“And I will. Do you think I could face Alisa if I didn’t? Do you think I could look in the mirror?”

“No,” he said harshly, “I just feel so damn helpless.”

“Well, that’s a first. All I can suggest is that you be sure you’re as ready as you can be. We’ll do the same.” He cut the connection.

Gilroy sat for a moment, looking down at the phone. He was still pissed off and frustrated and scared for Sasha, but talking to Korgan had helped a little to make him remember that he didn’t have to shoulder the nightmare alone. That was Korgan’s job, wasn’t it, he thought sourly. Why become a damn icon if you didn’t want to accept the bullshit that went along with it?

He got to his feet and strode out of the stall to see Sasha standing a few feet away in front of Chaos’s stall. “I didn’t talk to Alisa, but I gave your message to Korgan not to alarm her.”

“That’s good,” she said absently, not looking away from Chaos. “I could have done it, but it gave me time to get over being such a wuss.” She held out her hand to take the phone. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He ignored her outstretched hand. “I think I’ll keep my phone for the time being.” As she started to protest, he shook his head. “If you hadn’t been so determined to make Chaos guardian of our stash, I would have found a place before this. Using him was a good idea, but Korgan said that from now on we should be as ready as we could be for anything that comes our way. I can’t do that unless I can get to my gun and that phone quickly. I’ll take over the job of finding a safe place for mine.”

“‘Anything that comes our way…’” She shook her head. “I don’t think you were successful in not alarming him.”

“He won’t let Alisa see it.” He shrugged. “I’m not too proud to call in reinforcements.” He turned to open Chaos’s stall. “To prove it, I’ll have you stand there on guard while I go in and get my gun from Chaos’s less-than-tender care.”

“No!” She jerked him back. “I’ll do it. I told you something wasn’t right with him.” She slipped inside, got his gun, and then was back. “Change ‘bad-humored’ to ‘savage.’ Don’t go near him.”

“Sick?”

“I don’t think so. I hope not. Masenak isn’t going to believe me if I tell him he’s too ill to run.” She squeezed his arm. “Get out of here and find a place to hide that gun and phone.”

He still hesitated.