Not now. Time for that later.
I looked up at Marsten. “We’re in the northeast quadrant, closest to the main doors, which I know we can’t use, but there must be an emergency exit.”
“There’s one along the west side, probably fifty feet from the front.”
“Perfect.”
We found the exit. As Marsten strode toward it, I called, “It might trigger an alarm.”
“A chance I’m willing to take.”
I stayed at his heels, eager to be out of this place—
Every hair on my body leapt to attention, my lips parting in an involuntary hiss. I grabbed Marsten by the back of the shirt.
“It’s trapped,” I said.
“I said—”
“Not alarm-trapped. Trap-trapped. Magically. They must have a witch or a sorcerer—” I stopped myself. “Earlier, you said something about a Cabal sorcerer. You meant Tristan, didn’t you?”
As Marsten nodded, I winced. Another unforgivable faux pas. Tristan had let on he was a half-demon, but I’d never seen a display of his powers. If I’d known he was a sorcerer, I would have been suspicious of his “working for the council” story.
Witches led the interracial council, and witches and sorcerers had as little as possible to do with one another. The Cabals were the great sorcerer achievement—powerful corporations staffed by supernaturals and run by sorcerers. I knew little about Cabals—every half-demon I knew stayed away from them and had warned me to do the same—but if I’d realized what Tristan was, I’d have suspected who I’d really been working for.
“What kind of trap is it?” Marsten asked.
I shook my head. “No idea. I can just tell that it’s there, and it’s dangerous.”
When I caught his frown, I said, “That’s my so-called power. Chaos detection. Primarily negative chaos. Like you said, trouble suits me.”
“So you’re a half-demon?”
When I nodded, his frown grew. “Admittedly, my knowledge of demons is next to nothing, but I was under the impression that they were all chaotic. They feed off chaos or some such thing.”
“Demons, yes. Half-demons inherit their father’s special power without his affinity for chaos. Lucky me, I’m the one type that gets the reverse.”
I walked toward the door and peered at it. “All I can tell you about this is that someone cast a spell on it, and I know as much about spells as you do about demons. It might just alert Tristan … or it could immolate us instantaneously.”
“Having no great desire to end the evening in flames, I say we don’t test it.”
“Agreed.” I paused. “I’m sure he’ll have the other unguarded exits trapped, too, and the main one well guarded. So now what?”
“We’ll revert to the second mode of passive defense: hiding. We’ll start by getting that gun for you, then find a safe place and try to outlast them. When the party ends, we’ll exit the floor and slip past his guards.”
When we neared the offices with my purse, Marsten made me wait while he scouted. When he came back, I could tell the news wasn’t good.
“Tristan’s gone, but he left a guard behind,” he whispered.
“Maybe they’re getting rid of the guard’s body.”
He shook his head. “Tristan will want it found eventually. That’s his backup plan.”
“But you said—” I stopped. “That was a lie, wasn’t it? About being part of the werewolf Pack.”
“It’s … complicated. But the Alpha knows I’m not a man-eater. My reputation in that respect is spotless. However, I’ve done things, in the past, to the Pack, and while I’ve had a change of heart in that regard …”
“The ink on your reprieve is still wet, and you can’t afford to test it yet.”
“Exactly.”
“Which is why you tried persuading Tristan to take care of the body.”
“No, I was trying to divert his attention from you. But yes, admittedly, I had a secondary goal in mind.”
“Okay, why don’t we look after it now? Take out Tristan’s guard, and move the body someplace safer, to dispose of it later. That will give me back my gun, and we’ll have one fewer guard to worry about.”
One corner of his mouth twitched. “For an amateur, you’re remarkably good at this sort of thing.”
“It’s in my genes.”
NINE
I leaned against the wall, closed my eyes, and focused. The guard was a supernatural, probably half-demon, and after a moment I picked up his vibe, too far away to be in the office with the body.
“He’s in the second office, isn’t he?” I whispered as Marsten returned. “The room we escaped from.”
Marsten’s brows shot up.
“Supernatural radar comes with my package.”
“But you didn’t detect me earlier. Not even when you ran right into me.”
“I did. That’s why I ran into you.” I shook off the urge to explain. “I’m still practicing. The package doesn’t come with a user’s manual.”
“Yes, he is in the second office. Tidying up, it seems.”
“Good, then let’s go.”
“I’ll look after him. You stay—”
He caught my expression and exhaled the softest sigh. “Just stay clear. As you said, I’m better equipped for this. Provide backup if you want, but—”
“Don’t turn this into a hostage situation.”
“Exactly.”
Marsten started to leave, then wheeled back to me. “He’s coming.”
He held his finger to my lips before I could answer. His eyes narrowed as he tracked the footsteps. A moment passed. Then he shoved me in the opposite direction, prodding me around the corner just as the guard stepped into the hall we’d vacated.
Marsten pressed me against the wall, still listening, his body against mine as if he expected the guard to veer around the corner and open fire.
The footfalls grew softer.
Marsten started to pull away from me. Then he froze.
“Was it okay?” a muffled woman’s voice asked. She giggled. “I’m kind of tipsy.”
“It was great, babe.”
Marsten winced as we recognized the privacy-seeking couple from earlier. Guess they’d found what they were looking for.
A door opened less than ten feet away. Marsten swore and looked toward the corner, but it was too late to run, and we’d risk being seen by the departing guard. If we stayed here, though, the couple would recognize him, and if the man got belligerent again, the guard would overhear the argument and—
Marsten’s mouth dropped to mine, and he pushed me up against the wall, his hands wrapping in my hair and pulling it up to shield the sides of our faces. As he kissed me, I felt a stab of disappointment. His kissing was excellent, of course. Polished and perfect, just like the rest of him. For most people, finding an excellent kisser is cause for celebration. But I prefer the ardent gropes and kisses of an enthusiastic—if less experienced—lover.
Behind us, the man laughed. “Looks like we aren’t the only ones looking for a little diversion. There’s an empty office right over there, guys.”
Marsten raised his hand in thanks. The couple moved on. I let the kiss continue for five more seconds, then pulled away.
“They’re gone,” I said.
Marsten frowned, as if surprised—and disappointed—that I’d noticed. I tugged my hair from his hands.
“Okay, coast clear,” I said. “Let’s go.”
He let out a small laugh. “I see I need to brush up on my kissing skills.”
“No, you have that down pat.”