Page 71 of Huntress

“She was too busy bitching about you to waste words on me,” he answered, matching her slower speed. “And, it’s Saint.”

“Huh?”

“You can’t expect the man you forced a bond with to continue allowing you to call him Mutt, can you? My name is Tobias Saint. Don’t even think of calling me Tobias.”

Elsie’s eyes widened, blood rushing to flush across her face.

“I didn’t–”

“You did. You broke your own rules, or are you operating under a double standard, and those rules didn’t apply to you, since you own me? Unless it was your attempt at making me give up my pursuit of your life?”

“I didn’t think–”

“That’s the problem, isn’t it? You’re a spoiled little twat who’s too used to getting her way and plowing ahead without thinking is going to get you killed. Right now is a prime example, running around in that condition like an insufferable–” His nostrils flared and his jaw flexed. He took a long, deep breath, then released it in an even longer exasperated sigh. “I’m too angry with you to continue this conversation right now. What are you looking for?”

Elsie floundered at the abrupt change of subject. “F-Franklin’s office. It’ll adjoin the communications room.”

Saint stopped, and she looked back at him. “It’s the other way.”

“How–” she clipped the question off on her own. She was talking to a giant dog; of course he knew.

Embarrassment kept her gaze locked on the ground a few feet in front of her. She tried to sneak a quick peek at him, but he caught her in the act. Elsie kept staring anyway. If she was going to deal with the shame of being caught, she might as well get her fill and satisfy her curiosity. His lips twisted into a scowl, holding her gaze for as long as she was bold enough to return it.

“Do you feel it, too? Something’s wrong, like he’s lurking around every corner.”

“Sounds like paranoia to me. It’s probably your brain trying to shut down because your ass is too stubborn to stay in the infirmary. The walking corpses outside had more life in them than you do,” he snorted. “What use is having a healer if you won’t listen to her? Does she have to sedate you to get you to sit still?”

Elsie squinted at him. “Are you sure you haven’t been talking with Marley?”

“I just happen to agree with her. You’re being irresponsible.”

“Does that make you my coconspirator?”

“That makes me the guy making sure you don’t keel over and die while investigating a suspicious closet somewhere. I’d be disappointed if your life came to such an unsatisfactory end.” Saint paused outside Franklin’s door, bending down to her level, lips drawing back. “This is it.”

Elsie’s reply caught in her throat. He was too damned close again. She tore her eyes away from his, internally grumbling that she’d allowed herself to be distracted by him. Again.

She stood in front of the door and paused, breath held tightly. Casting her senses forward, she couldn’t sense the presence of anything living, but that wasn’t always an indication of safety. Her demon stepped forward, standing at her side.

Elsie glanced up at him, and he gave the slightest of nods. There might be a piper behind that door, and even knowing it would mean the death of both of them, he’d chosen to stay. The ever-increasing number of questions with wildly varying theories she had about that decision would have to wait until later.

“On three.” She mouthed, knowing he was watching. “One… Two…” On three, she kicked open the door. Their eyes strained to identify any threats within, and they both flinched.

Franklin sat behind his desk, droopy eyes open as he stared with an unseeing gaze toward the door. For an everlastingly tense moment, Elsie was aware of every muscle in her body, ready to spring into action if the piper decided to attack. Saint, on the other hand, remained completely calm.

“I don’t think the piper is using him right now,” she whispered.

“Don’t get too cocky, that could change at any moment.”

Elsie stalked forward, watching Franklin’s face for any sign of awareness, but he didn’t move. That wasn’t enough to make her feel any less spooked, though. Franklin’s corpse may be motionless, but that didn’t mean nothing was watching them through his eyes.

She moved around the desk to stand next to him. She had to hand it to the piper controlling him; there were no immediate outward signs of Franklin’s corpse rotting. His pale skin, in spite of being ice cold, hadn’t taken on the telltale tinge of blue that would have tipped them off to his condition sooner. Any stiffness in his movements had been well hidden among the frail infirmities of an aging alcoholic. There wasn’t even the slightest hint of fetid stench coming off him.

She did spot one sign, only noticeable from this close; the corners of his eyes were dried and sunken in. It wouldn’t matter how much fluid the piper forced into Franklin’s body. Without circulation, nothing in that body would function properly. Had Elsie noticed it previously, she would have assumed it was a part of the liver disease evident in the spotting on his hands and face.

“I was biased against him. The signs are subtle, but they’re there. I didn’t catch it because I was too busy blaming him for everything wrong here.”

“The piper managed to fool Franklin’s own people, and they knew him well,” Saint reminded her. “He was walking and talking, with no obvious visual signs of demon possession. The guy had knowledge of how a nest should function and managed to act somewhat normal.”