Staying Dead - Laura Anne Gilman [128]
“In return, they will pay a small monthly stipend into your account. Don’t get too excited, we’re talking small. But it’s something.”
“Something’s always good.” He was still fiddling with the cigarette. “What?”
“And they’ll protect you. If it becomes necessary.”
“Pro—” Her eyes narrowed as she understood. “The Council isn’t going to put a price on my head, Sergei. We talked about this.” Obviously it hadn’t taken in his overthick, overprotective brain.
“Maybe yes, maybe no. But if you’re wrong…” She took the cigarette away from him when he started to shred it.
“If you’re wrong,” he said, “all you have to do is ask and they will shield you.”
“And that will do what, against current?”
“If current were all-powerful, the Council would have a lot more real-world power than it already does,” he said, looking her in the eye for the first time since they sat down.
Point taken. The Council’s actions toward the rest of the Cosa might not be mirrored in the real world, but she’d bet that wasn’t from a lack of inclination. The Council board was made up of people who had a taste for mundane power, too.
“What about the fatae…?”
“Don’t push it, Wren. The Silence has no interest in supernaturals.” He paused, shrugged. “Not right now, anyway. If we can prove they’d be useful…”
Wren snorted. “More likely they’d see them as something to be exploited. And let me tell you, past experience says not a good idea.”
The waitress finally came back with their drinks, and she sipped her coffee, watching him doctor his tea to his liking. It was a ritual with him, the stirring and measuring, and soothing to watch. His hands were precise but not fussy, and she remembered the feel of them stroking her hair as she faded off into sleep.
It might have been that that decided her. The realization that something doesn’t stop just when you’re out of the picture. That Sergei would still be sitting there, stroking her hair, while she was dead to the world. That things set in motion don’t always stop when, as he would say, the situation was finalized. She hated the knowledge. Resented it. Couldn’t, no matter how hard she tried, stuff it back into its box.
“So.”
“So,” he echoed. “That’s the deal. It’s your choice, yes or no.”
“Me, gainfully employed. Well, sort of.” She grinned a little, then reached out to take one of those capable hands in her own. “You good with this?”
He shook his head. “No. Not really. But it’s your decision.”
“And you…”
“We’re partners.” There was a vow in his dark eyes. “Whither thou goest, etcetera. We’re going to have to get that engraved on our foreheads or something, we seem to have trouble believing the other means it.” His mouth twisted a little, and he sipped at his tea, put it down. “They wanted you most of all, but they’d prefer both of us. Saves on having to match you with a new Handler. The Silence is all for using what works.”
She almost smiled at that, pulling back to her side of the table. “It’s weird. I’ve been thinking about it a lot, the past couple of weeks. And…”
“And?”
“It’s not about the money. Or the protection, although yeah I’ll admit it’s always nice to know that if I’m wrong, here’s a place to run to. But…”
This time, she was the one fiddling with the remains of the cigarette. How to say what had been ticking in her brain since that moment she translocated?
“I’ve spent my entire life thinking small, Sergei. Me, the stuff around me. It’s not a bad way to be, I guess…but if I walk away from this, this thing the Silence is offering, the chance to do some actual good in the world…. I get the feeling I’m going to always wonder—”
“What if?”
“What if,” she agreed. “But when you go back to them, ask for more money first. You never know, right?”
He laughed, shaking his head. “That’s my Wren.” He finished off his tea and stood up. “Okay, let me