Bound to Ashes [The Altered Sequence: Book 1]

7 • Broken Bread

[James]

"Nervous?"

I stop drumming my fingers on my crossed arms and look over at Peregrine, who's looking smug. It doesn't suit her.

"No."

"You look nervous," she says as she leans back in her chair. She's always trying to be some kind of armchair psychologist. Oh, you look nervous. Bite me. Soon Aless will be here (God, I hope she'll be here soon) and we can get this shit over with.

This is another one of those post-normal-life moments. Sitting on the roof of a multibillion dollar company headquarters, watching for someone on the horizon. I never used to climb buildings. That kind of shit used to be weird. First it was climbing cars and buildings, rifling through supermarkets, now apparently it's killing people. That's why I joined the navy; you get shoved on a boat and fix things, you never get shipped to where the action is.

Just44 look at us now.

"She's taking too long."

"She'll be back in no time," Peregrine says.

"Based on what?" She's always talking about shit she doesn't know like it's fact. Alessandra went alone, barely armed, with limited resources. But that's just the beginning. I'm more worried about the... things that she's meeting with. They'd rather see her dead than anything. The one she caught, the grey one, with those eyes, he looked ready to blow up at any second. I know an unstable person when I see them. Alessandra has always been too trusting.

"Alessandra is a few things," Peregrine says. Damn, it's like she reads my mind sometimes. She counts on her fingers, "One, she's young and fit as a horse. Two, crazy as all getout. Three, she never gives up, even when she probably should. So, like a batshit crazy mare."

So what does that say about the one dating the crazy mare? If I said it aloud, she'd kill me. "Fine," I say just to get her to stop. She'll have to forgive me if I still think this plan is going to end in violent, catastrophic failure.

"I don't blame you, but try to have a little more faith. Or at least optimism. It's good for you. Maybe ease up those frown-lines of yours."

"Optimism is idealism."

For a while, there's only the sound of the wind whipping past us and the occasional click of Peregrine's rifle settling as she shifts positions. The horizon doesn't change, either. Every wild shift in the heat ripples or dark shape of a mirage I think is her— it never is.

"I read a really good article back when the Internet still existed," Peregrine says out of nowhere. Like most of the stuff she says. "About someone who was in the middle of a freak explosion or bombing or something. And she said something that I really like— we're all really good at one thing: not dying. Like, 'if you're reading this right now, chances are you're not dead, therefore good at not dying.'"

"So?"

"What I'm getting at is some people are better at not dying." She smiles confidently. "And Alessandra is one of those people."

Peregrine deliberately looks over important details that don't sit right with her. Fucking idealist. "Okay, but remember what Vinder said? About the one in the white room?" Still can't believe Vinder volunteered to be the first to go in there. The stupid kid has guts where it counts, I guess.

"Specifically, what? The metal skin, the eyes...?"

"I was going for 'breathing fire', actually."

She laughs softly. She reaches back and slips a hair tie off her wrist and works on re-tying her thick mane of black, corded hair. "Yeah, I remember that. He wouldn't stop talking about it."