the silence stretched out a full minute before Johnson held his glass higher and said, “To the ones we miss.”
Everyone raised their glasses and slammed down their liquor in one shot. Will and I frowned at each other and followed suit. The liquid set my nostril hairs on fire as it went down. I cleared my throat a bunch of times to relieve the burning in my throat because I didn’t want to cough and ruin the moment. Although, it was a great cure for any unshed tears I was trying to hide. The tears in my eyes now were from the fumes, and totally acceptable.
Will pressed a fist to his chest, like he’d swallowed lava. “That shit burns.”
“No idea why they drink it,” I said, although a mellowness filled my stomach, taking the edge off the pain. It was momentary, I knew that, but I was glad that Uncle Mike included us.
I looked up and caught him staring at me from across the bar. We both knew it would be hard, and this might not be the last time some of us stood in a bar and remembered others in this room. For now, though, I was proud to be here, no matter what happened next.
Chapter Twelve
Mamie sat quietly next to me as we drove to a CIA facility near their main offices at Langley. Ann Smythe’s keepers had reported that her fever had broken overnight and that she seemed well enough for an interview.
Jorge sat up front, next to Captain Johnson. “Miss Archer?” he asked, sounding formal, something I never quite got used to, especially since he was wearing his bone necklace today and had drawn symbols to ward off evil on his arms with a charcoal pencil. “Do you wish for me to speak with her first, or do you want to go in right away?”
Mamie jumped, like she’d been caught daydreaming. “What? Oh, could we both go in? I think it will put more pressure on her to have you staring her down over my shoulder.”
“Agreed.”
Johnson caught my eye in the rearview mirror. “The general and Captain Tannen will be watching over a secure feed at the Pentagon.”
Mamie had insisted that only Johnson and I accompany her and Jorge to the interrogation site. I didn’t know what she was up to, but she’d asked both Brent and Uncle Mike to stay behind. Brent hadn’t been happy, but ultimately admitted that I could keep track of our sister for a few hours while surrounded by armed personnel. Uncle Mike, on the other hand, seemed relieved to have some downtime with Katie before heading into the Pentagon to work on mission logistics for the wielder teams.
We pulled into the parking lot of a low building surrounded by a wrought-iron fence. If it hadn’t been for the metal spikes on top and the security cameras everywhere, I might’ve thought it was some kind of lab or dentist’s office.
The front door was steel, without a window—but a camera pointed down at our heads here, too. Johnson pressed the bell and after a moment, the door buzzed as the lock clicked open. Inside we found a plainly furnished waiting room with a glass-fronted reception desk next to a door on the back wall—exactly like a doctor’s office.
The frosted window opened and a stern-faced woman in a dark suit looked us over. Johnson’s lips twitched like he was trying to hold back a smile. “I believe we have an appointment.”
“To see our guest.” She picked up phone receiver. “Sir? They’re here.”
After a moment of listening, she hung up and the door to her right buzzed. She nodded us through.
The hallway behind the door was stark white and smelled like a strong antiseptic, giving me a serious case of the heebies. This wasn’t the place where we interviewed Ann before. This was the place my dad had called “the dungeon.”
At the time, I’d thought he was being melodramatic to scare Ann. Now I wasn’t so sure.
“The elevator’s at the end,” Stern Lady called. “Second basement level.”
“Really charming staff they have here,” Johnson said, then he stopped with his forehead scrunched up. “Mamie, you
Everyone raised their glasses and slammed down their liquor in one shot. Will and I frowned at each other and followed suit. The liquid set my nostril hairs on fire as it went down. I cleared my throat a bunch of times to relieve the burning in my throat because I didn’t want to cough and ruin the moment. Although, it was a great cure for any unshed tears I was trying to hide. The tears in my eyes now were from the fumes, and totally acceptable.
Will pressed a fist to his chest, like he’d swallowed lava. “That shit burns.”
“No idea why they drink it,” I said, although a mellowness filled my stomach, taking the edge off the pain. It was momentary, I knew that, but I was glad that Uncle Mike included us.
I looked up and caught him staring at me from across the bar. We both knew it would be hard, and this might not be the last time some of us stood in a bar and remembered others in this room. For now, though, I was proud to be here, no matter what happened next.
Chapter Twelve
Mamie sat quietly next to me as we drove to a CIA facility near their main offices at Langley. Ann Smythe’s keepers had reported that her fever had broken overnight and that she seemed well enough for an interview.
Jorge sat up front, next to Captain Johnson. “Miss Archer?” he asked, sounding formal, something I never quite got used to, especially since he was wearing his bone necklace today and had drawn symbols to ward off evil on his arms with a charcoal pencil. “Do you wish for me to speak with her first, or do you want to go in right away?”
Mamie jumped, like she’d been caught daydreaming. “What? Oh, could we both go in? I think it will put more pressure on her to have you staring her down over my shoulder.”
“Agreed.”
Johnson caught my eye in the rearview mirror. “The general and Captain Tannen will be watching over a secure feed at the Pentagon.”
Mamie had insisted that only Johnson and I accompany her and Jorge to the interrogation site. I didn’t know what she was up to, but she’d asked both Brent and Uncle Mike to stay behind. Brent hadn’t been happy, but ultimately admitted that I could keep track of our sister for a few hours while surrounded by armed personnel. Uncle Mike, on the other hand, seemed relieved to have some downtime with Katie before heading into the Pentagon to work on mission logistics for the wielder teams.
We pulled into the parking lot of a low building surrounded by a wrought-iron fence. If it hadn’t been for the metal spikes on top and the security cameras everywhere, I might’ve thought it was some kind of lab or dentist’s office.
The front door was steel, without a window—but a camera pointed down at our heads here, too. Johnson pressed the bell and after a moment, the door buzzed as the lock clicked open. Inside we found a plainly furnished waiting room with a glass-fronted reception desk next to a door on the back wall—exactly like a doctor’s office.
The frosted window opened and a stern-faced woman in a dark suit looked us over. Johnson’s lips twitched like he was trying to hold back a smile. “I believe we have an appointment.”
“To see our guest.” She picked up phone receiver. “Sir? They’re here.”
After a moment of listening, she hung up and the door to her right buzzed. She nodded us through.
The hallway behind the door was stark white and smelled like a strong antiseptic, giving me a serious case of the heebies. This wasn’t the place where we interviewed Ann before. This was the place my dad had called “the dungeon.”
At the time, I’d thought he was being melodramatic to scare Ann. Now I wasn’t so sure.
“The elevator’s at the end,” Stern Lady called. “Second basement level.”
“Really charming staff they have here,” Johnson said, then he stopped with his forehead scrunched up. “Mamie, you
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