“Breakfast is on us,” Jarrod says as I take out my wallet. I nod. “Thanks, the next one is on me.” We say our goodbyes and I head out. A knot of worry is eating at me. I’m not used to feeling this way. Apprehensive. I always go into surgery knowing I’ll nail it, one way or the other. I don’t rely on my power every day. In fact, most days I’m fine without it. I’m good at what I do. Damn good, and yet, it’s good knowing that there’s a safety net. Just like it’s terrible knowing that my net isn’t there. My patient could die. I wouldn’t be able to do a damn thing about it.
I’ve got this.
I’ll figure it out.
I have to.
6
Three days later…
Morgan
Tom is sitting in a booth on the far side of the diner, which is almost empty. Then again, it is an odd time of the day. Just after three. The lunch rush is over, and it’s too soon for dinner.
The few people who are here have a cup of bottomless coffee in front of them. One or two have pie loaded with whipped cream. The type you squirt out of a can.
I pull in a deep breath as I near the booth.
Tom is eating a waffle. It’s topped with banana, melted chocolate, syrup, and a ton of whipped cream. He is sipping his coffee as I slide into the booth.
“You’re pulling me,” I say. “Why?”
“Nice to see you too,” Tom says.
I swallow hard. “Sorry.” I exhale, scrubbing a hand over my face. “How are you?”
“Doing okay. Well as can be expected. Coffee?” he asks as a waitress arrives. She puts a mug in front of me and pours.
“Thank you.”
She places a menu on the table.
“I won’t need anything else,” I say. My stomach is all wound up.
Tom cuts off a big chunk of waffle and stuffs it into his mouth.
“M and M told me to see you. They wouldn’t tell me why or give any explanations, which tells me plenty. Why are you pulling me? It’s only been a couple of weeks.”
“It’s not a case of pulling you, O’Reilly,” he says around his food, chewing faster.
“What then? Why am I here?”
Tom swallows. He picks up his coffee. “We don’t have the manpower to keep focusing on your harpy.”
“My harpy?” I shake my head. “What do you mean by that? She’s not my harpy.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I don’t know what you mean, Tom. You’re going to pull M and M as well?” I make a groaning noise. “Not that they were all that great, mind you. Their names should be dumb and dumber. How do they ever take anything down?”
“Don’t do that. Every Seeker in the country is aware of what happened. They’ve all received a picture and a description of the harpy. She will turn up. In the meanwhile, we have bigger fish to fry.”
“Bigger fish? She caused the injury of one of our own. Andy is still lying in that bed, fighting for his life.” I feel my eyes prick. I try hard to keep my voice down and fail. “I spoke to his mother earlier.” I pull in a few deep breaths. I don’t want to break down. “They’re worried that he is slipping into a vegetative state.”
“I know.” Tom puts down his fork and rubs his hands. “I have been following up as well. Believe it or not, I care about him.”
“Well, then?” I yell. “We have to do something. We can’t just give up.”
“It’s been weeks, O’Reilly. I can’t give you more.”
“Weeks of bullshit. Mark and Mandy wouldn’t know their asses from their elbows. They’re useless.”
“I told you not to go there.” Tom points a finger at me.
“I will! They wouldn’t listen to anything I had to say. It didn’t end up being Lilith, but they almost blew the hotel stakeout. We may never have known if I wasn’t involved. If we give up now, we won’t find her. The longer this drags on, the further into the wind she is. It’ll be on you if we don’t get Andy justice. Do you want to live with that? Can you live with that?”
“This is why you should have seen a therapist. Can you even hear yourself, Morgan? This is on you.” He points at me again.
My heart sinks down into my shoes. The blood drains from my body.
“You need to own it. It wasn’t Mandy or Mark who got Andy hurt. It was you who put him in that bed. If you want someone to blame, you blame yourself. No one wants to partner with you, and I don’t blame them. You’re a loose cannon. A liability. I’m closing this down. I suggest you ride a desk for a while. That you keep your nose clean. Maybe at some point—”
“You’re right,” I interrupt. My voice sounds foreign. It’s cold and emotionless. “I am to blame for what happened.” My chest is rising and falling in quick succession. “Now it’s up to me to make it right. I don’t need a partner because I already have one.” I stand.
“Sit down, Morgan,” Tom instructs.
I ignore him. “I know how to tackle this. I know where to go and who to talk to. I’m going to fix this. Not for myself but for Andy.”
I leave, taking quick strides. I’m determined to do right by my partner, my friend. This isn’t about the Order anymore. Rules? What rules? I’m going to do whatever it takes to fix this.
“Morgan!” Tom yells. “Dammit, Morgan,” he yells even harder. “Wait! Morgan, wait.”
I don’t listen. I keep walking.
7
Two weeks later…
Morgan
OMG!
Is that him?
No! It can’t be. Can it? I glance at his name badge. Dr. Lyre Jennings. It’s him. It’s really him. I’ve found him. I have a contact at the local Police Department. A guy who used to be one of us. A Seeker. He put me onto the private investigator. The one who brought the photograph of the harpy into the department to begin with. I spent the last couple of days watching Luke Roberts but to no avail. I finally took matters into my own hands, and here I am. Lyre Jennings. He’s nothing like I expected. I knew he was intelligent and funny, but this? Not this. Not ever this.
At twenty-eight years of age, I’ve come to realize that the voice you hear on the phone, or on the radio, doesn’t always match up to the person. I force myself to look away. To focus instead on the food on my tray. I take small looks at him from under my lashes, feeling like a schoolgirl. Not that I was ever the kind of schoolgirl who looked under her lashes at boys. I’m the youngest of six kids. My siblings are all boys. I was unplanned, just like my two brothers before me. We were not unwanted or unloved, just unplanned. Catholic or not, my mom had her tubes tied after I was born. We didn’t have much money growing up. I had to wear mostly hand-me-downs from my brothers. I didn’t own a dress until I was eighteen. Even then, I felt awkward wearing one. Nope, no fluttering lashes. I was the one playing ball with the boys, not dating them.
Yet, here I am, sneaking looks at this man. Lyre. I see him take out his phone and smile. Holy crap, but he has a great smile. I clear my throat softly. I need to remain focused and professional.