Expression hard, he handed her back the note. “What did I tell you about working alone?”
Elysia swallowed the vile barbs building behind her lips. She was here to beg his help, and she wouldn’t come out on top of a verbal pissing match, anyway. Not today, when she barely had her wits about her. The venom slipped back down inside her for another day, another fight, but fatigue slapped her in its place.
It was exhausting to always pretend.
She hedged, picking at her gross wet clothes. “Will you help me?”
His hand clasped against the back of her head, his grasp firm and steady. “Always. That doesn’t mean we’re not going to have a conversation about this at some point.”
Relief swept through her, her head tipping forward and tears stinging her eyes. She blinked, wiping at her face with the back of her hand. Stepping away from his touch, she tried to hide her discomfort, but even his palm against her hair felt too intimate at this moment. Her instinct was to hide, and it was proving difficult to override it.
Gage studied her. “You’ve never crossed this line before. There’s a difference between an informant and an executioner. Do you want to keep your hands clean, or do you want to come?”
Palms open in front of her, she thought of the long tally of lost lives behind her name. Was she really so different from an executioner? She wasn’t sure all the people who’d died because of her tips would think so.
All the emotion left her body as she answered. “It’d be smarter if I stayed out of it.”
“But you need to know it’s been handled.”
“Something like that.” She looked up from the floor, their eyes meeting in understanding.
Gage flicked off the lights as they walked through his home. One by one the lights went out, and with each switch he flicked,his movements grew smoother and somehow deadlier as he slipped into a dangerously focused state. Elysia trailed behind him. The man had more money than was healthy and a love for the boom of technology slowly crawling through Kava now that magic was gone. The end result was a home fitted with electricity and running water and the kind of tub she dreamt about. Her own flat only boasted a washstand and a communal toilet.
Her eyes went back to Gage as he strode in the direction of the docks. They both knew something about terrible choices made out of necessity and survival, but there was no joy or even vengefulness pumping through her now that the task was before her. As was often true, she was simply left with a grim resolve to make it through the day, and today that meant shadowing an assassin through dark alleys and strange buildings until the problem was solved.
The sun had risen when Elysia finally collapsed onto her bed.
She’d wondered if what she had seen would keep her awake with her brain spinning. Violence was nothing new in her world, though. Not with a hanging or beheading happening at least weekly since she’d been a child. In some respects, this had felt cleaner. Gage knew exactly who to go after, given that he had tracked every guilty individual since she had involved herself by tipping off the Crown. Usually she scoffed at his over-the-top protectiveness, but today she was glad for it. He knew where to go and who to seek.
Their mission had been simple, efficient even. Find the guilty parties. Remove them from the picture. Regardless of his feelings for her, Gage’s kills had been fast and neat, his crew always only a few steps behind to perform cleanup. If anything, the most shocking part was how organized and rote the entire operation appeared to be.
Sprawled out and finally safe, exhaustion overcame her. Her last waking thought was that there was still a tongue in her sink.
Chapter 3
Gage’s commentabout working alone and chasing secrets rattled around in Elysia’s mind. He was right. Inevitably, sticking your nose where it didn’t belong would bite you in the ass. The tongue she had just disposed of was a clear example. Given her nature, she wasn’t sure she knewhowto stay out of the fray.
She did know secrets, though. The shape and sound of them. How they fizzled with excitement or fear and arched up to their breaking point. Because almost every secret had a breaking point. The key was to capitalize just before the threads snapped loose and the secret was gone.
Her midnight-black cat wound around her legs, and Elysia smiled faintly. Yes, secrets were just like cats. They could smell desperation and longing. One must remain neutral. Keenly present while also thinly disinterested, and they would slink right to you.
Elysia scooped up Sir Larkspur, and he circled thrice before settling haughtily into the warmth of her lap. She rubbed his velvet ears and pretended she could just stay right there in her favorite plush chair with him. She was beginning to dread seeing anyone and everyone. After months of her increasingly odd behavior, it seemed everyone who cared for her was set ondemanding answers. She couldn’t blame them, but she didn’t have to like it.
Remy and Daphne were not neutral nor remotely disinterested.
They were going to swarm her like vultures in search of their last bone-picked meal.
Elysia stood, brushing Sir Larkspur to the floor, where he glared at her with purple eyes.
“I’m sorry, Sir. I’m afraid I must beg your leave.” Elysia sketched a bow in his direction. Sir Larkspur merely showed her his ample behind in response.
He sashayed into her bedroom, hips curving in a feline figure eight. The urge to slip in behind him and swiftly lock the door grew with each passing second. Tea date be damned.
She knew what this tea date really was.
There were tea dates, and then there weretea dates. The former was when you got together with your girlfriends and laughed openly over drizzled scones about the latest harebrained antics of your lovers. The latter were penciled into your schedule, when these very same friends becameconcerned.
We’re just worried, that’s all. We care about you.
