“Doesn’t matter.”
“Mr.—”
“Ellis.” Hiram cuts him off. “Hiram Ellis.”
The light switches on. “The former mayor’s son?”
Another example of when ends justify means. Or so he hopes.
“Yes.” Hiram produces his identification. “I’m also Sensitive, and know the only magic wafting off anyone here is coming from you three. Cameras don’t lie. You let Ruth go, or you—”
“If you’re her attorney, you know how this works. You’re not going to win this.”
“We’ll see.”
They push past him and drag her away.
“I need to make a call,” Clinton grumbles.
“No, you don’t. Let’s go.”
It’s a race, but Hiram marches into the shop as the enforcers pull away, pleasantly asking the clerk for footage of the last hour. It takes a few empty legal threats, but he gets what he needs. With Clinton in the passenger seat of his car, Hiram speeds to the FCD headquarters downtown, illegally parking and quickly finding the Seer holding cells.
The enforcers standing around sneer at Clinton. “Here to get another one of yours?”
“No, actually,Iam.” Hiram looks at Clinton, then helps him into a chair. “Wait here.”
“I certainly will, ally.” Clinton smiles.
“Shut up.”
Walking away from the laughing old man, Hiram considers calling Gabriel for backup, but decides against it in favor of bypassing pleasantries, ignoring the uncooperative secretary, and opening three empty doors to find who he’s looking for.
Enforcers crowd around a pissed-off and shackled Ruth. With a flick of his wrist, Hiram clears the path between him and the old woman, his ring’s amulet flaring before dimming. Shocked enforcers peel themselves off the walls.
“Trust me,” Hiram tells her. “Hire me.”
“I wouldnever—”
“Fine, then I’ll leave you here alone until a Seer advocate arrives. It’ll be hours, maybe days, before they allow them back here.”
Ruth looks around at the enforcers, who are getting up, angrier than ever, and then Hiram feels her hand on his arm. “Don’t disappoint me, Ellis.”
It’s dark when Hiram emerges from Holding with a freed Ruth in tow.
“Those assholes still have my hat,” she grumbles.
“We’ll get it back tomorrow.”
Expecting to find Clinton gone, Hiram is surprised when he’s still there. And not alone. Khadijah sits beside him, but for the first time, she’s glaring with more suspicion than hate. Hiram scrubs a hand over his face, too tired for another fight after hours of arguing with enforcers on behalf of a person who didn’t trust that he’d get her out without charges filed until the moment the signed release papers were in her hand.
“Thank you,” Ruth says earnestly. “I can’t believe you didn’t fail me.”
Hiram ignores the slight. “I’d be a terrible attorney if I were intimidated by a room full of people who share the same brain cell.”
Ruth chuckles. “How much do I owe you?”
“I don’t want your money.” He glances over to find Ruth peering up at him, mouth tight. “What?”
