I
t had been nearly three weeks since the death of Subedei.As Maliha’s body healed, Hound told her what he’d witnessed. With no way to hide her true nature from a man who’d seen her belly scale in motion and watched her slip out of normal time, Maliha told him everything. It was a lot for him to absorb, and typical of Hound, he told her he’d get back to her on it.
When Yanmeng held a mirror up for her to study her face, there were noticeable wrinkles at the corners of her eyes and a generous sprinkling of silver hairs mixed into the black—but not too much different from the way she’d looked after saving Samantha Dearborn, when she’d taken a leap in age of about three years.
Maybe another couple of years this time.
She placed her age at about thirty. A slightly old-looking thirty. There was something else about her face, especially her eyes, that said she was on her way to wisdom as well as advancing in years. Her eyes reflected back at her the decision she’d made that risk be damned, she was going to live every day fully.
Rabishu said my aging would be uneven and that Anu would decide. Only two years for saving potentially millions, with a huge difference in the balance of the scales. Anu has favored me.
She wondered if Grandfather had prayed to Anu for her, and that this time his prayer was answered. She’d never know, but whatever the reason, she’d taken a big step toward denying Rabishu his plaything.
“G
ood evening, Ms. Winters.”“Same to you, Mr. Henshaw.”
Maliha rode the elevator to the forty-eighth floor. It was late, and she was tired, but the thought of getting home propelled her at a good pace. At the door to her haven, she placed her palm against the biometric sensor and used the other hand to cover her eyes tightly against the brilliant light about to assault them. The door slid back. Stepping forward, light leaking in between her fingers, she crossed the foyer in an instant and slapped her hand against the switch on the far wall. Darts did not rain down upon her from the ceiling.
I might have to recalibrate that sensor as I get older and slower. I don’t want to look like a pincushion. Bad for the complexion.
The spotlights snapped off and the door closed behind her.
“Lights, low.”
She let her eyes rest on the soothing pastel painting in her foyer as they adjusted to the lack of spotlights. As she waited, she sensed that something wasn’t right. This was her place that she knew intimately. Something, a light scent of…what?
She moved her hand through the air, waving it toward her face. She felt a little dampness, and smelled it, and soap, too. Yet she hadn’t been here in nearly a month. It was as if someone had…
Taken a shower? Gotten in!
Maliha crouched. Her internal alarm was blaring. She was in a bad position, trapped in the dead-end hallway, and with the flash of the spotlights, she’d announced her presence big-time. She hesitated, then backed up toward the door. She could reach up and hit the switch to open the door, then dive out into the hall. Better to leave now, if she could, and return better prepared. The safe house had a large armory.
“You can come out now.”
A familiar voice. Jake’s.
Relief swept through her. Maliha straightened up on legs that became limp as the adrenaline rush dissipated. She leaned against the wall while her thoughts whirled in a pleasant orbit with the two of them at the center. Then she spotted the switch on the wall of the foyer and it reminded her of exactly where she was. As fast as her elation had arrived, it now fled.
Jake was inside her safe haven.
Why didn’t he trigger the darts? Why is he still alive?