The boy smiled. He peeled his hands from his chest and stretched them toward Marcus. Like his father, they were not hands at all. They were a writhing mass of tiny tentacles similar to those that he stood on. Marcus stared at them, transfixed and terrified at the same time. His fear vanished when the tentacles touched his scales. It was the gentlest of caresses, radiant with warmth, a strange, tingling feeling that, above all else, was comforting. It felt like each tentacle sang through him, telling him that everything would be all right.

“Being as he is,” Olena whispered, close to his ear and translating Jyrgal’s words, “there are many things my son cannot do. But who needs to do other things when he can relieve the pain of others? Because of him, you will feel no more pain.”

So saying, the Handsmith went to work. And it was as he said. Marcus didn’t feel the scalpel slicing into his flesh or the pliers probing for bullets. He just watched the large-eyed joker boy, awed by his healing touch and by the complete goodness of him.

The elevator doors opened with a sigh, and Michelle stepped out onto the Committee floor of the UN. There was the low hum of people working. It hadn’t been like that when she’d started. Back then it had been just the eight of them in Jayewardene’s office.

She didn’t like the way it had blossomed into this bureaucracy. Now there were always new people she didn’t know and people bustling from here to there, looking intent and purposeful.

The receptionist, Margaret, gave Michelle a winsome smile, and Michelle smiled back. There had been some minor flirting between them, but Michelle tried her best not to flirt back. It wasn’t professional. Still, Margaret was really cute. But now Ink was working as Jayewardene’s assistant, and it might be awkward if she discovered Michelle making sexy eyes at Margaret. Once again, Michelle wondered if getting Ink a job with Jayewardene had been wise. Former girlfriends just muddied the water.

“I’m supposed to meet up with some of the new kids, Margaret,” Michelle said, walking up to the sleek metal and glass desk. Everything on the Committee floor was sleek and modern. It managed to look austere and expensive at the same time. “They still in the big conference room?” She was trying very hard not to be distracted by Margaret’s pretty—and very soft-looking—red hair. It had been a long time since she’d been interested in anyone, much less interested in anyone in a very unprofessional way.

Except for Joey. Joey was always in the back of her mind. There were layers of complication being involved with Joey. What they might be to each other she didn’t know. Michelle wanted to find out, but she knew it was emotionally dangerous for her. Also, the Ink and Joey thing—well, that was a mess.

“They were in the big conference room, but most of them left for lunch already,” Margaret replied. “You look especially nice today. Those jeans are perfect on you. And do I smell Chanel No. 5? I love that fragrance.” Margaret gave her a smoldering look, and then gestured toward the sitting area. Why am I thinking about Joey when there’s a perfectly nice girl who obviously wants me? Michelle thought as she began digging through her handbag like she was trying to find something important.