“That’s true, but this…it concerns Graves.”
Kylin paused, glancing around. “Come with me.” He led them into a private parlor, so the three of them were alone. Then his eyes finally found Miranda. “Why is she still here?”
“We're...business partners, for the time being. Miss Wilde and I have an understanding.”
Kylin looked uneasy again, glancing around as if searching for enemies. “You know his influence here. You can’t go throwing that name around and expect to get away without his knowing. He’s the head of the Night Court, for solstice sake.” Kylin swallowed, “I’m no supporter. He does what he likes and takes no heed of who he squashes. While quite a few of us are unhappy with his methods, he has enough of a following that no one dares cross him.”
“This should prove promising in that endeavor,” Drake held out the folder. “If you can translate it.”
Kylin sighed, but took it and read it first, silently. His face was ashen when he looked back up. “I’m not sure how this will help you, but I’m sure it will get you killed if you’re not careful. You, too, guardian.”
“I don’t care. I plan on saving my sister, whatever the cost,” Miranda snapped.
“Sister?” Kylin asked, arching a thin eyebrow.
“Yes, Cordelia Wilde,” Drake supplied, “I’m sure you’ve heard of her by now.”
The name registered instantly in Kylin’s face, how could it not? Graves was very publicly betrothed to Cordelia. Everyone knew.
“I see. Congratulations, I suppose," he offered, though the haughty tenor of his voice suggested he cared very little about the subject one way or the other.
Miranda narrowed her eyes. "You can take your congratulations and shove--"
"Can you translate this for us or not?" Devin cut her off, stepping between her and Kylin. He threw her a glare over his shoulder, and she hated being chastised by him.
Maybe she wasn't cut out for this sort of mission. Letting people talk to her however they wished was outside her capabilities. Her own mother hadn’t succeeded in tempering her anger in twenty-six years.
Kylin watched the exchange with indifference, before saying, "It reads like an experiment. This is a list of items, equipment, tools, that sort of thing, but here,” he pointed at the page, “It says:final testing has proved successful. Subjects 1-15 did not survive the process, however, subjects 16-32 show promising recovery. We have identified the problem as a conflict with the fae’s metabolism and the fae that survived have all shown favorable results in further tests, provided they survive injection. We can proceed with production on schedule.” Kylin stopped and handed back the paper like it was cursed. “It’s signed. That’s his mark on the bottom. And, if I’m not mistaken, this address is one of his buildings.”
Miranda snatched it before Drake and set it in her pocket. “We have him, then,” she said, heart racing. She was expecting the note to be bad, but not the casual account of killing fifteen fae for an experiment. Though she did not wish to delay her mission a moment longer, her conscience was tugging at the back of her thoughts.
“I imagine most of the subjects were willing volunteers. He’s good at getting people to do what he wants, however dangerous. And, of course, we don’t tolerate Watchmen in our territory, so there has been no outside investigation into these victims,” Kylin said, clearly disturbed. “The Night Court tolerates Unity, as a kindness to the other courts, but Graves has been promoting a secret campaign about the fall of Unity. How the Night Fae will triumph as the true power of the city.” His lips curled withdistaste. “But killing his own kind to get there? He’d lose most of his support if this got out, not to mention the Watchmen would have to act, whether we like it or not.”
“And if we expose this there’s no way he’ll marry my sister.” Miranda grinned. “But how do we do that?”
“I don’t know, but you better do it carefully and strategically. Don’t let anyone know you have this and don’t sell it to some paper or newssheet. You must outsmart him or he’ll only find a way to cover his tracks. He is no fool.”
“We’ll be careful, thank you, Kylin,” Drake said.
Kylin looked down his long nose at Drake, his smile strained. “Yes, well. You can make it up to me after you paid for your first shipment. Good night.”
With that he left, slipping back out into the bustling streets.
Miranda worked her lip in her teeth while she considered what this meant. Her plan had been to figure out what she had and then turn it in to the Watchmen, but now they would need more. They had to make sure Graves never got the chance to cover his tracks. Then there was the experimentation itself. What was the purpose?
“Miss Wilde?” Devin’s voice returned her to the room, he was already hovering by the exit, pacing. “We got what we came for, I’d like to see the back of this place.”
Miranda rooted her stance. "We can't turn this in to the Watchmen. Not yet.”
Baring his teeth, Devin returned to her side so they could keep their volume low. “Oh, and why's that?” Drake’s tone was still clipped, still on edge. “It’s not wise to linger here, even in this meager bit of privacy.” He glanced at the walls like they were full of eyes waiting to turn them in to Graves.
“We have to find out what it’s for,” Miranda said, slow and calm. She was resigned to the idea, but she didn’t like it. She had proof that Graves was connected to several murders, which wasmore than enough to serve her purpose. But…there was a greater evil at work. If she exposed the nature of the experiments, before Graves could have it hidden or destroyed—and he would as soon as the news was leaked—then they risked some other lunatic picking up where Graves had left off.
“Pardon?” he snapped, rubbing at his temple.
“The experiments. We have to figure out what they’re trying to do first.”
Drake laughed without humor. “I thought you wanted to end your sister’s engagement then get back to life as normal.”
