people.
“I won’t let you kill him,” I said softly.
He looked up, mouth tightening. Tactical error. “Stopping me will defy not only the Assembly but also the wishes of the Fey Council. Good luck explaining that to your superiors.”
“He’s right, Stone,” Kismet said. “We’re fucked six ways from Sunday on this one.”
No, I didn’t accept that. Rufus had trusted me when he had no reason, risked his life to help us, and had nearly died last night in the pursuit of answers. I owed him more than whatever punishment and death Phineas had planned. We couldn’t afford to lose any more experienced Triad members, whether Handler or Hunter; not after last night’s losses. The brass was hanging us out to dry on this one.
“What if I offer you an alternative?” I asked.
“I don’t want you,” Phin said.
I snickered. “I don’t want you either, pal, but that’s not what I had in mind.”
He furrowed both eyebrows. “Go on.”
“Outside.”
Wyatt protested when I closed him into the visitors’ lounge. The hallway wasn’t quiet, but it was more private than the seven other sets of prying ears we’d left behind.
“What is it you’re offering?” Phin asked.
“Rufus has three days before he’s released from the hospital. Four if you count today. Aurora has about four days until she gives birth. Give me until Monday to get you an upgrade on your sacrifice.”
“Upgrade to what?”
“Three high-ranking members of the Metro Police Department know about the Triads. Tovin may have influenced their decision, but at least one of those three men or women gave the order to destroy Sunset Terrace.” I swallowed, the rest of my words surprising even me. “Give me four days to find them, and you can have one of them instead of Rufus. One of the people really responsible for the slaughter of yours.”
Phin went completely still, his eyes fixed somewhere below my chin. He blinked. Looked up. “You’d defy your superiors for this?”
“They may run this operation, but they’re not my superiors. They turned on me without giving me a chance. They killed your people out of spite. They’ve sat up in their ivory tower, anonymous, for too goddamned long. It’s time to take some fucking responsibility for all the shit they’ve stirred up.”
He nodded once, a sharp tilt down and up. “All right, then. Monday.”
“Monday.”
We shook hands, sealing our second bargain in as many hours. This one, though, I wasn’t at all sure I could pull off.
Chapter Four
9:16 A.M.
A white curtain was drawn around his bed, offering privacy from anyone passing by in the corridor. My shoes squeaked on the shiny linoleum floor, announcing my presence long before I reached the edge of the curtain. Wyatt had agreed to let me go in alone.
Rufus lay with his head tilted toward the room’s single window and a view of the Anjean River’s dark, slow- moving water. His shoulder and chest were still bandaged from the old gunshot wounds. New bandages covered his right hand and forearm. Ointment glistened on his neck and left cheek, a protective coating for the angry, blistered burns there.
His head listed toward me. He blinked several times—his only show of surprise at my presence. “Gina said you were alive,” he said, hoarse. “Don’t know why I didn’t believe her until now.”
“Because you’re the kind of guy who believes only what’s in front of him,” I said.
“Am I that transparent?”
“It’s a pretty common trait among Handlers.”
He waved his left hand above his chest, trailing an IV tube and several other wires. “So, how do I look?”
“Like a guy who’s really hard to kill,” I said.
“I’m sure the Assembly will be more creative in their methods.”
I grunted.
He noticed. “I guess you’ve talked to Gina.”
“Yeah, to Gina and Amalie and that Jenner guy,” I said. “What the hell is he anyway?”
“Probably a lawyer.”
I snorted. “I meant socially. He seems like a were, which makes sense if he speaks for the Assembly, but I don’t think he’s from any of the Clans I know.”
“You think were-sharks exist this far from the ocean?”
“I doubt it,” I replied, smiling.
He inhaled, held it several seconds, then blew hard through his mouth. “I guess I deserve this.”
I bristled and took a few steps closer to the bed. “How do you figure?”
“I’ve done some amazingly shitty things in my lifetime, Evy. You’d never believe it. Feels like it’s finally my time to pay up, is all.”
“What gives the Assembly the right to tell you what the price is?”
He shrugged his right shoulder, winced. “If not them, then someone else. You know, when we first started out, Wyatt and I hated each other? Despised, as a matter of fact. We couldn’t agree on anything, much less how the Triads should be run.”
“So what changed?”
“You mean he likes me?” Rufus asked, completely deadpan.
It earned him another smile. “I think he tolerates you like he tolerates me.”
“He loves you.”
“Christ, will people stop saying that like I don’t know?” I paced to the other side of the bed near the window. A flock of birds, too far away to identify, flew in formation down the length of the river. Free. “Do you know how much easier things would be if he didn’t?”
“Sure,” he said. “For one thing, you’d be dead.”
“See? Easy.”
“Since when do you like to do things the easy way?”
The birds changed direction without warning, swooping a hard left and disappearing into the trees that lined the east bank of the river. I watched, but they didn’t emerge. Rufus was right, and that annoyed me no end. Not that I wanted to corner the market on enigmas; I just wasn’t used to being read so well and so often by people I’d had little contact with until the very recent past.
“Is Wyatt with you?” Rufus asked, probably tired of my silence.
“Down the hall,” I said, turning to face him. “I wanted a minute.”
“You’ve had at least five, and I need my rest. No sense in being tired and unhealthy for my own execution.”
“About that.” I crossed to the side of the bed; he watched warily. “I’m working on an angle that might get you a pardon.”
“Why?”
I blinked. “Don’t you mean, ‘Wow, Evy, thanks for doing everything you can to save my life’?”
“I don’t want you to save me, Evy.”
“Well, tough shit. I’ve managed to let a hell of a lot of my friends die over the last week or so, and if there’s something I can do to save one, I’m damned well going to do it.”
He looked away, turning his head to the right, cheek flat against the stark white pillow. It made him look pale, almost pasty. Sweat beaded on his upper lip. His breaths had become shallower, shorter. He might not want me to save him, but he damned sure didn’t seem to want to die.
