Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 124341 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 124341 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 622(@200wpm)___ 497(@250wpm)___ 414(@300wpm)
Amon looked over his shoulder, hesitating when Sam didn’t close the door and follow, but then he glanced at Morana, obviously deciding she could make sure the door was locked behind Sam. Amon headed down the hall and out of sight.
Sam stood awkwardly at the doorway but still inside the apartment. “Morana,” he greeted.
“Hi, Sam.” There was something on her face he couldn’t quite read. Surprise, but maybe…gladness too. As though, opposite of Amon, she’d expected that he was dead and wasn’t disappointed to see that he was actually still alive. “What are you doing here?”
“Just stopping by. Are you…leaving on a job too?”
Morana’s eyes were glued to Sam as she moved even closer. Her robe slipped a tad, and he saw that there were bruises on her collarbone. She pulled the silken material back in place, covering the marks, and when Sam met her eyes again, he swore he saw shame there. Her gaze darted away momentarily. “Yes. I leave in a few hours.” She reached out her arm, and Sam stilled as she touched him tentatively. What are you doing? Morana had never touched him before. Morana had rarely talked to him before. “Do you ever think…do you ever think there’s some other version of yourself living a different life somewhere?”
He stared, waiting for her to say more, to explain the question or the reason for it so he knew how to answer. “No.”
A smile played across her lips, and that surprised Sam too. He didn’t think he’d ever seen Morana smile. He’d grown up with her, yet he couldn’t have described anything about her teeth. Did one stick out in front? Was the bottom row crooked? Were they bright white, or did they have a yellowish cast like Amon’s? Sam had no idea.
“I think about that, another life I might have lived,” she said. “I think about that a lot. Especially right before a mission. I hope there are other versions of me out there.”
Sam didn’t know what to say. He had no idea what she was talking about. He thought about asking about her mission. Was this one particularly dangerous? Did she expect to die? Was that why she was talking like this? About some alternate existence? He was confused. He didn’t think Morana was sent on dangerous assignments. She was short and skinny, and she had a slight limp from a surgery that hadn’t gone quite right. But she was a genius with computers and was assigned jobs that required that expertise, both in the field and virtually. He didn’t know all of what the others did, but he knew that was her skill. That had always been her skill. And it was one the rest of them did not possess.
“I’m glad you came here, Sam, and that I got to see you. I’m glad you still could.”
He’d read her right then. Amon might not have been glad to see him alive. Amon would have helped him follow through with being dead if Sam had simply said the word. But Morana was glad he was not. He felt a…lukewarmth, at least, in his chest, and he recognized it as what might have been a friendship. If.
And maybe that was part of what she meant by another version of her living a different life. If. So many ifs. But what was the point of that?
Sam dipped his chin. He almost said thank you, but that wasn’t right because frankly, he was planning on following through with the final command. He just hadn’t done it yet.
“They named us after monsters,” she said. “Did you know that?”
“Monsters?”
“I looked it up. All our names are so unusual, you know?” She went to the kitchen island. After taking a sip, she said, “Amon comes from a Greek spell book that lists seventy-two demons. Amon is the Marquis of Hell.” She set the water down and leaned back against the counter. “Morana is a Slavic goddess of death. And in the Talmud, Samael is an archangel.” She paused, her lips tipping the barest bit. “The goddess and the angel. Almost like we were made for each other, right, Samael? Anyway, I could go on. All the others from the program are named similarly. All monster inspired.”
Sam considered her, thought about how he felt like a monster and looked like one too. “Fitting, I guess,” he finally said.
“Do you think? Do you think they meant to make us monsters? Or do you think we already were?”
A cell phone rang in the back room, startling Sam slightly. This whole conversation felt…surreal.
Morana glanced back. “That’s my call,” she said.
For a few beats, they simply stared at each other. Sam felt troubled and odd, like he should say something but also like he didn’t know this woman well enough to know what that might be. “Good luck, Morana,” he finally said. “I hope it goes well.”