But yes, Annabella had been as shocked as he to discover that her skin was clear and smooth, unharmed. She’d commanded him to turn around while she checked out the more intimate parts of herself, and then sat grimly on the side of the bed making terrible, fear-based decisions about her life, none of which she’d uttered to him. He got the gist through his own means: if she stopped dancing, the wolf would lose interest in her.
At least she made a conscious effort not to call him Wolf anymore. Not to give him that power over her. Not to succumb to the seduction of Shadow. Even though she was withdrawn and quiet, she was holding her own in her head. Keeping up the fight.
“She’ll get through this,” Adam said. “Anyone can see how strong she is.”
But she was human, too, and scared. Only her iron-willed determination kept her grounded. Though there was an exception. “She said the paintings were moving.”
Adam’s brows came together.
“Kathleen’s paintings,” Custo clarified. “Annabella said they were alive, that the trees were swaying.”
Adam looked over at the framed images of the Shadowlands on the walls. “Was that just her perception, or were the trees really moving?”
“Is there a difference?” Custo answered. Annabella’s unique perspective breached Shadow regardless, making the question of reality irrelevant. Adam should get that by now.
“Good point. I’ll have them removed.”
A nurse wheeled a tray up to the bed and Adam stepped aside. A cold wash of something bitter-smelling was rubbed onto Custo’s abdomen. The pressure, though light, hurt.
Then the damn prick, which wasn’t as bad as Adam’s lifted, mocking eyebrow. Still not funny.
Custo turned his head for a much better view. Annabella, asleep.
Custo’s guts were wrapped, his belly on fire, as the first of the Segue soldiers entered the apartment under guard. He was held in the living room while Custo positioned two chairs in the corner of the bedroom, away from the still-sleeping Annabella. He wouldn’t allow so much as a screen between them, and he would end anyone who remotely twitched in her direction.
“All of them passed the fMRI lie-detector test,” Adam argued when Custo explained that he wanted to question each soldier himself.
Seemed Adam had gotten his hands on a new toy, a functional magnetic resonance imager, which was supposed to measure blood flow to the brain to ascertain truth from lies with more accuracy than the standard polygraph.
Custo wasn’t that impressed with the results. The traitor had to be within this group of soldiers; only they had access to the intel that placed Adam at the back of City Center last night during the performance. Hence, Custo’s own round of questions.
“You can tell truth from lies?” Adam asked.
“Sort of,” Custo hedged. Not that he didn’t trust Adam with his little secret about mind reading. In fact, he didn’t know why he hadn’t brought it up before, except that mind reading made him intensely uncomfortable. The whole angel thing still didn’t sit right with him, and the telepathy made it worse. Reading thoughts was a handy tool, but he knew from personal experience how unpleasant it was to have someone else eavesdropping in your head.
Screw it. “I can read minds,” Custo said. “It came with the wings.”
He waited for anger, or at least annoyance, but all he got from Adam was, Huh, interesting.
Custo pushed harder at Adam’s mind. “It doesn’t bug you? Bugs the hell out of me.”
Adam smiled slightly, saying exactly what he thought. “I’m used to it. Or kind of. Talia can sense emotion when I touch her. She doesn’t get ‘thoughts’ per se, but she can guess them pretty easily based on how I’m feeling.”
“But I am not your wife, and I can read your mind.” Custo was incredulous. “That has to bother you.”
“Nope.”
“I don’t believe you.”
Adam’s smile grew. “Then read my mind and find out. You know me too well for me to really hide anything from you, regardless. Anything important, that is. Just stay out of my bedroom.” Adam’s smile hit his eyes. “Or don’t, if you need a few pointers in that arena. You never really could keep a girlfriend very long. I’ve wondered…”
“Oh, shut the fuck up.” But Custo was grinning a bit, too.
The knowledge was more than welcome. Talia, a child of Shadow, could sense emotion. Custo, a denizen of Heaven (however unwilling), could glean thoughts from people’s minds. The dichotomy made perfect sense considering the respective characteristics of each world. Magic and inspiration pervaded the Shadowlands, while order and deliberation represented Heaven. Mortality drew from both. No wonder the battleground was Earth.
“Does she know?” Adam tilted his head toward the bed. The question was weighted with Adam’s opinion—he thought she should.
Custo ignored it. “Nope. She’s pissed at me enough already.”
“Chicken.”
Chi—? No. “She has enough to worry about without feeling self-conscious about something as intimate as her private thoughts.” Custo gestured to her. The woman had been attacked not hours ago. She needed a break.
“You like to learn things the hard way,” Adam said, with a sorry shake of his head.