Cici and the Curator by S.J. Wynde

Author:S.J. Wynde
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Rozelle Press

Chapter Twelve

Cici closed her eyes.

When she opened them again, she didn’t think she’d slept for more than a few minutes, but she wasn’t entirely sure. Nothing in the room had changed and the dogs still slept beside her in the same positions, so it couldn’t have been too long, but she had a vague sense that there had been banging on the door a while ago that she had ignored.

She pushed herself up to a sitting position and pulled her legs in, wrapping an arm around her knees and dropping her forehead onto them.

She hurt.

She didn’t like hurting.

She wanted to blame Sevyn for it. That guy had no boundaries and no manners. First magic, then drugs? He needed to learn some respect for other people’s bodily integrity.

But, reluctantly, she had to concede to herself that he wasn’t responsible for the pain she was in. That was all her. She hadn’t needed to use nearly as much magic as she had — it had been the equivalent of hitting a fly with a sledgehammer — but she hadn’t been thinking clearly. She’d definitely depleted more of her magic than she should have. It would regenerate, of course, but it was still annoying.

Her brain felt clear again, and the numbness was gone, so the drug was probably mostly out of her system. She ran her tongue around her teeth. Her mouth still tasted disgusting.

She supposed an adjoining biological service station where she could get a drink of water and rinse her mouth would be far too much to hope for, but she wasn’t going to find out by huddling on the floor, so with a pained groan, she forced herself to her feet.

Since the room was obviously not truly surrounded by space, her first move would be to look for the controls to the starry skies displays. She made her way to the desk in the center of the room, feeling shaky, and slid into the chair behind it.

If she was a set of room controls, where would she be?

She would be on a touch-screen to the left, of course, because the door to the room, the one that she’d magically sealed, was on the right, and it made sense to put the working interface out of the line of view of people entering the room. She skimmed her hand over the left side of the desk, finding nothing.

Okay, then it would be on the right. She swept her hand over the right side of the desk.

Nothing.

The surface of the desk was empty, no normal disarray of projects being worked on, but there had to be some kind of screen somewhere. Cici felt along the front of the desk. She found a depression and pushed it. A drawer slid open.

She promptly shoved it closed again and kept searching. She wouldn’t compound her sins against the people on Vengeance of the Annihilator by searching their captain’s drawers.

That resolve held until she’d found the depressions to open several drawers on the front of the desk, but nothing else.

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