“He’s not an agent,” Michael said, tapping his knee to make it pulse with pain in time with his thoughts. Kill Peri. Not my fault. Become a god. “He’s not even an anchor.”

“Technically, no, but he can defragment jumps,” Jack said. “And Peri trusts him. But it’s his research that will attract her. With the right lab and access to the proper tools—”

“You think he might try to pick the Evocane apart?” Bill interrupted. “Not likely. It took Helen’s tech rats five years to put it together.”

Jack nodded, setting a leg upon his knee. “She doesn’t know that, and until that hope is eliminated, she won’t come in. Tracking her down will be iffy, but we don’t have to. Silas will need a substantial lab to even look at it. There are maybe a handful in the U.S. with the resources he’s going to want. We find the lab, we find Silas, and then we find Peri.”

Bill was nodding, leaving Michael almost choking in disbelief. Why were they even trying to get her back? She was uncooperative, impulsive, and not a team player. She’d been gone a year, and her ghost was still better thought of than him. “And then what?” Michael said, hiding his bitterness. “Wipe her back to nothing and start again?”

Jack leaned forward, his enthusiasm laughable. “Bill, she doesn’t need to be wiped. She wants to come home. You know it. That’s why you chose her for the live trial. She just needs to realize what you’re offering her.”

“I chose her because Helen insisted I use my best drafter, and Peri is that plus expendable,” Bill said, glancing at Michael as he slipped his bulk from the desk, but the lie was obvious to Michael. Taking the heavy bottle back to the drawer, Bill shoved it closed with his foot. “That, and the woman has been without an anchor for almost a year. She has the skills to work independently despite our efforts to prevent it. The only thing she’s scared of is herself.”

“I can work independently,” Michael said, his gut tightening when Bill gave him a weary glance and sat down behind his desk and tapped his laptop awake. Son of a bitch. Cowardly old men who couldn’t think past what worked before. He didn’t even want an anchor.

“As it stands, she has both Evocane and the accelerator.” Bill’s brow furrowed as he scanned the screen. “And you say she won’t self-administer. I can’t wait the months it might take for Denier to realize how complex it is.”

“You can always just dart her with it, can’t you?” Jack said.

Bill shook his head, eyes still on the screen. “The accelerator has to be given intravenously, and only when there’s Evocane already in her system to buffer it.”

Good to know, Michael thought, resolving to go down and quiz the nurses in the med wing. A little wine, a little food, a little sedative . . .

“Not the accelerator but the Evocane,” Jack said, and Bill looked up, clearly intrigued. “I mean, it’s addictive even without the accelerator, so just get her hooked on it and she’ll come in once the cravings kick in.”

“That has merit,” Bill said, and Michael steepled his fingers, imagining how pissed Peri would be if Bill forced all Evocane’s sins on her without any of the accelerator’s lofty heights.

“She’s not as good as you think,” Michael said coldly.

Bill pulled his chair closer to the desk, peering at the screen as he carefully one-finger-typed something in. “She is twice the drafter you’ll ever be,” Bill muttered, and Jack came around the desk so he could see the data scrolling across the holoscreen from the front. “And it’s not because you don’t have talent, Michael. You could be the best if you would apply yourself. Show a little trust.”

It was like that, then, he thought, seething. Angry, he stood.

Bill looked up. “Where are you going? I want you to work with Jack this afternoon on developing those skip-hops.”

Michael forced his expression smooth. “Later. I need to soak my knee.” Striding to the door, he stiff-armed it open and paced into the hallway, headed for medical.

Fuck Bill. He’d find Peri, take the accelerator for himself, then kill her twice. With the accelerator in him, he’d finally have the pleasure of remembering both her deaths.

CHAPTER

SIX

“So I says to him, I spent thirty-five bucks on it. It’s chic, not slutty!” Jack said in a high falsetto. “He’s such a low-Q.”

Peri’s attention dropped from the high ceiling to the woman Jack was commenting on, her miniskirt too high, her gum snapping, and her pink hair teased out to look like the sacrificial XX chromosome in a horror flick. Her friend was just as nonconforming, but in leather. Who knew what had brought them to the Georgia Aquarium. Not the fish, certainly.

Peri’s stomach gave a pang, and she followed the scent of fried food across the wide expanse to the second-floor cafeteria. She hadn’t eaten on the Detroit/Atlanta express, wanting to stretch Bill’s cash as far as she could. “Am I clear or not?” she asked.

Jack snorted, his light stubble and the not-really-there cup dangling between his fingers making him look casually alluring. “Babe, I only know what you know. It’s your decision.”

“Stop calling me that.” Tossing the aquarium’s information pamphlet into the recycle bin, she headed for the tunnel that led to the big tank. Twenty minutes in the great room/lobby watching the casual stance of the uniformed security and listening to Jack make up conversations for the patrons had left her reasonably sure she was unremarked upon and unnoticed.

According to the pamphlet, the big tank was the size of a football field, the viewing panes almost two feet thick to hold back the massive pressure. It was impressive, and she wondered how Silas had wrangled his way into working here. He had a unique skill set, but tending fish wasn’t among them. Maybe he’d lied on his résumé, having the smarts to back up whatever claim he’d made.

High above her at the lobby ceiling, a flight of holographic rays swam in a majestic array, garnering an awe-filled Oooo from the incoming patrons. Peri tried to blend in as she entered the tunnel leading to the large exhibit. There weren’t many single people here, and she’d come in with a school group, playing the part of a parent chaperone until passing the metal detectors.

Her empty stomach pinched as she dodged around two women with empty strollers. Schoolkids with aquarium encounter tablets darted back and forth, scanning the codes at each enclosure as if they were on an Easter egg hunt. She sent her fingertips to brush the vial and syringes still tucked behind her shirt to reassure herself they were there. The thought to take the accelerant rose like black guilt. To recall her drafts would be freeing, but remembering both timelines would lead to paranoia and then death. That a drug could prevent that sounded too good to be true.