I’ll find something you want, he had said. And then I’ll give it to you.
“We should go to the clinic, upstairs,” Síofra said, almost more to himself than to her. “Zachariah has women doctors, too. They’re on call. Remote, but on call. Completely private and secure.”
Jesus Christ. He thought she’d been raped. A sound left her mouth. She wasn’t sure if it was a laugh or a moan or just indignation and grief. She bent double in her seat. The sound poured out between her knees.
“Just tell me where it hurts.” He was at her ear, now. Urgent. Whispering. Pleading. “You were so right to come here, Hwa, I’m so glad you did, but you have to let me help, now, you have to talk to me—”
“Did you feel bad for me?” It was not the question she thought she would lead with. But it came out all the same.
“What?”
Now she could face him. She brought her head up and watched him searching her eyes and then her wounds. “Did you feel guilty? Is that why you hired me?”
He frowned. “For what happened with the saucer? A little. But that’s not why I hired you. Why are you asking this, now?”
“Why did you hire me? Why did you hire me back? Why do you…?” She didn’t know how to ask the next part. Why are we friends? Are we really friends? “Why do you try so hard?”
His hands stilled beside her. He caught her eye. “Is now the time for this conversation?”
Hwa blinked hard. “Did you know? Did you know that my brother died there? On the Old Rig?” Her throat hurt. She wanted to scream. “Did you know that, when you hired me? Is that why you did it? Because you felt bad?”
Síofra rocked back on his heels. “What on earth are you talking about?”
“Don’t.” Hwa stood up. He stood with her. In front of her. She tried to move and he moved with her. “Just don’t. I know what you did. So stop lying.”
“What are you saying—”
“Stop. Lying. To. Me.”
“I’m not!” His hands fluttered. They settled on her shoulders. “Hwa—”
“Don’t touch me.” She broke his grip instantly. “Did you know?”
His hands hovered in the air. Almost near her face. But not quite. “Know what?”
Hwa swallowed. Her throat hurt so much. Her brother’s murderer had tried to choke her out, just hours ago. It seemed like days ago. Like years. Like he’d wrung the life out of one version of her, and another version had left the elevator.
“How long have the Lynches wanted this town?”
Síofra glanced quickly out the window at the city’s elder towers glittering in the dark. Far away, a train wailed over the water. From here it was a banshee sound. As though the dead beneath the waves were calling to the living above the surface. “I have no idea. That’s another branch, that’s acquisitions, that’s not me—”
“Where were you, three years ago?”
A quiet understanding settled over him. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. “What are you accusing me of, Hwa?”
“The day the Old Rig blew. Where were you?”
“I don’t know. It was years ago.”
Hwa shook her head slowly. “Not good enough.”
“You want me to dig back in my records? Because I will. But you won’t believe me, will you? No matter what I say.” He gestured at the apartment. “Hwa, these people took me in when I had nothing, and gave me all this. You can’t just ask me to believe they would do something like that. They’re like my family. I don’t have anyone else.”
“Neither do I!” She shut her eyes. It was easier than looking at him. He looked so hurt. So shocked. She wanted to believe him. Terribly. “The person I loved the most went up in that blast. It killed almost a hundred people. And I just met the sole survivor.”
Her eyes opened. Her voice came out low. Lower than she’d ever heard it. As though she were speaking from deep inside a pit. “I was hunting the phantom. And I found one.”
Síofra’s eyes widened considerably. “Hwa.” He swallowed. Licked his lips. “Assuming everything you say is true, assuming this person, whoever they are, wasn’t lying to you, I need to ask one thing.” He took a deep breath. “Is he still alive?”
Hwa made herself smile. It pulled taut across her face until it became a snarl. “You’ll never find him. I can promise you that.”
Síofra’s hands rose to cover his mouth. He squeezed his eyes shut tight. “Oh, Hwa. Oh, God.”
She made to leave. She had thought she might hit him. Kick him. Draw more blood. Fight him again. Finish what she’d started up on the catwalks, that first day. If he pushed her. If he touched her one more time. But he hadn’t. And somehow that was worse.