The men looked at her, but her gaze was distant. She couldn’t pay attention to them. She recognized the Storeroom, the power it had carried for centuries, as her family immigrated from place to place, carrying its contents with them—somehow they carried everything as they traveled. The knowledge of how they did it eluded her still. She could ask her father. He’d know.
“Then we’re safe for now,” Alex said. His brow was creased, watching her with uncertainty. Like he didn’t know her. “Perhaps we should get some rest. So that we’re ready when she comes back. She will come back.”
Evie closed her eyes, wanting to forget. Give the knowledge back to her father. “Yes.”
Arthur glanced out the window, his gaze searching the distant horizon. “We’ll keep a watch in shifts. Sinon’s right. You should try to sleep.”
That was astute, the try to sleep. Evie felt exhausted to her very bones, but she hated the idea of falling asleep. Even with Arthur standing watch.
“Feel like taking a walk?” Arthur said to Merlin.
“Another scouting mission?” the old man grumbled.
Arthur grinned. “I thought we’d make sure there aren’t any more of those dogs prowling around.”
Merlin made a distracted motion of assent, and the two strode to the kitchen door.
Before they went outside, Evie hurriedly stood and called to him. “Arthur. Thank you. Thank you for staying.”
He nodded and gave her a smile—a vivid smile that would inspire his people to follow him into battle. They couldn’t lose, not with Arthur leading them.
Then he and Merlin were gone, the door closed.
Alex unbuttoned and peeled off his shirt, stuffing it into the trash under the sink. He washed his hands and arms to the elbows. The water ran pink off him. Evie’d guessed right, he was well built under his coat. He had sculpted muscles on his arms, shoulders, and chest, flexing with his movements. They weren’t excessive, but they promised an efficient strength.
“You’re falling in love with him,” he said, his tone too flat to be mocking, as he stared at the running water.
She started to be angry. She wanted to be angry at his presumption. But the emotion faded.
Instead she made half a laugh and shook her head. “Of course I am. Aren’t you? But no, not really, I think. He’s too heroic. Larger than life, untouchable. Like Superman. He scares the shit out of me. I’m not good enough to fall in love with that. Not brave enough. Or beautiful enough.”
“Don’t sell yourself short.” He stalked over the chair at the kitchen table and pulled on the clean T-shirt.
She should say something here, she thought. If this were a story she was writing, the character would have to say something. She didn’t know what, so if it were a story, she’d have to walk away from it or put in some little stars to remind her to go back to it and fill it in. She liked writing because she could always go back and change things, or think of something better to say. Wittier. She had no wit.
She looked away, to the table where her work was still scattered. Uselessly, now. The comics, her laptop, the stories they contained, seemed so far away. Her phone lay on the table among the debris. The screen showed a missed message. She picked up the phone—she had reception again—played back the lone message, and listened. It was Bruce, who didn’t leave messages, but always waited for her to call back.
“Evie. Some of us—me and Callie, James, his roommates—are leaving the city. James has a place in Napa. It’s not safe here anymore. So we’re running. I don’t know when we’ll be able to come back. I don’t know when I’ll be able to get back to work. I just wanted you to know, Evie, working with you on Eagle Eyes was great. The best work I’ve ever done. You helped me do better than I ever thought I could. Thanks. Maybe we can do it again sometime. I’ll see you. When this all blows over.” The when sounded despairing.
Useless. It had all been useless.
She played the message again. Bruce sounded tired. She wondered how much work he’d been able to finish before fleeing. She hoped he and Callie and the others had made it out of the city.
“Evie, you’ve gone white.”
Shaking her head, she set down the phone. Sleep, rest—wasn’t that what she was supposed to be doing? She sank into the armchair, pulled up her knees. Her stomach was in knots. She’d never rest again.
“Evie?” Alex moved closer. He looked like he might be about to hover. She didn’t want him any closer. He might try to comfort her, and she might start crying.
She said, “How did you know to come here? How did you find this place?”
He set his hand on the back of the sofa. “I tracked you down.”
“But how?”
Shrugging, he glanced away. “Old-fashioned detective work. I knew your family at the beginning. When you were first given stewardship of the artifacts.”
The mind boggled. “When was that?”