chapter eighteen

I opened my eyes in time to see Emma Jan hand George what appeared to be a twenty-dollar bill. I knew without looking around that I was in one of the recovery rooms, delightful spots with no sharp instruments or hard corners, but lots of blankets and a soft mattress to come to on.

“I honestly thought she’d take it better.”

“Sucker!”

“Come on,” I complained, sitting up. “That was kind of a shock. Are you two gonna tell me you didn’t freak and wanna flee?”

“Sure, but we didn’t actually flee,” George pointed out.

“Shut up.” Wow. Did I just … Never mind. “We’re fired? We must be fired. What the fuck are we gonna do?”

George had a sarcastic comment ready, but forgot it and gawked at me instead. “That’s two ‘fucks’ in two hours, Cadence. Whatever the meds are, keep on ’em. I think.”

“I’m not a child,” I grumped, smoothing my hair and wishing for a brush. And a mirror. And a job. “I can say poopy swears if I want. Which one of you nailed me?”

“Probably I did,” Emma Jan said, raising a hand. “I might have been standing behind you with a trank.”

“Might have.” She handed me my purse and I pulled out my mirror and looked, then groaned and clawed for my hairbrush. “Okay. God—ow! Stupid tangles. I was just thinking that Adrienne hadn’t gotten loose in ages and then Michaela fires everybody.”

“You need to go back and read Shiro’s note again,” George said bluntly. “We’ve lost funding but she’s got a plan. Also, she’s rich. I suspect the plan is, she’s gonna run BOFFO as a for-profit, private company. Meantime we’ve just gotta keep smiling and not let Paul have a meltdown before we catch Sussudio.”

“That … okay. That makes sense and everything.” Michaela was probably rich. Those suits! And she’d bought all the cool stuff for the kitchen out of her own pocket. “I can get on board with that.”

I was on my feet by now, shaking out the blankets and folding them. The tranks were annoying yet great: fast-acting, put you out cold for maybe ten minutes, with no residual grogginess. Long enough for Adrienne to go to sleep and go the hell away.

“If we need to let him know the latest, let’s get it done. Because I don’t know the latest.” I stupidly handed my pocket mirror to Emma Jan so I could move the blankets and put my brush back. And Emma Jan stupidly looked at it.

“That bitch!” Her shriek made us both flinch, and then she flung the mirror to the floor, where it broke. And if it hadn’t, Emma Jan was right there to stomp it with her special-issue shoes: they looked like classy round-toe flats, but you could run in them, and fight in them. And stomp the bejeezus out of my compact mirror with them.

“That bitch won’t leave me alone!”

I rubbed my forehead to avoid George’s glare. It was deserved. A slap would have been, too. Handing Emma Jan a mirror at any time was unforgivably stupid. I wouldn’t have done it, and she wouldn’t have taken it, if Michaela’s announcement hadn’t rattled us. But still.

“There!” She kicked a few of the shreds, scattering them. No chance of a reflection now, not on what was essentially a bunch of blitzed plastic and mirror dust. “Fixed her. You wanna come around again?” she taunted the pile of plastic and shiny dust. “You can have another helping!”

Emma Jan had mirrored-self misidentification. She thought her reflection in a mirror was another person. Always. We looked and we saw that we needed a haircut, that nudity made us look fat, that the acne medication wasn’t working. She saw another person, the same person who had been following her around to sinister purpose since the first time she looked in a mirror.

“I am so sorry,” I said, embarrassed beyond all measure. “Could you not mention this to Shiro? Ever?”

Emma Jan squeezed my shoulder. “It’s not your fault that bitch is always around. I ran her off for a while. Let’s use the time—I’d like to take a look at your suicide killer, too. The weekend’s probably shot.”

“It’s not even five o’clock,” I observed after a glance at my watch.

She shrugged. “Sussudio’s escalating, we might soon be out of work, and I got the arrest warrant for Jesus. That’s why I came in.”

“You did? You’re gonna go get him?” George was delighted, almost jumping up and down. “Can we come? Can we? Please? Pleaseplease?”

“Ugh, stop it.” She shoved him back a step. “I actually prefer you when you’re being a sexist pig and ramping up the horrible. ‘Please please’ from you is so wrong. It’s freaking me out.”

“Nobody wants you freaked out,” I said, which was nothing but bare truth. “Let’s see if we can get Paul in tonight. Let’s go get your guy while we’re waiting. Then let’s see if Paul’s gotten even smarter in the last week.” Since his IQ was more or less immeasurable, anything was possible. And … who was I kidding? I wanted to be there when Emma Jan arrested Jesus, too.