“Yes.”
“Uh, just, well there’s more to it. She coulda knifed me, and she didn’t. With her speed, she had me, and she didn’t do nothing. Plus June tells me the girl came back to help her when she choked, an’ she got her breathin’ again. And though she did stab Gary through the hand, he was going to shoot her. It’s a tiny wound.” Harry grinned. “He’s quite chuffed that he has a knitting-needle wound to show the girls, sir.”
Theo raised an eyebrow, felt a flare of curiosity and relief. “Dankyo?”
As always, Dankyo’s flat-top hair was razor sharp, and his black shoes shone like the deepest lake at midnight. Slowly, he shifted his large feet until they were precisely shoulder-width apart, clasped his hands behind his back.
“Ahh. It is substantiated. It is true, sir.” Dankyo grimaced, then pinned Theo with his steady gaze. “Nevertheless, the woman is dangerous, and I cannot have her anywhere on your property. Her speed was phenomenal. Three men report seeing her catching a thrown knife in midair.” He glanced at Claire, who’d subsided onto her heels and seemed to be more interested in the carpet than anything else. “Surely, you won’t contemplate anything other than removing her?”
“No?” He looked down at her again, bemused. Hard to believe she’d done all that. “Leave me, Dankyo. Take your men.”
“Sir!”
“Leave!”
Dankyo came as close to glowering insubordination as Theo had ever seen. “Very well. Though sir might do well to recall what I said on the airship.”
They left quietly.
He went to the desk and perched half his weight on it, let his feet take the rest. His white linen shirt felt sticky against his skin; the gray trousers he’d worn for the high-altitude flight prickled him with heat. He wanted nothing more than to get changed, but he sat there and waited. Out of the two of them, Claire looked far worse. An abrasion darkened her temple. Her pajamas were ripped at the neck, and the back was spotted with blood.
Though Harry’s words had roused a hope that he might salvage her life, a spark of anger held him back from making things too easy. Dankyo had a good point. How dangerous was she to him and his people?
“Claire? Are you wounded? There’s blood on your back.”
“No. Bruises only.”
As she raised her head, the slow glide of the muscles of her neck made him imagine the taste of her skin. He saw himself sinking his teeth in there, at the soft juncture of neck and shoulder, the bitter taste of her sweat, warm against his tongue.
Then the hurt on her face clawed at him.
He sighed, slapped both hands flat on his thighs. “Why? What were you doing? Where were you going?”
“Back to where I came from.” She spoke in a monotone.
Incredulous, he leaned down and put his hand under her chin. “And you want to go back there? Because I thought it would be the very last place you’d go.”
She moved her head, trying to get loose, and only succeeded in plastering more stray hair to her cheek. “No,” she croaked, pain stirring in those golden brown eyes. “But there’s nowhere else for me. For a frankenstruct.”
He stroked his thumb across her lower lip, marveling at her softness. “Well then, why did you try to run? I had meant to find a place for you here.”
“Lies. I overheard the guards. They said you were bringing back an interrogator. That he would take me away.”
“No. Never. That is the lie. You heard gossip. I’m back. Do you see an interrogator?”
With his hand on her, she couldn’t hide the tremor from him, couldn’t hide the flicker of hope in her eyes, though it quickly died away. She closed them.
“If I could take back what I did, I would.”
He murmured, “And if there was still a place for you?” Before she could answer, he threw in another, harder, question. “But first I need to know what you are. You’re not a common soldier. Are you some sort of bodyguard?”
A long pause, and then she quietly said, “Yes. I am.”
“A bodyguard. Hmm.”
If a bodyguard, then perhaps her employer had been an important personage.
“You’re really a bodyguard? I don’t want any more lies between us, Claire. And, why are you so fast? Even better, how are you so fast?”
“I’m a bodyguard, but—” She shook her head.
“What is it? I won’t think any less of you, but I need you to talk about this. Secrets are not an option, Claire.”
She said nothing.
“Give me something here. My security head is outside champing at the bit to get me to wash my hands of you! And frankly, Claire, I don’t want to do that. Talk to me.”
She sighed, blinked up at him. “I…don’t know how. I guess it’s something to do with how they made me. The parts they used. I can only do it for a short while. We called it sharp time.”