“So what kind of stuff do they get you to do?” I fiddled with the phone as I asked the question, watching a drop of morning condensation track its way down the cold glass window. I wasn’t really expecting a response.
“That depends on what kind of agent you are,” Quillan surprised me by replying. “Me and the others aren’t a very good standard because we aren’t undercover in a human job—we live as full-time Zevghéri. Even though I have a normal-seeming job, it’s still at a Zev school, as a Zev teacher. For the rest of them, they do what the Klovoda asks them to do. That’s their job. Sometimes they just want their agents to follow a person. Sometimes they specifically want to get close to a target. Sometimes they want an item retrieved or planted, or a message delivered. The US government has their specialized operations groups… the Klovoda has us.”
I frowned, knowing that Quillan was leaving out the bulk of their ‘duties’.
“All that secrecy for… following people and delivering messages?”
Quillan’s lips twitched, but the amusement didn’t properly break through, and the spark quickly faded away. He still looked as devastatingly perfect as ever, but beneath it all, he seemed tired. Worn thin. Just like me.
“We do other things as well,” he said.
“Of course. Any chance you’re feeling particularly informative?”
He cut his eyes to me, catching the nervous way that I was twisting the phone in my lap, and then he looked back to the road.
“Our messages aren’t always the traditional kind. There are many ways to send a person a message… but I shouldn’t need to tell you that.” He paused, waiting for me to swallow his words.
I did, and I didn’t like the taste that they left behind. I didn’t like that my pairs were in any way similar to the messenger; that they could be doing to someone else what the messenger was doing to me.
“I see,” I said.
“It’s not like that.” Quillan’s fists clenched around the steering wheel, his mouth tightening into a hard line, like he had been disappointed at my response. Had he been testing me? “The Klovoda are only trying to protect our people. That’s what our missions are about, mostly. We have a tentative relationship with the country’s top security agencies, and an even more tentative relationship with the government funding those agencies. Sometimes they need us and sometimes we’re willing to help out. Just as often, though, they’re trying to test their limits with us. They would love to get their hands on an Atmá—despite the fact that they’ve already taken so many from us over the years. They’re angry because they can’t figure out how to harness the power of our people. It doesn’t stop them from trying, though. Whatever we do, whatever messages we send, whichever people we follow, whatever fires we start… it’s all in self-defence. It’s all to protect our people, our bloodlines, our power, our Atmás.
“Sometimes the government gets wind of an Atmá, and that individual is immediately targeted. They send their own agents to follow us, to harass us, and sometimes they paint the target over our heads that other people act on. That’s when one of us gets called in. We have to stalk the stalkers, making sure that they don’t make a move on one of our people. We step in if they do, but we can’t just outright interfere without provocation.”
I let the phone slip from my nervous fingers to rest between my legs. I held it between my knees as I flattened my palms on my thighs, rubbing them back and forth. I listened to every word that Quillan spoke, drinking the information up like a rare and precious wine. His hands were relaxed on the steering wheel, his dark hair slightly damp from the rain that morning. He had discarded his suit jacket and now wore a pale blue button-down that seemed to be attempting to convince everyone that he was a normal and regular human being. He was acting as though he told me about the Klovoda all the time. As though it wasn’t a big deal.
“Those are only the combative agents, mind you.” He glanced at me again. “Most Klovoda agents are undercover humans, working normal jobs, living normal lives, protecting our assets from the humans. Tabby shifts from human schools to Zev schools, depending on where she is needed. If there was a Zev child in one of the human schools, she could be sent there to keep an eye on them. To keep them safe. That’s our main preoccupation, Seph: keeping each other safe.”
I deflated into my seat, my head tipping back as I allowed my attention to drift back to the condensation on the window. I felt guilty for jumping to the wrong conclusion, but I was also very confused. They kept sending me mixed signals when they spoke about the Klovoda. I had no idea whether the Klovoda was supposed to be good or bad.
Maybe it wasn’t as simple as that. It rarely was.