Page 8 of Inextricably Tied

“I’m not finished.” Flint lifts his hand. “All of it gets deposited into our account. Today. If we incur any ailments from this work, you pay for our medical services as long as they’re necessary.”

“That’s —”

“Non-negotiable.”

After a moment, Tamneth’s eyes narrow until he nods. Flint leans back, wishing the weight would slip off his shoulders. “Draw up the contract, then. We’ll start once the bank confirms the money is in our account.”

Tamneth gestures toward the door. “Then follow me.”

THREE

Harbinger

Even if Harbinger weren’t privy to Flint’s emotions, he wears them on his face. The glare he levels at Tamneth is poisonous enough that Harbinger wonders if they should keep an antidote on standby. She’s glad she’s not on the receiving end of it.

But the feeling Flint reserves for her is worse. A knowing sadness radiates through his steps as they follow Tamneth down the corridor. Flint keeps his focus on their cell phone. He’s not surprised this is the path Harbinger has chosen to take, but he is disappointed, which is worse than anger or fear or any other emotion that rattled around the conference room. It’s enough to make her second-guess herself. To consider turning on her heel and flipping the OID off as they disappear out the door.

But they can’t do nothing.

She knows what Flint would say. Yes, we absolutely can. But Harbinger can’t. Can’t leave those girls out there alone. Can’t leave their families in the wake of tragedy. Can’t leave them with no resolution, stories untold, mysteries unsolved.

Banshees hang between life and death, slipping through the Veil and brushing against the ether of what was and could have been. If Harbinger can’t use her abilities for good, then what’s the point? What use is this fucking ability if she can’t help?

Even if the girls are dead.

She and Flint need something that’ll pay without putting them in danger. It’s a compromise; one she doesn’t love making, but a risk she has to take nonetheless. Flint will have to get on board. Never mind that they don’t really know what touching this thing will do to her, but Harbinger has to believe it’s safe enough.

She’ll touch this object. Tell them what she sees. Move onto the next.

Flint stuffs the phone back into his pocket. “The money’s in our account.”

She thinks he breathes a little easier. Maybe she’s lying to herself.

They come to a stop in front of a metal door as Tamneth holds out the NDA’s. Flint inspects them for a second time — a third, when Tamneth gets huffy — before they sign. Tamneth swipes his badge against a digital panel.

The door unlocks. Harbinger gives Tamneth a wide berth when she steps into the stark white room. It’s vacant, save for a small, clear box on the lab table. Harbinger’s head tilts before she steps closer.

“Harbin…”

She looks back at Flint, meeting the worry in his eyes.

“You don’t have to do this,” he murmurs. “We can still leave.”

His emotions rise within her, a mixture of doubt and guilt and frustration. But she plasters a confident smile on her face before she realizes her helmet blocks it. “Don’t worry,” she soothes. “It’ll be fine.”

Thank the gods their connection goes one way, and he can’t feel her mounting uncertainty.

Tugging on her fingertips, she pulls off one glove as Flint’s hand stretches out to take it. With murmured thanks, she steps toward the table, leaning to get a closer look.

The object looks like a scrap of black fabric, no bigger than the pad of her finger, but it’s odd. A mixture of states of matter: solid, liquid, gas. Its colors shift like a shadow, adjusting when Harbinger changes angles, vanishing like smoke or blending into the corners of the case.

She calls over her shoulder. “You’re sure you don’t know what this is?”

“Correct.” Tamneth waits by the door. “It’s the last thing we recovered from Reid. No one has been able to determine what it does.”

The box unlatches, flipping open to expose the object held against the bottom of the case like a specimen. A creature with its wings pinned. Flint’s swirling unease heightens her own, but she pushes past it, the black markings on her fingers drifting toward the object.

She sucks in a breath.