His gaze didn’t waver. “Sit down.”
My skin began to prickle in a way that made me want to scratch it. I perched on the edge of the seat, my hands folded on my lap. The shiny name plate on Major’s desk looked as if it had just been cleaned and polished. It looked odd next to the small crack in the wood Alec had caused the last time I was in here.
“I assume you know the reason for your summoning.”
“Yes.”
Major nodded. “Good. This is an important matter. We can’t afford for you to fail.”
This didn’t sound like a lecture on the abuse of my powers.
“Sir?”
“It’s a pity that Kate’s Variation is so limited. I have a feeling that Madison’s brother or father might have shed a good deal of light on many aspects of her life.” He started tapping the smooth wooden surface of his desk. His nails were short and neat; I’d never seen a speck of dirt on him. He didn’t take his eyes off me.
“We talked to the responsible doctors and convinced them it was likely that Madison would suffer from amnesia after she woke from the artificial coma.”
“Someone messed with their minds?” The words were out before I could stop them.
Major rose from his chair and loomed over me. “We don’t mess with people’s minds, Tessa.”
I nodded half-heartedly, but my voice lacked conviction. “Of course not, Sir.”
“This mission is about saving lives. You understand that, don’t you?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good. Here are a few pages touching on the typical aftereffects of an artificial coma, particularly in a case like Madison’s.” He pushed a stack of papers over to me. More facts to read and remember, to internalize until there was no room left for anything else.
“Many important figures will be watching you. This mission can be your breakthrough.”
There was a knock on the door and Alec walked in. Fabulous.
I dropped the stack of papers. The pages scattered across the hardwood floor. My insides clenched as I got to my knees and started picking them up. A pair of strong hands came to my aid. I didn’t look up, gingerly taking the papers from him and settling back on my chair.
From the corner of my eye, I watched Alec take his seat beside me. He wasn’t looking at me, and he didn’t have to. Major’s scrutiny was enough to make me jittery.
What was Alec doing here anyway? Our training was supposed to be over.
“Alec and I have spoken, and he will join you on your mission.”
“He . . . what?!” I blurted.
Alec turned to me, his forehead furrowed. I avoided his eyes and instead focused on Major, whose expression had turned stern.
“Sir,” I added. “Why?” I hated the little part of me that felt elated about the news.
“Alec suggested it would be safer for you if he was around, and I agree. Alec can protect you while conducting his own local investigations.”
What the hell? So it had been his suggestion. Was this his twisted idea of revenge? He might keep me safe from the killer, but who the hell would protect me from my feelings for him?
“But, Sir. How is Alec supposed to fit in?”
Alec’s face tightened. “Alec plays a new student. He’ll be a senior like you. Also, he’s in the room with you.”
I glared at him.
“A senior?” I put as much sarcasm into my words as possible. “But he never went to middle school, much less high school.”
“Neither did you,” Alec snapped.
“I went to middle school. And you don’t look like you’re still in high school.”
“Maybe I repeated a year.”
“Or five,” I muttered.
Major leaned forward in his chair and rested his arms on his desk. “That’s enough, you two.” Something close to amusement flickered in his dark eyes.
“But, Sir, if he pretends to be a student he can’t live alone. People will get suspicious.”
“He won’t be alone. Summers will pretend to be his mother.”
Alec leaned back, his legs stretched out on the wood floor in front of him. But behind his mask of relaxation something was lurking. If I wasn’t mistaken, it wasn’t even directed at me.
“Agent Summers?”
Major nodded.
Summers. I had to admit, that was clever of Major. There wasn’t a better fit to make sure the habitants of Livingston weren’t suspicious of Alec and me. Her Variation—diversion—would surely come in handy. Of course, from a practical standpoint, she didn’t look one bit like Alec, nor did she possess a single motherly trait. With her underbite and broad shoulders, she looked like someone who enjoyed hanging around in shady bars and fighting scoundrels for money. And Alec . . . I allowed myself a sideways glance. Alec was Alec. Tall, tan, buff, black-haired, with his gray eyes and his chiseled jaw . . .
“They don’t look related.”
“Not all children resemble their parents. You, for example, look nothing like your mother.”