There’s power in the touch of another person’s hand. We acknowledge it in little ways, all the time. There’s a reason human beings shake hands, hold hands, slap hands, bump hands.
It comes from our very earliest memories, when we all come into the world blinded by light and color, deafened by riotous sound, flailing in a suddenly cavernous space without any way of orienting ourselves, shuddering with cold, emptied with hunger, and justifiably frightened and confused. And what changes that first horror, that original state of terror?
The touch of another person’s hands.
Hands that wrap us in warmth, that hold us close. Hands that guide us to shelter, to comfort, to food. Hands that hold and touch and reassure us through our very first crisis, and guide us into our very first shelter from pain. The first thing we ever learn is that the touch of someone else’s hand can ease pain and make things better.
That’s power. That’s power so fundamental that most people never even realize it exists.
I leaned my head against Karrin’s hand and shivered again. “Okay,” I said quietly. “Okay. This is important, too.”
“Good,” she said. She left her fingers in my hair for another moment, and then withdrew her hand. She picked up my teacup, and hers, and carried them back to the kitchen. “So. Where did you go after you left the Hard Rock?”
“Hmm?” I asked.
Her voice drifted in from the kitchen. “Given what you told me, you left the meeting with Nicodemus about three hours ago. Where have you been since then?”
“Um,” I said. “Yeah, about that.”
She came back into the room and arched a golden eyebrow at me.
“What if I told you that I needed you to trust me?”
She frowned and tilted her head for a moment before the hint of a smile touched her mouth. “You went digging for information, didn’t you?”
“Um,” I said. “Let’s just say that until I know more about what I’m up against, I’m playing things a lot closer to the chest than usual.”
She frowned. “Tell me you aren’t doing it for my own protection.”
“You’d kick my ass,” I said. “I’m doing it for mine.”
“Thank you,” she said. “I think.”
“Don’t thank me,” I said. “I’m still keeping you in the dark. But I believe it’s absolutely necessary.”
“So you need me to trust you.”
“Yeah.”
She spread her hands. “Yeah, okay. So what’s the play? I assume you want me to assemble the support team and await developments while you and Thomas go play with the bad guys?”
I shook my head. “Hell, no. I want you to go in with me.”
That shocked her silent for a moment. Her eyes widened slightly. “With you. To rob a Greek god.”
“Burgle, technically,” I said. “I’m pretty sure if you pull a gun on Hades, you deserve whatever happens to you.”
“Why me?” she asked. “Thomas is the one with the knives and the superstrength.”
“I don’t need knives and superstrength,” I said. “What’s the first rule to protecting yourself on the street?”
“Awareness,” she replied instantly. “It doesn’t matter how badass you are. If you don’t see it coming, you can’t do anything about it.”
“Exactly,” I said. “I need you because you don’t have supernatural abilities. You never have. You’ve never relied on them. I need extra eyes. I need to see things happening, someone to watch my back, to notice details. You’re the detective who could see that the supernatural was real when everyone else was explaining it away. You’ve squared off against the worst and you’re still here to talk about it. You’ve got the best eyes of anyone I know.”
Karrin took that in for a moment and then nodded slowly. “And . . . you think I’m crazy enough to actually do it?”
“I need you,” I said simply.
She considered that gravely.
“I’ll get my gun,” she said.