Hunter, Healer by Lilith Saintcrow

Author:Lilith Saintcrow [Saintcrow, Lilith]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy, Contemporary, General, Romance, Science Fiction, (v4.0), Fiction
ISBN: 9781933417806
Google: hDLYAAAACAAJ
Amazon: 1933417803
Publisher: ImaJinn Books
Published: 2013-04-07T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

Del ran his eyes over the printout. His neck hurt and his bones ached from second-stage Zed withdrawal.

He ignored it.

"How much worse is it?” He glanced across the living room. Rowan was occupied with packing kitbags.

She took a sip of cold coffee, swirled it in her mouth, and grimaced, downing it as if it contained alcohol.

She was so pale her skin appeared almost translucent except for the faint flush that rose to her cheeks whenever her eyes met his.

He wondered what that meant.

He'd actually slept next to her last night, listening to the steady rise and fall of her breath as the party wound down and the others dropped off. When he had finally found himself relaxing despite the aching of withdrawal, he had even dared to turn his head and take a deep lungful of her. He'd tucked his coat around her because she'd looked cold. And this morning she'd been gone when he opened his eyes. That was a nasty shock, but he'd reached and found her concentrating on taking a shower. He'd retreated hurriedly back into his own head, glad she hadn't been aware of his quick brush. It made him feel like a voyeur — not so much because he'd done it, but because he wanted to crawl into her mind like a badger into its hole and stay there.

The General spared a brief grin. “Actually this is the bad news. We've gained a lot in the last month or so—fourteen newbies. We've gone back to the decentralized training. Eleanor's got a bunch of them up in Calgary. She sent word back with Boomer that things are kosher up there. Everyone who was out and away from Headquarters survived largely intact, thank God.” Henderson's voice dropped. “If it wasn't for Rowan we wouldn't have made it."

"Ro!” Cath stuck her head in the living room. “Zeke wants to know where you put the—"

"Bathroom, second shelf.” She nodded at Yoshi and handed him his full kitbag. “In the blue bottle. Tell him to leave some for the rest of us, and is he taking his meds?"

"You know how he is.” Cath rolled her eyes. There was a large, fresh hickey on the side of her neck, and her violet eyes were hooded and sleepy. “Thanks."

"No problem.” She flipped the messenger bag she was working on closed, handing it to Yoshi. Del watched, but the Japanese man didn't steal the chance to brush her wrist when he took the bag, didn't lean in toward her like Justin would have done.

That was very good.

"Rowan?” This time it was Brew. “Need anything else?"

"Just another couple clips for Zeke's Walther, if you have any. Oh, and ask Justin what kind of hardware he needs.” She hunched her shoulders, shooting Del a guilty look. Her hands kept moving, swift and deft, taking the next canvas messenger bag, stowing the medkit, extra clips, pad of paper, the pen with the digital camera in the shaft, copper wire, Matheson handheld—all the little things no Society op should be without.

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