A Thousand Pieces of You

“Theo kept the other Firebirds.” Paul’s hands clench into fists, then relax, as though he still has to force himself to accept that his plan went wrong. “I should have guessed he wouldn’t let them go. When I first saw you two in London, I suspected Theo—but then I realized he was trying to take care of you too, without knowing what the consequences would be. I had no idea about Henry.”

I understand it all now, except what happened to Dad, and there I can guess. Probably he’d begun to realize what Conley was up to. He knew too much, and Conley had him murdered. Dad has been dead less than a month, and a couple of hours ago, Conley walked onto the elevator and gave me a smile. It sickens me.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” I ask.

“I didn’t want to say anything beforehand, because I wanted everyone else to act normally. That way, Conley would suspect nothing. But I set up an encoded note for Sophia to be delivered forty-eight hours after I left.”

If Theo and I had waited for one more day, we’d have understood everything. “You could have been killed. You still might be.”

“I intend to survive if at all possible,” Paul says, very seriously.

“But you risked everything.”

He glances away, then, with a clear effort of will, makes himself look me straight in the face as he says, “You were in danger—I had to protect you if I could.” His gaze searches mine. “The risks don’t matter. You’re the only one who matters.”

Neither of us can speak. We sit there, all alone in the dim light, sealed in together away from the rest of the world.

Then my phone rings.

We both startle, and Paul laughs slightly, trying to cover the awkward moment. But my skin prickles with fear as I remember—I had set my phone to Do Not Disturb. Nobody should be able to call me.

I take the phone from my pocket. The call is from an “unknown number.”

Like about 75 percent of America, I use a Triad cell phone. I say, “Can Conley hack into tPhones?”

Paul’s face falls as he realizes what’s going on. “Theoretically.”

“I don’t think it’s just theory.” The phone keeps ringing; voice mail should have picked up by now, but he has a way around that too. “I can’t answer. If I answer, he’ll know where I am.”

“The cell phone tower will already have pinged your location.” Paul glances toward the door, like the police might burst through at any moment. Maybe they will. “Go ahead. Answer it.”

My father’s murderer is on the phone. What does he want?

But I already know. He only wants me.

23

I SLIDE THE BAR ACROSS MY PHONE SCREEN AND SAY, “Hello, Mr. Conley.”

“Marguerite,” he says, as chummy as he was back at Triad headquarters. His voice is even younger than his face; he sounds like another one of Mom and Dad’s grad students who’s come by to hang out at the rainbow table. The volume is down on my phone, but both Paul and I lean close to hear him over the hum of the computers. “What a relief to finally hear from you. I take it you found your friend’s bracelet?”

It infuriates me. If Conley were here, I’d smash my fist right into his freckled face. “Oh, please. You think you have the right to call me out on being dishonest? I’m not the epic liar here. So cut the crap and say what you have to say.”

Paul gives me a look like, Damn. I think he’s impressed.

“Cutting the crap, then,” Conley says, as amiable as before. “You’re a talented young woman. I think we need to discuss how best to use those talents, going forward.”

“I’m not your traveler. I’m not your spy. That’s all there is to it.”

“I see you’ve spoken with Mr. Markov. Is he there with you now?” I don’t answer, but that’s probably as good as a yes. Paul says nothing, only narrows his eyes. Conley continues, “If only things were that simple. You’ve become a very important person in a very important place. That means acquiring your talents is one of Triad Corporation’s top priorities.”

“Your priorities don’t interest me,” I shoot back.

“The people who help me achieve my goals are rewarded, Marguerite. I could reward you more richly than you can imagine.”

“Money doesn’t make up for what you’ve done.” My throat tightens as I think of my father, dead in a river a universe away.

“I can make up for a lot.”

Paul stands, slowly. I realize he’s getting ready to move. Of course—if Conley is already tracking our location, he could have people here any second. I stand up too, edging out of the way so that Paul can start unplugging the computers and stuffing them into his duffel bag.

To cover the sound of his packing, I start talking again, “Is this the part where you start threatening everyone else I love?”

“Do you mean Mr. Beck? He’s absolutely fine, at the moment. Slightly annoyed that you stole his car. He’s back in his own office, waiting for the company car to take him home. Eventually.”

The subtle threat to Theo chills me. Paul pauses in his work, as frightened for Theo as I am. But he doesn’t stop packing for long. Time is already running out.

Conley continues, “We need to meet, Marguerite. There are certain tests I need to run to determine the full extent of your potential. Nothing painful, I promise.”

“Your promises aren’t worth much,” I say.