“So, what’s Siaka like?” I hear the words tumble from my mouth before I can stop them and sit there, horrified. Liv taps a button on the headphones around her neck, and the screech of unintelligible music stops.

She studies my face. “What’s Siaka like? As in...what is he like? Or what does he like?”

I squeeze my eyes shut and press them with the palms of my hands, trying—for just a split second—to erase the situation I just caused for myself. Hoping against hope that when I open my eyes Liv will have gone back to looking at her screen. But no, there she is, watching me.

“What is he like? Well, I’m his cousin, so one of my earliest memories is of him convincing me to eat sand out of the sandbox at Place des Vosges. I’m probably not the best person to vouch for his character.

“As for what he likes, well...his last girlfriend wasn’t exactly what I would call a rocket scientist. Pretty, but dumb as a rock. I hope that answers your question.”

She must see something in my face. A flash of despair, a shadow of disappointment, because as she switches her music on and fits the headphones back over her cap, she says, “But his last boyfriend...well, he wasn’t bad.”

Chapter Twelve

Soon after Siaka returns with our lunch, Liv packs up and goes, leaving an explosion of candy wrappers and sugar residue strewn across Bran’s desk. I shovel it into a trash can, then scoot my stuff over. It seems awkward now to share a desk with my Flame-finger counterpart.

It must have been the wrong thing to do, because Siaka gets this look like something smells rotten and cranks the music. I can’t do anything right with this guy. What’s wrong with me?

We eat our sandwiches while working. The four feet between us is so charged with negativity I can practically see the sparks out the side of my eye. When I dare glance over, I see that Siaka is typing out some old Flame-finger text handwritten on a crumbling notebook. I click through the bardia’s database, cleaning up files with incomplete or misspelled addresses and making a list of those lacking email addresses. I’ve got a lot of admin work to do before we can get up and running. And although it seems important, no one’s talked about a deadline, so I’m guessing the schedule is ASAP.

Siaka’s phone buzzes, and he tilts it forward to read a text. “Welp. We better go,” he says. “Arthur’s waking up from his dormancy.”

I look at him quizzically.

“Bran and I decided the best time to test the remedies is just after a bardia has reanimated from their three-day dormancy.” He shoots me a tense glance. “After you’ve reanimated.”