Page 78 of Katya and the Young God

A hot spike of anger dashes through her, like a punch to the gut.

That’s not what she expected him to say.

While she had been away, he had obviously pulled shut the curtains, to stop any unwanted casual glances in.

And her own boss, her boss’s boss’s boss, had given Katya up to the twins.

She breathes out hard, through her nose, as if that could help her right then, as if drawing air through her lungs could erase the fact that her most painful moments, her worst day by far, was orchestrated by someone she at least on paper trusted.

On the floor, Stepan twists his head to look up at her, thumping his tail at her.

A touch, warm on her elbow, and she looks down.

Careful, as if she is going to break at any moment, Pieter lays his hand on her arm, his fingers calloused. “I think she would have thrown her own grandchildren out if she thought it would advance her,” he all but whispers, like he’s trying very, very hard to be soothing. “I don’t think it was anything personal.”

“Yeah, that’s not better,” she snaps, before stopping herself, before swallowing down the next statement she wants to say, and the next. “So we don’t let her get Selene.”

Even her own voice sounds harsh, sounds hateful, sounds like a violent outcry.

He hesitates, visibly weighing options, like she’s a bomb about to go off. “So we don’t let her,” he affirms. “Katya, I...”

To avoid whatever the hell he’s about to tell her, she takes another big spoonful of the soup, annoyed at how tasty it is. “We’ll need to act soon, won’t we?”

“I don’t think they can move her, not without releasing power, and I have no doubt that would be catastrophic for them.” He visibly shifts gears, but keeps his hand at her elbow, as if stabilizing her. Or himself. “So if she wants Selene, she’s going to have to visit Colorado.”

And that, at least, is something Katya can track.

K (2:59 PM): Can NT track if Beatriz leaves California?

She ignores Pieter’s raised eyebrow, as the three dots appear, then disappear.

MIRI (3:01 PM): On it.

MIRI (3:02 PM): Are you okay?????

She certainly doesn’t feel it.

K (3:03 PM): I am safe.

“You probably aren’t,” Pieter chimes in, helpfully. “They almost certainly have some surveillance on you.”

“I can handle that,” Katya says, as cold as she can make it, and Pieter just runs his hand up and down her arm in return, in small soothing motions of contact, and she’s still not sure if it’s meant for her or for him. “What else?”

“I didn’t tell you that to anger you,” his voice is soft, like her words shattered something in him, and Katya refuses to feel bad about it. “I merely thought it would illustrate her ruthlessness.”

“Oh, it does,” she says, and she needs to get her voice under better control, keep herself in a tighter grip, but her skin feels too hot, too prickly. “She even visited my hospital bed, to tell me how glad she was that I was still alive.”

He looks briefly panicked, briefly wild, and all of a sudden Katya can’t handle it anymore.

She stands, sudden, clutching onto her control with her fingernails, and calmly puts the bowl of soup on the counter. “Thank you for the intel.”

He nods, making a move to stand as well, but wincing and settling back. “I’m...sorry?” He says, tentative and awful and very, very careful. “For what was done. In the past.”

It takes her a second, but she nods, pushing her hair out of her face and ignoring the pang in her shoulder. “Understood.”

She should say more, she knows this, but still, it feels like a giant chasm inside of her, to publicly acknowledge it besides just the veiled hints under the mountain.

“When I...got here,” Pieter starts, tentative, and for all of his height on her he looks small, slumped into the couch with his bandage stark white against his skin, “I didn’t know what I should do.”

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