CHAPTER TEN

IMMEDIATELY AFTER SECURING THE cargo, Petrosian had permitted me to radio Adel. Considering Petrosian already knew of Everlast’s existence, an existence which would change radically based on the completion or failure of the mission, the transmission didn’t seem like a security threat for the people Petrosian had referred to as the guardians.

Of course, Petrosian didn’t know Adel would play an integral part in my plan to retake control of said mission while keeping Evie out of the worst of it. Honestly, it seemed less of a plan and more of a loose concept—flexible to adaptation—just the way I liked it.

With that taken care of, I occupied myself by watching my daughter sleep, the act of which impressed two things upon me. First, she possessed the ability to trust a madman we’d just met well enough to sleep. Second, I loved her for it. Why should she have to suffer like the rest of us?

For only the last couple of months had I known the serenity of a quiet mind. The psychic current always swirled and roiled in the background, but for the first time since my youth, I didn’t have to pay attention to it. The peace I felt was changing me. Or maybe it was something else. Maybe living out from under the shadow of Evie’s imminent death, or living free from the burden of finding a way to save her, had given me a renewed perspective on life.

Evie shifted, opened her eyes, and stretched. “Where are we?”

I started to shrug before remembering to check the grid of my mental current. “Nine thousand feet over the Pacific Ocean.”

“Where in the Pacific Ocean?”

“Ask your uncle. I’m done dealing with the Riddler for now.”

“Do you mind?” She nodded toward the front, hands on her buckle.

“Be my guest. Maybe you can find out if there’s a plan.”

“Plan? What would you do with one of those?” She stood, stretching on tiptoes. Her full height of 5 feet and 4 inches didn’t come anywhere near the ceiling of the cabin.

“Hush it, Miss Smarty Pants.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment, coming from a dim-witted Jedi.”

“You liked that one, did you?”

She bit her tongue and smiled before teetering toward the cockpit on wobbly legs.

I watched her as she plopped into the copilot seat, gazing out the windshield.

“I’m sorry for what happened to your home.”

I could hear most of what she said with my ears. Still, I dipped into the current in order to gain sharper resolution. Listening to a conversation via my sixth sense was like experiencing a drama unfold inside my head with each of the characters as close as my own thoughts.

Petrosian sighed. “A fair percentage probably survived the missile strike.”

“Still . . .”

“The most irritating part . . .” He shook his head. “I’m not even sure which is more upsetting: that I lost everything I worked for over the last fifteen years, or that I’ve just found out it was all a waste anyway.”

“I’m sure it hasn’t been a waste.”

“I should have seen it coming. Not that it matters. I suppose we’ll have a final romp in the desert for old times’ sake and go out with a bang.” He closed his eyes and shook his head.

“You and my father have more in common than you think.”

“Really? I hope you’re not calling me an imprudent adrenaline flunky with an irrational fetish for lab coats.”

Evie snickered, a little more genuinely than necessary. I opened my eyes to look at my field-adjusted lab coat. What was wrong with developing a single outfit you could wear most anywhere? It simplified packing.

“Of course not.” Evie waited for Petrosian to look her in the eyes. “I was referring to your commitment to perfection. The problem is, if you don’t mind me saying . . .”

He looked away. “Be my annoying guest.”

“Is that perfection makes losing really difficult to deal with.”

Petrosian stiffened. “I wouldn’t know.”

“Of course.” Evie fell silent.

I nearly dozed over the course of the next few minutes, drifting across the surface of my mental current.

Evie jolted me awake, belatedly continuing her conversation with Grish. “Could I ask you a question?”

“I’m sure you just did and that you will again.” Petrosian’s words remained as belligerent as ever, but his tone had softened. Evie had already melted much of the old man’s crotchety exterior.

“What was my grandfather like?”