“And?”
“They’re trained assassins who work under the direction of the Council of Dragons.”
“To what aim, do you know?”
“According to my source, it’s the muertes’ role to enforce the council’s edicts and punish those who break the rules.”
Enforce being a more pleasant word for kill. “I wonder if that also includes rogue draman towns?”
“From what I understand, the muerte don’t leave evidence. If they had destroyed any of those towns, we wouldn’t even know about them.”
It didn’t mean the council hadn’t destroyed the towns, just that there was no evidence of it. And yet, if the council was behind the cleansings, why would Damon now be investigating them? Then I frowned, remembering the words of the oddly familiar-sounding stranger who’d talked to Angus in the van. He’d said something about Damon’s presence not being the result of direct council orders, meaning that this was either a private investigation or something else entirely was going on.
“Anything else?”
“Yeah, my source said don’t fuck with them. If the man you call Death is one of them, you might be wise to get the hell away while you can.”
“Leith, he’s investigating the cleansings just like I am. Right now, I need him. Or at least I need the information he’s holding.”
“And are you sure it’s worth the risk? We already know these bastards will do whatever it takes to get the job done, no matter what—or who—gets in the way. I’d hate to see you follow the same path as Rainey.”
I’d hate to see me going the way of Rainey, too, but it wasn’t like I could walk away. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t do everything I could to save her soul. And if that meant endangering my own life, then so be it. I owed her that, and more, for all the years she’d protected me from the worst of our clique’s ravages.
“But with the muerte by my side, there’s less chance of me ending up like that, isn’t there?”
“Being with him didn’t stop your apartment—or your brother’s—from being torched.”
“At least I wasn’t in them, Leith.”
“But you could have been.”
A point I couldn’t argue, so I simply said, “Did you uncover anything on Seth Knightly?”
“I’ve found several people who swear he died in a car accident, but there’s nothing official. I don’t suppose you know where the accident happened? It might make hunting the death certificate easier.”
“Sorry, I can’t help you there. I was too busy dancing in celebration to actually listen to details.” I glanced across the road, just to check whether Damon had reappeared yet, and found myself staring into the blue-eyed gaze of the stranger who’d chased me from the Ritz not three hours before.
My heart leaped to the vicinity of my throat, and it took every ounce of control to keep meeting his gaze, and to not react to his presence. To trust that the subtle changes Damon had made would make the difference between that man recognizing me and not.
“Leith, I have to go.”
There must have been a touch of panic in my voice, because he said, very quickly, “Problem?”
“I’ve just spotted someone I need to talk to.” The man was still staring, and sweat was beginning to trickle down my spine. So much for the chill in the air. “I’ll ring you back later.”
“Make sure you do, or we’re coming after you.”
I hung up then crossed my legs. The miniskirt rode up my thigh even farther and the guard’s gaze slipped downward. A smile touched his thin lips and, for one panicked moment, I thought he was going to cross the street to talk to me.
But he turned away and moved to the bus stop near the Fifth Street intersection, leaning against the outside wall of the shelter and taking a newspaper from his coat pocket. He’d positioned himself in such a way that he could see both the building entrance and me.
It might not mean he suspected my identity, but it sure as hell made things awkward. I dialed my phone’s twin and listened to it ring.
“Hello?” The urbane voice that answered was Damon’s and yet not. Like his looks, it could easily have belonged to someone older. In the background, I could hear Robyn talking and other phones ringing. Our office was never quiet, even on slow news days. With the recent spate of fires, today wouldn’t have been one of them.
“Our Ritz watcher has just turned up. He’s standing at the bus stop near the entrance, reading a paper.”
“Has he spotted you?”
“He saw me before he moved to the bus stop. He hasn’t made a move toward me, so he may not have recognized me.”
“Or he’s just waiting to see if I turn up or if you’ll lead him to me.”
“Could be.” He had more chance of understanding the motives of the bad guys than I did. He played in their world, after all. “So what do we do?”
“You need to move. If he follows, we know he’s recognized you.”
“And if he does follow, what will you do? Take him out?”
“It’s what I do, Mercy.”
A shiver went through me at the matter-of-fact way he said that. And he would do it—without thought, without remorse. But knowing someone was a killer and actually standing by and watching them do it were two entirely different things.
“It’s broad daylight and rush hour. You can’t risk that.” I wasn’t sure whether the slight edge in my voice was fear or anger, or even a touch of both. “And it makes you no better than them.”
He snorted softly. “I don’t attack innocents. That makes me a whole lot different.”
“It’s only a matter of degree. And I won’t be a party to it.”
“I didn’t ask you to join my investigation, remember?”
“No, I asked you to join mine. For the moment, I’m the one with all the information—information you apparently need.”
“Which I now have, thanks to your pretty friend.”
I smiled grimly. “The information is coded. Just try and read it without me.”
His voice was oddly weary as he said, “Letting the bad guys live almost never works out, Mercy.”
“I don’t care.”
“You will if they get hold of you later on.”
Maybe I would. No, I definitely would. But I’d regret standing by and watching Damon ruthlessly get rid of the guard even more. Killing might be an accepted part of dragon mentality, but murder was very different to killing in self-defense. It left a stain on the soul that was hard to erase. My brother had spent the last few years of his life living close to the edge in an effort to escape it. He might not have any remorse for his part in helping hunt down the men responsible for killing his half-brother’s soul mate, but the guilt of taking a life lay deep all the same—even if he refused to acknowledge it to himself or to others. I didn’t want that weight, didn’t want the regret. I had enough problems in my life as it was.
“Question him, restrain him, do what it takes to stop him from following us. But don’t kill him.” I hesitated, then added softly, “Please.”
He didn’t answer immediately, but when he finally did, his voice was flat and filled with steel. “This once, and against my better judgment. Walk down to Fifth Street and head right. When you come to Minna Street take another right and head through to Mary. Just keep walking. If he’s following you, you’ll spot him.”
I nodded, remembered he was on the phone, not in front of me, and said, “Then what?”
“Keep walking. I’ll go out the side entrance and take care of our problem a few streets away.”
I drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. It didn’t do a whole lot to calm the sudden rush of nerves. “Okay.”
“Give me five minutes to find the exit to Minna Street.”
“Will do.”
I hung up, popped the phone back into my bag, then continued to read the paper. Or at least, I tried to. But every nerve was tingling with the awareness of the man across the road. It was hard to curb the instinct to run, and yet that was the one thing I couldn’t do. When five minutes had passed, I made a show of glancing at my watch and making a face, then grabbed my bag and left, forcing myself to saunter down the street as if I didn’t have a care in the world. Or a madman on my tail. Unfortunately for me, this part of town was either populated by office buildings or parking lots, so I couldn’t pretend to stare into storefront windows and use the glass to check for pursuit. And yet he was following me. I could feel him. Could feel the heat of him, and smell his cindery scent.