Page 170 of Victorious

Dani shook her head. “I can’t,” she said.

But Victor knew that wasn’t true. He slipped his hand into his coat, fingers closing around the inhaler. He ejected the cartridge, only a thin film of violet liquid left in the glass.

Dani had refused to make more than a week’s worth at a time. Refused, as well, to show Victor the formula, claiming she was still refining it. But it was more than that. She was making herself invaluable. So long as Victor needed Dani’s participation, she wouldn’t become another body in his wake.

“I need a refill,” he said, handing her the cartridge.

She held it to the light and frowned. “It shouldn’t be empty yet.” Her gaze flicked from the vial to Victor. “What happened?”

What happened was he’d gone searching for his limits in a crowded concert, and he’d found them. Which was how he’d also found that controlling bodies took more strength than simply dropping them. But what he said was simply, “I took a second dose.”

“God dammit, Vic—” started Dani, but he cut her off.

“It worked.” The discomfort in his chest, which was by then already tipping from tightness into outright pain, had faded instantly.

Dani rounded on him.

“It worked, because this,” she said, holding up the empty vial, “is a suppressant and a stimulant, which means you’re walking a chemical tightrope. That’s why I can’t increase the dosage, and why you can’t take more than one. It’s a fine fucking balance between risk and reward, and if you take too much, you’ll do more damage to your heart, and it won’t keep you from dying. It’ll just keep you from feeling it till it’s too late. So do us both a favor and listen to your body when it tells you to stop,” she finished, cheeks flushed.

Victor studied the young scientist, her eyes sharp behind her glasses, her energy, honed to a point. “Okay.”

Dani frowned. She’d clearly been expecting a fight. Finding none, she faltered, blinked, blew out a breath. “Okay.”

Victor held out his hand and she dropped a fresh vial in his palm. It vanished into his coat, and they started walking again.

“Speaking of bodies…” she said, shooting him a sideways glance.

Victor knew what she saw. He’d never been the picture of health, but the years of dying had taken their toll, hollowed his cheeks, given him the look of someone underfed and underslept. “Look, you can’t undo the damage already done, but there are ways to strengthen your heart that don’t involve drugs. Things like diet and exercise.”

Victor considered. It was true.

The body was a machine, and he had been so focused for so long on keeping one part from breaking down, he had neglected the others. He had been to hell and back a hundred times.

At this point, he would do whatever it took.

They passed a trash can, and Victor let the coffee cup drop into the dark.

XXIIINOW. THEN.

2.5 HOURS BEFORE THE END

ON THE ROAD

THERE were only so many ways to get to EON.

Heading east, the straightest route was to take the highway till you reached exit 92, roughly two hours outside Merit. From there, you only had two options. One was shorter but slower, involving a hefty chunk of woodland, where trees were known to fall and block the way.

The other was longer but straighter, and less encumbered.

If you were in a hurry—say, if you were transporting a captured EO while being pursued—the latter was the safer bet. So it was no surprise that that was the route the convoy chose.

And they were making good time.

Until they reached the car.

An expensive yellow roadster slung diagonally across the asphalt, skid marks suggesting it had lost control before careening to a stop.

“We’ve got an obstruction,” said the first agent, the one behind the wheel, as the armored transport slowed, then stopped. “Investigate,” he instructed the second, in the passenger seat. They nodded, and climbed down, drawing a weapon as they approached the stranded vehicle.