“Did I?” I asked mildly. “Can’t keep track.”
“You let a ghoul get away. Bit a civilian before it was put down. They’re saying the Guild’s keeping you around out of pity,” Marcus said.
Leena made a mock pout. “Poor fallen hero. Maybe Donovan should’ve taken you with him.”
The words hit harder than the alcohol. My jaw clenched before I could stop it.
“Careful,” I said quietly.
Marcus chuckled. “What, too soon? Come on, Kit, don’t look at me like that. Everyone knows. You and Donovan, best buds until he fell for his leech. Guess loyalty’s contagious.”
I downed the rest of the beer, set the glass down too hard. “You done?”
Briggs shifted uneasily, like he wanted to say something but didn’t dare. Marcus just smirked.
“Not yet. Guild’s taking bets on how long till they kick you out. Personally, I think they already should’ve. Can’t have hunters going soft on the job,” Marcus said.
“Soft,” I repeated. “Right.”
“You used to be something,” Marcus said, almost conversational. “The Great Kit Mercer. Now look at you. Half drunk before sunset.”
“That’s quarter drunk,” I said. “Maybe a third.”
Marcus laughed, loud enough to turn a few heads. “Whatever helps you sleep.”
My knuckles itched. I wanted to hit him. Not because of what he said, even though everything he said was true, but because of the way he said it.
Like he was proud of being the one to say it aloud. Marcus was already measuring the space I’d leave behind when the Guild finally decided to cut me loose.
Leena leaned against the bar beside him. “You hear about the new assignment list? The higher-ups are calling it cleanup duty. Guess who got the ghost house case?”
Marcus grinned. “No way.”
“Way. Guess they figured Kit needed something easy. You know, something he couldn’t screw up.”
I barked out a laugh. “A haunted house? That’s not a case, that’s punishment duty,” I grumbled.
“That’s the point,” she said. “Maybe they’re hoping it’ll scare you sober.”
“Ha.” I swirled the empty glass, watching the dregs circle. “Maybe it’ll do the opposite.”
Marcus dropped a few bills on the counter. “Don’t take it too hard, old man. You had a good run,” Marcus pointed out.
They turned to leave, laughing as they went. Briggs gave me a look, which was half-pity, half-warning, before following them out.
A flicker of movement in the mirror behind the bar caught my eye. Just a flash of pale hair and a leather jacket as Marcus’s group passed the window outside. They didn’t even glance back.
I sat there for a long time after the door swung shut, the echo of their laughter fading into the clatter of the street outside.
I wondered if I’d ever looked that young, that sure of myself. Probably. Before I’d learned what conviction actually cost.
The bartender hovered nearby, pretending to wipe down the counter.
“Another?” he asked carefully.
I stared at the empty glass.
“Yeah,” I said finally. “Why the hell not.”
