Poison Tree

side, but their political power either already does or will soon rival

Bruja’s.”

“That’s impossible.”

Christian shook his head. “The old leaders, including Kral, pushed hard to keep Bruja

‘true to its roots.’ Which means they passed up a lot of opportunities.”

“Alysia?” Jeht said, his voice breaking into their conversation.

“What?”

“Don’t mind me.” The human’s voice came from the shadows nearby. Sarik hadn’t been paying attention to anyone around them, and neither, apparently, had Christian, but Jeht must have scented her and recalled her from SingleEarth.

“Alysia, what are you doing here?” Sarik asked, now stretching her awareness to her surroundings. She didn’t think anyone else was near enough to overhear if they kept their voices down.

“Eavesdropping,” Alysia answered. “I should have guessed you shot Jason, Ben, and

Israel.” Alysia’s voice dripped with all the disdain Sarik had expected.

She protested, “You don’t understand.”

“What don’t I understand?” Alysia replied. “You shot your boyfriend in what I assume was an attempt to frame me. What the hell was going through your furry brain?”

“Alysia,” Christian said, stepping between the two women, “now might not be the best time to—”

“No,” Sarik interrupted, “now’s good.”

“Are you in danger?” Jeht asked, his voice pitched just for Sarik.

“I hope not,” she replied, in his language, before speaking quickly to Alysia. “I knew you were from Bruja, all right?” she hissed. “Your le looked suspicious enough that when you moved in, I searched your belongings. What would you have thought if you were at

SingleEarth and you suddenly found third-rank weapons from Crimson, Onyx, and Frost?

I’ve never even heard of anyone that highly ranked in more than one guild, much less three.”

“I would have assumed someone like that was at SingleEarth to mess someone up,” Alysia answered. “If I had your history, I probably would have jumped to the conclusion that any merc might be there for me. I’m just missing how it’s a logical next step to shoot your boyfriend.”

“I panicked, okay?” Sarik snapped. “I had you in my sights, but then I couldn’t go through with the kill. I thought I could frame you, or scare you o , or all sorts of stupid things. I shot at people I could barely see because it was easier than killing someone I could put a name and a face to. I thought you would run once you realized you were being targeted, or that if you turned to ght, someone like Lynzi would take you down. The last thing I expected was for you to jump forward to protect people.” Softly, she added, “I didn’t know you. How could I? You’re not like any member of Bruja I ever knew.”

“Fair point,” Christian observed, breaking into the conversation.

“You understand you acted like a complete idiot?” Alysia asked Sarik.

Sarik nodded. “I hear you bring that out in people.” Christian snickered, and Sarik glared at him before asking Alysia, “Why is my father so afraid of you?”

Alysia shrugged. “He’s afraid of a lot of things.”

Kral had terrorized almost everyone around him for centuries, but for some reason, Alysia had him scared. “He o ered two million dollars two years ago to get rid of you,” Sarik pointed out.

“Very attering,” Alysia replied, “but I didn’t do anything you don’t know about. Kral’s a few hundred years old, and he has some gray hairs hiding under the Clairol for Men. The world moves on, but he won’t. He’s afraid of the modern world. He’s afraid of technology.

And more than anything, he’s afraid of getting old and seeing someone younger—especially someone human—take what he built and change it from his image. He focused on me because I showed up when you disappeared. I’m the peppy human girl who replaced his carefully groomed, perfect heir. But the reality is, if it’s not me, it’s just going to be someone else.” She looked around to where movement in the shadows made it clear that some of the novices were getting brave enough to creep closer, trying to overhear their conversation. “Can I talk to you two somewhere a bit more private?”

“Sure,” Christian said.

“We can talk in my room,” Sarik said, feeling much the way she had when Alysia had rst interviewed at SingleEarth: as if the following conversation might change her entire world.

Hopeful y I can handle things better this time, she thought, before saying to Jeht, “I know you don’t understand what’s going on. Don’t jump to any conclusions.”

“I’m not objecting,” Christian said, “but just so everyone is aware, Kral may go insane if he hears that the three of us ducked into Sahara’s room together and one of us didn’t come out a corpse.”

“If you take Quean with you, I’ll guard the door,” Jeht said, guessing correctly that they wanted their conversation private.

“Don’t fight anyone who comes up,” Sarik told him. “Just knock.”

Jeht nodded. She had never intended to let him actual y ll his role as her guard, but here she was, with a nine-year-old standing watch while she led the others inside and shut and locked the door. Quean sat in the corner, watching but instinctively staying out of the way.

Alysia dropped the bag she had been carrying onto the bed and opened the top to reveal a small, familiar work of art.

The piece was ten inches square, painted, with an addition of silver leaf and nely embroidered threads Sarik happened to know were pure gold restone. The frame was a combination of ebony wood and platinum designs she couldn’t make sense of because her eyes hurt when she looked at them. The gemstones set into the piece were not firestone, but rather a red diamond, a scarlet emerald, and then lines of black opal.

She was familiar with the work, of course, because it belonged to her father. It normally hung in his office or his interrogation room.

“How did you get that?” she asked.

“Broke into the greenroom and picked it up,” Alysia answered blithely. “His entire security system consists of a guy named Kevin.”

“The rest of his security system relies on the fact that most people in Onyx are not stupid enough to steal from him,” Christian pointed out. “I’m assuming you have good reason to flash it in front of his daughter.”

“Tell me, what’s this thing valued at?”

“The gems alone could be sold for over a million,” Christian answered promptly, “but you can’t peel them o without breaking the spell rst, and it was beyond my abilities the last time I tried.” At Sarik’s shocked look, he added, “I’m not dumb enough to try to sell the whole piece. It’s too recognizable. The stones alone could be sold to any human jeweler who wasn’t too particular about asking their history.”

“Seven years ago, I bought a piece of gold restone thread just about half a yard long from Pandora for fteen thousand dollars,” Sarik volunteered, resigned. “That was with her

‘Onyx discount.’ It’s unbreakable, ne enough and light enough to fold anywhere, can be woven into a piece of rope to make bonds even a vampire can’t escape, and can be made into a garrote that will kill almost anything instantly. And Pandora is the only Triste I know who makes it, so it’s something of a seller’s market.”

“Any thoughts?” Alysia asked, handing it to Christian.

“Sure,” he answered. He took the painting but then set it in his lap instead of looking at it. “My thought is, you have a good reason to ask. So share.”

“There’s a contract up in Frost,” Alysia explained, “o ering ve K for this thing. When I read the o er, I vaguely recalled the painting, but I didn’t remember it well enough to know what it was made of, and the description just said things like ‘metal and wood frame’ and ‘red and black stones.’ But it matches perfectly.”

“Five thousand wouldn’t cover the risk of walking in to pick it up,” Christian answered.

“I’ve heard of clients trying to swindle mercs by o ering a lower price than an item is worth, but any idiot can tell this is worth more than that.”

“Who was the client?” Sahara asked. “Maybe he just wanted to bring my father down a notch by having it stolen and doesn’t actually care if you turn around and sell it.”