Free Dragon: Allie's War Book Nine by JC Andrijeski Page B

nodded, using my fingers to comb hair out of my eyes. It was getting really long again. I probably needed to cut it.
    It’s fucking sexy, Revik sent, sending a pulse of heat.
    I felt a peace offering in that and smiled. Even so, I rolled my eyes a bit.
    I sent, You are such a guy.
    A guy?
    The long hair thing.
    I felt him shrug, but also back off with his light. His next thoughts came out polite. I don’t care about that. Cut it, if you want.
    I laughed, shaking my head. Liar.
    I’m not lying, he sent.
    I smiled, refocusing my eyes on Feigran. In terms of talking later, I’ve already asked Wreg and Jon to babysit Lily tonight. I hope that was okay.
    Dead silence.
    Revik might as well have disappeared; I couldn’t feel him at all.
    Revik… I sighed.
    Alyson. He cut me off. Of course it’s okay.
    His tone said anything but. It also held an open warning.
    I understood that warning, too. Forcing a shrug, I gestured in seer––at no one, really, since I was in the cab of the truck alone.
    So… I said, still fighting to keep my reactions to myself. Should I try to get any more off him? Feigran? Or leave it for now?
    I’ll ask ‘Dori. Give us a minute.
    Still fighting to keep my expression and light neutral, I just nodded.
    I found myself wondering what the hell I was doing in here. I’d felt a pull to come down here, strong enough to get me off the roof in the middle of a job. It felt important. A lot more important that talking in circles about a mole that Feigran couldn’t tell us jack-shit about. I wondered if my radar was off again…then I wondered if Feigran had called me down here himself. Maybe he’d been bored. Who the hell knew with him? After all, he’d already demonstrated his skill in sidestepping rigorously intense security protocols.
    Even Barrier containment tanks.
    Folding my arms, I replanted my feet, gazing into the virtual horizon while I felt Revik talk to ‘Dori in the observation room. As I did, my eyes drifted down to Feigran’s hands.
    They refocused at once.
    I found myself looking…really looking…at what Feigran was drawing.
    Unfolding my arms, I moved closer, until I was standing directly behind him in the virtual construct. I looked over his shoulder, watching as he continued to fill in details with the charcoal pencil, fleshing out an image he appeared to be about halfway through completing.
    “Who is that?” I said.
    Feigran looked up at me.
    When he didn’t speak right away, I crouched behind him, leaning closer to the image. I stared down at it, taking in the heavy and light black lines.
    “Feigran?” I said, pointing. “Who is that?”
    “Dragon,” he muttered.
    Dragon. That was a first.
    He usually drew people I knew.
    “Dragon?” I said. “Who is that?”
    “The anchor,” Feigran said.
    He glanced up and over his shoulder at me. It struck me suddenly, looking at his face and those serious amber eyes, just how close I was to him. Closer than I’d let myself get to his body even in virtual, maybe since we’d taken him captive. I knew he couldn’t hurt me in here, even with the life-simulation controls; moreover, I seriously doubted he would.
    Even so, I usually kept my distance.
    I don’t know why. Habit maybe.
    Or maybe because, as much as I knew this wasn’t Terry, my memories of Feigran’s more sadistic alter ego hadn’t dissipated enough for me to want to get all that close.
    “The anchor?” I pursed my lips. “The anchor of what?”
    I didn’t move away from where I crouched, and Feigran grinned at me, our faces less than a foot apart. When he didn’t answer in words, I leaned down, tapping the charcoal with my finger.
    “And what are these?” I said.
    “Bombs,” he said promptly.
    “Bombs,” I muttered, still staring at the image.
    That answer surprised me less. After all, I’d been dreaming pieces of Feigran’s drawing since I was a kid. Bombs falling on an Asian city…a city that looked a hell of a lot like how I remembered Beijing