Sirus popped the trunk of the car and pulled out a bag. “You’re going to have to change in the back seat. I’ll wait here.”
Deep in thought, Meg nodded. Her little burst of energy was waning and the thought of wearing warm clothes was just too enticing.
What are you going to do, Meg? she pushed herself.
She crawled into the back seat and started to dress in the blue jeans, long-sleeved tee, and sweater she found in the bag. She was too tired to feel self-conscious about dressing in a car.
She sighed deeply and rubbed her eyes. I’m traveling to the home of a powerful man whose interest in me is questionable at best. Am I doing the right thing?
Shaking herself back to reality, Meg slipped her feet into new, thick socks and nearly moaned with joy at the instant warmth they provided.
I could run, she thought. But you wouldn’t get very far, she argued with herself. Her hands shook from the exhaustion that had been kept at bay for too long.
Maybe I should just go with him—it’s not as if I have a whole lot of options. I could dig more information from him then, if I feel any deception, I could escape. At least I would be in the States where I speak the language, she rationalized.
She pulled a pair of high-heeled black boots from the bag. “They really don’t want me able to run,” Meg mumbled to herself as she zipped up the boots and noticed everything was a perfect fit.
Just make do, Meg, she told herself, feeling more assured now that she was wearing clothes and shoes.
She stepped out of the car leaving her hospital gown wadded in the bag. Sirus was still present. Meg could tell it was he because of the black eyes and distant demeanor.
“Here,” he tossed her a small makeup bag, “Fix your face and hair. You’ll need to look presentable if we’re to get passed the officials in the airport, however authentic the Senator’s traveling documents.”
Meg scowled at the face powder, eye shadows, liners and mascara tucked neatly in the little bag. She grabbed the hairbrush and two ponytail holders and proceeded to tame her mane with a quick, loose braid down her back. She secured the thick end with the two elastic holders and collapsed on the back seat, letting her legs dangle out of the open door. She leaned to her left, unintentionally nuzzling into the soft leather at her cheek.
“Gideon called me ‘Meg’,” she started and yawned. “Why not call me ‘Naya’ as you did?”
“Gideon is more concerned with your feelings than I am.” Sirus stood like a soldier in the at-ease stance a few feet away from Meg.
“Why?”
“He’s been assigned as your protector,” he answered coldly.
“And what are you assigned to do?”
“Complete the objective,” he watched her like prey.
Despite herself, Meg yawned deeply. “I don’t know what to do.” Meg stared forlorn at her too dressy boots. Her exhaustion was tackling her from the inside out now.
“Here, do your mind-reading trick,” he said flippantly offering his hand.
Meg noticed he had wrapped his bleeding hand with a cloth. Inwardly, she was glad to see it was still bleeding.
Sirus deserved it, but Gideon didn’t. She held her head in her hands realizing the insanity of that thought. Sirus was Gideon.
Meg grabbed his outstretched hand roughly and tried to focus on reading Sirus. His emotions were so jumbled and now she understood why. No fewer than three alter personalities were inside him. Each was feeling something different and though Meg usually could have untied the knot of their locked emotions, she was too overwhelmed and worn out right then to do anything. She let go of his hand and buried her face in her knees.
“We have to go. I’ll get you a wheelchair once we’re inside,” Sirus said pulling Meg to her feet and closing the car doors. He kept looking around them to be sure no one was watching or listening to what undoubtedly sounded like a surreal conversation. He’d chosen their parking spot perfectly. Very few cars were there, but those present were parked much closer to the airport entrance. No one had seen a thing.
Meg was in a daze of emotion. Her mind was reeling. All she could think to do was put one foot in front of the other and pray she wasn’t walking into a trap. She didn’t know what else to do but follow this “candidate”—what was a candidate, anyway? She wondered— back to Arkdone’s home. Maybe then she’d learn more about him. And maybe, just maybe, she’d be able to get him to help stop Williams from hunting her family.
What was that old saying? ‘The enemy of my enemy is my friend.’
True to his word, when they were inside the sliding glass doors, Sirus grabbed a service worker and asked for a wheelchair to be brought for his companion.
The chair was brought right over, but Meg was already dozing off on her feet. She sat gratefully and slipped asleep, her head tucked neatly chin to chest.
She awoke briefly to answer the question from customs, and then she was wheeled onto the plane first, lifted lightly, placed into a seat and strapped in.
Chapter 44 Why?