“Maybe I shouldn’t hold it against them. Like my arrival here tonight reminded me, I was pretty arrogant, self-assured, brash, and righteous when I got here. They’re suffering from the same Corporate delusion that life is a fairy tale. I won’t put up with it. Which makes me ask: Why the hell did you put up with me?”

“You were surrounded by twenty armored marines with tech that could have flattened PA and murdered every man, woman, and child in the compound.”

“I suppose that does elicit a modicum of tolerance.”

“A small modicum, I suppose. Ultimately, you know that Director Hailwood’s people are going to need relief of some kind or another.”

“Yeah, Shig.” Kalico sighed as Inga approached with a heaping plate of enchiladas drowned in red chili sauce surrounded by stuffed poblanos. The smell was heavenly.

“Two-fifty, Supervisor,” Inga told her. “You’re up ten on the board, so I’ll just subtract.” And she was gone, bellowing, “Yeah, yeah, Hofer, I hear you. Give me a second to scratch my achin’ ass, and then I’ll get you your damn whiskey.”

“Transluna never had it so good,” Shig observed mildly. “Are you sure you want to call these your people?”

“Damn straight.” Kalico picked up the fork and dove into the steaming delight. Chewing, she asked, “Where’s Tal?”

“She’s still out at Two Falls Gap with Dek.” Shig shot her a mild look. “Dek, it seems, is dealing with the ramifications of being awash in quetzal TriNA. Given the creative and violent nature of his hallucinations, Talina rightly figured that he—not to mention the rest of us—was a great deal safer with him out in the bush.”

Kalico stopped cold, a curious unease in her gut. “Tal and Dek? Alone at Two Falls Gap? For how long now?”

“Long enough.” Shig arched a bushy eyebrow. “Talina radios in every couple of days to keep tabs on things. I do know that Tal is worried that Demon might be getting the upper hand.”

“And what is Tal going to do if he does?”

Shig gave her a fatherly smile. “She will do what she has to, even if it breaks her heart.”

Yeah? Kalico thought, and what about mine?

63

Fire popped and snapped, sparks shooting up toward the night sky as the flames flickered yellow on the closest aquajade trunks and danced across the thick leaves the trees pointed in their direction. Camp was made on the canyon rim—on bedrock where no roots or slugs could wiggle their way close. Overhead, a column of invertebrates swarmed, chittered, hummed, and chimed, as well as occasionally roasted and fell into the fire to blacken and crackle, adding to the sandalwood scent from the burning aquajade, chabacho, and mundo stem.