The steam decontamination cleaned the toxins off my suit but did nothing for my internal feeling of grime. The suit was stifling, and I was soaked in a cocktail of my own sweat and the lingering psychic ick of absorbing ambient poison. I could feel the obstructions peeling away, molecule by agonizing molecule. It was like watching paint dry, if the paint was also slowly killing you.

  Once the suit was clean and I’d verified I wasn’t glowing enough to read by, I stripped it off, steamed it again for good measure, and hung it up outside the lock to air out. It looked like a ghost haunting a coat rack.

  The team suite was empty when I walked in, which was no surprise given it was nearly midnight on a Friday. I had to use the tunnel during designated “extracurricular” hours, which meant I’d had to turn down an invitation to dinner with the others, settling for a cafeteria meal inhaled at speeds that would impress a competitive eater. They were probably still out, or had already succumbed to the sweet embrace of sleep. I beelined for the showers, aiming to wash the metaphorical sewer off my skin.

  When I came out, wearing a towel slung over a pair of shorts, I found Abigail sitting at the table, demolishing a bowl of cereal with the single-minded focus of a predator. I tried to ghost past her, but she waved a spoon at me, quickly swallowing her mouthful.

  “Hey Jacob!”

  I mustered a tired smile. “Hey Abbey. What’s up? Shouldn’t you be out… I don’t know, data-mining the social security numbers of everyone in the tri-state area or something?”

  She coughed a little, then pointed her spoon at the chair opposite her. “I got you a few things. You’ve been working yourself into the ground making our armor, juggling classes, power training, and your clinic hours. Figured I’d start earning my keep as your personal research assistant.”

  I nodded and cracked my knuckles, the sound echoing in the quiet room. “Awesome. I’d say you didn’t have to, but I know you can probably cross-reference every known text on metaphysics in the time it takes me to find my other sock.”

  She nodded and held up a data stick like it was the holy grail, if the holy grail was a cheap piece of plastic from an office supply store. “This. It’s only partially translated, but one of the teachers, Doctor Reynolds—teaches energy control and Eastern studies—said you were looking for it. Gave me a few clues on what to look for.”

  “Have you seen it?” I asked, my cynicism kicking into gear. Nothing is ever free, especially from mysterious new acquaintances with memory-altering powers.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  She nodded. “Kinda had to, to transfer it. It’s from the Serenoid invasion archives. Most of it is pictures. Their language is mostly pictographic, so it’s a nightmare to translate. Doctor Reynolds said you might be able to make use of it. He also said to blueprint it and destroy it, and for the love of god, don’t look at it on a networked machine.” She shrugged. “To me, it’s just gibberish. A bunch of pictures of weird, six-armed aliens doing yoga, or maybe building furniture. It’s hard to tell.”

  “Thank you!” I said, taking the memory stick. It was a simple USB 5, maybe a couple of terabytes. Senpai Bob was coming through, just in a deniable, off-the-books way that wouldn’t get him fired. This was the supernatural equivalent of a teacher sliding you the answer key under the desk.

  Abigail smirked a little, a calculated expression if I ever saw one, and pulled off her non-prescription glasses, biting the earpiece. “Does this mean you owe me?”

  I nodded, playing along. “I sure hope so. Why, do you need a favor? Need me to hack the school’s grading system and give you an A+ in Being Enigmatic?”

  She shook her head, the smirk widening. “Yes, I do. But I want to save up enough favors that when I decide to call them in, you are utterly helpless to resist. Besides, you kind of already did me one. The armor is awesome. And sexy. The half-silvered faceplate is perfect for my light projections.”

  I shrugged, deciding to volley the flirtation back. It was safer than thinking about the potential espionage implications. “The armor isn’t sexy, Abbey. That’s all you. The half-silver thing was just practical—glasses get knocked off in a fight. The armor is designed to adapt to any body type. You just happen to have a particularly… well-adapted one.”

  A genuine flush crept up her neck. Gotcha. “Thank you, umm…” She glanced away, then stood up abruptly to rinse her bowl in the sink. “We have our first real teamwork exercises tomorrow. You should probably try to get some sleep. Wouldn’t want you to be tired when we’re supposed to be trusting each other with our lives.”

  I nodded and got to my feet. “Thank you again,” I said, absently scratching my chest. “This is pretty much exactly what I was looking for. Even if it’s just alien doodles, it’s a step in a direction that isn’t a solid wall.”

  She nodded quickly and practically fled into her room, leaving me to shake my head and retreat to my own. Such a strange, dangerous girl. Flirting with her was safer than with Mindy, who saw right through me, or Candace, who had all the subtlety of a sledgehammer. The one time I’d complimented Chinook on something other than her combat form, she’d immediately started hinting about ‘staying in,’ which was our only option since we were on campus lockdown until probably the end of the year.

  Was I being intentionally, obnoxiously naive? You bet your ass I was. It was a defense mechanism more effective than any armor I could build. While I doubted Mindy or Akyo had any real romantic interest, Candace had made her position clear, and Abigail was playing a very specific, shy-but-interested game. It was fun, in a terrifying way, to flirt around the edges. But I had no intention of getting involved with an Alpha, especially one who could, quite literally, edit my memories if she decided our first date was a little boring. My heart had been broken before. I preferred it not be scrambled, too.