“Relax?” Lips pressed, Trisk kicked the door closed behind her. “You ruined any chance of me landing a good job, and now that I’ve made something of myself, you think I’m going to step aside and let you take credit for it?”
“Stop throwing that shit at me,” he said, dodging another ball of unfocused energy. It hit the floor and smoldered. Not unfocused, then, he thought, wondering if she was using black magic. That nasty glob bubbling against the tile looked ominous.
“Will you listen?” he said, then frantically brushed at a spell fragment that had scorched his pant leg. Stay hidden, Orchid, he thought, not wanting to know which was faster, the pixy or Trisk’s spells.
“Daniel’s project is perfect,” Trisk said, her long ebony hair almost floating with the unharnessed energy flowing through her. “How dare you think you can come in here and find holes in his research.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
“Leno cinis!” she shouted, shoving a wad of green-tinted, aura-laced energy at him.
“Trisk!” Kal darted out of the way, then gasped when the spell hit his printout and the ream of paper burst into flame. “Will you knock it off?” he said, shoving it to the floor and using his suit coat to put it out. A sliver of panic iced through him. He was outclassed. He couldn’t beat her with magic. But elves’ greatest threat had never been outright force, but guile, and he’d gotten better at that the last couple of years. Maybe enough to do more than survive her.
“I said I agree!” he said again, still beating the flames off the paper. “I agree! Daniel’s research is top-notch. Stop trying to burn everything!”
Kal’s expression eased in the sudden silence, and he cautiously stood. She was glaring at him, her feet spread wide and brow furrowed. “You agree?” she said caustically.
Kal edged away from the smoldering paper. “I agree,” he said. “Dr. Plank’s virus is perfect. I can see your handiwork in it, and it’s an exquisite use of the materials and systems available to you. I’m impressed. I can’t make it better. Or safer.”
Trisk shifted her weight, clearly not trusting him. “All the more reason you shouldn’t be putting your name on it.”
He backed up, glancing at the monitor with its incriminating message of FILE NOT FOUND in line after line. “I looked at your T4 Angel files as well,” he said, and she stiffened. “It’s beautiful in its simplicity. I understand it’s been in the field for over a year. Turning enough profit to entice a global farm to buy it. It’s all they’re planting in Africa and Australia. Rick says it’s going to end their famine.”
Trisk’s attention flicked to the shelf of reference books and back again. Her eyes were narrowed in mistrust, but her hands had lost the rim of concentrated aura. “You honestly think that pap is going to work on me?”
“Maybe I grew up,” he said, wishing she’d relax a little. “The last few years . . . It’s hard going from a small pond to a large one where everyone thinks you’re riding on your family’s coattails.”
Her expression went empty, and excitement zinged through him. Ulbrine was right. There was power in the soft word, the gentle compliment. “I’m not afraid to admit I’m wrong anymore,” he said, twisting his lips into a rueful smile. “It gets easier when you’re wrong a lot, and I was wrong. A lot. You belong in a lab, not in the hallway protecting it. What you did with the Angel was beautiful. Imagine what you could do in a real facility.”
Her eye twitched, but she kept looking back to the shelf where Orchid was hiding. “I’m not showing you my universal donor virus studies,” she said flatly.
Kal raised a hand in placation, head bowed. “I wish you’d reconsider. Especially if they’re anything like what you did with the tactical virus.” He smiled. “Does Dr. Plank know you modifed his virus?”
She shifted uncomfortably. “Of course. And why should I trust you? I’m not a human whose work can be stolen with impunity.”
“I agree, but what good are your theories doing here?” he protested. “You can’t publish them in a human journal. You’re generations ahead, and if you do, you’ll never be allowed to work in an elven lab again.”
“Like I’m allowed now?” she said, gesturing at the outdated technology she was forced to use. “Get out. Before I throw you out.”
“I’m just going to come back on Monday,” he said, even as he edged to the door, wiggling his fingers at Orchid to stay where she was. “The enclave sent me to look at your universal donor virus. They think it has an amazing potential.”
Trisk put her arms over her chest, poised belligerently. “Out.”
“Just . . . let me explain,” he said as he paused by the door, and her eyes narrowed. “Yes, I came to check Daniel’s research and make sure your modifications are foolproof, but after seeing how stable it is and what you’ve done with the tomatoes . . .” He hesitated, looking at the ceiling as if pleading to the gods to give him the words to convince her. “Trisk, show me your universal donor. If it’s as good as I think it is, Sa’han Ulbrine will want you to come back—not just your research, you.” Which was all true, even if none of it would happen if he got his way.
Trisk blinked, a shocked amazement on her face as she took her attention from the bookshelf. “What?” she managed, her voice sounding nothing like her, soft and low instead of hard in threat. He’d never heard her voice gentled like that, and he thought it was pleasant, tripping down his spine like warm sand. “They want me to develop my donor virus?”