given to smiles. That didn’t mean she trusted her, or believed a word she said.
“She’s dead,” Mercy said at last, the word heavy with her own sense of loss. After so long, it was hard not to believe the statement herself. She didn’t imagine the sadness that clouded the other woman’s eyes.
“I see. Well, she would be pleased that you’ve returned to us, after all this time.”
“Would she?” Mercy couldn’t quite stop the challenge from leaving her lips. “She spent my entire life leading me away from you, training me how to remain lost.”
Vashti sighed. “I see trust will take time. She did all of that because her mother, my sister, wanted to kill you. Lilith wanted you dead, Mercy. Not me. Not the rest of us.” That hand squeezed her fingers again, a gesture meant to comfort. “For now, know that I am personally delighted to see my great-niece again. For so long, I feared I never would.” Vashti turned, gesturing behind her.
“The taciturn man looming over us is Hikaru Jiro, but as I’m sure you heard, he prefers to be called Doc.”
At this, the man pushed forward, brushing by Vashti with his dark eyes focused on the datapad in his hand. His black hair was lightly salted with grey, and combed as ruthlessly straight as his clothing. He glanced at Mercy, a frown fixed across his face.
“Your red blood cell count has improved, and your muscle tone has increased, thanks to neuromuscular stimulation. You have Nayla to thank for that.” He nodded toward the girl, who Mercy saw wasn’t as young as she’d first perceived. Somewhere between eighteen and twenty-one. She had long, dark hair pulled back into an efficient braid, mesmerizing eyes that were pools of clear blue, and a scattering of freckles across her nose. In contrast to Doc’s stark expression, Nayla gave Mercy a huge smile.
“I’m so happy you’re doing better. I tried to fix your hair for you, too, but I’m afraid I didn’t get as far as I’d hoped.”
Mercy put a hand reflexively to her head, and was surprised to run her fingers through three to four inches of new, soft hair. Doc scowled even more.
“I told you, growing hair is an absolute waste of your Talent.” He sounded furious. “Purely cosmetic!”
Nayla just shrugged, seemingly unmoved by his disapproval. “If someone shaved my head, I’d probably cry,” she confided to Mercy. “I thought you might feel better if you had at least a little hair when you woke up.”
“Thank you.” Mercy didn’t know what else to say, given Doc’s obvious agitation. She was certainly glad to have more than a short, prickly stubble covering her head. “It was kind of you.”
“ Bakana onna no ko ,” muttered Doc. His tone made it clear he didn’t approve, whatever the words meant. He glared a Mercy as though he blamed her. “Now, you. How do you feel? Headache?”
Mercy took a moment to take stock. The edge of exhaustion that had been with her for so long was gone. She felt rested, hungry, and strangely anxious. An uneasy feeling hovered over her, and it took a moment to pinpoint why.
“Where’s Reaper?” she asked.
Doc started in surprise. He exchanged a look with Vashti, so quick Mercy couldn’t identify his expression.
“Reaper has many duties,” he said. “None of them in the infirmary. Did you need him for something?”
Mercy didn’t know what to think of the odd disappointment she experienced. What did it matter where the man was? She’d met him for all of five minutes. Annoyed with herself, she shoved the anxious feeling aside.
“No,” she said. “Just curious.”
“It would be best to avoid curiosity where Reaper is concerned,” Doc told her. Mercy had the feeling he meant every word, as though warning her to keep her distance was a kindness. “Now, how are you feeling?”
“No headache,” she told him. “I’m hungry, though.” She said this last a little warily, hoping they wouldn’t hand her a nutritional bar.
“Yes, yes.” Doc
“She’s dead,” Mercy said at last, the word heavy with her own sense of loss. After so long, it was hard not to believe the statement herself. She didn’t imagine the sadness that clouded the other woman’s eyes.
“I see. Well, she would be pleased that you’ve returned to us, after all this time.”
“Would she?” Mercy couldn’t quite stop the challenge from leaving her lips. “She spent my entire life leading me away from you, training me how to remain lost.”
Vashti sighed. “I see trust will take time. She did all of that because her mother, my sister, wanted to kill you. Lilith wanted you dead, Mercy. Not me. Not the rest of us.” That hand squeezed her fingers again, a gesture meant to comfort. “For now, know that I am personally delighted to see my great-niece again. For so long, I feared I never would.” Vashti turned, gesturing behind her.
“The taciturn man looming over us is Hikaru Jiro, but as I’m sure you heard, he prefers to be called Doc.”
At this, the man pushed forward, brushing by Vashti with his dark eyes focused on the datapad in his hand. His black hair was lightly salted with grey, and combed as ruthlessly straight as his clothing. He glanced at Mercy, a frown fixed across his face.
“Your red blood cell count has improved, and your muscle tone has increased, thanks to neuromuscular stimulation. You have Nayla to thank for that.” He nodded toward the girl, who Mercy saw wasn’t as young as she’d first perceived. Somewhere between eighteen and twenty-one. She had long, dark hair pulled back into an efficient braid, mesmerizing eyes that were pools of clear blue, and a scattering of freckles across her nose. In contrast to Doc’s stark expression, Nayla gave Mercy a huge smile.
“I’m so happy you’re doing better. I tried to fix your hair for you, too, but I’m afraid I didn’t get as far as I’d hoped.”
Mercy put a hand reflexively to her head, and was surprised to run her fingers through three to four inches of new, soft hair. Doc scowled even more.
“I told you, growing hair is an absolute waste of your Talent.” He sounded furious. “Purely cosmetic!”
Nayla just shrugged, seemingly unmoved by his disapproval. “If someone shaved my head, I’d probably cry,” she confided to Mercy. “I thought you might feel better if you had at least a little hair when you woke up.”
“Thank you.” Mercy didn’t know what else to say, given Doc’s obvious agitation. She was certainly glad to have more than a short, prickly stubble covering her head. “It was kind of you.”
“ Bakana onna no ko ,” muttered Doc. His tone made it clear he didn’t approve, whatever the words meant. He glared a Mercy as though he blamed her. “Now, you. How do you feel? Headache?”
Mercy took a moment to take stock. The edge of exhaustion that had been with her for so long was gone. She felt rested, hungry, and strangely anxious. An uneasy feeling hovered over her, and it took a moment to pinpoint why.
“Where’s Reaper?” she asked.
Doc started in surprise. He exchanged a look with Vashti, so quick Mercy couldn’t identify his expression.
“Reaper has many duties,” he said. “None of them in the infirmary. Did you need him for something?”
Mercy didn’t know what to think of the odd disappointment she experienced. What did it matter where the man was? She’d met him for all of five minutes. Annoyed with herself, she shoved the anxious feeling aside.
“No,” she said. “Just curious.”
“It would be best to avoid curiosity where Reaper is concerned,” Doc told her. Mercy had the feeling he meant every word, as though warning her to keep her distance was a kindness. “Now, how are you feeling?”
“No headache,” she told him. “I’m hungry, though.” She said this last a little warily, hoping they wouldn’t hand her a nutritional bar.
“Yes, yes.” Doc
Similar Books
