“Only when absolutely necessary.”
“Which could mean anything from once a year to once a week.”
My voice was dry, and amusement briefly warmed the seriousness from his eyes. “Indeed. Can you pull the wind back enough to reveal his wrists while the rest of him remains restrained?”
I did so. Henrick grabbed our thief’s wrists; he resisted as much as he could, given his limited range of movement, but a glare from Henrick had him stilling. I couldn’t really blame him, because that look had promisedseriousharm.
After we’d repeated the process with our thief’s feet, Henrick gagged the man, then opened the trunk, shoved him inside, then slammed the lid down on his muffled protests.
Only then did I release the wind.
“Home now, sir?” Henrick asked.
“Yes, but detour down Watergate Street.” Mathi glanced at me. “Might as well check who else went into that building.”
Henrick opened the doors for us, then climbed into the driver’s side and started the car. The engine’s purr just about muffled the complaints coming from behind us.
A quick jaunt down Watergate did reveal it was a cop I’d heard, as there were now several patrol cars standing out the front and a number of officers going in and out. Lucky I’d heard him or her when I had, or I’d be explaining to Sgott why I’d broken into yet another property.
We continued on. The traffic wasn’t too bad, considering the hour, and we made it over to Mathi’s apartment in good time. Like many other highborns, he maintained a secondary residence outside the main Ljósálfar encampment; his lay in the Garden Terraces district, a beautiful and rather expensive area that was close to the canal and surrounded on two sides by community parks. He hadn’t chosen the location for the greenery or indeed the water, but because it was close to the main commercial and shopping districts in East Deva and made commuting to work easier.
Henrick drove into the underground parking and skillfully wove through the various concrete pillars dividing the narrow spaces until we reached Mathi’s parking allocation next to his express elevator.
Henrick stopped, opened our doors, and then hauled our captive out of the trunk. I hadn’t really had much of a chance to take a good look at him, but in the garage’s sallow light, he looked much older than he’d appeared in the vision. Perhaps hisuse of the pectoral had aged him—most godly relics did come with a price, after all. In every other way, however, he was standard issue Myrkálfar—dark skin, dark hair, and gray eyes, though he wasn’t as muscular as many of them.
“Thanks, Henrick,” Mathi said.
“Do you wish me to carry him up, sir?”
“No, go home for now. I’ll likely call once we finish interrogating.”
“Very good, sir.” He gave me a polite nod, then climbed back into the car.
Mathi returned his attention to our captive. “Now, are you going to be a good lad and behave until we get to my apartment, or do I have to knock you out and carry you up?”
The dark elf scowled but nodded. Mathi grabbed his arm and forced him to bunny hop toward the elevator. He punched in the code to call it down and, a few seconds later, we were walking through the plushly carpeted, pale-green foyer to the penthouse’s door.
I followed them in and couldn’t help the odd feeling of coming home. I’d lived here off and on for a good part of the ten years we’d been together, and I’d loved the place—especially the kitchen and the living room, with their panoramic views over the gardens and the city. At night, with the glass dark, all you could see was a sea of twinkling lights, stretching out almost as far as the eye could see.
Mathi took the gag off our prisoner, then escorted him down the wide hall. “Beth, do you want to make us both a coffee while I make our guest comfortable?”
I nodded and walked through to the kitchen. It had received a makeover by Mariatta—the would-be wife who’d subsequently tried to neuter Mathi when he’d broken their contracted engagement—and was now all glossy white cabinetry and marble counters. One of those counters displayed Mathi’s café-gradeespresso machine. He might claim to be incapable of love, but that incapability didnotextend to coffee.
“You two won’t be so fucking comfortable once I report your actions to the IIT,” the dark elf growled. His breathing was labored, and sweat beaded his forehead. Bunny hopping, it seemed, was giving his fitness a good workout. “What you’re doing is tantamount to kidnapping, and you can be sure I’ll be suing both your asses off.”
And that right there was youth rather than experience speaking. “Do either of us look as if we actually care? Besides, given who you’re targeting, the last thing you want is to land in IIT hands right now.”
“How do you know who I’m targeting?” He scowled at me. “No one does—that’s the whole fucking problem.”
“Good on you for not denying the targeting,” I replied, amused.
“What’s the point? You obviously know who I am and what I’m doing.”
“Actually, all we truly know is that you’re one of Jarvil’s sons or grandsons.” Mathi shoved him into a plush leather armchair that rocked slightly under the dark elf’s sudden weight. “So why don’t we start with who you are and who you’re looking for?”
“If you don’t know, I’m not enlightening you. Not until you let me call my fucking lawyer?—”
“That’s not how these things generally work.” Mathi’s tone was more than a little condescending. “Now, be a good lad and answer the question, or I shall be forced to use chemical means.”
