Chapter 30: Routine
Kairo slept, but it wasn't the kind of sleep that repaired you.
It was the kind that kept you from falling over.
He woke before the clinic's morning cycle, washed, ate something with salt like Varrik demanded, and sat on the edge of the cot staring at his hands.
They didn't look different.
That bothered him.
If his life was about to be measured, he wanted some visible sign he was ready. A scar. A mark. Anything.
But the Veil didn't work like that. It hid its changes in places that only showed up when you were tested.
Selene appeared at the doorway without knocking, already dressed in her usual dark, elegant layers, hair neat, expression unreadable.
"You're awake," she said.
Kairo nodded. "Did you sleep."
Selene paused. "Enough."
Which meant not really.
Varrik arrived a minute later with the sealed case and no small talk. She set it on the table, opened it, and pulled out the suppressant vial.
Kairo's throat tightened. "How long."
"Two hours," Varrik said. "Maybe three. It will make your circulation sluggish. Your thread will feel like it's moving through cold syrup."
Selene's eyes narrowed. "Side effects."
Varrik didn't blink. "Dizziness. Slow reflex. Emotional flattening."
Kairo let out a slow breath. Emotional flattening sounded almost helpful, until he remembered it would also blunt his instincts.
Varrik held the vial up. "Last chance to refuse."
Kairo thought of Rook's eyes. The way officials looked through you like you were a form, not a person.
He nodded once. "Do it."
Varrik didn't hesitate. She swabbed his arm and injected.
The cold hit fast.
Not pain.
A spreading numb chill that made his shoulders feel heavier and his breathing feel a fraction less deep.
His thread stirred, then slowed, like it had been told to sit down and stay quiet.
Kairo blinked. "I hate this."
"Good," Varrik said. "That means you can still feel."
She peeled the damper patch and pressed it under his collarbone, slightly off-center, where it would look like a normal clinic tag.
Selene watched Kairo's face closely. "You're dulling."
Kairo frowned. He could feel it too—like the world was a bit farther away.
Varrik snapped the case shut. "That's the point. Now listen."
She looked at both of them.
"In the interview," she said, "you don't talk about corridors. You don't talk about pocket seams. You don't talk about feeling anything 'call' to you."
Kairo nodded.
Varrik's gaze sharpened. "You present as a minor guide: useful in crowds, good instincts, no ambition, no special sensitivity."
Selene's voice was low. "And if he probes anyway."
Varrik's mouth tightened. "Then you do what you always do. You answer the question he asked, not the question he wanted."
Kairo swallowed. He'd never been good at that kind of conversation. It felt like walking on invisible glass.
Selene reached out and adjusted the Foldpouch strap on his shoulder, covering the seam under a fold of fabric. Small. Careful. Unseen.
"Boring," she murmured.
Kairo nodded. "Boring."
They left the clinic through the back and took side streets, not because it was safer, but because it was quieter. Kairo's dulled thread hated the noise of traffic anyway. Every horn felt like it vibrated inside his skull.
Rook's office was in a clean building that pretended to be municipal health oversight. White walls. Frosted glass. A receptionist who smiled like she'd never been hungry in her life.
They were led into a small interview room with a table, two chairs, and a camera lens that didn't pretend it wasn't watching.
Rook Halden walked in five minutes later, wearing the same neat suit and that same tired smile.
He looked at Selene first, then Kairo, then back to Selene.
"Companion," he said mildly. "Not required."
Selene's eyes didn't change. "Recommended."
Rook's smile widened a fraction. "By whom."
Selene didn't answer.
Varrik's advice in Kairo's head: answer what he asked, not what he wants.
Kairo spoke instead, voice calm. "She helps me stay stable."
Rook's gaze flicked to Kairo's collarbone, to the damper patch. A small satisfaction flashed in his eyes, quickly buried.
"Smart," Rook said. "You came prepared."
Kairo kept his face blank. The suppressant made that easier.
Rook sat and tapped his tablet. "Kairo Nox. Minor guide. Courier work. Clinic affiliation."
He looked up. "Do you know why you're here."
Kairo paused a half-second, then chose the safest truth.
"Because we survived," he said.
Rook's smile turned sharper. "Exactly."
He leaned forward slightly, voice gentle. "Survival is data. Data is value."
Kairo's stomach tightened.
Rook continued. "Tell me about the Reaches. Grid B. The seam you reported."
Kairo felt his thread twitch, sluggish and weak under the suppressant.
He breathed anyway. In. Hold. Out.
"It was a seam," Kairo said evenly. "Unstable. We didn't enter. Something defensive cut Brant's shirt. No injury."
Rook nodded, as if satisfied.
Then his eyes softened in a way that meant he wasn't.
"And you," he said, "did you feel anything."
Kairo's mouth went dry.
That was the real question.
Not what happened.
What he was.
He forced his voice flat. "I felt danger."
Rook's pen paused. "Nothing else."
Kairo stared at the table edge and let the emotional flattening help him.
"No," he said.
Rook watched him for a long moment.
Then he smiled and changed tactics like a man turning a lock.
"Walk me through how you guide," he said. "Right now. In this room. Where would you step if I told you to leave unseen."
Kairo's heart thumped once, heavier.
He could do it.
Even suppressed, his Law still existed.
But doing it in front of Rook was like lighting a lantern in a dark room and hoping only one person saw.
Selene's presence tightened beside him, subtle, steady.
Kairo swallowed.
And he began to describe a path that was true enough to be believable…
and boring enough to be worthless.
He pointed at the door.
"I'd wait for the receptionist to turn," he said. "Leave when the hall is busy. Keep my eyes down."
Rook's gaze stayed on Kairo's face. "Instinct. Not Veil."
Kairo nodded. "Instinct."
Rook's smile thinned.
He tapped his tablet again. "Interesting."
Kairo couldn't tell if that was good.
Or if that was the sound of a hook setting deeper.