Defiance

“Shanks saw him exiting from inside the gym; he stayed to make sure Milady was protected. He couldn’t see outside.” Leon neatly subtracted the silver thing from my fingers. “There’s more, Dru. Are you sure you can stand to hear it?”

I stared at him, my hand in midair holding a sandwich half. “I . . . Just what are we talking about here?”

But I had a sneaking suspicion that I knew.

Just keep waiting, Dru. If I’d heard anything, you would know. How many times had Christophe repeated it?

“Someone erased that security feed. Someone on the Council, no less, transferred my friend when they caught wind of his poking around for the raw footage. I decided to go very carefully, and it’s good that I did. Because—” His fingers flicked again. Hell of a magic trick—a white envelope appeared in his hand, just like magic. “I found out where he’s being held, too. And how do you think I did that?”

I lowered my hand. Nat moved restlessly, Dibs held on to the door like it was keeping him from drowning, and Ash peered up over the edge of the bed again.

“Bang,” the not-so-Broken wulf said, gravely and expectantly.

I handed him the fresh sandwich half, and he ducked down again. My fingers tingled, and rushing noise filled my skull.

Like wingbeats, feathers frantically brushing air.

“Tell me.” Dry-lipped, I whispered the words.

“By following Reynard until I found one of his lairs. He’s a tricky fox indeed. But once I found his latest den, I found papers. Some of his private papers. These were among them.” He offered me the envelope. “Only take it if you’re certain you want to know. Milady.”

“Dru?” Nathalie moved again, like she didn’t want me to go any further. “Eat. Whatever happens, you need your strength to face it. Leave this for after you’ve eaten.”

If I do that, Nat, I’m not going to be brave enough to open it up. I reached up. My nerveless fingers closed on the paper. “Is this a copy or the original?”

“I didn’t see a copy machine around.” Leon shrugged. “He’ll know someone was in there. He has a sharp nose; he may even know it was me. In that event, you’re the only person who can possibly shield me from his vengeance.”

Yeah, like he listens to me at all. “Wait.” My head ached, the rushing noise threatening to spill free of my ears and go walking. A crackling ran through me, like the static was somehow being transmitted from my bones outward. Leon shook his head a little, a curious look falling over his sharp face. “Just hold on a second. Let me think.”

“You’re radiating.” Nat handed me another sandwich half. Even her eyeliner was purple, and it glittered in the honey-gold light. “Please. Eat more; you’ll need it.”

I lifted it mechanically to my lips, put it down again. Stared at the envelope in my right hand. “You’re saying Christophe was there when something happened to Graves. And that he knows where Graves is and . . .”

“I don’t know if they left this morning to free the loup-garou.” Leon showed his teeth. “I doubt it. The entire Council, gone to rescue a wulfen, even a prince among the furred? No offense.” Here he glanced at Nat again.

Her mouth was a thin grim line, and her eyes flared yellow. “None taken.”

“He promised he’d tell me.” My right hand curled up into a fist. “He promised.”

“No doubt he would, when he judged the time right.” Leon folded his arms again. The glow of dusk through the window deepened, the sun’s last hurrah before it sank. “The Council will more than likely return at dusk, Milady. When they do, I’d ask that you allow me to stay in your presence. If Reynard finds out I’ve been in his papers . . . well, as I’ve said, you’re the only person in the Order who can stop him from making me extraordinarily uncomfortable.”

“I don’t understand,” Dibs croaked. “Why would he . . . I mean, Graves. He’s one of us. Why would Christophe do that?”

“For the oldest reason in the book, Dibsie.” Nat sounded tired. She was looking right at me. “How maddening, for a djamphir to get edged out by a wulf.”

“Nothing ever changes.” Leon’s mouth pulled down bitterly. “You’d do well to remember that, Skyrunner.”

“Some things change.” She watched me, steadily. “You’re proof of that, aren’t you. Leontus.”

I honestly couldn’t tell what the fuck. It went right over my head. “Wait. You’re saying Christophe would . . . would give Graves to . . .” The only possible explanation took shape inside my head. “Give him to Sergej.” The name burned my lips, and Ash shivered. “Because . . . of me?”

“Maybe not necessarily.” Leon shifted his weight slightly. He had the look of someone smelling something unpleasant who couldn’t move away. That slightly set, slightly disgusted expression, mouth tight and eyebrows level—you can see it on plane trips or bus rides all the time. Usually when someone’s sitting next to someone else who doesn’t have the same hygiene standards. “Maybe he gave the loup-garou to Anna, who—”

I shook my head. Curls fell in my face. “But Anna . . . she hated Chris. You were there, you saw as much!”

He shrugged, the sharp points of his shoulders coming up, dropping. I had a mad thought of offering him a sandwich. Leon spread his hands, a helpless gesture. “He could have played her for a fool, too. Let her think she was striking at you. It has a certain symmetry.”

“But Anna had just finished . . .” The enormity of it walloped me sideways. I held the envelope up, sweating fingers crushing the paper. It was thick, stuffed full. “He couldn’t have. She’d just . . . I’d just finished having a fight with her. She wasn’t about to go meeting up with him. She didn’t even know he was around.”

Leon let his hands drop. “If you say so, Milady. In any case, you have a decision to make.”

I set the plate aside on the rucked-up covers. Nat twitched. I ripped the envelope open, and the sound of tearing paper was like my heart breaking. I felt it, a sharp tearing in my chest, and a steady slow leaking.

Leon actually took two steps back, his boots soundless on the hardwood.

Ash’s head popped up again. He studied me for a moment, then actually climbed up on the bed while I slid the six sheets out and opened them up. A whiff of apple pie rose, and my stomach closed around the lump of rock that had been food a little while ago.

I won’t push, and I don’t pry. All I ask is a little attention.

I opened up the sheaf of paper. Have you ever wanted to wash your mouth out with bleach? I wanted to scrub every part of me that had ever flushed each time Christophe got close to me. I spread the sheets of paper out, crackling, and stared at them.

“Jesus,” I whispered. Everything blurred. It wasn’t just dusk slipping across the sky, creeping in through the skylights. It was hot water in my eyes. My chest ached. I blinked furiously, and a hot drop fell on my hand, spattering. I was shaking.

Pictures. A list of locations, crossed off. One circled. More pictures on copy paper, showing different angles. A mansion; the address was out in Queens. A folded city map, beat up and scuffed like it had been carried in a pocket for a long time. Notations in a thin calligraphic script, I’d seen Christophe’s handwriting on Council paperwork.

This looked similar.

“No.” It didn’t even sound like my voice. Ash reached across me, snagged another sandwich, and settled back on his haunches. At least someone would get the benefit of all that food. “Oh, hell no.”

Everything clicked together inside my head, and my face settled against itself. It felt frozen, and heavy, and just a little bit like Dad’s face must have felt when he was wearing his stare-down look.

“What are you going to do?” Leon took another two steps back. Like he was getting ready for an explosion.

I looked up. Dibs stared at me, deathly pale. We watched each other for a few seconds, the blond wulf and me.