Part 43 (1/2)

22. Sara

Sat.u.r.day, 21 March 2572 CE

Blackfeather was still apprehensive when she arrived at Harmony Lodge.

She'd been met at the airport by a staff car driven by a young man who introduced himself as Lieutenant Charles Powell, Colonel Cortin's aide, though he looked too young to drive, much less be an Enforcement officer. He'd helped with her luggage, then driven her silently but efficiently to the Palace Complex, gotten her through the formalities of a temporary pa.s.s, and brought her to the Lodge's main entrance, near the front of the estate.

Servants approached as Powell opened the door for her and helped her out of the car. ”They'll take your luggage to your room, Miss Blackfeather,” he said. ”Her Excellency and Captain Odeon are waiting in her office; I'm to escort you to them immediately.”

”I would prefer to clean up first.”

”Sorry, Miss Blackfeather,” Powell said, not sounding at all regretful.

”Her Excellency was most specific; if you will come this way, please.”

Young or not, Blackfeather thought, he had the false-polite presumption of an Enforcement veteran. Still, what else could she expect from an Inquisitor's lackey? ”Very well, Lieutenant, take me to Her Excellency.”

Moments later, Powell showed her into a large office with Cortin seated behind the desk and a tall, grim-looking scar-faced man who had to be Captain Odeon standing to Cortin's left at a stiff parade-rest.

Cortin rose as the reporter entered. ”Thank you for coming here first, Miss Blackfeather. While I'm sure you would have preferred to bathe and have a brief rest before meeting my team, we have a compelling reason to've asked you here. Captain Odeon a.s.sures me it will take only seconds, then Lieutenant Powell will show you to your room.”

Despite her irritation, Blackfeather was intrigued. ”What reason, Your Excellency?”

It was Odeon who answered. ”Something your . . . patron . . . wanted me to do. You don't remember that you were there when he . . . made it possible for me, but you'll remember once it's done. It won't hurt at all, and it'll only take a few seconds, as Colonel Cortin said. It'd be easier on me if you make eye contact, but that isn't really necessary.”

Although Blackfeather normally had no interest in making anything easy for an Enforcement killer, there was something in Odeon's expression that made her waver; she stared into his pale blue eyes.

The promised seconds later, she collapsed in shock, to be caught by strong arms. Larry was Shayan, and he'd had her under compulsions to do things she never would have dreamed of on her own, and he'd done things to her body that were horrible, and she'd enjoyed them and what he'd done with his changes, and oh dear G.o.d the horror he'd done to the man who'd helped her in spite of what had been done to him and-- ”Sis!” she heard Cortin snap.

”I am here, Colonel,” a soft voice said. ”Miss Blackfeather?” A pause. ”Miss Blackfeather?”

”Go 'way.”

”I am a medic. With your permission, I can give you something for shock. Otherwise, I can treat you only with warmth and quiet.”

Drugs were bad . . . but the horror of these sudden disclosures was worse. ”Do what you think best,” she managed.

An immediate needlep.r.i.c.k startled her; the quick blackness that followed came as a distinct relief.

Cortin watched Pritchett carry the reporter out, Chang accompanying them, then she turned to Odeon. He looked tired and a little shaken, but nowhere near as bad as he had after Shayan's ”lesson”. ”Are you all right, Mike?”

”I will be, after a nap.” Odeon rubbed his temples. ”He said the operation would be nothing compared to the lesson, and he was right--but it was rough enough. I don't have the kind of strength he does.”

”You're a human, not a fallen angel,” Cortin said drily. ”I was thinking about emotionally, though--you don't look quite as wound up as you have been.”

”Not quite,” Odeon admitted. ”I do feel a bit more human, now I've made some constructive use of what he put me through. My studies are helping, too, but . . .” He shook his head. ”I'm not back to normal, no.”

”Close enough for unity? I'm still convinced that's what you need.”

Odeon thought for a moment, then shook his head again. ”No, I don't think so. I'd like it, but I'm still afraid of touching you. Give me another day or two of Tangerine and studies, though, and I think I'll be okay.”