Irregulars - lanyon Josh - Страница 72
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Deven shook his head. “But it won’t be wards alone. We’ve already seen that Night Axe has soldiers.”
“The director will issue a raid,” August said. “It’s usually for cases where a dangerous artifact is located but is occasionally applied when apprehending a threatening suspect.”
“We should go to the hospital, so if the separation works, you can be detached as well.”
August shook his head. “As much as I love the idea, we need my connection, not only for the poison but to find him. The map gives us an idea of his general whereabouts, but I can still zero in on his location.”
“You’ve seen how powerful he is,” Deven cautioned. “There’ll be casualties.”
“This morning you didn’t seem to care about casualties,” August said, but he didn’t sound angry, only curious.
Deven shrugged. “I don’t care, but you clearly do. I recognize my sense of morality is...skewed.”
August barked a short laugh. “One way of putting it.”
August’s phone rang, and when he glanced down at the screen a look of fear quickly crossed his eyes before he blinked and took the call. He crossed to the corner of the room farthest from Deven, which peaked Deven’s curiosity. August hadn’t needed privacy for other calls.
While August was on the phone Deven returned to the Irregulars’ kitchen and brought the pastry he’d saved for August back to the library. August had finished his call and took the pastry with a nod, looking wrung out. “That was Teresa.”
“Teresa?”
“Carlos’s girlfriend. She hadn’t heard from anyone and wanted to know what was going on.” August pocketed his phone. Deven noticed his hands were shaking again.
“Did you tell her he was dead?”
“Of course. No benefit in lying to her.” He ate the pastry quickly and looked around as if hoping there’d be another. Deven felt guilty for having eaten the rest.
“Did you tell her how?” Deven asked.
August glanced down at him. “No. She’s aware of the Irregulars and what we do because she works in the San Francisco branch office, but I’m not going into details. That’s something no one wants to hear about the person they care about.” August angrily reached into his pocket and mouthed a handful of pills.
Deven considered what it would be like to date someone who worked in the same office. It was an unusual situation. In Aztaw, male and female couples led different lives. The women had their own society, their own hobbies and rituals and world outside of soldiering. Only in the temples did the two sexes work together, honoring their lords.
“Do you have a girlfriend?” Deven asked curiously.
August quirked his eyebrow. “Do you think I’d be flirting with a man if I did?”
Deven smiled. “Boyfriend?”
“It’s been several years since I’ve been in a relationship,” August admitted. He busied himself with folding up the map he’d drawn on. “The last one ended badly.”
“Why?”
“Because of the job.”
“Why would that matter?”
August gave Deven a look like he was being an idiot again. “Honestly, how big do you think the pool of prospective homosexual men at NIAD is?” He waved his hand over the office. “The few gay employees in the division are stationed all over the world. And the few at the San Francisco branch are not appropriate dating material.”
“Why?”
“I have no interest in screwing goblins, even if they’re trans-goblins. Way too much goblin family baggage to deal with.”
“So you’re the only homosexual human in San Francisco?”
August rolled his eyes. “Obviously not. But my other options in the division are an old bum with frightening fashion sense and a vegetarian.” August said this last word as though foregoing eating meat was even more unattractive than being a goblin. “You may have met the goblin at that Christmas party they made you attend.”
The only person Deven remembered at the Christmas party was an attractive man who had been eating cigarettes right out of the pack. Considering that, he could see why August might not date inside the agency.
“What about people who aren’t agents?”
“Dating outside of the Irregulars is too difficult.”
“Why?”
“It’s hard to constantly lie to someone you love. You can’t explain what you do, what challenges you face. They don’t understand how different the world seems, and when something bad happens and you need to talk about it, all you can do is make up some excuse about lost visa applications and hope they buy it.” August’s eyes suddenly got glassy and Deven wished he hadn’t brought up the topic.
August cleared his throat. “Let’s get something more substantial to eat, then check in on the sacrifices.” It took him two tries to get out of the chair, and as he stood, the little color in his cheeks drained once more. Deven walked beside him in case he lost his balance. August leaned into him, their arms brushing as they made their way down the hall.
August lowered his voice. “What about you?” he asked. “Have you dated much?”
“When would I?”
“You’ve been back a year. You could have met someone.”
“No.”
“So no one?” August looked at him, curious. “You’ve never been with anyone?”
Deven quickly determined that his experience with the woman Lord Jaguar had offered ranked low on the morality scale, so he skipped that story, proud of his growing sensibilities.
“A man seduced me a few months ago,” Deven told him.
August grinned. “Did you like it?”
Deven nodded. “It was nice. A little hard to concentrate.”
August threw his head back and laughed so loudly four employees ahead of them in the hallway turned and scowled. Deven was more distracted by the pale expanse of skin exposed when August arched his neck.
When he glanced back at Deven, August’s eyes were wet with tears of laughter and he looked genuinely happy. “That’s the point, Deven. I’m sure the gentleman involved would consider it a compliment.”
Deven felt his cheeks turn red and looked away.
Outside, it had started to rain. Unlike showers in the Pacific Northwest, which were cool and refreshing, this was a hot, sticky rain, combining with the heat to add a muggy layer to the normally dry climate.
Still, the rain reminded Deven of Friday Harbor with its bone-colored sky, sea, and air and its salty breezes, and windy woods. The novelty of homesickness washed over him again.
Director Alonsa was also interested in visiting the sacrifices in the NIAD ward at the Sanitorio Espanol hospital, so they drove together, stopping at another taqueria for lunch. Deven discovered that Director Alonsa and Agent August were friends, having both worked in the San Francisco branch a few years prior.
As they discussed familiar colleagues, Deven watched people stroll by outside of the restaurant window. It hurt less now to distinguish colors and objects as he visually adjusted to the urban scene. Nevertheless, something always came up that he couldn’t make out. A bright fiasco of flapping vinyl and metal wheels made him squint and he had to concentrate to figure out what it was, until August leaned over and touched his knee.
“It’s a fruit cart,” August said quietly.
“Oh.” Suddenly his interest perked up. “Oh! I want to try a watermelon.”
August gave him an indulgent smile. “Right now?”
Deven shrugged. “Well, sometime. I like fruit.” He felt the director’s sharp, inquisitive gaze on him, so he looked away and kept silent as they loaded themselves back into 72’s sedan and drove to the hospital.
They made their way through a hectic entrance where close to a hundred people lingered in the crowded, hot reception. The rain had brought everyone indoors and an earthy, unpleasant odor of humanity filled the space. Several babies were crying and Deven felt claustrophobic.
Fortunately, they didn’t linger there for long. Director Alonsa flashed a badge and they descended into the bowels of the hospital. The laundry churned out heat and chemical odors. But next to it lay the smaller waiting area and a narrow hallway of the NIAD hospital rooms.
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