Whichmeanttheyhadsmelledthingsmostpeoplehadn''t,fromindustrialsolventstonerveagents.Butnoneofthoseexplainedthis.

        Somethinginthatimpossiblysweetscentwasn''tjustalluring;itwaswrong.Itwastooperfect,toosudden.Andintheirlineofwork,ifsomethingfeltwrong,itusuallymeantyouwereabouttofacesomethingfatal.

        TheNeckTatdidn''thesitate.Hissurvivalinstinctskickedinhard.

        Herippedthelockerdooropen,rustsquealingagainstthehinges,andgrabbedtwoemergencygasmasksfromtheuppershelf.Hejammedoneoverhisownhead,therubbersealsnappingagainsthisskin,andtossedthesecondonetotheRedBandana,hittinghimintheshoulder.

        TheRedBandanastaredupathim,bewildered,themasklyingonReya''sbarestomach.

        "WhattheFK?"helookedatTheNeckTat."Whatareyoudoing?"

        TheNeckTat''svoicecameoutmuffledandmechanical,filteredthroughthecanister.

        "Putiton.Thatsmellisn''tnatural.It''satrap."hebarked.

        TheRedBandanaletoutasharp,derisivegrunt.Heswipedthemaskaway.

        "You''relosingyourgoddamnmind,"hespat.

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