Bitter Angels by C. L. Anderson Read Free Book Online

break through with some light gossip. “You still with David?” he asked.
    “Yeah.”
    Siri palmed us through an inner door and shot Vijay a scathing glance as we walked past, as if she couldn’t believe he’d bring up such a subject. Vijay just raised his eyebrows at her. She shrugged irritably.
    Families are not the only ones who can communicate without speaking.
    “And David’s still a Van Helsing?”
    I put on an offended air. “Immortality Infractions Investigator, if you please.”
    This apparently confused Vijay. His forehead bunched up. “I.I.I. is better than Van Helsing?”
    “Shut up, Vijay.”
    He chuckled. “Welcome home, Terese.”
    Misao had a garden office. At the moment, he had the shields up to keep in the heat and keep out the wind of the Chicago winter. The effect was that of walking into a peaceful, well-tended courtyard, with a large desk and several comfortable chairs in the middle. The branches of winter-naked maples made charcoal sketches against the grey-stone walls. Evergreens spread dark canopies for the scarlet-berried hollies. Even under the leaden sky, it looked festive.
    As Vijay pushed open the door, Misao glanced up from his active desktop and touched the OFF command with a short, blunt finger. The desk went dark before I was two steps into his office space and my ex-commander stood up to acknowledge me.
    Guardian Marshal-Steward Misao Smith had most emphatically not been optimized. He looked up to every one of his team, except me. This had earned him the nickname of “Little Big,” of which he was perfectly aware. He still had the smooth, round face that belonged to a man on the threshold of his fifth decade and the fireplug build of someone who had kept himself fit all his life. His ruthlessly slicked-back hair was solid black and the awareness behind his green eyes still knife-sharp.
    “Thank you, Agent Kochinski, Coordinator Baijahn.” Misao sat back in his leather chair. Vijay nodded and looked to Siri. The look she shot back toward him was almost a challenge. But they had been dismissed, and they walked out, letting the door swing shut.
    Misao, unperturbed and perfectly patient, looked me up and down just like Vijay had.
    In an instant, I realized how futile my little attempt todiscomfort my former chief by making him wait was. I grew smaller as I settled into the visitor’s chair, my defenses slipping from me like the flimsy constructs they were. Trying to reacquaint myself with my own backbone, I silently told Misao to go to hell in every language I knew.
    This changed nothing. I hadn’t said a word, and I had already blinked.
    “How are you, Field Commander Drajeske?” Misao inquired as he reclaimed his own chair.
    I matched his cool gaze and pulled out my best office manners. “Fine, thank you, Marshal-Steward Smith. And yourself?”
    One finger on his right hand twitched. “I am terrible,” he said. “And I expect to be worse in the very near future.”
    “I am sorry to hear that, Marshal-Steward.”
    Formality makes a kind of lacquer for the soul. It is beautifully slick and impossible to see through. Lacquer is also watertight. Nothing gets out, and nothing gets in.
    I couldn’t let anything else get in. It had been too easy to fall into the old talk with Vijay.
    “Perhaps you would like to know why I have requested you share this very bad time with me.”
    I didn’t answer him. Overhead, the clouds shifted. Shadows rippled over the stones ringing the holly beds.
    “You’re here because Bianca Fayette asked for you to replace her.”
    My lacquer shattered. I stared at Misao, and I knew my face had gone white. Misao, on the other hand, did not move.
    It’s one of the many unusual traditions in the Guardians. You can, if you want, name your own replacement. It’s not official, and it’s fairly easily overridden, but it can carrysome weight. My replacement, Caesar, got my job on my say-so.
    “She died in the field. Her body was recovered on Moon-four