But she was not in the mood for bullshit.
“She’s going to hit you and I’m not going to stop her,” Rachel murmured just before Miranda grabbed Captain Blair by the collar.
He was taller than her, and probably equal in strength, but he was no match for her fury or the all-consuming fear that tunneled her vision to one goal. One drive. Devin’s survival.
“Where is it?”
“I thought she would hit you,” Rachel’s voice again, and she made no move to protect her superior officer.
“I’m not really the type to respond to force or ultimatums. And, for the record, I feel like I’m being unjustly attacked. I don’t want to leap straight to a last resort when there might be a less lethal solution in front of us. I don’t want him to die, either.”
Miranda forced him against the wall, and he winced, but otherwise didn’t show any sign of losing his composure. “There isn’t time. And hecan’tdie, do you understand? If he dies because you were trying to tick off boxes on a checklist you won’t look much better than Graves.”
“Holy shit, is that Yarrow Graves?” He glanced at the adjoining door to the crime scene in the dressing room. “You didn’t leave much to identify him by, visually anyway.”
“The potion, Blair. Where is it?” She pressed him harder into the wall, distantly aware that he wasn’t putting up any sort of fight. But she didn’t care about logic or reasoning. Devin might be dying.
Rachel’s hand closed on Miranda’s arm. Her grip was firm, squeezing, but her eyes were sympathetic as she said, “He’s not trying to be insensitive. He’s just like this. And I’m afraid I can’t let you kill him.” She did not remove her hand until Miranda let go.
Captain Blair adjusted his collar, like her iron grip had made it uncomfortable. “I can’t give away evidence in an investigation. There’re rules. I’m the captain. It’s not like I can just do what I want.”
“Then I’ll get it myself.”
He sighed, crossing his arms and pinching the bridge of his nose. “Look, if you were going to steal it, then you shouldn’t have mentioned it to me. But…”
Miranda stopped, but she didn’t turn around. She would hurt Captain Blair to get what she needed.
The thought left her cold. She would hurt him for the chance at saving Devin. The reality of it was starting to trickle in, covering the blinding fear. She took a steadying breath.
“But, there’s another option. Emmy, you were with me when I was reading all those notes.” It took Miranda a moment to figure out who the hell ‘Emmy’ could be, but Rachel was the one to respond.
“You fell asleep face first in those notes. I briefed you when we got the call about an attack at Devin’s home.”
“If Emmy read it, then she remembers.” Captain Blair’s attention had returned to Miranda, who was having troublefollowing his erratic trains of thought. “Which means we know how tomakethe potion.” Back to Rachel, “Possible with the limited resources in this house?”
“Aside from the blood, I could manage,” Rachel responded.
Miranda whirled, trying to follow the track of thoughts until she finally caught up to the Captain’s intentions. “You mean Divine blood. The blood of a guardian.”
“Yeah, but there’s three guardians in this room, blood won’t be the issue.” Gideon gestured to the three of them, as if volunteering the blood donation of everyone in the room was his right.
“I’ll do it,” Miranda said, instantly. With absolute certainty.
“Alright, then. Emmy, get one of the rookies to help you get whatever you need,” Captain Blair said, this time to Rachel, “And let’s get an officer in the other room starting on a report. Get, uh, who’s the least squeamish?”
“Morgan.”
“Yeah, make sure he’s primary. Get Holden to assist you. And if you see the doctor on your way, make sure he knows to get up here and maybe we can get in a more official prognosis before we poison the guy.”
Rachel disappeared and a heavy silence settled over the room. The only noise was Devin’s slight wheeze as he breathed, and listening to him struggle was tantamount to peeling off her own fingernails.
“I apologize, Captain. And thank you,” Miranda offered, staring at the bed as she counted each second. She had been tempted to help Rachel gather supplies, just for something to do, but leaving Devin even for a second was impossible. She needed to watch him breathe or she’d go insane.
“You can call me Gideon. We’re not so formal outside the Ring.” Gideon slipped his hands into his pockets. “What was your name again?”
“Miranda,” she answered as the helpless task of waiting settled over the room. She stood shoulder to shoulder with Gideon, watching Devin for any sign of a change in his condition. The dread of sudden stillness hovered like a ghost over their shoulders. Each ragged breath a blessing.
“You don’t look like a Miranda,” he murmured, then he started pacing. He kept reaching out to touch things. Shifting a book. Toeing at an errant boot on the floor. He picked up the knife from the food tray and wiped it clean of butter before twirling it around his fingers. “So. Graves is dead.”
