“Isn’t that enough?”
Elias simply raises an eyebrow. Then when I don’t cave under his scrutiny, he turns his attention back to his work.
It’s just that there isn’t anything to cave in to …
And … now I can’t stop thinking about it, thinking about how blind I might have been … about so many things.
“What if …” I whisper. “What if they are … ours? They have parents, lives. They’re just kids.”
“Tommy and Kitty are why you’re establishing the scholarship,” Elias says, still perfectly steady and apparently perfectly informed about everything I’ve done in the last three days. “Yes? We’ll start with that.”
My stomach sours at the implications. “They deserve to be … normal. Have a normal life.”
Elias grimaces, just a little. “If they’re ours, then they’re already not normal. Look at the configuration of the bond group already. You and Armin, awry. Three shifters, all with a little extra mixed in due to an awry-blooded parent or grandparent. Yes? A dual-specialized fabricator mage, and me with a rare affinity. Have you ever heard of one bond group containing two awry before? Let alone the rest of us?”
Elias lets that question linger between us. I don’t respond right away because I don’t actually have an answer.
“If you feel a pull toward them, it’s likely that Tommy and Kitty are already not normal,” he finally says gently. “And even if they aren’t ours, we’ll protect them.”
My screen lights up before I can respond. I read the text messages from Greg as they come in, one after another.
>No one answering the buzzer at the apartment.
>Lock on the exterior front door is busted. Not necessarily related, looks like older issue.
>No answer at the door. Need probable cause to enter.
Elias gets up, crosses around the table, and pulls the neighboring chair closer to me. He leans over to read the messages, then gently takes the phone from me and types:
Send them in. I’ll take responsibility. – Elias
>They’re in. Used a prior noise complaint as cause.
Elias rests his hand on my knee. I clasp it tightly.
We wait. My screen goes black multiple times, with me lurching forward to wake it. In the end, Elias turns off the automated sleep function.
The time passing aches through me.
Then finally Greg texts again.
>I’m on site. Apartment empty. Could be trashed. Could always look like this. No sight of the kids. Beds unmade.
Elias texts back.Have they been taken?
>No blood. No overt signs of a struggle. We’re checking local hospitals.
>I’ve got the locals going door to door.
>The techs are trying to trace the phone again. Any phone.
Feeling as though I’m moving oh so slowly, I take the phone from Elias and text Greg.
I need contact information for Miller Hernandez, please.
Miller, of the California-based Hernandez bond group, is the tech genius who conceived and designed the tech we all use in our everyday lives, including the phone I gave the kids. And even though I abruptly ended my matchmaking event and didn’t choose the Hernandezes, I already know Miller will help me if they can.
>I’ll get you a direct line.
