Page 33 of The Shade of Things
Tatiana shrugged.
Emmett stomped his foot, causing the ball gown to fall off one broad red shoulder. “No heartbeat. That’s all I ever hear. Doesn’t anyone want me for my mind?”
I glared at a conspicuously silent Tatiana and Eli. “I want you to come because you’re a good partner to have in a tough situation.”
“I don’t know. It sounds like we’ll be MacGyvering it,” Emmett said, sounding torn between dismay and admiration.
“He’s right,” I said. “You want us to trust a plan modeled on a TV character’s love of duct tape, paper clips, and gum.”
“Never underestimate duct tape,” Tatiana said. “Besides, many world-changing ideas seemed whack-a-doodle when first proposed. Edison was mocked for the light bulb, the Wright brothers’ flight was dismissed as an interesting scientific toy, and the first man to use an umbrella in England in the 1700s had trash and insults thrown at him.”
“Yeah?” Emmett said. “What’d you call him?”
Tatiana flicked paint at the golem. “As for you, Miriam, have a little faith.”
“I’d rather have a less lethal mode of transport,” I said. “Nav didn’t mention Route 666 as a possibility, so had he not heard of it?” I shook my head. “I doubt that given the demonic name. That means he thought it was a dead—”
“Phrasing,” Eli murmured.
“Futile endeavor,” I amended. “If getting on board could be achieved with a golem and my cloaking, Nav would have said as much.”
Death had gone from a quiet lurker at the fringes of my awareness to that annoying roommate who never left, even when it was clear you were watching TV with your boyfriend and their presence was unwanted. Okay, yes, I was still touchy about Caroline, but this was about us safely getting to the Human Race.
Tatiana swished her brush against the canvas. “Most people who use it don’t have my insider knowledge of its perils and that includes Naveen. Between your cloaking and Emmett’s lack of a heartbeat, your odds of success are significantly higher. It’ll still be tricky, but I’m not sending you on a suicide mission. I wouldn’t do that.”
No, she wouldn’t. Now was the time to tell her about my parents’ role in her accident. That part wouldn’t violate my oath to Zev. I opened my mouth as a shaft of light fell upon the elderly artist.
She was humming under her breath, a small smile teasing up her lips as she painted.
I slumped back against the cushions.
“Mir.” Eli nudged me. “What do you think?”
I stared at him blankly.
“Route 666?”
“Oh.” I scratched my chin. “Despite Tatiana’s confidence in our chances, taking this route means risking both of our kid’s parents.”
Eli acknowledged that but pointed out that it was the fastest way in, our options were limited, and the clock was ticking. He deemed it an acceptable risk given our combined experience, my magic, and the heat he’d be packing.
Emmett remained doubtful, but when Tatiana said we didn’t have a hope of succeeding without him, he reluctantly agreed.
Before I cast my vote, I attempted to access the game using the KH, on the slim chance that it wasn’t in a hidden space. Not only did I get a stern glower from the neon sign face, I also felt like I’d slammed into the outside of a massive bouncy castle, so that was out.
“Okay,” I said, once more in Tatiana’s studio. “We’ll go in your way.”
Once my boss gave us the entrance to access Route 666, we arranged for Emmett to come over with Jude later.
Tatiana stopped me for a moment before I left. “I don’t like to talk about my upbringing much because part of me still feels disloyal for running away from my parents and their religious beliefs. That said?” She handed me a folder bulging with envelopes. “These are the letters I wrote my mother over the years from Paris.”
They’d been returned unopened.
“I wasn’t going to include them in my memoirs, but even though I didn’t lose my parents in the same way you did, it still impacted me for the rest of my life.” She picked up the top envelope, her lips pressed into a firm line, then dropped the letter. “Anyway, if you think there’s something that helps sell my memoirs better, you can use it.” She grabbed her paintbrush and attacked the canvas with renewed energy, her spine ramrod straight.
I pressed the folder to my chest as if it could soak up the loss and regret I felt for her—for us? “Thank you,” I said softly.
She paused and gave me the faintest nod.
