style="font-size:15px;"> Sam smiled at her before turning to the others. “That means that Finley can stay in the Aether for a long time.”
Emily patted his arm like a proud mother. “That’s right, lad.”
Arching not one, but both brows, Finley resisted the urge to shake her head at them. “How long will I have?”
The little redhead turned to face her and shrugged. “Forty to sixty minutes if I had to guess.”
“And if you didn’t have to guess?”
“For most people I’d be certain of forty, but you’re not most people. You’re ability to heal and your physicality may afford you more time.”
“But there’s no way of knowing?”
“I could equip the suit with some sort of safety feature that would sound an alarm once your brain activity and oxygenation levels began to drop. It would trigger the Lazarus switch.”
“Resurrection,” Finley murmured. She wasn’t having second thoughts or cold feet, but dying was a risky thing, and she had heard about the Aether demons that had attacked Tesla when he wore the suit. They were Garibaldi’s creations and they would come for her, as well. She’d already tangled with some of his creatures before. It would not be easy. It would be dangerous and she would be totally alone.
But Garibaldi had Griffin, and she would die a hundred times to save him. Too bad she only had to die once for everything to fail.
“How quickly can you make the changes, Em?” No sense in thinking about what bad things could happen. She had to concentrate on the task at hand.
Her friend looked at the suit, as though she could take each section and devise a dependable schedule. She probably could. Lord, Emily could probably estimate right down to the quarter hour. “Three hours and ten minutes,” Emily responded.
Better than the quarter hour. “No faster?”
Her friend shot her a cross look. “No. No faster. That’s fast enough. Maybe you’re fool enough to risk your life, but I’m quite committed to making certain both you and Griffin come back from this.”
“Fair enough.”
“However, the process would be easier, and possibly a bit faster with an assistant.”
“I’ll help you,” Sam said.
Emily wrapped her arm about his waist and squeezed herself against him. “I know you would, but your hands are too big for the delicate work.” She tilted her head back and smiled up at him. “Besides, I need you to keep me sane, not drive me mad.”
All this romance was well and good, but Finley felt it like a thorn under her fingernail. “Could you stop batting your eyelashes at each other long enough to help me save Griffin?”
To her credit, Emily didn’t seem the least bit irked by her snotty tone—which only drove the thorn deeper. What if she never got to touch Griff again? “Plus, Finley is in need of someone to fight with, and you’ve always been very good at that.”
Well, that was a bit of a surprise. Finley never thought Emily would suggest she and Sam fight especially after that time she almost killed him.
Sam regarded her thoughtfully—another aggravation. When did Sam Morgan become someone who was thoughtful? Usually she thought him fairly vacant of thought, the big dunderhead. Although, he had been surprisingly ingenious on occasion. “I can do that.”
No doubt he could. It was like fighting a mountain, sparring with him. Was it wrong that she was a little excited at the prospect? All that fear for Griffin turned so easily to bloodlust, itching to be indulged. At least she wouldn’t be sitting around feeling useless. She had to be calm when she went into the Aether. Her temper wouldn’t do her any favors when she needed to keep her wits about her.
“Run along, then,” Emily told them in her best school matron voice. “Jasper, I don’t need you right now, but I will when it comes time to engage the stasis field. Wildcat, I’d like you to stay and assist me.”
Cat looked surprised, but didn’t protest. The American girl was with Jasper now, but the two of them sometimes went off and had their own adventures outside of their group. No one begrudged them for it, but it had made it a little harder for her to become part of their little family. Hopefully this would change that. After the events in New York, it was only since Cat’s arrival that the cowboy seemed like his former self. He was one of them, and if they wanted to keep him, they needed to welcome the girl he cared about, as well. If Emily was opening up to the idea, then Sam would follow shortly—he was always the last to trust anyone, taking his role of “family” protector to new levels of over-the-top. Finley liked Cat—they trained together on occasion. Direct and honest, Cat was exactly the sort of solid person Jasper needed in his life, and she wouldn’t allow him to dwell on the past.
Although, there was something disconcerting about those fangs of hers. Sharp, they were. Then again, Jasper didn’t seem to mind, and Finley had caught them kissing once, so it couldn’t be an issue. Still, there were reasons they called her Wildcat, and Finley was pretty certain she didn’t want to know all of them.
Sam stepped in front of her, blocking out the rest of the room. “Let’s go.”
Finley peered up at him. She barely cleared his shoulder and she was tall for a girl. “Itching to go toe-to-toe with me, Goliath?”
He smiled—actually smiled! “You’re not?”
He had a point. She needed to do something about this fear simmering low in her gut. She was afraid—more afraid than she had ever been in her entire life. It threatened to take over completely, like when her other self would come out before Griffin taught her how to merge the two sides of herself. He had saved her, given her purpose, and he accepted her for who she was, flaws and all. She had a great number of flaws, but then again, so did he.
And she wanted more time putting up with them.
As she turned to follow Sam and Jasper to the lift, Finley paused. Her gaze sought out Emily, who opened the door to the locker where the Tesla “death suit” was kept. She must have felt Finley’s attention because she whirled about.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
Emily must also have a talent for deciphering the movement of lips because she smiled ever so slightly, but not before Finley saw fear in her eyes, as well. This had to work. She couldn’t let Griffin die without knowing she loved him.
But she was going to die; Griffin’s life depended on it.
* * *
Mila woke up to the sound of her brain beating out a tenacious rhythm against the inside of her skull. There was a sour taste in her mouth and her tongue felt as though it had been replaced by a dirty wool sock. A few days ago she would have actually felt her tongue to make certain that hadn’t happened. Was it odd that she was disappointed she didn’t do that now? She knew her tongue was exactly as it was, and that was good, but she missed...she missed the not knowing, and the need to find out.
Regret was a word she was becoming more and more familiar with.
Cautiously, she opened her eyes. Bloody
