Grimspace by Ann Aguirre Read Free Book Online

he’s bright enough to take the cue. “I’m Carl Zelaco, their financial advisor.”
    Of course you are. With that face, you couldn’t have been anything else.
    â€œA pleasure,” I repeat. And March snort-snickers. “I’m sure we have much to say to one another,” I continue, though I’m actually not. “Perhaps we should adjourn inside and talk matters over?”
    I don’t actually see anything here but this godforsaken hangar. The sky is wide-open, no sign of civilization, but surely there’s something . Or maybe there isn’t, which is the whole point. As I ponder that, the scar beneath my rib cage chooses that moment to itch, and I can’t scratch it. Loras seems to be staring at something nobody else sees, but then, March did say he was a savant. So who knows what that’s about?
    â€œAn eminently agreeable suggestion,” No-chin Carl says. “Step this way, we have a rover waiting to convey us to the compound.”
    Compound? Hate the way my gaze goes to March, for reassurance or clarification, regardless, nothing that I want to ask of him. But I’ve already done it because he’s nodding at me, just as he nodded at Dina on board the ship. There’s a five-year-old inside me who wants to kick his shins.
    Insufferably, he smiles.
    With an inward sigh, I turn to follow the leather-tan man. This rover’s new, shiny, with plating that makes me worry about the wildlife. “Are we likely to be attacked?” Even the tire rims are spiked, as if to slam another land vehicle. I’m trying to remember what I’ve heard about Lachion, but this is the last place any jumper would linger. There’s nothing to discover or report, just some mudsiders playing—
    Wild West, Old Terra style. Ah, shit.
    â€œOh, I do hope so,” says Mair.
    â€œProbably not,” the accountant answers. “We’re pretty far from—” He grunts as Jor slugs him in the gut, but I guess he’s used to that because he doesn’t double up or fall over, although he cradles his stomach as he walks. Huh, he’s tougher than he looks.
    â€œYou’ll be entirely safe with us,” Keri tells me, smiling prettily, and I have to wonder why her sweetness scares me most of all.
    Dahlgren’s got his entourage, and I’ve got mine, I think with some amusement, although Dina would happily shove a shiv between my shoulder blades and twist. I’m less sure of Loras, and Saul, well, he seems to admire me. Or perhaps he just possesses that old world courtesy bred into some men as a relic from a patronymic culture. Whatever the reason, I’m wearing his coat, and he’s shivering, so I count that a win.
    That just leaves March. Obnoxious, odious —
    â€œObstreperous,” he suggests, sotto voce.
    I nod, then jerk my head in his direction. His smile becomes a smirk. Oh shit, he’s Psi. He is . There’s no getting away from him, even when we’re not jacked in. But what the hell, I’ve never heard of a Psi pilot. They’re rarer than jumpers and almost always scooped up in early childhood, whisked away to Psi-Corp to learn how to filter out thought-noise. Historically, Psi-sensitives bounced in and out of mental asylums until they killed themselves. Until people figured out they were not, in fact, insane, and they really were hearing voices. Thoughts. Whatever.
    So add one unregistered jumper, one freelance Psi, and me, and you get—
    â€œâ€”your ass in the rover,” March says.
    The dysfunctional family sits, regarding me expectantly. Behind me, I sense Dina stirring. I don’t need to be Psi to know she’s looking at March, asking with a look, Can I kill her now, boss? And the bitch of it, I can’t even entertain myself plotting long, intricate revenges because he might hear me. And laugh, knowing I can’t carry out any of my threats. Oh, but his day is coming. I swear.
    For