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“How do you pay for all of this?” By Silas’s expression, he didn’t mean the rusty, abandoned warehouse.
“I won’t lie to you. My talent is such that I can skim from corporations without leaving virtual fingerprints. I set up numbered accounts for our operatives and we’re funded Robin Hood-style. But I target the parent companies behind the Foundation, if it makes you feel any better.”
“I have a couple of conditions,” Silas said. “If I work with you, I still need to visit those families. Otherwise, they’ll never know what happened to their children, their mothers and fathers.”
Juneau’s heart gave another little twist; his passion moved her. So few people cared about anything, anymore. God, she loved a man with a mission.
Tanager dropped lightly to her feet. “You’ll need some help with that, hoss. These people will have no reason to accept the truth from you.”
“And you’ll give them a reason?” Silas asked.
“It only works on men,” she answered, confirming Juneau’s hunch. “But chances are, we can find some male relative to convey the news. If I tell him we’re cops and we have news about Sally Missing, he’ll repeat it with one hundred percent conviction.”
“Why would you help me? This is personal.”
Her gaze went hard. “Because I want you onboard, and if this is what it takes, so be it. You can teach the Foundation to fear us—and what it feels like to be hunted.”
“Could you give me a few minutes to talk to Juneau in private?”
“Of course,” Mockingbird said. “Tanager, take the laptop to the back office. I have some things to discuss with you anyway.”
TWELVE
This was a new thing. Unlike most, his ability was constantly evolving. Two weeks ago, Mockingbird hadn’t been able to do this. Unfortunately, such power came at a high cost. He wouldn’t be able to do this forever, which meant he had to step up the recruitment and find someone who could take over for him. Which wouldn’t be easy. As far as he knew, he was unique. But then, everyone was.
What he was doing now, he guessed, was some form of technically powered astral projection, impossible to say for sure. Science hadn’t advanced anywhere near enough to try and chart the reasons why.
“You sure about this, Tan?” In this form, he could see her only in sparks of Tanager-shaped light.
God, he envied Silas. To be able to work out in the field, up close and personal with her? That sounded like a fucking dream come true. Lucky bastard. But the truth was, Mockingbird was far too vital—and too fragile—to survive outside his controlled environment. He hadn’t always been so weak, but the stronger his ability became, the more his body deteriorated. I am an imperfect adaptation , he thought, while waiting for her answer.
“I’m positive,” she said. “We need him. The combat abilities are rare, and even more rare for them to manifest in someone who isn’t batshit crazy.”
That much was certainly true. It seemed as though causing physical harm to others through paranormal means didn’t do the human psyche any good. Part of that could be attributed to the experiments, of course, and long captivity. But they’d found some subjects who’d come into their powers on their own, and to a man, they’d turned to mass murder as a hobby. But Silas was different, and Tanager was right. They had to have him. Her short-term cooperation with his personal penance was a small price to pay.
“Very well.”
He hated thinking of all the time she would spend with Silas in close proximity. Sometimes knowing an operative’s background provided too much insight. But of all his agents, she was the only one he’d formed a personal attachment to, even though he shouldn’t, even though it was stupid, and wrong, and pointless. She’d never even seen his face. Never would.
That’s me, the ultimate untouchable.
“It won’t be a big deal. I like him. And it’ll be nice to have someone around that I can talk to about shit. Plus, he’s had it worse than me, which takes some doing.”
He wished he offered the warning for altruistic reasons. “I think he has some attachment to the regular who came in with him.”
Her tone turned cold. “Yeah. I was going to ask—what do you want me to do about her?”
THIRTEEN
“You’re going to do it.” It wasn’t a question.
Juneau had borne all the weirdness with an almost unreasonable calm. Not that Silas wanted a woman by his side who couldn’t face the unexpected without melting down. But he didn’t know how much more she could take.
“Yeah. But I don’t know how it’s going to work. You and me.”
Juneau shrugged. “Hey, you’re in demand. I’m just somebody you dug out of a rock pile. I appreciate you looking out for me while we were in Ecuador, but I gather we’re stateside now. That means once I head out, I can take care of myself. I need to get new IDs made, replace my bank card, and go see my family. I’d really like to hug my mom.”
He would, too. But after so long, he couldn’t imagine what he’d tell her. Sorry for six years of silence. It wasn’t my fault, I swear. Yeah, that’d go over well. But he had to address the fundamental misconception in what she’d said.
