They would hash that out later, though. Right now, they had a cop to deal with.
Fallon’s face—more lined than before, but still bull-tough and square-jawed—went utterly blank for a two-count. Then it flooded with fury. “Mendez.” Coming out of his mouth, it sounded like “motherfucker,” but his eyes hollowed out like he was looking at a ghost. Which in a way, he was. Then his face set in deep lines as he added it up. His voice broke on aching disappointment when he said, “Oh, Reese.”
She flinched but held her ground. Dez could only guess how much that cost her. She wouldn’t have slept with Fallon if she didn’t care for him, and she wouldn’t enjoy hurting him now. Hell, Dez wasn’t getting any satisfaction out of the agony in the other man’s eyes. He could relate too damn well.
“I’m sorry,” she began. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I tried to be what I thought you wanted—what I thought I wanted, but I just couldn’t do it.” She stroked a hand down the sleeve of her leather, over her injured wrist. “This is who I am.”
Breathing hard, hands fisted at his sides, Fallon grated, “What about him? How long have you been—” He broke off, closing his eyes briefly in pain. “How long?”
“This isn’t really about him.”
“Fuck that.”
“I never lied about my feelings, Fallon.”
His ribs heaved. “I thought you would come around, that you would figure out that it’s better to be with a good guy who loves you than an asshole who’ll break your heart, probably get you killed.” Transferring his glare to Dez, he grated, “Pretty brave with that gun, aren’t you? How about you put it down and we’ll see who’s tougher?”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
Fallon just sneered. “Don’t want to go back in, you mean. Parole violation, weapons charges, I wonder what else you’ve been up to for the past year, and whether she knows all of it.”
Guilt pinched. “She knows I’m not the same guy I used to be.”
The detective snorted. “Found God in solitary, did you? Think He redeemed you?”
“Something like that.”
“You’ll have plenty of time to work on that once you’re back inside.”
Dez merely lifted the .44. “I’m the one with the gun here. And Reese is leaving with me.” Then he just waited, knowing the other man would work the logic to its conclusion: If Fallon organized a manhunt, even an off-the-books, semi-quiet one, Reese would get caught up in the net for aiding and abetting. When he saw the knowledge hit, he felt a pang of sympathy at the hollow resignation in the other man’s face. “Let her go, Fallon,” he said softly. “She’s made her choice.”
Reese shot him a look at that one, but didn’t argue the point because she had made her choice—just not the one Fallon was assuming. She had chosen freedom over restraints, adventure over a sure thing.
Fallon’s eyes cooled to ice as he looked from Reese to Dez and back. Then he gave a bad-tempered “fuck it” kind of a shrug, and grated, “Doesn’t matter to me what a pair of ghosts does. I didn’t see anything in here, didn’t hear anything, just had a shitty lunch break in a crappy warehouse, waiting for a weasel who didn’t show.”
Then he spun on his heel, and headed out. He stiff-armed the door, paused, and chucked the file folder back at them with an angry swipe. The papers scattered and fluttered to the hallway floor, where they swirled in the current as the door slammed shut. They heard his footsteps, the bang of a car door, the rev of an engine, the chirp of tires . . . and then silence.
She inhaled a small sob, bowed her head and pressed her fingertips to her eyelids.
He lifted a hand. “Reese.”
“Don’t,” she said. “Just . . . don’t. Not right now. Just get us out of here, okay?”
Skywatch
The moment they were boots-down in the compound, Strike asked Reese and Dez to do a quick debrief-and-discuss.
Dez glanced at her. “Okay with you?”
“Yeah.” She avoided his eyes, though. She could talk about the file Fallon had given them—thrown at her, really—but she wasn’t ready to deal with the rest of it. Fallon had been a part of her life for a long time and she hated knowing that she had hurt him so deeply, hated knowing what he must think of her now. Part of her wished like poison that Dez had stayed the hell out of sight. But another part of her, one she wasn’t at all proud of, had liked that he had broken cover for her, stood beside her. And that part of her wondered what it meant. It had felt like a signal, but of what? She didn’t know, didn’t dare guess, which meant that right now it was easier to focus on the job. It was also necessary, because as she looked around the room, it struck her that of the dozen people scattered around the great room, she and Dez were among the most thinly armed. Even Shandi, Jade’s ultra-reserved winikin, was packing heat. Skywatch didn’t feel inviolate anymore, Iago had all five of the artifacts, and they were three days away from the solstice.
“Okay, gang,” Strike said, looking tired and drawn as he called the meeting to order. “Reese, you want to lead us off?”
Feeling strangely numb, like this was all happening to someone else, she went through the police report Fallon had brought her, which described a burglary that had turned into a double homicide when the homeowners had caught the thieves in the act. The victims had died from multiple stab wounds, there was no indication of how the killers had gotten in or out, and the only thing that appeared to be missing was a pale green jade staff that had strange indentations along its length and snake heads carved at either end.
Serpents again, she thought, glancing at the insurance photo, then passing it around.
Next, Lucius took over for a quick run-through of the sacred Aztec sites that were strong possibilities for either Iago’s hiding spot or his next target. “Tomorrow, Strike is going to bounce a team—”
“Actually”—the king interrupted—“I’m going to have Rabbit, Myrinne, and Sven go check out the sites. They’re already down south to.” He glanced at Leah. “It’ll work better that way.”
A few knowing looks got traded, but nobody said a word. When Reese frowned in confusion, Jade leaned over and whispered, “Anna is . . . well, she’s fading.”
“Oh, no.” The painful scene with Fallon receded slightly and she rubbed her chest, heart hurting for Strike and Sasha, who were losing their big sister, and for Lucius, who was losing his oldest friend and mentor. The others were losing a friend and teammate, the world its last living itza’at seer and the third Triad mage. And Anna . . . poor Anna. Reese had watched Lucius sit with her one day, going through her extensive collection of fake antiquities, talking about the ones they had found together at this market or that dealer′s shop. That had cracked her heart. Seeing Strike just beyond the doorway with tears in his eyes had broken it.
It’s not fair, Reese thought, though she knew firsthand that life wasn’t fair. If it were, she would have been able to love Fallon, who had wanted to give her the stability she should have craved. Instead, like her chocolate obsession, the thing she wanted most wasn’t good for her.
She had a feeling that the unfairness of Anna’s condition went beyond “life ain’t fair,” though. The Nightkeepers—Strike, especially—couldn’t catch a freaking break. They fought like hell for every gain, and too often things went the other way, seemingly in violation of the Doctrine of Balance that said everything would even out over the long run. It had taken some pushing and prodding, but she had finally gotten Lucius to admit that he suspected the bad luck was cosmic payback—whether from the gods or the Doctrine of Balance itself—for Strike having broken the thirteenth prophecy by refusing to sacrifice Leah. The magi supported him absolutely . . . but the shadow remained.