talk to Korund. There’s something off about that guy.”
“This guy in the elevator’s killed three people and you think Alban’s off?” Margrit looked up through her fingers to see Tony’s faint smile.
“All a matter of taste, I guess. Look, Grit. I’m sorry. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”
“Me, too.”
“Yeah.” Tony stayed silent a few seconds, then turned back to look at her from the stairwell. “I’ll call you?”
“I guess.” Margrit lowered her eyes, keeping her gaze fixed on the floor until he left. She let go a rough laugh once she heard the door click shut, and collapsed onto her back on Alban’s cot, staring up at the depthless, soot-covered ceiling. It had been a coincidence that pulled her into this mess. A coincidence, and now she was eyeball-deep in debt to a gangster dragon, and had a job offer from a corporate bloodsucker.
“At least it isn’t boring.” Her voice sounded hoarse in her own ears, and she put a hand over her throat, giving a rough laugh. “Jesus, Grit. You’re so fucked.”
And there was nowhere to go but straight through it. It didn’t require thinking about; neither Janx nor Daisani would let her slide off their radar simply because there’d been a misunderstanding. Nor was there any point in breaking down. Margrit had gone into the situation with her eyes open. She’d taken on the risks knowing what Alban was.
“Just one little breakdown?” she asked no one in particular, and sat up again, scrubbing her hands over her face. “All right, girl. Time to go see Daisani.”
CHAPTER 23
“I WANT HIM dead.”
Margrit stood with her palms stiff against her thighs, shoulders hunched. This was not how she’d anticipated the interview with Daisani beginning. After long moments she swallowed, trying to wiggle life into her fingers. “Are you talking to me, Mr. Daisani?”
Daisani whipped around to face her, afternoon sunlight glowing white through the tall windows directly behind him, a blinding aura. “Of course I am. To who else would I be speaking?”
Margrit squinted and turned her head, trying to focus.
“I don’t-I don’t understand.” The speech she’d prepared fled from her mind, leaving her feeling unexpectedly fragile and very alone. “I don’t kill people, Mr. Daisani.”
“Neither do I, Miss Knight. I’ll let the criminal justice system do it for me. But they must catch him.”
Margrit shook her head. “I don’t understand what that has to do with me.”
“Everything.” The vampire clipped the syllables. “You have walked into the House of Cards not once, but twice, and come out not just whole, but with information you wanted. You are involved with Alban Korund. Cara Delaney has turned to you for help. Unless you are a tremendous fool, which I doubt, you are clearly aware of factions that the police and legal forces in this city are not. I cannot and will not further compromise my position by allowing another party to be privy to information you already hold. Find him, Margrit.”
A knot of tension snapped in her shoulders and she exhaled, turning to lean heavily on one of the overstuffed leather chairs. She folded her arms beneath her breasts, knowing that the action signaled closing herself off, and shut her eyes for a few moments. Daisani went still, so still that even in the silence of his office she couldn’t hear him breathing. “I’ll want something from you in exchange.”
His silence became incredulous. Margrit looked up, her fear drained away. Not even excitement was left to chill her; this was the deal moment, too important to color with emotion.
Daisani’s mouth worked, as if he was searching for words. His teeth were perfectly normal and flat, unlike Janx’s.
“Vanessa was with me longer than you can imagine. She was indispensable to me. I will not allow her killer to go free and I require you to obtain the information I need. You have the audacity to demand something from me in return?”
“You need me, Mr. Daisani. You’ve just said so. You can’t go to Janx and his people for this because you think they’re responsible, and you’re not willing to bring another player into the game. So you need me.”
Daisani hissed, stepping toward her, sunlight trailing after him like a golden cloak. The walls of the office seemed to constrict, trapping her. “Of course Janx is behind it, but I cannot touch him.”
“Why not?”
Daisani snarled, turning away with another hiss. “He and I have an understanding. If I remove him, someone who doesn’t know the rules will take his place. I have no wish to begin the game anew.”
“You mean, when you need someone butchered, you go to Janx, and when he needs someone financially ruined, he comes to you. It’s a nice setup, Mr. Daisani. I imagine you’ve been doing it for a long, long time. And in the meantime you just take out each other’s pawns? A game of one-upmanship?”
“Vanessa was far more than a pawn,” Daisani snapped. “She was with me for decades. I will extract real revenge at a later date. For the moment, the killer himself must be exterminated. You will find this man!”
“Then you’ll give me the selkie skins.” Margrit nodded toward the displayed furs without taking her gaze from Daisani.
Fury lit his eyes, and for all that she was watching him, Margrit didn’t see him cross the space. He was simply beside her inside a breath, lividity raging in his expression. “You dare. You dare negotiate with me. That is a very bad idea, Miss Knight.”
“People keep telling me that.” The vampire’s proximity sent waves of alarm through her body, painful tingles and an impulse to run. Margrit held herself still, meeting Daisani’s eyes, and saw surprise reflected there.
“People.” He spoke the word despite himself, in a low and warning growl. “Is that what we are?”
Exasperation flooded Margrit. “For Christ’s sake. What is it with you and Alban? Yes! You’re people. You’re not human, but you’re certainly people. What do you expect me to call you? Bogeymen? Things that go bump in the night? Hell, you don’t go bump in the night at all, which is just wrong.”
Daisani stood close enough that she could feel anger and grief retreating in him, replaced momentarily by interest. “You’re taking this in very good stride, Miss Knight.”
“Yeah, well, I’m a runner.” Margrit fiddled with her ponytail, betraying nerves with the action, but unable to stop herself. “I’m a lawyer. I meet people every day who are on the surface considerably worse than you are. You, Janx, Alban, you’re really all so… normal. You can do stuff I can’t, but so can Michael Jordan.” Dismay hit her palpably enough to make her want to step back, though she held her ground even as she groaned. “Please don’t tell me he’s one of you.”
Daisani’s shoulders rose and fell, a single admission of silent laughter. “I believe Mr. Jordan is as human as you are, Miss Knight.”
Margrit’s stomach twisted and unknotted again with the astonished realization that she’d defused the vampire, at least briefly. “Thank God.” A wave of tiredness swept over her and she stepped out of Daisani’s space, planting her hands on his desk and letting her head hang. “I’ll find your pawn for you, Mr. Daisani, but under the terms I’ve stated.”
He was there again, in her space, brushing his hand over her hair so lightly she barely felt the pressure. “I’m surprised you’re not bargaining for the building.”
Margrit looked over her shoulder at him, wetting her lips. “I can deal with that in a courtroom. You have just as much reason as I do to keep selkie skins out of the press.”
“More,” he murmured. Anger stung his expression again and he stepped away, nostrils flaring. “The bargain’s made. Deliver the assassin to the police and you’ll have your skins.”
Margrit let go a sharp breath and let her head droop farther for an instant, before straightening up. “Work with me here, Mr. Daisani. The baby can’t survive long without her skin.”
Daisani’s lips actually parted in astonishment before he laughed, a surprisingly deep note tainted with grief. “You are audacious, Miss Knight.”
“I’m also serious, Mr. Daisani.”
“Of course you are. Are you sure you won’t take a job with me?” His gaze swept her, a mix of criticism and
