need to do. You're going to say I have to jump out the window, aren't you? she asked miserably.

No, of course not. Not that I didn't want to. Going out the window would have solved all our problems. Unfortunately, I didn't have the equipment to get Sarah down safely, and she didn't have the training to do it without help. I took a breath and thought, as rea.s.suringly as I could, We just need to be quiet, okay? She'll go away.

Verity, I don't like this. Sarah's lower lip quivered, her eyes wide and frightened.

I know. I drew a pistol from inside my hoodie, gesturing for Sarah to get out of sight. She started toward the coat closet, presumably to hide herself.

There was a click as the latch released, and the hotel room door swung open. I managed to jump behind the half-wall that separated the living and dining rooms, getting myself out of sight before I could be seen. Sarah gasped.

”C-can I help you?” she asked, in a surprisingly normal tone of voice.

”Your door seems to have been left unlocked,” said Margaret Healy. ”Can I come in?”

Oh. s.h.i.+t.

Thirteen.

”Blood is thicker than water, but family isn't just about blood. Family is about faith, and loyalty, and who you love. If you don't have those things, I don't care what the blood says. You're not family.”

-Alice Healy A suite at the Port Hope Hotel, about to potentially get into a firefight ”UH, SURE,” said Sarah. I heard her step back to let Margaret into her suite. ”Is there something I can help you with?”

”It's an awfully cloudy night for looking at stars, don't you think?” The question was mild, just a comment on the weather.

There was nothing mild about the chill that it sent racing down my spine, or Sarah's sudden, terrified cry of, Verity, I think this is the woman from the roof.

Sometimes Sarah's inability to recognize people by visual cues can be a real problem. I know, I thought back, as soothingly as I could. Try to convince her that you're harmless. We're going to get you out of here. It'll be okay.

”The sky cleared for a little bit,” said Sarah. ”That's why I went up with Valerie to see the Pleiades.”

”It's odd that you can see them at all, with all the ambient light from the city,” said Margaret. ”I was ever so excited, until I saw that the clouds had come back. Quite fast, too. I've never seen a cloud cover that thick develop so quickly.”

Verity, why is she asking all these questions? She should have believed us. Why can't I see her?

I don't know, I thought back. See if you can make her leave. We need to get you out of here.

”I guess the weather does what the weather wants to do,” said Sarah weakly.

”I suppose that's true.” I heard Margaret take another step. ”Is Valerie still here? I wanted to see if she had any other suggestions for places where I might go to do a little stargazing.”

”No, she had to leave,” said Sarah. ”I'll tell her that you were sorry to have missed her.”

”Left? Really? That's amazing, since I had a splendid view of the front of the hotel while I was on the roof, and I didn't see her going out.”

”It must have been while you were going down the stairs.”

”That's still quite impressive timing. I'll have to ask my colleague who was sitting in the lobby this whole time whether he saw which way she went. I'd love to see her again.” I didn't need to be able to see Margaret's face to know what it looked like. Her tone was one I'd heard before, from my sister, my mother, my grandmother. It would be accompanied by an almost feral smile, one that implied the speaker would think nothing of ripping your throat out with her teeth. A dangerous expression for a dangerous girl.

”That's probably a good idea,” said Sarah, in a small voice.

”Unless you'd like to tell me where she went.”

Verity!

I gritted my teeth, forcing myself to stay where I was. Is she actually threatening you? Or is she just asking pointy questions and waiting to see whether you crack? Do you see any weapons?

Not yet-it's just questions-but I still can't read her.

s.h.i.+t. The Covenant has wards against sorcery, witchcraft, and the various psionic powers. Telepathy isn't common, but empathy is, and a ward against one will go a long way toward blocking the others. Sarah wasn't going to get any readings off Margaret, and Margaret wasn't going to be as affected by Sarah's particular brand of mind-f.u.c.k as she should have been.

Try and make her leave, I said, keeping my mental voice as rea.s.suring as I could. I didn't know how well it was working. Sarah's the telepath, not me; there was no telling how much interference she was going to pick up from my own panic. The staff will smuggle us out of here if you can make her leave.

”I don't know where Valerie went,” said Sarah. Her voice was barely shaking. I have never been so proud of her. ”Why don't you go ask your friend? He can probably tell you which way she turned when she left the hotel.”

”Doesn't she live around here?”

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