Technomancer (Unspeakable Things: Book One)

of the elevator lobby, but no exits. She looked back and gave me the finger.
    Part of me wanted to follow her and make a long series of apologies. Maybe that was what she expected. Instead, I decided to let her cool off for now. After all, I hadn’t cheated on her. We’d only gotten together the night before.
    When the elevator dinged, I let the doors close and I rode down to the lobby. Thanks to Holly, I stopped on every floor. I barely listened to Jenna, who was still talking in my ear. I rubbed my face and told her to meet me in my hotel restaurant for lunch. I was starving, and I was pretty sure I was lightly hung over.

Eggs Benedict. Here I was again, eating food that made most people feel worse when they’d had a rough night. But as usual, it worked for me and I felt better. I was already wondering where Holly had gone. I figured she would be safe enough now and she would get over things eventually. She had my number and could call me when she wanted to.
    Jenna came to the restaurant with my black leather bag of stuff. She stood at an impersonal distance, put the bag on the floor, and slid it toward me with her toe. I wasn’t a big believer in body language, but this didn’t look good. I waved for her to sit down.
    “I don’t know, I’ve really got to—” she began.
    “I found the other shoe,” I said.
    Jenna stared at me for a second, then slid into the chair across from me. Her expression shifted from wariness to intense interest. “Robert’s shoe? Tell me everything.”
    I had no intention of telling her
everything
, but I did give her the essential information. I told her I’d found a portal like the one she said had sucked up Robert, and there was evidence a friend of mine had been taken through it. I’d followed that friend, rescued her from some strange people, and found Robert’s shoe in the same location. I edited out what Holly and I had done all night long in our stolen hotel room after I’d rescued her.
    “So, he might be alive?” Jenna asked.
    I nodded. “I didn’t find anything showing he
wasn’t
alive. But I didn’t find him either.”
    “Still, it’s something,” she said. She reached out her hand to pat mine where it rested on the table. “Thanks, Quentin.”
    “No problem,” I said, eating the last of my brunch. While I chewed, I used the time to do some hard thinking. What should I say next? I could tell her more—about the cultists and their use of blood. But that would only panic her.
    I realized she’d been talking while I was thinking. I tuned back in as I sipped fresh coffee. One cream, no sugar.
    “Being an instant widow hasn’t softened anyone toward me—except for you, of course,” Jenna told me.
    “What do you mean?”
    “I keep getting these messages from the quickie chapel where we were married. I suppose they want to sell me more pictures, or bill me for something.”
    “Messages?” I asked. “Have you listened to any of them?”
    Jenna shook her head. “I just can’t face any of it. I can’t imagine how women hold up when their husbands die on them—arranging for the funeral and all of that. I suppose having years to prepare yourself mentally would help. But I can’t deal with it. I know I should, but I’ve been avoiding reality. I suppose I’m slightly mental in this regard.”
    I frowned at her. “No, I can understand your reaction. I’m sure it was a shock.”
    She dug in her purse and came up with an envelope. She pushed it across the table toward me. “Here’s one of their letters,” she said.
    “They’ve been sending you mail too?” I asked. I took the letter and glanced at the return address.
White Rose Weddings
, it read. The envelope was business-sized and looked like a bill. I tore it open.
    Jenna gave a tiny gasp and looked upset. I didn’t look up. What had she expected me to do? Ignore it? She was going to have to face up to this one. I unfolded the letter inside and read it quickly. It wasn’t happy news. My eyes flicked up to meet hers.
    “Well?” she asked. “You might as well tell me, since you’ve gone and read it.”
    “Um, I’m not sure what to say. It’s not good news.”
    She reached for the letter, but I slid it away.
    “Jenna,” I said. “Let’s go somewhere else to talk about this.”
    “What the hell is wrong with you?” she demanded, becoming angry now. “It’s
my
letter.”
    I sighed. “It says you’re not legally married.”
    “What are you talking about?” she asked. Her