Chapter 9
Conor
The moment Gibson answers the phone I know I'm in trouble.
"You better have some pretty damn good excuses for the list of transgressions I have for you, Mr. Reinhardt."
I didn't, but I have always been a pro at BSing my way out of a bad situation.
"Depends on the transgressions," I say carefully.
There is a moment of swearing on the other end of the line. I grimace as I steal a glance into my bedroom. The door is cracked, and I can just make out Emma's bent form on my bed. Thankfully, Rachel isn't in view.
"Where would you like to start? You bypassing Roach's authority in Atlanta? Letting your mark make a personal phone call? Or, better yet, punching a superior."
I try finding a nice, respectful way of responding to the "punching a superior" comment, but I fail miserably.
"Roach is about as superior as his nickname," I mutter instead.
Gibson is quiet a moment.
"I should probably reprimand you for that statement, Reinhardt, but most of the time, I agree."
I am suddenly thankful for Roach's anti-social personality. It gives Gibson and me a moment of amiability, and I run with it.
"Let me be a Guardian again, sir. Just for this mission. If I fail, I'll take the demotion without complaint."
Gibson snorts.
"I'm supposed to believe the complaint part?"
"I won't fail you," I insist.
He is quiet for far too long.
"We have high hopes for you, Conor. Your father and your mother . . . amazing Guardians. But this mission . . . she's not a normal hybrid."
I already know this. And yet, the girl herself is sorely underprepared for the burdens being placed on her. She is scared, untrained, and until recently, had no idea she was anything other than a normal girl dying from a strange malady.
"She trusts me," I say.
"She trusts no one," Gibson corrects. "But you do seem to have a way with her."
I feel my hopes rise.
"This mission, Reinhardt. I'll give you this mission. You screw up, I'll be the first to know."
Of course he will. His daughter, Rachel, will be traveling with me. She is going to be a burr in my side, but I'll take it.
"Thank you, sir."
Even I know when to shut up and walk away.
"And Conor?" Gibson says. My grip tightens on the phone.
"Sir?"
"If my daughter gets hurt, I'll tan your hide. And that's before I pull every limb from your body and feed them to the enemy."
The call is disconnected. Gibson sure as hell knows how to make an impression.
"He's a real winner, isn't he?" a female voice asks from behind me. I turn to find Rachel leaning against my bedroom door. Emma is still on my bed, her eyes on the two of us.
"Is that a loaded question, Rach? Anything I say is incriminating."
She grins.
"I take it you're going to be spending a lot of time pleading the fifth?"
"That's what the amendment is there for, right?"
She shrugs and backs away from the door so I can move past her. Rachel is all kinds of wrong wrapped up in one girl. It's not that she isn't likable. She just has two major flaws (in my opinion only) working against her. One, she is an overachiever. She wants to prove to Gibson she is more than eligible for his job one day. Two, our families want us to marry, and I am not interested.
"How are we doing?" I ask Emma as I move toward her slowly.
Emma's amber eyes track me warily. She is still sitting on my bed, her hair pulled over to one side of her face, and I can see the tension in her body. Her muscles are tight, ready to spring. I have never seen anything like it before. She is like a wild animal found injured in the woods. No matter how much my instinct tells me to avoid her, I am drawn by the idea of taming her. And she is absolutely clueless about her effect on people.
"I'm okay," she whispers.
Her voice has a husky quality to it. It isn't deep, but it is low enough to send shivers down the spine. She is a quiet girl, no doubt, but all the anxiety has put her in constant "fight" mode, and it is causing her dormant powers to open up. She is downright intriguing.
It is dark beyond my room, the day having slid into night, and I pull some sleep clothes out of a nearby dresser. I throw a pair of flannel bottoms and a large tee at Emma before turning to Rachel. Rachel holds up her hands.
"I've got my own, thank you."
I shrug and head toward the bathroom.
"I'm getting a shower. Why don't you two change?"
Rachel pulls some clothes out of a large hand bag sitting by the door. Part of being a good Guardian is traveling light. Emma's face has gone red. It is obvious she is incredibly modest.
"Try turning around while Emma changes. She's the shy type," I whisper to Rachel as I walk past her into the bathroom.
"As if I didn't notice," Rachel grumbles.
The shower feels good, and I spend longer than necessary in the bathroom. It isn't until I hear Rachel swearing that I throw on some clothes and walk into my room. Emma is pushed up against my headboard, her eyes distant and red. She is wearing my blue flannel pajama bottoms and a large navy blue tee that has slipped off one shoulder. She is shaking.
"What'd you do to her?" I hiss. Rachel's jaw tightens.
"I started chopping up vegetables and set up a pot to boil her in. What do you think I did, Reinhardt?" Rachel asks sarcastically. I ignore her and move to the bed.
"Emma?"
She doesn't move. I sit on the edge of the bed carefully.
"Em?" I whisper. Her eyes swing vacantly to mine before looking away. Her pupils are dilated.
"What's wrong, sweetheart?"
"It hurts."
She is staring at the window, and I follow her gaze. There is a full moon tonight. It takes me a moment, but when realization dawns, I curse. The moon. She is being drawn by the moon.
"Close the blinds, Rachel," I order. The last thing we need is for Emma to fight her way out of the room.
Rachel did as ordered, her brows furrowed in confusion.
"She's insane," Rachel mutters as Emma's breathing calms. Her eyes bleed back to amber. Her gaze finds mine.
"She's not crazy. Just untrained," I say softly, my words as much for Emma as they are for Rachel. I need Emma to know she is not falling apart. She just isn't prepared to deal with her own powers.
"What's wrong with me?" Emma breathes. I scoot next to her.
"Nothing is wrong with you. The she-Demon who sired you is linked to the moon."
I hear Rachel gasp, but I don't look up. She is a good enough Guardian to know which Demon I am referring to.
"I'm not going to like my real mother much, am I?" Emma asks. She looks tired, and I have the sudden, undeniable urge to hug her. I settle for placing a hand on her leg.
"She's not as bad as you think. Just powerful. I promise we'll teach you as much as we can about her at the Acropolis."
Emma nods, her eyes landing on my pajama bottoms. She fights not to smile. It is a welcome sight.
"Don't say a word," I warn playfully.
Rachel laughs. It hasn't taken her long to notice the change in mood and the reason for it. I am sporting black cotton pajama bottoms with flames on one leg and "Lover Boy" printed in the blaze and across my rear.
"If you'd throw away old gifts from ex-girlfriends, you wouldn't have half the crap you do in this room," Rachel sneers.
I smile.
"It takes a confident man to wear these pants," I say with a wink.
The bottoms had actually been a gag gift from my friends, Monroe and Dayton, on Valentine's Day two years ago. I never wear them, but since I mainly sleep in boxers, I had to bite the bullet for modesty's sake. It is more for Emma than for Rachel. I only own two pair of long pajamas, and I had chivalrously given up my appropriate pair to the hybrid sitting on my bed.
"Oh
, you definitely don't lack in confidence," Rachel agrees as she scans the room. "You got any sleeping bags in here, Lover Boy?"
I point at the closet, and she walks over to it. I stand up and take an extra pillow off the bed before throwing it on the floor. Rachel pulls a bedroll out of the top of my closet and moves to the opposite side of the bed.
"I'll take first watch," I say. Rachel doesn't argue.
"Try and get some sleep," I tell Emma.
Tomorrow is going to be a hard day for her, in more ways than one.
Chapter 10
Emma