Chapter 9: Friday at Halcyon

The Halcyon Institute lobby had white marble floors, a waterfall wall and a receptionist who handed out lemon water.

Jessa walked in between her brothers, and her hands were cold.

Behind her came Jethro, Emmett and Corin, in dress uniforms Rhys had insisted on.

"We look like a wedding party," Jethro whispered.

"Stop talking," Rhys said, without moving his lips.

A woman in a soft gray suit came out of the elevator with her arms already open.

"The Hartwells! At last!"

She took Rhys's hand in both of hers, and then Joel's, and then, laughing, Jethro's.

"I'm the Director," she said. "Call me whatever you like, just not late for lunch."

"I heard the whole Fort Ashcombe squad was coming, so I ordered sandwiches for twelve."

Jethro's face softened. "Twelve?"

"I wasn't sure about your appetite."

"It's a fair guess," Jethro said, and Jessa almost laughed.

That was the trouble.

She had spent two years in a cell hating the voice that signed the orders.

In person she was funny and quick and kind to the receptionist.

She was the sort of person you would trust with your coat.

The Director turned to Jessa and held out her hand.

"And you must be the reason I'm so excited."

Jessa shook it, and the grip was warm.

"I've read your file," the Director said. "I'll be honest, I read it twice. Your numbers are the best we've seen in six years."

"What numbers?"

"Oh, a lot of medical language that isn't worth your lunch." The Director smiled. "Come. Let me show you around."

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