“True.” She raised her eyebrows.
“Generally, solitary people are not claimed by a pack animal spirit.” O’Neill offered. Which was true, although he had no clue what that meant in Gracie’s case.
He’d beenjie'vanhis entire life. An outcast. Solitary by choice and circumstances. Hisheschrmalclaiming fit his reclusive nature. The mountain lion was also a solitary creature. Yet, Gracie, who was almost as isolated as he was, had been claimed by a pack animal spirit.
“By no means can Gracie be described as a pack animal,” Muriel agreed after a moment of silence.
“No. She cannot.”
They both considered that.
“What do you think it means?” Muriel finally asked, a worry darkening her eyes.
“It may mean nothing.” O’Neill admitted. “We won’t know until Aiden speaks with our shadowTaounaha.”
From the frustration flashing through Muriel’s eyes, she was not a fan of the wait and see approach.
“You said solitary people are not chosen by pack animals. That fits you too, doesn’t it? You were such a loner in high school. And then you were chosen by theheschrmal,a solitary animal.”
O’Neill shrugged. They both knew the answer to that question.
“You said that your spirit gift was looking into another’s mind…seeing what they saw…hearing what they heard. Your look into my mind steered you wrong,” She layered emphasis over the last three words. “But this gift must be useful for a warrior.”
He grimaced. “Not as much as you’d think. I have to be touching the subject to see their thoughts.”Like I was touching you.Although he kept that reminder to himself. “Getting close enough to touch enemies during battle is not a recommended strategy.”
Her laugh was soft and fleeting. “But beyond battle. Like with interrogations. It must have come in useful then.”
“I never used it until I landed here, on base.” He admitted. “I was a collector of information and a tracker of targets for my previous…employer. I didn’t interrogate targets. I never interacted with them at all.”
“But in your collecting of information, didn’t you run across situations where your talent was useful?” she asked.
“Nope.” He kept his voice casual to avoid broadcasting the lie.
Of course, he’d run into situations where his ability to read minds would have been useful. Two things had stopped him from using it. The first was what he’d seen in Muriel’s mind during their teenage tryst. The second was Benioko’s warning not to use the gift in front of hiswoohantasuperiors. Benioko had told him that using his gift outside of theHee'woo'neerisked exposing his talent to theWoohanta,and they would seize his gift and him for their own purposes.
When he’d joined Benioko at Shadow Mountain, theTaounahahad told him when his gift was needed—like in Russia, with Kuznetsov. But he’d brushed Benioko’s orders aside because Wolf and Samuel had both been in the room at the time. To do what Benioko had instructed would have exposed hisgift to those who were sure to question it. Mock it. Mock him. Nobody, apart from Benioko, knew about his spirit talent.
Neither Wolf nor Samuel had believed hisheschrmalclaiming. Why would they believe he could read minds?
“So, you’ve never used your spirit talent? Other than that time with me?”
“I’ve used it a couple of times here, at Benioko’s request,” he admitted. Which was true. But he’d done so in secret, away from disbelieving eyes.
What would she say if he told her how he’d ignored Benioko’s orders in Russia, because he’d thought he knew better? Because he thought Wolf and Samuel had already gotten everything they needed from Kuznetsov, and he didn’t want to open himself to ridicule?
A knot twisted his gut. If he’d done as Benioko instructed, he would have seen how dangerous Kuznetsov’s mistress was. He might even have seen the lipstick poison and saved Daniel’s life.
Chapter thirty-one
Day 33
Washington, D.C.
What the hell are they doing?
It was a question Clark had asked himself constantly over the past forty-eight hours. After fleeing the basement and returning to the penthouse, he’d disabled the computerized controls to the elevator and recoded the security panels for both tunnel access doors. But with the hacker still green-lighting various security systems, he didn’t trust his electronic precautions. Everything needed to be manually disabled as well. Since Oswald could no longer take care of that for him, he’d hired an outside contractor.
Clark’s teeth ground to nubs as he sweated and prayed the unidentified hacker wouldn’t bypass his electronic security. If Comfrey and her naked brethren took a joyride up to the penthouse, or a quick trip through the tunnel and onto the streets of Washington, DC, he was finished.
