Free Borderline by Mishell Baker Page A

kid’s hand while I forgot how to stand up. I used my cane to steady my wobble and put out my own hand just in time for it to receive the same quick, decisive shake.
    â€œAnother new partner?” Berenbaum said with a wry smile as he gestured for us to precede him into his office.
    â€œJust mixing things up,” Teo said.
    Berenbaum’s office was roomy, congenial, and strikingly absent the kind of self-congratulation that was so prevalent in the reception area. The walls, shelves, and floor were graced with the work of local artists; the only nod to his career at all was a set of framed posters from the Cotton trilogy, each covered in signatures. Even those were nearly obscured by a pair of potted ficus trees. I noticed two pictures of the red Valiant and three pictures of his copper-haired wife, each placed to be visible from his L-shaped work space.
    He gestured to a dark leather couch and perched lightly on the edge of his desk.
    â€œI didn’t get your name,” he said to me, his eye contact almost unnervingly steady. If he’d checked out my prosthetic legs, he’d been clever enough to do it while I was ogling his office.
    â€œOh. Yes, thank you,” I said.
    Only when Teo looked at me as though I’d grown a nipple on my forehead did I realize what I’d said. Or rather, hadn’t said.
    â€œThat’s Millie,” Teo cut in. “She’s in training. She doesn’t talk much.” The look he gave me suggested that I had damned well better not.
    â€œSo what can I do for the Arcadia Project?” said Berenbaum, the corners of his eyes crinkling a bit.
    â€œWe’re trying to track down Rivenholt,” said Teo.
    Berenbaum waited for more, then glanced at me to see if I’d be any help. I just shook my head slightly.
    â€œYou’re looking for him here?” Berenbaum asked, scratching his chin with a benignly puzzled look. “ Black Powder wrapped almost two weeks ago. He’d be settled in back at home by now.”
    â€œHe never returned to Arcadia,” said Teo flatly.
    Berenbaum’s hand dropped to his lap. “What? Are you sure?”
    â€œThere are only three Gates inside the Southern California perimeter,” said Teo. “They’re all watched by people and double-­watched by magic. If he had crossed over, Caryl would know.”
    Berenbaum pushed off from the edge of the desk, moving behind it. “That’s just crazy. Let me try his hotel.”
    â€œWe were there this morning. Apparently he extended hisstay for a month, but also packed up everything and left. It looks like he hasn’t been there in days.”
    Berenbaum stood very straight, looking at Teo with a face so blank I suspected he was starting to panic. “Teo,” he said carefully, “what does that mean?”
    â€œIf we knew, sir, we wouldn’t be bothering you in the middle of your workday. Do you know if he was in any kind of trouble? Did he do or say anything to make you think he might be trying to hide, or get away from someone?”
    Berenbaum let out a frustrated puff of breath, raking a hand through his hair. “No, everything was just the same as—Wait.” He stopped then, giving Teo a penetrating look. Then, just as suddenly, the iconic man seemed to wilt, covering his eyes with his hand. “I’m an idiot.”
    â€œWhat’s wrong?” I said despite myself.
    Berenbaum didn’t look up. “This is my fault,” he said.

10
    My heart went out to the old man, but Teo seemed unmoved. “How is Rivenholt’s disappearance your fault?” he asked.
    Berenbaum straightened slowly, meeting Teo’s eyes. “At the wrap party, he was acting a little off. I was all caught up in my own stuff and didn’t really register what he was saying.”
    â€œWhich was?”
    â€œHe kept going on about how we should just get out of L.A., take Linda and go somewhere, just the three