Nightbred Read Online Free PDF

convinced that they’d seen through her act, she heard the sounds of heavy footsteps moving into the corridor.
    “Are they gone?” she whispered to Turner.
    “Aye.”
    Chris sagged against the counter. “Thank God.”
    Jayr chuckled over the earpiece. “Nicely done.”
    One of the
jardin
warriors went over and slammed shut the door. “You’re a clever girl, Miss Christian.” He nodded toward her jacket. “Your pocket is chiming.”
    “Damn.” Chris took out her locator, which displayed an electronic dimensional map of the stronghold. A blue light flashed in the reception room on the third floor. “Mr. Burke must be back from the airport.” To Jayr, she said, “I have to go, my lady. I really appreciate the help.”
    “Tell Lucan about this skirmish and the summons,” Jayr said, and then added, “When he’s in a gentle mood.”
    “I will, my lady, and thank you again.” She switched off the mobile and removed her earpiece, and saw that the
jardin
warriors had also left. “Mr. Turner, you might want to talk to Aldan about scheduling our guys with the new guys for some quality time in the warriors’ circle. And while you’re at it, arrange for some interpreters for them.”
    He nodded. “I believe I’ll close the armory for the rest of the night as well. Lass,” he said when she turned to leave, “what you did charging in here was very brave, but very foolish. None but that no-necked blowhard could understand you. One jab or swipe of the blade, and they would have done you in.”
    “You’re right, I’m human, and blades are not our friends.” She bent to pick up one of the swords, and carefully placed it on the counter. Only then did she give him a wink. “But it worked.”
    Chris hurried back to the elevator, apologizing to Aldan when he tried to stop her. “I’m needed in reception, guys, TTYL.”
    As she pressed the button for the third floor, Chris heard Aldan ask, “Tee-tee-why . . . what?”
    “’Tis a modern spoken code,” Glenveagh drawled. “It means she will converse with you anon—”
    Once the doors closed, Chris used her mobile to text Sam about the new arrival in reception—Burke always personally notified Lucan—and then walked around in a circle as she shook her hands. For the most part she’d outgrown the really horrible panic attacks of her teenage years, but every now and then anxiety would start trying to creep back into her head, a silent rat that wanted only to gnaw at her confidence and composure until her brain turned to Swiss cheese.
    Once she’d made enough money, Chris had gone to a therapist and paid three hundred bucks to have herself tested. The shrink had wanted to know why, but she’d lied and said it was for her job. A week later she’d gone in to get the results.
    “You’re a little depressed,” the shrink had told her as she handed over the typed report. “Of course I can work with you on that.”
    “Of course.” As long as she forked over more hundreds, which she didn’t have, so that was a nonissue. “But I’m not psychotic, schizophrenic, bipolar, paranoid, or in any way a danger to myself or others.”
    The older woman smiled. “No, you’re not.”
    “That should make my boss happy.” Chris skimmed the first page. “What’s this part about anxiety?”
    “You’re a very confident, polished young woman . . . on the surface.” The shrink’s eyes dipped to the cross-shaped bulge under her T-shirt. “We all wear masks, Miss Lang, in order to project what we want the world to see about us. Most of the time it’s an idealized version of our true selves. In your case, however, I have gotten a very strong impression of a completely artificial persona. One you’ve been constructing and perfecting for some time now. And it’s not a mask; it’s a full-body costume. One I believe you wear to cover the fears that threaten your ability to function.”
    Chris got to her feet and held up the report. “Can I take this?”
    The