I sat in the other chair. “Knife.”
She pulled her knife out and put it on the table. I picked it up. Yep, one of my throwing knives, painted black. Two scratches marked the blade near the hilt where something had scraped the paint off the metal.
“Where did you get this?”
“I pulled it out of the tree.”
Ah. So it was that knife. When she was first having trouble in school, I’d tried to help her with her street cred by staging an appearance. It was a dramatic affair, involving black horses, Raphael in black leather, and my throwing this knife into a tree from horseback. It was a good throw and the blade had bitten deep into the bark.
“You pulled it out by yourself?”
She hesitated for a second. “I used pliers to loosen it.”
Explained the scratches. “Why clamp the blade and not the handle?”
“I didn’t want it to break off.”
“Where did you get the pliers?”
She shrugged. “Stole them from a shop.”
You could take the kid off the street, but getting the street out of the kid was a lot harder. “And wolfsbane?”
“I made it in the herbalism class. We had to have a project where we harvested an herb with magic properties and found a practical application.”
She’d found a practical application, all right. “When did you harvest it?”
“In September. I kept the paste in a zip-lock bag in the freezer so it wouldn’t go flat. In case of an emergency.”
“Like what? Wild shapeshifters attacking the school?”
Her chin rose. “Like shapeshifters taking me back to school.”
“I did. Graduated.”
“Aha.”
“I hate that school. I hate everything there. I hate the people, the teachers, the subjects. The kids are stupid and ignorant and just dumb. They think they’re cool, but they’re a bunch of idiots. The teachers want to be friends with the students and then they say mean stuff behind their back.”
“Who is ‘they’? The teachers say mean stuff or the students?”
“Both of them. I don’t like the schedule, I don’t like how much work they make you put into useless stuff, I don’t like my room. The only good thing about it is going home.”
“Don’t hold anything back. Tell me how you really feel.”
“I’m not going back there!”
“And you’ve made this decision on your own?”
Julie nodded. “Yes. And if you take me back there, I’ll run away again.”
I crossed my arms on my chest. “I can’t take you back there. They kicked you out.”
Julie’s eyes went big with outrage. “They can’t kick me out! I quit.”
I lost it and laughed.
“They really kicked me out?”
“Refunded the tuition and everything.”
Julie blinked a couple of times, coming to grips with that tidbit. “So what happens now?”
“I expect you’ll be a bum. Homeless and jobless, begging on the street for a crust of bread . . .”
“Kate!”
“Oh alright, I suppose if you come by the office once in a while, I’ll give you a sandwich. You can squat in the office on the floor when it gets too cold outside. We can even get you a little blanket to lie on . . .”
“I’m serious!”
“I am, too. It’s an honest offer. I’ll even put some real roast beef into your sandwich. No rat meat, honest.”
She stared at me with a martyred expression. “You think you’re so funny.”
“I have my moments.” I leaned forward and pushed the knife to her. “Keep it. Wolfsbane, too. You’ll need it, since you’ll be staying at the Keep.”
Julie eyed the knife. “What’s the catch?”
I sighed. “No catch. I put you into that school because it was a good place. A safe place.”
Julie shook her head, sending the blond hair flying. “I don’t want to be safe. I want to stay with you.”
“I’ve gathered that. Curran and I are looking into schools in the city. There are a couple that might be a better fit. You’ll stay in your room at the Keep, ride into the city with me when possible, and go to school. When done, you’ll come back to the office and someone will take you back to the Keep. You will be good and you won’t take any stupid chances. While you’re at the office, you’re my slave. You’ll run errands, clean the place, work out, file . . .”
Julie came over and hugged me. I hugged her back. We stayed like that for a long moment, until the door swung open downstairs and Andrea walked inside, asking why the place stank of wolfsbane.
CHAPTER 15
BY NOON, RAGGED CLOUDS FLOODED THE SKY. THE world turned dim and hazy, and as Derek and I approached Champion Heights, the lone tower of the apartment building and the ruined city around it seemed little more than a mirage, knitted from fog and shadows.
Derek scowled at the high-rise. “I hate him.”
“I know,” I said.
We had three leads, of which Saiman was one. The volhvs were the other. The third lead concerned de Harven and the Keepers. Since we could do nothing about the volhvs, Andrea called Rene, notified her of de Harven’s possible secret-society whack-job status, and requested the detailed files on all the Red Guardsmen who’d ever worked with de Harven. Rene had a very controlled fit of apoplexy and promised to deliver the files, with a Red Guardsman who would stand over Andrea as she went over them and take them back when she was done. The plan was for me to go and see Saiman on my own and for Derek to help Andrea look for patterns and possible accomplices.
And that was when both Derek and Andrea dug their heels in.
“No.” Andrea nodded for emphasis. “Hell no.”
“It’s not a good idea,” Derek confirmed. “I should go with you.”
“You despise Saiman. Why in the world would you want to go with me?”
“Because your rabid honey-bunny and Saiman had a giant fight over you.” Andrea spoke slowly, as if to a child. “You said yourself, Saiman’s ego is so big, he has to rent a separate building for it. Curran made him run away like a scared rabbit. You have no idea how he’ll react when he sees you.”
“She’s right,” Derek said. “It’s a safety issue. The office is well protected, so Andrea doesn’t need me here. You will be out in the open and two is better than one. Besides, you’re alpha.”
“And that means what?”
“It means that you must be above reproach and avoid even the appearance of impropriety. Saiman’s a degenerate pervert. You should bring an escort.”
I crossed my arms on my chest. “So I can’t be trusted to see him without supervision?”
Andrea shook her head. “Kate, it’s not personal. It’s protocol and it’s common sense. You don’t challenge people under you, you don’t get to skip formal dinners, and when you go to see an unstable coward who screwed half of Atlanta and propositioned you in public, you bring an escort. Deal with it.”
“Three weeks ago a woman from the city came to see Curran,” Derek said.
“Yes, an attorney about the road. Lydia something.” For some reason, Curran had insisted that I needed to
