Page 20 of From the Noblest Motives
You know she's not. She never goes in this late. And you can probably smell that she's not here. "No."
Fox's smile crinkled the corners of his eyes. "Not one of your more chatty days, is it?"
Why people insisted on pointing that out, Damien would never understand. He took the question as rhetorical and didn't answer.
"Well. Guess I can't hope that she'd take a day off, right?" Fox let out a dramatic sigh and hefted the box once more. "I'll catch up to her at the office, then. Sorry to disturb you."
Damien waited until Fox had swung a leg over his flashy yellow hovercycle and sped off before he backed into the house and closed the door.
"What was that about?" Blaze's scowl was dark enough to threaten the daylight.
"Cookies." Damien shook his head as he ambled back in to lean against the counter beside Blaze. "Apparently."
"Cookies my sweet ass," Blaze growled. "Nosy bastard."
"Hmm." Damien went still, thinking. "I suppose it's nice that they check on her. Why did it feel like surveillance?"
"He saw the truck. Didn't recognize it. Got all curious. Always sticking his big, sniffy nose in shit where it doesn't belong. He was a pain in the ass in school, and he's a p—"
The chirp of a palm phone interrupted Blaze, and Damien scrabbled for his, where he'd left it on the counter. So few people called him, he knew all their ID's, but this call didn't show a numerical designation. Instead, the display read,Damien, you really want to pick this up.
Driven by equal shares of curiosity and alarm, he accepted the call. "Hello?"
No voice greeted him, but the holo display flashed red before another message appeared—a set of numbers. He scrabbled in a drawer for a notepad and pen. The numbers were already fading.
"Twitch?"
"Hold on…"
As fast as he could, he jotted down the string of figures. 35.85811, -78.66088, 11a.
"What is it?"
Damien blinked at the message. Blaze's warmth was suddenly at his shoulder. "I'm not sure." He handed the notepad over, oddly pleased that his hand had steadied.
"Hmm." The bass rumble made Damien want to lean his head on Blaze's chest. Not the time. A heavy line furrowed between Blaze's brows as he considered the seemingly meaningless string before his expression cleared, a sharp triumph in his eyes. "Fuck me if these aren't map coordinates. Coordinates and a time."
Could I fuck you if they are?popped into Damien's thoughts before he could squash it, and his face heated. He pulled up the maps display on Dr. Parma's house screen. "Should be easy to check."
"Wanna verify those one more time?"
Damien switched back to his phone, but the number sequence had vanished. He tried to retrieve the message and hissed through his teeth. "No. The text deleted itself."
"Huh. Someone wants to play spy shit." Blaze was already typing the coordinates in for the map search.
The screen spun the globe, stopped on North America, and zeroed in on the East Coast. The map zoomed in as the numbers expanded—Raleigh, North Raleigh, Shelley Lake…
"It's on the eastern shore of Shelley Lake." Damien shook his head to clear the ringing in his ears. Excitement, anxiety, he had to keep all his sharp edges tucked in. "And the second part is a time, you think?"
They glanced at the display over the stove, which already read nine thirty.
Blaze heaved a growling sigh. "I guess you're gonna go, aren't you? Even if I say this is a stupid, dangerous idea."
"Yes."
"Of course you are." Blaze heaved himself away from the counter and poked a finger at Damien's chest. "You go nowhere without me. Hear me? I'll give you space as long as things don't get fucked sideways, but I'll be right there."
"All right." Damien blinked as Blaze stomped out of the kitchen. "Where are you going?"
