Black Holes - The Mors Mortis Trilogy Book 3

Chapter Seven

"Why is he taking so long?" Zarah whispered.

She was peaking out from behind a garbage bin with Cassandra by her side, keeping watch outside a set of five-story apartment blocks.

It hadn't been easy to find the place Riley Rodriguez was staying. Zarah and Danny had spent days watching the Narra police station before Riley showed up. It took another day to track her here, and then one more to figure out which apartment she'd commandeered.

But finally, they had it, and when she'd left this morning, Danny slipped into the shadowy entrance from which she'd emerged and up to her floor, looking for anything that might reveal why the police trusted her.

That'd been an hour ago.

Zarah's gaze rose to the windows three stories up, checking for any flickers of movement, but there was nothing, just reflections of the blue sky and surrounding buildings.

"I'm sure it's fine," Cassandra whispered. "He's probably being thorough. We just have to warn him if Riley comes back."

That's exactly what I'm worried about, Zarah thought, but she didn't voice her concerns as she watched the street, waiting for a flash of red hair.

Danny knew what he was doing. At least, he was supposed to.

It shouldn't matter that when he'd first seen Riley, he'd gone eerily silent, muttered words about how upset Seth would be and then disappeared for hours. It shouldn't even matter that there was so much history between these people that Zarah wasn't sure if emotions or rationality ruled their actions anymore.

They were agents. All of them. They spent their entire lives protecting the universe from collapse and she needed to trust they still could.

And yet, as she and Cassandra waited, the silence thickening around them, sweat rose to sheen Zarah's skin, nerves sending jitters to her hands.

"Are we sure this was a good idea?" Zarah asked, and Cassandra glanced at her. "I mean, how do we even know if Riley is doing anything wrong?"

"We don't," Cassandra said. "That's why it's a good idea. You don't interrogate someone until you have all the facts."

Interrogate.

"Oh god," Zarah said, squeezing her eyes shut tight. "Distract me, please."

"What?"

"Distract me. I feel like I'm about to have a panic attack."

"What? Don't."

"It's not like I want to!"

Cassandra sighed and shifted. She placed a hand on Zarah's back, rubbing gently.

"Just breath with me, okay?" Cassandra said, voice calm. "Let your heart rate slow."

Zarah did, following Cassandra's breaths and trying to ignore the odour of garbage and rotten food that accompanied every inhale.

The jitters slowly receded, the need to jump out of her skin lessening, and Zarah opened her eyes.

"Thanks," she said.

Cassandra nodded and sat back, her eyes moving to the street again. There was something in Cassandra's expression that made Zarah stare, though.

Cassandra's mother had been African-American, like Zarah herself, but her father was Asian. Most of the time, Cassandra's features tended more towards her fraternal heritage, but every now and again, she'd do something, or say something, and Zarah found herself staring at her sister's face instead.