Interesting. It doesn’t sound like they’re part of the same group. Does that mean she’s not Icelus?
“The patents,” he grits out. “How could—”
“I patent all of my creations,” Erato says calmly. “I offered you exclusive rights, but it was outside your budget.”
He shows his teeth. “I didn’t realize that was what we were talking about.”
“Didn’t realize. Didn’t think.” She taps her temple. “Are you beginning to see a pattern here?”
In a flash, the werewolf turns back into his wolf form.
A wall of greenery rises between him and Erato.
“If something happens to me, a letter will go to the Senate,” she says. “If you work for who I think you do, that’s the last thing you want.”
He growls and bounds back through the door, disappearing from sight.
The dream stops being a memory at this point as some of the plants turn into green creatures that don’t exist, at least not on Gomorrah.
Figuring I have enough info to share with Valerian, I leave the dream world.
He’s standing right next to me as I emerge from the trance, close enough that his bacteria could easily jump on me if they wished. And he’s staring at my face like a dermatologist looking for a scary mole.
I instinctively step back, flushing all over.
He cocks his head.
I dampen my lips. “Were you staring at me that whole time?”
“Not staring,” he murmurs, his gaze briefly dipping to my mouth. “Admiring.”
My flush deepens. Clearing my dry throat, I say, “Ready to hear about Erato’s dream?”
His expression turns serious, and I tell him what I just saw.
“That makes sense,” he says.
I blink at him. “It does?”
“The Senate had two theories for why Erato would file those patents. One was that she’s with Icelus, and the filing was designed to give nightmares to the clerks at the patent office and others in the know.”
I scratch my eyebrow. “Sounds like too much trouble for relatively few nightmares.”
He nods. “This is why I think their second theory must be the right one. She took that job from Icelus but filed the patents to mitigate the damage her work would actually do.”
“Oh?”
“If someone were to use those plants for a terrorist attack, the Senate would already have countermeasures in place,” Valerian says. “And I bet Erato knew that would be the case—which is why she filed in the first place. No wonder her employer was so pissed.”
That does make sense. “So what now?”
“Give me a second.” He makes some gestures, querying something in his comms. “I can’t seem to find a werewolf matching your description in the Enforcer database,” he says after a moment. “He was probably in disguise.”
I think back to the sideburns and Mohawk. “That might explain why he looked so odd.”
Valerian makes a few more VR gestures. “I’m going to use my powers on you in a second, if you don’t mind.”
Before I can actually say if I mind or not, the living room goes away, replaced with a giant stadium. All around me stand people with different faces but the same Elvis sideburns and Mohawks as the werewolf in the dream. Each wears a name tag, as though this were an orthodontist convention.
“I’m showing you every werewolf on Gomorrah who has a record.” Valerian’s disembodied voice seems to be coming from every direction. “I added the hair to make it easier for you to identify the one from the dream.”
I nod, and the werewolves begin to parade in front of me, each giving me a good chance to have a look at his face.
After about an hour of this, I yawn.
“I’m sorry,” Valerian says from everywhere. “I wish I knew a faster way to do this.”
“I could show him to you in a dream,” I say, looking at the sky.
“Just a few more suspects,” he says. “Then you can go home and rest.”
The werewolf parade continues in the same vein until I spot a guy who might be the one.
“Him,” I say when he gets closer, and I know for sure. “Hans Stubbe.”
“Are you certain?” Valerian asks.
“His sideburns were longer, but it’s him. I’m positive.”
The stadium and all the werewolves except Hans go away, leaving me back in Valerian’s living room.
Valerian shifts his gaze from something in his VR display to me. “Based on his profile, he’s probably a hired gun instead of an actual Icelus initiate.”
I yawn. “Do you know where we can find him? Because if not, I know a guy.”
“Yeah, leave it with me.” Valerian makes Hans go away. “By tomorrow night, I’ll have the location.”
“In that case, I’d better go get my beauty rest,” I say, suppressing yet another yawn. “I still owe myself hours and hours of sleep.”
“You know,” Valerian murmurs, eyes darkening, “you can sleep here.”
My throat goes dry. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
Wait. Why did I say that? It is a good idea. In general, why am I not all over him already? How long can I stay a virgin before it seems creepy? I may already be there, in fact. And if I were to lose it, I can’t think of a better person to find it than—