The man steps back, both hands palms up.
Turning calmly, I step into the room, swaying to the left to pass wide of the nearest table. “Excuse me.” I smile at the men sitting at it. And then the next table. “Don’t mind me.”
I move on past the next table, which has a greater number of women sitting at it, to whom I tip my chin.
When I reach the final table, one of the men sitting at it stands up. He isn’t exactly in my path, but I stop and consider him.
His heartbeat is steady and his brow is clear. His anxiety level is the opposite of that of the man at the counter. He’s completely cold. Completely in control.
It doesn’t escape me that he’s positioned closest to the green door.
“You have a death wish,” I say to him. And then, more of a guess, I add, “You need a purpose.”
“My purpose is to stop you,” he replies, at which the tension in the room rises again.
“Well,” I say, taking a moment while I quietly prepare to draw my claws again, “what counts as stopping me?”
“Killing you.”
“Do you think you can?”
“Yes.”
I tilt my head. Then, speak slowly. “You believe you can kill me when my own father—the man who tellsyourboss what to do—has tried and failed. That’s a little insulting to him, don’t you think?” I purse my lips. “Does my father know you feel this way?”
A slight crease appears in the man’s forehead.
“It’s probably better if I don’t tell him,” I say.
As I speak, I take note of the painting of vines and flowers—an image of the same kind of greenery that grows on the front wall of this building. They seem to be moving, just like they seemed to follow my movements the last time I was here.
One of the vines is peeling off the wall, taking solid form and snaking silently through the air toward the man’s back.
The man gives a snarl that doesn’t bode well, and now I sense his blood pressure rising.
I narrow my eyes at him, even though he won’t see it behind my blindfold.
Leaning toward him, I growl right back at him, my voice full of force now. “You can sit down. Or I can bloody you up, drag you in front of my father, and tell him you think so little of him. Just to be clear, it’s only because I’d love to see the look on his face that I’ll kill youafterI present you to him. Now, which would you prefer? Sit or die?”
His blood pressure eases and he suddenly grins at me.
He doesn’t sit down, but he does stand aside.
Hmm. I take a more careful look at him. Light-brown hair, unremarkable brown eyes, and a large physique, but without any defining features that make him stand out. He’s definitely someone’s top henchman. The disappear-into-the-background-until-he’s-needed-to-dispose-of-the-bodies type. Likes a good threat. Appreciates a little blood. Wasn’t going to let me pass unless I showed some mettle.
I keep him in my sights, conscious of the retracting vine, which settles innocently back against the wall.
I hiss at it as I push open the green door, mimicking the sound the shadow panthers make when they’re unhappy. “I didn’t need your help.”
Quickly, I step into the short corridor beyond the green door.
When I first entered this hallway, I didn’t realize that it was concealed from the room beyond it. I can see clearly into that room, but anyone in that room can’t see me until I step completely out from the end of the corridor.
The first time I did it, it must have looked as if I’d been stepping through the wall itself.
Last time, the room ahead was filled with tables. Men were drinking and gambling, completely oblivious to our imminent arrival.
Not so now.
