Into the Woods: Tales from the Hollows and Beyond(152)
Author: Kim Harrison

Squaring her shoulders, Grace paused at the crosswalk for a slow-moving van. When it passed, she started across, her pace bobbling when she saw Jason waiting for her just outside the twin glass doors. He was dressed in full military blues, the light sending glimmers of shine from the silver threads in his cap and the metallic toe points as he slowly pushed up from the planter he had been leaning against. There was a plastic-covered coat with a feminine cut lying beside him, a matching cover with the elite’s triton lying atop it.

"You look great," she said as she stepped up onto the curb, and he smiled, taking off his sunglasses and tucking them away. "They have you back on duty already?"

He shrugged, touching his side and wincing. "Limited duty."

Her gaze touched on the jacket and cap, then came back to him. "I’m here to see Boyd. He’s gone, isn’t he," she said, making it into a statement. Why else would Jason be here?

Sure enough, the man’s smile faded. Behind her, Grace listened to little-girl complaints as a harried mother ushered her child inside. To get her tested, or to visit their injured father?

"Grace, I’m sorry. I’m the only one who knows you were going to deadhead him. You can still enter the elite. Just tell them you were going to pass him."

Arms around her middle, Grace looked up at the blue sky, squinting at the light. "No." She’d rather stay where she was than work with people she couldn’t trust. She wasn’t sure what she was going to do now. Balance. She had no balance. Boyd was gone, her job in doubt. Nothing made sense anymore. She was at a crossroads, and she couldn’t see through the fog.

"Is that your last word then?" Jason asked tightly, and she nodded.

He sighed, seeming to relax as he looked at his watch. "Do you have the right time?" he asked, seemingly out of the blue.

Her teeth clenched, and she forced them apart as she thought of her day, stretching long and alone. "Yes, of course," she said, knowing that her erg balance, at least, was spot on.

"And what time would that be?"

The hint of eagerness in his voice pulled her attention down. Mistrusting this, she glanced at her watch. "Nine twenty-eight." Visiting hours started at nine-thirty. She had known Boyd was leaving today, just not when. To be early had seemed prudent. Now it looked like a desperate attempt to grasp at the edges as her world was jerked out from under her.

Jason’s eyes were smiling. "That’s what I have, too." Carefully picking up the jacket and cap, he looped his arm in hers, turning them both back to the double glass doors. "Come on, I don’t want to be late."

Grace went with him, not caring. "Late for what?"

He let go of her long enough to open the door. "You’ll see," he said cryptically.

The plastic-scented air of the Strand’s tower took her, shocking her out of her funk. "Jason . . ." she said, eyeing the cap.

Still smiling, he shoved the cap and jacket at her. "Hold this, will you?" he said as they halted at the elevators. She watched, her alarm growing as he ran a card through a reader, and the executive elevators at the end of the elevator bank dinged.

"The upper levels?" she said, alarmed. "I said no."

But he pushed her forward into it. It was only his good mood that kept her moving, kept her pliant. "Don’t ruin it," he cajoled as her sneakers sank into the rich red pile.

The doors closed, and Jason scanned the bank of buttons as if unfamiliar with them, making a positive grunt when he found the one he wanted and pushed it. The lift rose, and Grace looked at him in his dress blues, perfect from his trimmed hair to his metal-tipped shoes-ribbons in between. Licking her lips, she glanced at her tatty sneakers, then the jacket she was still carrying.

Was he humming?

Her ears popped, and the doors slid open to a white-and-silver reception office. The woman behind the desk looked up, then back down at her work. "Have you ever been up here?" Jason asked as he strode confidently forward, and she obediently followed.

"Once." Her shoes were silent on the whitewashed wooden floor. The furniture was sparse, all wood, no metal. The air felt rich with ozone, soothing her jangled nerves. Windows spread along one entire side, letting the light in with an odd gray feel. They were at the top of the tower, and she felt a wash of nervousness.

Jason waved to the secretary and she nodded as if expecting them. Leaning across her desk, she buzzed them through a glass door. "Officers Stanton and Evans are here, sir," she said as Jason opened it for her, and Grace’s worry grew. They were expected.

The hallway beyond was dark where the reception room was bright. Rich mahogany and lavish furniture that no one ever sat in decorated the long hallway. The electrical interference was almost nil. It should have been like wrapping herself in a fur, but instead, she grew more uncomfortable. It was nothing compared to her dismay when Jason stopped at a wide oak door. The name on it widened her eyes. Rath Walters? He was the head of the elite, Jason’s boss and sort of hers, seeing as he could pull strings from the hospital to the Strand’s elementary school.

Again she looked at Jason, comparing his sharp military bearing to her casual clothes. "Did you bring this for me?" she asked, holding up the jacket in explanation, and Jason nodded, beaming.

"I thought you’d never ask."

Her heart pounded as she ripped the plastic off and threw it into a posh-looking can that had never seen trash before. Mouth dry, she turned her back to him, and he helped her put it on, arranging her hair over the collar. The silk lining whispered over her shoulders, the silver tracings in the fabric iced over her like snowflakes. She shifted her shoulders to test the fit, then zipped it up all the way to cover her neck as Jason’s jacket was. It was a perfect fit, but then they had shared a closet for years.

"And your cover," he said, frowning as he looked at her shoes. "I can’t help you there, but at least the black pants don’t clash."

She adjusted the cap, then took it off as Jason faced the door and knocked. She’d never met Walters but had seen him once at graduation. The man was huge, almost obese. Her thoughts darted to her decision to deadhead Zach and her refusal to pass him in to them, then his accidental death. "I’m not changing my mind," she said, frightened that Jason might try to lie for her. But it was too late. Either they were pissed that she’d thumbed her nose at them and deadheaded him, or pissed that she had killed him to avoid the conflict of morals.

"I know. That’s why we’re here." Jason took off his own cap when Walter’s robust "Come in!" filtered out through the heavy door.