Elenya pulled the shopping bags from under Sean’s bed and dressed in another of the outfits from the local mall. Then she took them shopping.
Dillon had never been good at this particular job. With the shaky start to the day, he was ready to give in to some serious complaints. Carey was putting in extra hours at the school and so wasn’t there to offer encouragement.
But Elenya was firm. “Dr. Sandrine’s shift does not begin for another hour. More importantly, you are forbidden from returning to Cyrius, correct?”
“Where?” Dillon asked.
“The train station,” Sean said, “is on Cyrius.”
“Serious, like, grim?”
Sean spelled it out.
But Dillon was on a roll. “So the Examiner’s fate and our own mental futures depend upon a planet called Somber. Stern. Grave.” He shook his head. “This just keeps getting better.”
Elenya went on, “The authorities will be alerted. You need to blend in. I took note of how Cyrian travelers dressed.”
Sean was so content to be there, walking down the street holding her hand, he would have followed her just about anywhere. “So you didn’t speak with Sandrine?”
“I did not say that. I said she was not on duty yet. I spoke with her by the clinic’s phone. Dr. Sandrine will meet with you.” Elenya stopped in front of a store. “This is perfect.”
Dillon was aghast. “No way.”
“Inside, Dillon.” Elenya led them into Brooks Brothers and over to the men’s dress section. In twenty minutes she had them both decked out. Dillon wore navy dress pants with a matching cotton sweater that zipped up to the neck. Sean was a study in grey—gabardine slacks, matching summer-weight turtleneck. Black belt and loafers. He got busy writing another check before Dillon could get a look at the total.
When they returned to the loft, the twins took turns changing in the bathroom. Then they took hold of Elenya’s hands and with her guidance transited straight into the clinic.
Actually, they transited into the doctor’s private office. Elenya touched a door tab, stepped out into the clinic proper, and swiftly returned. “Dr. Sandrine is with a patient.”
The office was the same stark white as the clinic, even the desk. Sean pulled the desk chair around and said, “I’ve been thinking. What if I got this all wrong? What if we do this and nothing happens?”
“And Carver and the Counselor find out,” Dillon finished. “We’re toast, is what.”
Sean was tempted to urge Elenya to take off. Leave them. Figure out another way to . . .
Dillon must have seen the worry in his gaze, because he shot out, “Sean. Drop it. Now.”
Elenya was clearly as in tune as Dillon. She reached out her hand. Not to Sean. To Dillon. She said, “I’ve always wanted a brother.”
They sat there in silence for a while, letting the quiet white clinic work on healing them all. Finally Dillon said, “So. You’ve been thinking.”
“Right. What we need is the next big thing. Something that will take their mind off, you know . . .”
“The mind-wipe business,” Dillon said, dropping Elenya’s hand. “Or jail. Whatever.”
“So we talk to Sandrine. We send Dillon out hunting. Elenya goes walkabout. And in between, we work on . . .” Sean stopped because he realized the doctor was standing in the portal, listening in.
She greeted them with, “Talk to Sandrine about what?”