It was an obvious lie, and that was the wrong move. Harris sat back and crossed his legs, billowing his cloak with a flourish that made a show of the runes that danced in and out of sight along its edges, symbols of his power. The dancers blanched, and I knew how they felt.
Sheena looked to her brother. The buccal sacs along her neck flared, and her breathing was quick, shallow, and nervous. Sheena was the weak link. And weak links were worth testing.
“We’ve been out here for hours,” I said, “and we still haven’t eaten anything. Any chance one of you has a snack?”
“What?” Sheena sounded confused by my sudden request.
“You know, something to munch on.”
Sheena nodded toward the far end of the room. “There’s snacks on the dresser.”
I strolled in that direction, noting the glass dome and metal base of a gumball machine. I rested my hand on it and looked at Sheena.
“Sweet tooth, huh? You got any candy bars? I like Black Gold.”
Michael sprang upright, flipping the low table onto Jax. My partner sprawled backward, head hitting the floor with a crack. I had a moment of alarm, but had to focus on the Gillmyn sprinting in my direction.
The dancer moved with extraordinary grace, every movement fluid as dry snow swirling across ice. He lashed out at Harris, the heel of his hand catching the DO on the jaw, sending him sprawling out of his seat.
To the side, Jax rose on wobbling legs, but managed to drive forward, planting his shoulder into the bigger man’s sternum. He hadn’t drawn his sidearm, likely not wanting to give the larger Gillmyn the opportunity to wrest it out of his hand. But Michael rolled with Jax’s charge, spinning aside and sweeping a leg between my partner’s shins. Jax tumbled, prone once again, and Sheena sprang on him, hands scurrying over his chest and struggling to keep him pinned to the ground as her brother charged me.
I didn’t draw either, as any shots fired would tear through the tent fabric and endanger anyone in the adjoining rooms or corridors. Instead, I closed my hands around the gumball machine, pulling the glass top from the base and spilling the hard candy spheres across the floor. Michael pulled back, confused, hesitating for a heartbeat before continuing his advance, loose gumballs crunching beneath his heel. But that fractional hesitation was the opening I needed. I hurled the glass globe at Sheena.
Michael’s head whipped around, tracing the arc of the glass sphere as it missed his sister by a handbreadth. Sheena reared back, distracted by the globe, and Jax caught her wrist and pivoted, throwing her to the floor. Michael’s shoulders and hips aligned with his gaze, all his attention focusing on the sibling he’d been so eager to protect. Perfect.
I closed the gap and swung the metal base as hard as I could, connecting with his upper back, immobilizing one arm and sending him to his knees. I followed up with a strike to his head, a solid thump that dropped him to the floor. Before I could do anything else, Jax was on him, blood dripping from the back of his head.
“Stay down!” he snarled, snaking a pair of cuffs onto the Gillmyn’s wrists.
Sheena was the first to start talking.
“He didn’t do anything.” She spoke mostly to herself. Her eyes were downcast, the buccal sacs along her neck deflated.
“Who?” We’d already stabilized the situation and explained her rights, so I was more than happy to let her keep talking.
“Bobby. He was—” Her voice hitched, and she swallowed. She sat on the floor, feet stretched out and hands behind her. A deep breath, then she continued. “He sampled the goods, then finished getting dressed while we talked. I asked for a candy bar. He said no, and I got so damn angry.”
“That’s why you killed him?” said Jax. “Over a candy bar?” His clothes were rumpled, and he swayed slightly on his feet. The tumble with Michael had left him physically scuffed and mentally shaken.
“I don’t know. I just . . . did.” Her feet tapped together, a staccato rhythm, the dancer trying to find release. I decided to reroute her before she got too distracted.
“You said he sampled the goods. What were you selling him?”
“What everyone wanted when they heard we were coming up here. Snake oil.”
I chewed my lip. That explained so much. Snake oil was a modified hallucinogen, cut with just enough black market manna to give it an iridescent sheen. A cheap pipe dream, it had far too little manna to affect users. Unless I was around. Though I couldn’t use manna to connect distant objects the way a sorcerer could, I had the unique ability to drain those threadlike connections, then infuse that energy back into another manna thread. If Bobby Kearn had been using snake oil, I may have been involved in his corpse’s transformation without knowing it.
I forced myself back into the present. Sheena was responding to Jax, though I’d missed the original question.
“Are you kidding?” She let out a dry chuckle. “The chance to get high with manna? It’s too good to pass up. Especially for a celebrity. Remember last year when people were dissolving pearls in wine vinegar and making cocktails? Dinah was all about that.”
I had no idea what she was talking about, but then I didn’t read celebrity tabloids. Jax, however, seemed to know exactly what she meant. “Are you saying Dinah McIntire wanted snake oil?”
Sheena shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know. I’d never sell straight to her, anyway. That’s what Bobby did. He took care of the hookups for everyone. I was trying to get on his good side, you know?”
“Where’d you get the snake oil?”
“One of the security guards. All these oil guys have been out of work, and they’re looking for ways to make cash.”
“And what’s this guard’s name?”
“Saul Petrevisch. He hooked us up.”
Jax recorded
