A/N: And yes, I am relentless despite no current urgings - here's #3!

Disclaimer: Oh, read the first two. I'm broke and have mental issues. Don't sue me, this is fiction!

Angel's Vigilante... "Agency"

CHAPTER THREE

Noel

After such a long, draining meeting of the minds in my brand new office, I feel so wiped that I need to get away from it all. Seein' as Julian's still neck-deep in information Sendhil's got him loggin' into our data system (the computer room's right next to the lab and my new office with Rich, though it's only connected through the lab), I figure we won't be headin' home anytime soon. Ju seems pretty rapt by the glow of the screen, so I'm betting we won't be out of here till six. Which leaves me about two hours to go bug someone.

Since Ju's in the computer room (and I have a tendency to make techy stuff not work if I'm around it), and Sendhil's deep in discussion in the lab with Chris and Rich over this stone thingy I just spent four hours going over with the others, I know who my best bet is. And it's pretty common, too, since I already spend half my time nagging Zach anyway. He should be expectin' it, really. So I make a quick jolt away from The Jen Zone (otherwise known as "The Dead Zone") and head upstairs to where Zach's been hiding the last few hours.

At first when I knock and let myself in, I'm confused, 'cause he's nowhere in the tiny office, but he answers when I call his name. Then I follow his voice to the even tinier closet Julian's not aware of, and realise the big timid dude's nearly closed himself in. Probably workin' on his painting, I guess.

But when I peek through the crack he's left open, I'm startled to find Zachary holding up a small square of a mirror in the dim light of the single bulb above his head. When I creak the door open a bit, blinking at his back in astonishment (he's actually fussing about his hair!?), he spins to me, like a teenager getting caught wanking off.

He coughs and tries to hide the mirror behind his back, but he should know better – me and shiny things (especially mirrors) have always had a common bond and work well together.

"Aw, Zachary," I taunt playfully, teeth gleaming despite the low light with the wideness of my grin. "Are you preening?"

The dour look on his face admits defeat and he skulks out of the closet, laying the mirror on his desk as he slumps into the chair.

"Fretting, actually," he confesses in his gentle voice, though there is a hint of despair to it now.

"Aw, what for?" I sit on the edge of his desk and unconsciously pick up the mirror, surprised by my own disheveled appearance; such hard work doesn't suit me, it seems, and I tend to my locks carefully. "What's got you all bothered, eh?"

Though it seems I'm preoccupied fixing my own head mop, it's really not the case – I'm listening very intently as my fingers and eyes work together to spruce up the once limp tendrils. Zach knows this about me – that I may seem distracted, but my mind's actually focused on him and his problem.

Folding his arms over his chest and glaring down at the floor, he mutters, "What would he ever see in me anyway? We've worked here together for five years and he's never once shown an interest. Why would I even expect anything but what he thinks I want to talk about?..."

As he trails off sadly, I find myself uncharacteristically pulled away from my own reflection to gawk down at my friend. Not only am I stunned by his self-deprecation, but what he's hinting at could only mean one thing.

"Oh! You're seeing Sendhil tonight?" I gasp happily.

His sour puss doesn't change, though. He just nods somberly, his brow knitted as if he now regrets this opportunity.

"You actually asked him out?" I go on, unable to hide my glee – a step away from clapping my hands together excitedly. "Oh, Zach, that's incredible! Good on you, mate! I'm impressed you finally got the courage to--"

"I don't know what came over me," he interrupts, sounding irritated. "I don't know what happened. I don't think I'm ready. And I didn't really ask him out, just asked him to help me with a case and said we could have dinner together while we work."

I shrug. "It's one way of doin' it. At least now you have a chance!"

His narrowed eyes latch onto mine, a creepy look close to anger in them. "A chance to do what?"

"To impress him!" I insist, immune to his glare by now.

"With what? I've got nothing – I was going to back out anyway, but something strange happened, I don't know what. Before I knew it, I was asking him..."

"And he said yes, didn't he?" I point out despite my mate's enduring pout.

He gives a half-shrug, looking away with a sulk as his arms tighten around his chest. "Probably only because it does involve a case. If I'd asked him just to dinner... I shouldn't have done it," he sighs. "I hate having ulterior motives. And where the hell did I get that urge to keep going anyway? Why did I do that?"

I smirk, recalling Chris hanging around Jen's desk after the meeting and probably seeing the "proposal" first-hand. I lift an eyebrow, a little surprised to think he'd actually noticed the stew brewing in our Zachary.

Then again, he and Sendhil live together, and have been with the agency the longest, besides its founders, so maybe he knew about Zach's infatuation before Julian or I came into the picture. You just can never tell with Chris – some things he picks up on; others he just doesn't bother with. But it's hard to tell which is which for him.

Zach finally notices my strange expression and eyes me up warily. "What?"

I shrug it off. "Oh, just sounds to me like maybe someone with some Light Arts abilities saw your plight and gave you a hand."

Zach's squinted eyes now grow wide. "You... You went downstairs to your office – I saw you leave." He stiffens in his chair. "Noel, if you dared--"

I hold my hands up defensively. "Hey, I swear it wasn't me! You're right, I wasn't there, I had no part in it!"

Zach slumps back again, eyes darting around furiously as he thinks long and hard – then hisses, "Chris – he was right there, probably the whole time, he's a master of Light and Dark Arts. He's known Sendhil longer than any of us--"

"And probably knew about your thing for him years ago," I add with a nod.

Zach rakes a hand through his hair anxiously. "Damn him... I wouldn't be so nervous right now if he hadn't... done whatever it was he did. That sneaky little--"

"Hey now," I cut in before he can slag off the tiny Nispar. "I think he was doin' you a favor, mate."

Zach looks up at me in anguish. "How? I'm a complete mess now!"

"No," I coo at him, sliding off the desk and taking him by the arms. "He obviously approves of your interest in his mate if he was egging you on, so take it as a gift." I struggle thoroughly, considering the height and build difference, but finally succeed at dragging the reluctant lump out of his chair, forcing him to stand up.

"Now, you said before you ain't got nothin', eh?" I remind him, picking up the mirror and forcing it into his hands.

He sighs heavily, rolling his eyes as he follows my unspoken orders. But when I give my verbal ones, he just stares at me like I've grown green tits out my head or somethin'.

"You know that's a load of bollocks, mate, and I'm gonna make sure you acknowledge it before you go down there – even if it takes us the whole two hours. Now look at that face in the mirror. Go on – look at it. Not me, you dolt, you! Do it!"

He finally relents and stares blankly at himself.

"Now say, `I love you, and I accept you exactly as you are.'"

He nearly drops the mirror when he whirls on me. "Are you fucking kidding me--"

I duck momentarily – partly to catch the mirror, partly to avoid his dagger-driven glare – but then readjust our positions as I hold it up in front of him instead, facing him directly and speaking sternly.

"Do it! `I love you, and I accept you exactly as you are!' Say it!"

His gaze remains above the edge of the mirror, giving me a ridiculous look.

"This isn't therapy, for gods' sake," he mutters scathingly. "I don't need to--"

I shove the mirror at his face when he tries to step around me and order, "Do it! Now!"

After some more fighting and denial, he finally utters the rather embarrassing mantra, though it sounds more like a threat than an affirmation.

"Fine," I give in, dropping the mirror to the desk again. "There, that's over. Now," and I cross my arms over my own chest, standing firmly in front of him and speaking like I spoke to Russell in the morning meeting.

"You think you got nothin', do ya? Well, let me tell you – you're wrong, and you bloody well know you're wrong, so no more false modesty, got it?"

Turning my stern side onto him must stun Zach into submission, because he's suddenly all meek and nodding along with me.

"Um... uh... okay..."

"I'll tell you one thing to start you off, and then you tell me something else positive – none of this `I'm shit and I'm not worthy' bollocks. Got it?"

Another shaky nod, and the taller bloke seems like he's much smaller than me at the moment.

"So," I go on, "you're a gifted painter and artist, even though you aren't an Avaraura – that's rare and damn interesting. Your turn."

Zach struggles for a bit, scratching his head – probably wondering how and when he'd gotten dominated by the Nazi of Positive Self-Esteem.

"Um... I'm, uh... I'm tall--"

I swat his head and scold him, "That's just stating the obvious! Doesn't count! Give me something more, something better."

"Um... I'm, uh, really good at, uh... something..."

"At what?"

"Uh... I guess--"

"Don't guess, just say it! And `scaring people' isn't positive, so don't even think about it."

He winces, as if I've just read his mind, smacked him again, and stolen his candy. But the trooper tries again, "I'm good at... s-solving puzzles?"

I nod my approval, and he lets out a sigh of relief. "Nice one. Now me – you're extremely handsome, and if we weren't already good mates, I'd be all over you like melted Nutella on bread. Your turn."

But Zach stops, eyes like saucers as he stares at me, dumbfounded. "D-Do you... Do you really mean that?"

"'Course I do, otherwise I wouldn't've said it. Now come on – your turn."

But Zach's still stumped – his cheeks turning an adorable pink. "You... really feel that way about m--"

"I find you attractive, yes," I answer shortly, matter-of-fact. "I'd do ya, hell yes – but we don't have that kind of relationship, so it would be awkward. I fancy you aesthetically, yes, but would never act on it because it wouldn't be healthy to our friendship, especially since, even if we get along now, we don't have the romantic chemistry that's necessary to keep that kinda thing going, so let's skip that part and move on to your turn."

It takes him a while, but I suppose finally accepting that bit of knowledge gives him an ego boost (an Avaraura such as myself, who has a keen eye for all forms of physical and metaphysical beauty, complimenting him like that can only boost his ego), because when he does collect himself, he says with more conviction, "I'm quite intelligent... most of the time--"

"Not most of the time!" I correct sharply. "That was good, but you should cut off after the important part: you are intelligent. Great. What else?"

After a few more grueling rounds of this, Zach's confidence eventually regresses back into self-loathing, and he blurts out helplessly, "I'm just not ready, Noel! I've got... like, nothing to hold his interest. I'm a Halfie with no active Utar powers, I'm practically useless--"

"Except all those great things we hashed out already," I amend. "Which are all true, by the way, and I know there's even more in there--"

"I need help!" he confesses in a frenzy, groping for my hands, his eyes pleading with me like I've never seen before. This shocks me into listening as he explains himself.

"Yeah, okay, so maybe I've got all those qualities and more – but whenever I'm around him, I turn into a mute idiot! I'll come across as either too creepy or uninterested myself – or a complete moron. And I mean, I've got no, like... style! I'm almost less than an hour away from meeting up with him, and I'm agonising over what I should say, what I should wear, what I should do--"

But he's already hit the nail on the head – the lightbulb in my head shines brightly as soon as the word slips from his mouth. I silence him by putting up a pointed finger – or maybe it's that shining light that appears in my eyes.

"Ah! You need style tips? The ego boost may have been a shaky endeavor – but this, my friend, I can help you with. It is one of my many specialties!"

And the relief on his face is reward enough as I set about messing with his hair and experimenting with what little materials in the way of clothing we have at our disposal from the closet. But I am a fashion genius, if I may be so bold to proclaim it so, and by the time I'm done with him, he is pure hot scientist in a bundle of sleek dark lab coat, partially unbuttoned black cotton shirt, and – well, not much to work with here – his usual dark pants. But his shoes are shined, his hair is sexily unkempt, and the slight stubble I leave on his face is alluring in its own way.

Yes, by the time six o'clock rolls around, he may still feel jittery and nervous – but he looks suave and manly, delicious enough to nibble on...

But when I tell him this, his cool demeanor suddenly evaporates and he gasps, groping for the phone.

"Shit!" he exclaims, yanking a phone book from his desk drawer as he fumbles with the receiver. "I promised him dinner!"

Well, I tried. I did my best. Now it's all up to him – though I'd like to give him that same artificial nudge of guts like Chris did earlier (but I won't, seeing as Zach doesn't want to come across as too arrogant). I leave the office wiping my hands, on my way to fetch Julian, and sigh, "My work here is done."

Zach manages a quick thank-you in between bits of half-orders from a local Chinese/Eastern Utar specialty delivery shop, and all I can do is wish him luck in my head. Seems he's got his hands full at the moment.

Chris

Of course I already know what's going on, but when Zach comes down the staircase looking like some kind of James Bond scientist, all suave and gentlemanly, I know Noel's gotten to him first. Good thing, too, I suppose, as it may have boosted his confidence a bit more. Given him more of a direction as to how to approach the social aspect of this unofficial "date."

As I'm standing in the doorway to the Artifacts Room, and most people have left for the day, Zach catches sight of me. To my surprise, he comes straight up to me, papers and ring in hand, and asks feverishly, "Are you still here for a while?"

I shrug uselessly, tilting my head in the direction of the door to the basement lab. "I leave when he does," I remind him.

Zach looks puzzled for a moment, then recalls whom I'm speaking of, and why this would be the situation.

"Oh, right – and you can't drive--"

"Correction: I have no license."

He eyes me up warily, then clears his throat. "So, um... could you do me a favor? I ordered some food, but I did it a little late, so I'm guessing it'll be a while until it gets here. Could you possibly keep an ear or eye out for it? Here's the money..."

And as he struggles to pull the cash out of his dark lab coat without dropping anything else in his arms, I cringe and mutter, "Not fond of removing any body part for delivery men, but I will answer the door when they come."

He hands me the cash and says, "Huh?" as if he hasn't quite heard me right.

I can tell the guy's still rattled, just by the idea of being alone with Sendhil, so Noel's support must not have been able to sink in very deeply. So I give it a try myself. I've no idea why. It might be interesting.

I lay a hand on Zach's arm, startling him – obviously I'm not well-known for being affectionate; in fact, the act of touching someone, even over their clothing, is a revolting sensation for me. So when he feels the slight pressure on his arm, he turns wide, stunned eyes to me.

But I remain non-plussed, saying quietly, "As I've known him the longest, and with more depth than others, let me give you a bit of advice about Sendhil: don't be discouraged by his lack of interest in you at first; if there is a case to be studied, he does so fervently. Wait until he's simmered down a bit from the high of work to attempt anything of a social nature. Don't take it to heart if he barely acknowledges you in the same room, except if he's asking you questions about the case. He's in work mode. Perhaps once you're able to share a meal, he will loosen up a bit more. Once work is put aside, he is a devoutly good man with a giant heart and doesn't know how to lie. And he truly cares about people. More than most people would."

Zach watches me steadily the whole time, nodding along with my words, absorbing them as if they are more crucial than the actual case.

When I release his arm, I add less intensely, "And by the way, Rich is still down there, so I suppose he's in conversation with Sendhil. Could you please ask him to come to my office as soon as possible – not to interrupt, but I have some very important issues to discuss with him about the stone."

Zach nods obligingly, and as he saunters off to the lab, I slink back into my office and perch on my chair, watching the front door to the lobby and waiting patiently for other people's food.

Rich

Despite my confusion when the tall, black-clad man – Zachary, I recall from his striking facial features, including his penetrating eyes – comes to the lab, insisting that Chris has summoned me to his office, I obey the request and leave Zach and Sendhil alone – though I'm not quite sure what else Chris could show me about the stone that we don't already know. Some of Sendhil's theories seem to have potential, but if there's been some kind of breakthrough, surely others would be notified as well.

Instead, when I reach the Artifacts Room, I find Chris slowly spinning in a chair, reminiscent of Noel's manic carnival ride from the meeting that morning, but calmer, lazier. In his mouth is what I can only guess is an egg roll, and two styrofoam containers sit on a desk just behind him.

I raise my eyebrows when he catches sight of me looming in the doorway, his twirling coming to a full stop to face me.

"You requested to see me?"

He nods, still chewing, but doesn't move – then holds out an egg roll to me as if threatening to stab me with it.

"Want one?" he offers around the food already in his mouth.

I hesitate; surely this has nothing to do with the stone. But I step inside and accept the roll, nibbling on it while eying him up suspiciously. He's since turned his back to me and fiddles with some papers on his desk – not very carefully away from the containers.

When he doesn't go on, I try again, "Zach said you had more information on the stone--"

"I made that up," he answers easily, still preoccupied with rearranging his desk.

I pause, staring at the back of his dark head, pondering what this turn of events could mean.

"So you have nothing for me?"

"I gave you the egg roll."

I roll my eyes and take a tearing bite out of it, munching away rudely. "So," I continue with my own mouth full now, "you called me up here for no reason?"

"For a reason."

I hold out my free hand. "Which is? Besides the egg roll?"

He spins back to me. "To get you out of the lab."

I sigh, realizing the man's intentions. "So Zach and Sendhil could be alone."

He blinks slowly, as if tired, and nods while catching a string of cabbage and stuffing it back between his lips.

"You know," I huff, though not very bothered, "Sendhil and I were coming up with some promising theories, and to push that aside in order for personal affairs--"

"The stone can wait until later," Chris cuts me off blithely, licking his fingers clean as he finishes off the egg roll. "There's really nothing else we can do until we have it in our possession. Conjecture is useless at this point, unless we find solid evidence of its origins, and I've already given over my findings of that. Your team can't go out on an official mission to find it until tomorrow at the earliest, and hopefully with the information we've gathered, that means you can leave tomorrow – but you'll still need to get Angel's approval for it. So there's really no rush on anything until this night is over."

I mull this over a bit, realizing he's being realistic and logical. But now that I know he really doesn't have a valid excuse for calling on me, interrupting my discussion with Sendhil and making me come up here for nothing (but an egg roll), I feel an urge to, say, scratch back a little.

"So," I begin in a lazy drawl, "your name is Chris. The mysterious Nispar."

He nods, turning halfway back to his desk as his eyes scan over some of his ancient book collection.

"As far as Angel knows, you are of a pure-blooded line of that heritage, who has mastered both Light and Dark Arts."

He confirms again with only his head.

"So..." I lean back against the door frame, now back to nibbling my food. "No surname? Even Utars tend to have surnames – usually passed down through their more prominent heritage..."

He shrugs listlessly, running his fingers over the spines of his books as if searching for a particular one.

"`Chris' doesn't sound like a very pure-blooded Utar name, though. Surely it's not your true name."

His only response is a sigh as he pulls out a large volume and sets it on his pointed knees, flipping through the pages with delicate fingertips.

"I know you live with Sendhil, too."

No need for a response this time; he must feel I merely state a random fact.

"As I understand it, you two have known each other for a very long time. Over a decade, correct? That's longer than this agency has been around. That's a long time to be working with one person."

He finally slows in his paging; I've gotten through, apparently.

"And considering you are – though not many know this – the youngest member of this agency, this suggests he met you while you were still... quite young. A child, perhaps?"

His movements stop and he lifts his head, peering at me sideways without turning his head. "Orphans – or war children, as they're often referred to – are not uncommon these days. They have been quite common, in fact, for centuries."

I nod my agreement, but continue, "He's not that much older than you, though. It makes me wonder why a man of only twenty would take in a barely fledgling teenager."

He remains utterly still, like a statue, his eyes trained on me.

I avert my gaze and take a few more steps into the room, letting out a sigh as I go on, "I've also heard some interesting rumors of strange and inexplicable activities from a decade ago. Something about a group of Bubble Hunters who suddenly broke apart for no apparent reason. And the biggest mystery is that two, to this day, cannot be accounted for."

He finally turns all the way around to me, eyes narrow and face stoic. I pop the rest of my egg roll into my mouth and chew slowly, patiently awaiting a response.

But all he has to say is, "My only reason for calling you here was to remove any obstacle from my friends finding a common ground to begin a hopefully fulfilling relationship."

"Let's not forget the egg roll."

He glares harder and insists, "You need not stay."

I smirk at his discomfort; though he doesn't show it, I can sense it – his words and obvious evasion of my hints are proof enough of this. So I continue.

"There were apparently only four legitimate members of that team; another was a student merely assigned to observe and eventually participate in a program involved in his educational advancement for a year. However, the notes from the missions, which were reported regularly back to the government of this area, allegedly mentioned a sixth presence among them. Never referred to as a member or a student, perhaps once named as a sort of `guide,' but mostly just a name that came up repeatedly as a valuable source of any accomplishments they made. Though no Bubbles were legitimately eliminated or harnessed, the reports alluded to other methods of... making them go away somehow."

Chris lifts his head more, his large eyes fixated on me in intrigue. "Quite thorough... for mere rumors."

I look him in the eye and asked pointedly, "What's your real name?"

Strangely, his face gradually morphs from caution to an odd smirk and listless eyes.

"Well, it certainly isn't `Chris' – that's far too plain and Human for a pure-blooded Utar of Nispar heritage."

Hearing my own words echoed back to me, but in his quiet, taunting tone, I feel a shiver in my spine – but not one I let show.

"Is that just what the others called you?" I press, curious to confirm my suspicions.

"What others?" he dodges coyly. "The others here refer to me as such, yes."

I lean forward then, resting my palms on his desk and keeping my gaze steady on him. "I was using past tense."

He nods. "A sign of your grammatical knowledge--"

"The leader of this group was never found. Neither was his right-hand man, a Human who, before disappearing, apparently suffered common injuries when a Dark Arts expert unleashes a negative spell on a target – but this can't be confirmed either, as he's gone missing as well."

He nods despondently. "It's quite difficult to shake off a grudge from someone that dangerous."

More vague responses. I lean in further, inches from his face, aware of the proximity putting him on edge. "Did Sendhil save you from a government punishment? Or did he save you from a Dark Master's grudge?"

A long pause of absolute silence ensues, and I actually see his body tensing as I remain as I am, unwavering.

Until finally, Chris relents.

"Why do you want to know?"

At his eventual confirmation of my words, with so few of his own, I back away a bit, allowing him to breathe; that closeness can, at times, feel like torture to a Nispar.

"I'm only curious," I admit truthfully, the intensity of my voice gone now. "I have no ties to the government, and I don't intend to go advertising truths about rumors most have forgotten ten years later."

Chris relaxes; even his shoulders seem to droop as he accepts my explanation.

"Kar'ra Histr'ral."

I blink at him, finding myself uttering, "Pardon?" despite my trained ear knowing this is purely Utar in nature, especially with their common softly rolled R's.

"My name," he answers, and the way his large, round eyes peer up at me, black as night surrounded by pure white, with the dramatic upward sweep of the corners, they seem to me the perfect prototype of a Utar's features. Elegant, ambiguous, enigmatic – and slightly dangerous at the same time. "Kar'ra Histr'ral. The name my parents gave me – though I barely remember them. They were not bad parents – they were simply... Nispar parents. They aren't the same as any of the others; abilities – or handicaps, depending on how one views them – we possess that others don't keep us from becoming too attached... unless circumstances change the ideal Nispar situation."

I nod in understanding, watching him closely as he seems ready to talk, and slowly lower myself to my knees, looking up at him instead of down on him now – so he doesn't have to feel like I'm a threat.

His eyes remain on mine, however, as if this loathing Nispars have toward "closeness" is not quite as strong in him. He's seeking a connection with me, which is rare for one with his particular bloodline. And when he finds it, somewhere behind my own Human eyes, he continues in that low, haunting voice.

"The group found me before Sendhil was assigned to them. They never pronounced my name correctly, except Ginko – the only Human, if you can believe it," he adds with an exasperated roll of his eyes. "`Chris' simply sounded the most like my combined names. The others were all mixes of Utar heritage. But the leader was heavily driven by the Dark Arts. He even valued them above a pure-blooded heritage with active powers of that line."

I nod again for him to go on.

"The others felt I was a burden, but Ginko said he couldn't allow a child to wander the desert on his own."

"The desert?" I ask, unintentionally glancing toward the front door, visualizing in my mind the wasteland that lay beyond the edge of the massive city. "Between here and... where?"

"A small Nispar village once called Sandraya."

I briefly close my eyes, recalling the name vaguely from the depths of my mind, years of studying and exploring. So this is a rare survivor of that attack...

"It was razed by Regime soldiers when I was nearly thirteen. I was small enough that I managed to hide away until the soldiers disappeared, and then I spent a few months surviving off of what was left. But eventually, I had to try to cross the desert. To come here."

"But you didn't make it on your own?"

"I could have. But the group of Bubble Hunters found me first. Since the deaths of so many Utars from that village, there was an outbreak, so to speak, of spirits invading this city – the closest hotspot, if you will, of living activity... much of it Human. The government surmised the Bubbles were coming from the desert, so they sent that group there to... eliminate them. Before more damage happened in the city."

I nod slowly, narrowing my eyes slightly as I begin to catch on. "But now you were among them, the ones trying to eliminate them – and these spirits... They were all your family, people you knew..."

Chris nods, emotionless. "I had little knowledge of what Bubble Harnessers did – I doubt any of them, the people doing it, knew what a harnessing actually is. It's a true elimination: an exorcism of sorts. The first time I saw one being carried out, I had to interfere – I intentionally sabotaged the mission. To see that kind of anguish, from a spirit... Nispars are closer to that state of being on an emotional, metaphysical plane, so it was more horrific to see and feel than any of them could understand.

"The leader was furious and wanted me gone, but Ginko refused, convinced I'd had a reason to ruin their attempt. I was difficult to communicate with anyway, but somehow I found a connection with Ginko. I tried to tell him what I'd seen – what only a Nispar could see during that operation. So he agreed to help me find other ways to lead them onward, toward their intended afterlives, instead of being obliterated. Our agreement was that I would help them find the spirits more easily than what their own senses or devices could pick up, and he would convince the others to try different methods.

"That was when Sendhil came. It took little time for him and I to connect, and he was astonished that this group let me travel with them – but pleased. He and Ginko acted as my surrogate brothers; the other two paid me little mind; but the leader abhorred me, though he tolerated me for Ginko's and Sendhil's sakes – not to mention I was helping them find the spirits, despite not disposing of them in a way he approved of... meaning, he was unable to use his mastery of the Dark Arts."

Here, Chris pauses again, lowering his eyes from mine and looking suddenly sullen.

"I turned fourteen while Sendhil was with us. It wasn't long after that when everything... changed. And the group was forced apart. The other two made it back to the city, but were incoherent and died not long after they were hospitalized, so I hear. Ginko lost an eye and his hair turned white, but he survived. Sendhil was, thankfully, unharmed, as he'd been protecting me while the others fought. So the two of them brought me here, and Sendhil took me under his wing while Ginko went to Ysatnaf – to start over, he said, and so he wouldn't have to be hunted down and hounded by the government. He wanted us to go with him, but Sendhil knew he would be excused from any punishment because of certain details, and virtually no one even knew about me; Sendhil wanted to finish his studies here, and by then I'd become... attached to him, in a way that felt... unlike anything I'd felt for my own parents or village. I was torn, because I felt similarly toward Ginko, but I also didn't want to leave here. Despite all that had happened, it still felt like my home..."

"And Nispars aren't keen on change," I add with a snicker.

He tilts his head forward, giving a small, knowing smile. "Of course not." He tilts back again, explaining further, "Sendhil was only a student, so his involvement, to the government's knowledge, was minimal. Plus, evidence showed he hadn't suffered any physical damage, so it was assumed he wasn't even part of the incident itself. But the cause of deaths of the two hunters who made it back to the city were unknown. No documentation was made of the incident, and the others didn't survive long enough to explain anything. Autopsies only uncovered a mess of internal and neurological injuries that could have been caused by multiple things – another person's powers, vengeful spirits, violent attacks on each other... The government had nothing to go on. Sendhil's studies were put on hold for over a year while the case was investigated. But Ginko had disappeared; they knew very little, if anything, of me, and Sendhil and I had agreed to keep Ginko's whereabouts a secret. It was the only lie I believe Sendhil ever told: that he didn't know where Ginko ended up."

I raise my eyebrows again, asking the obvious question: "And the leader?"

Chris pierces me with his sallow gaze again and merely replies, "He's gone."

I shake my head. "But gone where? Maybe I'm taking a leap here, but I'm guessing this had nothing to do with spirits – was it the leader who caused the incident?"

Chris purses his lips in thought. "I suppose," he answers carefully, cryptically, "that it could be valid to put it in those terms..."

I'm eager to hear the words about to come from his mouth – but the sudden knock at the door startles us both, twitching us in the direction where Zachary stands, looking confused.

"Did... Did the food come yet?" he asks timidly.

Immediately Chris drops the book on his knees to the desk and picks up the styrofoam containers.

"I apologize – Richard and I were caught up in a fairy tale."

As he accepts the food, Zach glances back and forth between us suspiciously. "Okaaaay..."

And on his way out of the room, he pops open one of the containers and notes, "It's gone cold now..."

I shrug. "Reheat it with the Bunsen burners."

Zach wrinkles his nose, but he knows he has no other choice; the microwaves and automatic cookers in the cafeteria are a joke. And I've only been here one day.

"Oh," Chris adds over his shoulder, "and they forgot the egg rolls."

Well, if Sendhil is the pure-hearted, painfully honest one, I suppose Chris has to take up the slack being the compulsive liar.