Part 22 (1/2)

He moved on without waiting for a response, and Brynna saw Mireva's shoulders tense. ”Mireva?”

”I really need to take a quick break,” she said unhappily. ”I should've gone ten minutes ago, and now ...”

”I'll stand in for you,” Kodi said. She leaned around Brynna and Eran, peering down the center aisle. ”I've been to dozens of these things, and they don't move that quickly. You've got at least ten minutes, and even if they get here before you return, I know every person on the panel. I know I can persuade them to hold off, maybe talk to one or two others and then come back.”

Mireva looked relieved. ”Really?”

”Sure.” Kodi turned the other way, where Dave's retreating figure could just be glimpsed heading out of the exhibit hall. ”I've never seen that guy before. He's probably just some new clerk on a little control trip-do this, move here, don't breathe. You know the type.” She looked back at Mireva. ”Go. Turn right when you get out of the exhibition hall. You'll see the coal mine room, and the restrooms are to the left of it.”

”Thanks,” Mireva said. ”Just give me five minutes.”

Then she was out from behind her table and slipping into the crowd. Brynna watched her go as Eran regarded Kodi. ”So,” he said. ”That was quite the experience you had over at the precinct, huh? You know, I never got the full skinny on what happened.”

”Oh, G.o.d,” Kodi said. ”You aren't kidding. I never never want to go through something like that again. I must've had want to go through something like that again. I must've had VICTIM VICTIM invisibly tattooed across my forehead, because those women went after me the second I got put in there. If it hadn't been for Brynna-” invisibly tattooed across my forehead, because those women went after me the second I got put in there. If it hadn't been for Brynna-”

Brynna heard the conversation, but she wasn't really listening. Her thoughts were twisting around and around, like a bunch of mental snakes trying to become untangled. How strange was it that Kodi, whose name she'd never bothered to learn at the police station, had turned up here at Mireva's science fair? The idea that it was a ”small world” was bulls.h.i.+t; with over eight million people, the city of Chicago was the third largest in the country, and the odds of meeting Kodi again when you had completely different lifestyles were astronomical. Add to the situation that Kodi's father was involved with the museum and the girl knew the judges ... well, it was pretty solidly on the side of not-a-coincidence. Then there was Dave, the staff member Kodi had never met and who'd told Mireva she couldn't leave her table. Yet because of her ties at the museum, Kodi had been here to let Mireva do just that.

Everything happens for a reason.

Kodi would not have been here had Brynna not been at the police station to pull her out of the piranha-infested holding cell. Mireva would have sucked it up and stayed put, not wanting to chance that the judges would knock her out of the running on the basis of a few unanswered questions.

Brynna scowled, thinking about how Mireva had said her stomach was bugging her. That just didn't seem right-nephilim never got ill, were never plagued by the mult.i.tude of biological ailments that generally tormented a normal human's body. She squinted toward the hall's main entrance, but there was no sign of Mireva, or of the elusive Dave. Who was he? Just another new employee? Or someone else, another tool being wielded by Lahash? There was too much at stake here-namely Mireva-for Brynna not to make sure everything was copacetic.

”I'm going to check on Mireva.”

Eran looked at her in surprise. ”What-is something wrong?”

Brynna was already moving, and he followed without hesitating. Kodi watched them go, her expression bewildered. ”I hope not,” Brynna said over her shoulder. ”But I'm going to make d.a.m.ned sure.”

[image]

IT WAS UNSETTLING HOW quickly the lie had come out of her mouth. quickly the lie had come out of her mouth.

Mireva hurried toward the women's restroom, weaving smoothly among the people milling in front of the tables. There wasn't a thing in the world wrong with her, and it was a good thing her mom and uncle hadn't been around to hear that complete fabrication about her nerves and the science fair making her stomach disagreeable. Had she been nervous? Well, duh. But she'd never been physically sick a day in her life.

There were even more visitors milling around the museum's huge central foyer, drawn, no doubt, by the Harry Potter Harry Potter exhibition. Maybe when the science fair was over, for better or worse-and she sure hoped it would be for better-she could go up front and take a look. Normally she wouldn't have been able to afford it, but the science fair contestants had been given a special day pa.s.s. She'd like to take a look at the baby chick hatchery too. exhibition. Maybe when the science fair was over, for better or worse-and she sure hoped it would be for better-she could go up front and take a look. Normally she wouldn't have been able to afford it, but the science fair contestants had been given a special day pa.s.s. She'd like to take a look at the baby chick hatchery too.

The restrooms were right where Kodi had said they'd be, and Mireva hurried into the women's room, still not sure why she'd felt so strongly that she had to get here. And to lie about it? Wow-she'd never been a liar. Hearing those words come out of her own mouth had been like having her brain taken over by aliens or something. Plus, now that she was inside, well ... hey. It looked perfectly normal, like countless other women's restrooms she'd seen. Tiled walls and a water-splashed floor beneath a row of sinks with mirrors above them, paper towel holders, square trash bins, a row of stalls. Mireva's need to get in here had been all-consuming, like a firefighter responding to a midnight alarm. So where the h.e.l.l was the fire?

There was a woman was.h.i.+ng her hands at a sink while another lady a few feet away refreshed her lipstick. Feeling self-conscious, Mireva went to an empty sink and smoothed her hair, trying to look like she had a reason for being there when in reality she thought she was acting like some kind of weirdo. Mrs. Lipstick finished up and walked out, while the first, a pleasant-looking woman in her midfifties, was still studiously scrubbing her hands; she reminded Mireva of the way surgeons on reality medical shows scrubbed up. She had dark hair that was starting to go silver at the temples, and when she glanced at Mireva and smiled, her brown eyes were warm and friendly. An expensive leather bag that Mireva a.s.sumed belonged to her was resting on the narrow metal shelf beneath the mirror. ”Enjoying the museum?”

Mireva made herself smile back. ”Yes, thank you.” Why did she suddenly feel so tense?

”I saw you in the science fair, didn't I?” When Mireva nodded, the woman continued, ”That's the whole reason I came downtown on a Sat.u.r.day, you know. I'm a professor at Wright College. I teach human and organismal biology. I've been through the museum a dozen times, but I'm always interested in the compet.i.tive science fairs, especially at the precollege level. Seeing what the high school students come up with is like looking through a telescope into the future.” She finally rinsed and gave her hands a shake, then turned and stepped toward the paper towel dispenser. ”Refresh my memory, please. What's your project-”

It happened so fast that Mireva almost didn't make it.

One wrong step, the slightly off-balance turn of a low-heel shoe, the smallest pool of water in front of one of the sinks.

The professor's hip twisted and she fell sideways as her foot slipped forward. Nothing in the restroom was soft, but Mireva was there before the older woman lost it completely; faster than she'd ever thought she could move, both hands shot out and Mireva grabbed the woman by the shoulders and pulled her forward. Momentum carried them both down but Mireva's hold softened the impact. The landing was still hard enough to make Mireva's teeth click together, but nothing, on either of them, was broken. The professor's breath went out of her in a gasp, then her eyes widened when she turned her head and realized that her temple had missed the sharp corner of the metal trash bin by scarcely half an inch.

”Wow,” Mireva said as she untangled herself. ”That was close. Are you okay?”

”I am, thank you very much. Banged my knee pretty hard, though.” The professor shook her head. ”That was certainly ... embarra.s.sing.”

Mireva gave the woman a shaky grin and got to her feet, then extended her hand. It was so ridiculous-was being here to stop this teacher from hitting her head the whole reason she'd felt such an urge to get to the restroom? First of all, it didn't make any sense; secondly, if that had had been it, why didn't she feel any better? The woman reached for the hand Mireva offered. ”My name is Lydia D'Amato. And you-” been it, why didn't she feel any better? The woman reached for the hand Mireva offered. ”My name is Lydia D'Amato. And you-”

”Hel-lo, ladies.” ladies.”

Mireva's head snapped around at the sound of the oily male voice. Beneath her fingers, she felt Professor D'Amato's hand stiffen. ”What are you doing in here, young man? The men's room is down the hall.” The professor grabbed the side of the sink and started to pull herself up, but Mireva instinctively stepped backward, cutting her off and forcing her to stay on the floor. She looked up at Mireva, surprised. ”Would you help me up, please?”

”Yeah, Mireva. Help her up, why don't you?” The guy had let the restroom door swing shut behind him and now he blocked it with his foot. He looked young and gang dangerous; despite the air-conditioning he was sweating heavily and the dark, curly hair that was bunched under his baseball cap was stringy and wet. The eyes that regarded her from beneath the cap's brim were black as coal and callous, utterly without feeling.

Mireva's brow furrowed and she stared at him. Instead of giving the professor some room, she let go of the woman's hand and crowded her even more, pinning the woman against the tiled wall. ”Who are you? How do you know my name?”

He shrugged one muscular shoulder, and the movement reminded her, strangely, of Gavino. ”Let's just say we have a mutual amigo. amigo.”

Stress was making Mireva's temples pulse, but still she tried to sort it out. A mutual friend? Who? Gavino was dead, and this hoodlum sure wouldn't be on Face-book terms with Brynna or Detective Redmond. So who- Her stomach twisted as a not-so-long-ago conversation with Brynna flashed through her memory. It had to be Mr. Lahash, the creep who'd masqueraded as a sponsor from Purdue University, and who Brynna said had sent Gavino, and that crazy serial killer, to try to murder her. This guy must be Lahash's latest mercenary. ”Look,” she said. ”What's the deal with all this, anyway? I'm n.o.body. There's nothing to be gained by killing me.” Her words triggered a sharp breath from the professor, but Mireva still wouldn't budge.

”You got that right.” The guy pulled a knife from his pocket and flipped it open. Mireva inhaled, but instead of coming after her, he leaned back against the door and started sc.r.a.ping at the filth under his fingernails with the tip.

Behind her, Professor D'Amato tried again to push her way free. ”Mireva-that's your name, right? Mireva, get out of the way and let me talk to him.”

”No,” Mireva hissed. She reached back with one hand and easily pressed the older woman back down. People were always surprised at how strong she was, had even said she was stronger than she should be. But Mireva had always taken her strength for granted. After all, she was over six feet tall-of course she was strong. ”You stay there. there.”

The guy's snakelike gaze fixed not on Mireva but on the woman on the floor behind her. ”As I was saying, you're right. Our friend isn't much interested in you anymore.” He dug below another fingernail and Mireva grimaced inside; his nails were sharp and long-too long for a man-and so dirty they were discolored. For some reason she knew they were very, very strong. ”See,” he continued, ”I was supposed to get over here and take care of you before you met up with the old lady. You weren't even supposed to get to the bathroom. Sadly, I'm late.” He made a tsk tsk sound with his lips. ”Gotta love the Sat.u.r.day crowds.” sound with his lips. ”Gotta love the Sat.u.r.day crowds.”

”So go away, then.” Mireva lifted her chin. She was dizzy, her breath coming in short, shallow inhalations that were just shy of hyperventilating. But she would not show fear to this piece of street garbage. ”If you blew it, then there's nothing-”

”Oh, but there is. is.” He smirked. ”The man don't take failure for an answer, you get my meaning? He said if I'm late, then I have to do a two-for-one once I find out who you're talking to. So now I know. That means Grandma goes first, then you.” The guy straightened and flipped the knife around and up. The movement had a fluidity to it that spoke of way too much practice. ”I don't usually work that cheap, but this time it seems I gotta make an exception. Because, you know, witnesses have big, noisy mouths.”

Mireva watched him come toward her, but for some reason, she was no longer afraid. Her racing pulse had calmed, and the lightheadedness that had been seeping through her a moment ago was also gone. Instead, everything had become clear and crisp, like she was suddenly seeing the world through an ultrasharp camera lens. This, she realized, was somehow the single most important moment of her life. She didn't know how she knew that, or why, but everything that had happened, everything that was her, her, had led up to right now. had led up to right now.

”Get out of the way,” he said.

”No.”

The restroom wasn't that big and he was across the few feet that separated them in barely more than a second. He drove forward with the knife but Mireva caught his wrist and swept it aside, fingers clamping onto his flesh with every bit of strength she had. His weight slammed her backward and vaguely she heard Professor D'Amato cry out. She tried to bring her knee up and into his crotch but there wasn't enough room, so she settled for smas.h.i.+ng the heel of her shoe against his instep.

He cursed when he couldn't yank free of her grip, then punched her in the side of the head with his other fist; Mireva didn't feel it. She was as tall as he was and her right hand was jammed between her chest and his. As they grappled with each other, jerking back and forth, she managed to wriggle her hand up until her fingers were just past his jawline. When the tips of her nails grazed the stubble-covered flesh of his face, Mireva curled her fingers into hooks and dug in as deeply and viciously as she could. He howled and tried to jerk back but she followed, plastering her body against his and propelling him backward in an attempt to put as much distance as possible between him and the professor. Beneath her attacker's bellows of rage was another sound-Professor D'Amato was screaming, filling the small room with the shrill sounds of attention-drawing panic.