Now that I’d broached the subject, I hesitated. I knew there had been something between Hallie and him once, but I also sensed that the friendship that replaced it was stronger.
“It was a simple question.” Poe pulled a Popsicle from a wrapper. Grape. He bit off the end. “Don’t blow a brain gasket.”
“I’m just standing here trying to figure out if I can trust you.”
“I know where you sleep. If I wanted to cause you harm, it would already be a reality, yeah?”
“Glad you’ve thought about it.”
Poe smiled.
“Okay,” I conceded. “Something happened last night. I blew my cover. She figured out I work for the Hourglass, or that I used to, anyway.”
“She’s too smart for her own good.” He slid the wrapper off another Popsicle. “Then what?”
I told him how the ripple had absorbed Hallie and taken her over, the way the veil seemed to zip closed behind her.
“Damn it.” Poe slammed his fist down onto the counter. “I should never have agreed not to call her, but I wanted to keep her out of it. Was she okay?”
“Yeah, she was. Shaken, but okay.”
“I need to help.” The pleading in his eyes was honest.
“I don’t know.…”
“Please. I have to do something. I’ve watched every episode of Doctor Who. Ever. Exhausted every series of everything I can find online. My next stop is reality TV, and, Dune, I just can’t go there. We’re talking about Hallie. She’s my best friend.”
“I’ve spent so much time with the Skroll that I don’t know what’s up or down anymore.” I put one arm behind my head and stretched out my biceps, then moved to my triceps, watching him. And then I relented. “Ever since that night, I’ve thought about giving you a crack at it.”
“Are you serious?”
“As serious as a heart attack.”
“I’ve only read the Skroll once. I’d be happy to get another shot at it, especially the newly translated stuff.”
“I thought you couldn’t get it open,” I said.
“Sure I could. I just didn’t tell Teague. At least I was coherent enough to know not to trust her with that.”
“Most of the information I have is inherited from my dad. Stuff he gathered for years.”
“It’s different from what’s on the Skroll?”
“Parts of it, yes.”
“Well,” Poe drawled, “are you going to tell me what you want me to look for, or are you going to make me guess?”
“How about we start with an explanation for the possession?”
“I can do that.” He ate the last bit of Popsicle and returned the others to the freezer. “I guess that means you’re trusting me, then?”
“Two sets of eyes are better than one,” I said. Truthfully, four. I was going to put Liam and Michael on it, too. I’d uploaded the Skroll to a highly protected server. The same kind the CIA used.
“Lay it on me,” Poe said, throwing the wooden stick in the trash. “Everything.”
Chapter 8
Dune
When I got ready to leave for work that afternoon, Poe had his computer and a ton of index cards out, already searching through the information I’d given him.
He wore a huge pair of wayfarer glasses, and was so Anthony Head, circa Buffy the Vampire Slayer, that it was all I could do not to call him Giles.
“Anything you want me to look for besides the possession connection?”
“Possession connection. That sounds like a really screwed-up PBS kids’ show.” I grabbed my own computer. “Just that I’m still looking for the thing that kicked Hallie into overdrive. Whatever the genetic stressor was. Maybe keep an eye out for that, too.”
He nodded and dropped his eyes to focus on his computer. “Will do.”
I took the trolley down Saint Charles, even though the walk would’ve helped clear my head. Hallie had said she wanted me to come back today, but if she’d changed her mind, told her father that I’d blown my cover … I’d be screwed. Possibly dead. I had a brief vision of Paul Girard and his gun holster.
I jumped off at my trolley stop and approached the side entrance to the Girard house slowly. No attempts were made on my life, so I checked in with Carl, the head of security, made my way to Hallie’s room, and knocked on her door. It flew open.
“You. You’re here.”
“I’m here.” I scanned the hallway to the right and left of her bedroom door. “Were you expecting someone else?”
“No. I just …”
“You thought I wouldn’t come back.”
“It crossed my mind. I wondered if what happened last night freaked you out enough to make you cut and run. If the nice-guy stuff was for real.”