Читать книгу Errant Angel - Justine Davis - Страница 5

“We have no choice.”

“We’re shorthanded.”

“She’s the only one available.”

The words were as gloomy as the clouds that swirled around them while the group sadly agreed. They turned as one to look at the boss, who let out a sigh. That alone told them he’d about reached the end of his rope, a rope pulled tight for too long and far too often by their errant problem child.

“Very well,” he answered at last. “We will try once more.”

“Maybe it will be all right,” someone else put in hopefully. “Somehow, even when she does things...differently, they seem to come out right in the end.”

There was a grumble of voices as they argued over that optimistic interpretation.

“She’s not that bad,” the hopeful one insisted. “You know her heart is true, she just gets...impulsive sometimes. And she was rather young when we recruited her. It’s not her fault that she didn’t have as much life experience as some of the others.”

The rest of the group snorted—as much as they were capable of—in disdain.

“Enough.”

They stopped, and turned their attention once more to the boss.

“Perhaps we’ve been going about this the wrong way,” he went on. “Perhaps in trying to control her, we’ve made a mistake. Humans are unpredictable.”

“Now that’s an understatement,” somebody muttered, earning an uncomfortable moment of the boss’s attention.

“I think,” he continued, “that this time we shall—how do they say it?—let her run.”

“I think they say,” somebody else muttered, “give her enough rope to hang herself.”

“Perhaps,” the boss agreed. “Or perhaps she will prove herself instead.”

“You mean you’re really going to turn her loose? No safeguards, no limitations?”

There was a pause before the answer came. “None except those necessary to protect her.”

A low, collective whistle rose from the group. Only once before had the limitations been suspended, and the result had been...well, unexpected, to say the least. It was the reason they were shorthanded now; they’d lost their very best, but they found it hard to mourn the loss when it had taught them much about human love and joy.

“If we’re going to do it,” the hopeful one said, “we’d better do it now. That child is headed for big trouble.”

“Yes,” the boss said, focusing on the hopeful one. “You’ll be her contact for this mission.”

“Me?”

“Yes. Everyone else seems to expect her to fail. That’s not what we’re about.”

A rustling rose from the group as the rest of them shifted uncomfortably; there was too much truth in the boss’s words.

“All right,” the hopeful one agreed, although they all knew she had little choice in the matter. And it was an honor, of sorts, to be put in charge.

Even if past history showed it might be somewhat like being in charge of an out-of-control circus.