Her radios never lost contact, her magic scanner never malfunctioned, and if you brought her a broken gadget, she would return it the next day fully operational and clean. She knew the Order's Charter front to back and could rattle obscure regulations off the top of her head. She was short, built with strength in mind, and had the kind of face that made people want to tell her their life stories in a checkout line. Sue me.Īndrea sat on a bench cleaning a handgun. I did a one eighty and walked down the hall to the armory. I closed my eyes, trying to clear the memories of the office and Greg within it. If I took a moment to let it sink in, I'd be howling like a Pack wolf during a full moon. Everyone I ever cared about died violently, in a great deal of pain. First my mother, then my father, then Greg. Always ready to pull me out of whatever mess I had gotten myself into. My memory insisted that if I stepped in, Greg would be there, standing with a book in his hand, his dark eyes reproachful but never unkind.
I should have gotten over it by now, but sometimes, like this morning, I just.had a hard time making myself enter.
It had been almost four months since his death. I paused in the doorway, arrested in midstep.
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