“Nothing. I don’t know what they are. How do you know about this? Everyone else forgets all this.”
I wished Annalise had left me her scrap of wood. I would have liked to know if Cabot was infected, enchanted, or brain-damaged like Harlan. “Stand up.”
He pushed his chair back and stood.
“Empty your pockets.”
He began to turn them out, dumping everything inside them onto the desktop. Wallet, key ring, gas receipt, bottle opener… all very bland and boring. But none of it looked like magic to me.
I leveled the gun on him. “Strip,” I said. “Start with the shirt.”
He started to grumble, but he did it. He unbuttoned his shirt and hung it over the back of the chair. As he turned, I saw a tattoo on his back.
“Hold it,” I said. I turned him toward me. Well, well. There, tattooed on his back, was an iron gate. It was identical to mine.
“Where did you get this?” I asked.
“My father put it there when I was a baby. He put it onto all my kids, too, before he died.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. It’s supposed to be some kind of good luck. It bugs me sometimes, though.”
I thought about the twinge I’d felt outside the building just a couple of minutes ago. “When does it bug you?”
“Every couple of days, I guess. It feels like someone pokes it with a stick or something.”
“Did it bug you when you saw that little kid catch fire?”
“Well…” He hesitated. I knew he was going to lay out another lie. “It’s possible, I guess. I don’t remember.”
“What about when Charles had his seizure?”
“How long is this conversation going to take?”
“We’re getting to the important stuff right now. What about Charles?”
“Nothing that I remember.” If he was lying, he was getting better at it.
“Where’s the book?”
“What book?”
“The book!
“I don’t know what book you’re talking about!”
I shoved him over the desk and slammed his head against the blotter. He started to resist, but I placed the barrel of the gun against the back of his head. I hoped no one was going to walk in at that moment.
“Please!” he said. “You’re not really going to do it, are you? You’re not really going to kill me?”
“What do you think about all those burned-up kids?”
“I think it’s horrible. I have nightmares-“
“But not so horrible that you kept trying to stop it.”
“What was I supposed to do? People thought I was crazy! I’m a Hammer-I can’t be the town joke!”
That was almost it. That last sentence almost made me squeeze the trigger. I wasn’t even angry anymore. I just felt cold and bitter. Cabot seemed like a dirty little mess that needed to be wiped up. All I had to do was squeeze the trigger.
“Please,” he said simply.
I pulled him off the desk and shoved him into the chair. “You have a chance to live, if you really want it.” “I want it! I do!” “We’ll see. Where’s the book?” “I don’t know about any book! I swear!” He made it sound like the truth, but I wasn’t convinced. “Wrong answer. Let me explain something, Cabot. I’m here to put a stop to these fires, and I don’t care who I have to step on to do it. If you’re not going to answer, you’re in my way.”
“But I really don’t know. I swear.” “Tell me about your father and the thing he put on your back.”
“I was just a baby! I don’t remember that!” “What about your own kids? You weren’t a baby then, were you?”
“He took each of them for one night. He sent Carla and me away. In the morning, they had this mark on their backs. Carla didn’t like it, but I told her to stuff it. It’s family tradition, and I was afraid we wouldn’t get a penny out of him otherwise.”
“What about the Dubois brothers?”
“What about them? They certainly don’t have any book. I’m not even sure they can read.”
This was getting nowhere. I took the ghost knife from my pocket.
“What are you doing?” Cabot asked.
“Hold still.” I slid the ghost knife through Cabot’s arm. He collapsed, struck the wooden floor hard, and began whimpering. Then he curled up into a ball.
“Please,” he said in a half-choked whimper. “Please please please please.”
