What had Ragnor done? And why?
“Does Luvic know?”
Jagger didn’t answer my question. Instead, he gestured to the bottle. I closed my eyes, breathing in the chrysanthemum and rubbing alcohol scent. The spirits sloshed in the bottle, their fumes rising to sting my eyes.
“Justice has returned,” Jagger said. “He turned out better than I ever imagined. I was too hasty in my judgment of him. He is . . .” Jagger’s flat gray eyes turned a burnished shade of gray, gleaming with greedy satisfaction. “It was how long he held on. It was the good in him that made the evil in him take root so deeply. If he hadn’t fought . . . it wouldn’t have had time to sneak in and pervade every crevice of his soul. You see? The good in him is what opened the door and paved the way. Now he isn’t just a mine—he’s more. He’s . . . hmm . . . Do you know where leggerocks come from?”
“No.”
Jagger smiled. “Neither do we. But we have our suspicions. Don’t hold on too long, Mari. Unless you want to surpass your friend. Drink. Make a toast. To the new Justice.”
I lifted the bottle of Furtig. It snarled like a beast caught in a trap.
“To the new Justice.”
I drank.
A scream filled my ears. Was that me screaming? I dropped to the floor. Jagger leaped over the desk and grabbed the bottle before it spilled from my hand.
The Furtig closed over me, and the door to the world slammed shut.
75
Griff held me, propping my arm over his shoulder.
“I’m all right,” I said, trying to stand on my own. He shook his head and held me tightly against him. He wasn’t wrong. I was shaky, my tongue was so heavy I could barely speak, and the asylum’s halls were tilting and swaying under my high heels.
I’d only taken three steps outside of Jagger’s door before the floor had bucked under me and I’d nearly fallen on my face.
I closed my eyes, trying to regain my equilibrium, but that only made me dizzier.
The hallway was dark and echoed with distant chatter, but the area around Jagger’s office was empty. It was a general rule that Jagger’s creatures wanted to be close to him, but not so close he noticed them.
Griff waited patiently, his arm around my waist. He stared down at me worriedly, his gaze running over my expression, searching for a hint as to why he’d had to pull me up off Jagger’s floor.
“I’m not going to talk about it,” I said.
Griff frowned, and it looked like he wanted to argue, but then he made a face and shrugged. He walked slowly, and step by step, the floor stopped bucking, and I regained my footing.
“I’m okay now. You don’t have to?—”
Griff pinched the underside of my arm.
“Ouch! Okay. You know what? You’re a bully.”
He stared at me.
I stared back.
Finally, I blew out a breath. “Fine. I’ll change. I’ll clean up. I’ll have breakfast with you and Rou. But then . . . you heard Jagger. I have to go to the Clarks’.”
Griff’s mouth curved into a slow smile. He’d won our unspoken argument. He tugged me closer.
“I see. You like bossing people around?—”
I broke off as Griff shoved me behind him. I knocked against the stone wall, my head snapping back and hitting the surface. Sparks burst, and I shook my head. Winded. Griff was stronger than he realized.
I blinked as his wings burst free. He crouched in front of me, snarling. He’d taken his father’s form. His wings spanned nearly the entire width of the hallway. They twitched menacingly, and his tail whipped back and forth.
