by Stacia Kane
“I’m very proud of you. You know, the Grand Elder never considered the Lamaru to be much of a threat. The idea that they actually managed to turn one of our own, to infiltrate us, is quite disturbing.”
She didn’t really know what to say. Should she agree? Disagree? What? So she simply nodded.
“We have of course sent the Enforcers out to look for them. Searching through some of Randy’s effects…” He shook his head, touched her arm again lightly.
“I apologize. I know ’tisn’t a pleasant subject. But we believe we may have found some things that will help lead us to the Lamaru, perhaps even eradicate them—we’ve already found their agent at the Bankhead Spa, and she is being questioned. And we’d like you to do a report specifically giving us everything you learned about their organization. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you to be on your guard until we’ve eliminated them. Far more dangerous than we imagined, Cesaria. I would hate to see you endangered.”
She shook her head. As if she ever let her guard down.
“Perhaps you would be interested in moving back? There are several available cottages on grounds. You would be safer.”
The very thought made her skin crawl. “No, thanks. I’m fine, really. I’m sure the Black Squad will be able to catch them.” Actually, she wasn’t at all sure, but this was her home they were talking about. “I’d like to stay where I am.”
His bright head dipped. “As you wish.”
“Thanks.”
Silence fell between them. Chess wondered if she should get up, if they were done. But Elder Griffin didn’t seem done. He watched her, smiling.
“In truth, I’m not the only one who’s proud. The Elders had a discussion this morn, about what you did. We are very pleased.”
“Thanks.” She was starting to feel like a broken record. The story she’d told them had been a simple one: The Lamaru recruited Randy and in return for his help they’d put Ereshdiran into the Morton home. No mention of the airport, or Slipknot, or the blood connection between herself and the thief. She would have left the Lamaru out of it entirely had she not asked Doyle about them the day before. The Mortons surely wouldn’t have mentioned them, if they even knew the full scope of the plot; Chess hadn’t heard any of their testimonies yet. She only knew they were alive and awake and somewhere in a detention cell.
Elder Griffin reached into the file on the long, shiny glass table and pulled out an envelope and two sheets of paper, which he handed to her.
The paper was official Church stationery. The first sheet was a letter of commendation. The second…She had to read it twice before the words meant something.
“Technically it’s not a promotion,” Elder Griffin said. “You will still be a Debunker. You’ll just occasionally be helping other departments with their investigations. For a bonus each time, of course.”
The irony made her want to laugh, in a sick, cynical way. She’d lied to everyone, and she was being rewarded for it. Seemed to be the way her life was working these days, though, what with the free pills in her bag from Lex and the erased debt from Bump. For however long that lasted.
She set the letter on the table and opened the envelope, then looked up. “You gave me my bonus already, remember? Before the meeting?”
“This is in addition to that. We felt something was called for, for defeating the Lamaru plot.”
It wasn’t much. But it would cover the new bed she’d bought, and a week or two’s worth of food. Or a nice long weekend in the pipe room…
Her head still spinning, she thanked Elder Griffin again and headed out of the building, into the soft autumn sunshine.
Doyle waited for her by her car. His face was full of colorful bruises, like he’d been painting and made a mess. “Hey, Chessie, you got a minute?”
“Not really.”
“Please.” He reached for her, caught himself and shoved his hand into his pocket. His left one dangled by his side, the pinky splinted and wrapped. She almost wished she could feel guilty about it. “I just wanted to say sorry. For…what I did. I honestly didn’t mean to. I just…you know, you treated me pretty shitty.”
“Uh-huh. Well, thanks for the apology. I have to go now.”
“Can’t we just talk about it?”
“Nope.” She needed new tires. Hell, she needed a new car. Maybe now she’d get one, if she found one she liked. The bonus for Banishing Ereshdiran hadn’t been as much as she’d hoped, but it was enough, especially since she could cut down on her purchases from Bump—at least for a little while, until Slobag and Lex decided she’d been paid enough and cut her off.
And really, she should spend the money now, while she had it, before she got too itchy and blew it on beer or the pipes or whatever else she could get her hands on.
“I’m not a bad person, you know,” Doyle said.
“Hey there, tulip. Who’s your friend?”
Chess turned around and swallowed her surprise. Lex. She hadn’t seen him or heard from him in three days, since the morning after the airport showdown, and she wasn’t sure if she was relieved or sad about that. A bit of both, really, but it was nice to see him just the same.
Lex stared at Doyle, his eyes narrowing.
Shit. Even she couldn’t be that mean, could she? Terrible had already more than taken care of whatever residual anger she felt toward Doyle.
“Just a guy I work with,” she said.
“I have a name, you know.” He glared at her. “I’m Doyle.”
Lex grinned. “You Doyle, aye? Guessing you just the guy I been lookin for, then.”
Chess lit a cigarette and turned her back on them as Doyle started to run. She didn’t need to watch, any more than she needed to think of the future. Instead she looked at the Church, rising from the earth like a plume of pure white smoke, gazing at her with benevolent detachment. She thought of the City, of the dead, empty souls milling around, waiting for their week of freedom, separated from her by hundreds of feet of solid earth. Where they belonged.
And for the first time she believed there might be a place where she belonged, too, outside of the Church and her position there. And maybe one day she’d have the strength or the courage to accept it. For now…
She ground out her smoke with her toe, and went to find Lex. She had a whole empty afternoon in front of her, and a tattoo that was desperate for some air.
Acknowledgments
So many people to thank. I dedicated it to Cori, for being the first and best reader, but she wasn’t the only early reader; my great friends Stacey Jay, Caitlin Kittredge, and Mark Henry were invaluable. I can trace my friendship with Caitlin right back to the early stages of this book, and if nothing else, it would be special to me for that. Great big thanks and love go to my wonderful husband, Stephen, who continues to put up with me; my two daughters who try very hard to be good while Mommy works; and my father and brother. Special mention to my mom, the registered nurse, who thankfully is used to questions like, “So, if I inject motor oil, would that kill me right away?” and doesn’t bat an eye. I also have to thank my agent, Chris Lotts, who is awesome and loves shortbread. You wouldn’t be holding this book in your hands if not for him and for Liz Scheier, who acquired the series and edited the first two books; working with Liz was an absolute dream. Huge thanks also to my wonderful new editor, Shauna Summers, and to her fantastic assistant, Jessica Sebor, and to everyone at Del Rey; I cannot say enough how great they all are and how welcome and valued they have all made me feel.
All of Team Seattle deserves enormous, drunken, mushy appreciation, especially Jaye Wells, Richelle Mead, and Jackie Kessler (a fellow Satellite member). Kaz Mahoney, Synde Korman, Todd Thomas, Jill Myles, Seeley DeBorn, Kirsten Saell, Bernita Harris, Bernard DeLeo, Jane Smith, Colleen Lindsay, Briana St. James, Justin Coker, Derrick Beasley, Tom Gallier, Fae Sutherland, and Derek Tatum all deserve extra thanks for being my friends and making me laugh; if your name isn’t here it’s because I’m the terrible friend, not you. All of my fellow Reluctan
t Adults. Jessica Wade and Jim McCarthy. Paul Goat Allen, Rachel Smith, Lisa Trevethan, Kimberly Swan, and Mrs. Giggles. And of course, thanks to Evil Editor and the Minions, Miss Snark and the Snarklings, and all of my blog readers, Facebook pals, and Twitter followers; seriously, it may not seem like a big deal, but when you spend all your time alone with a computer and your own misery and neuroses, knowing there are other people out there really does make a difference. I continue to be amazed that anyone pays any attention to anything I say.
Huge, special thanks go to all of the bands I mention in this book. My life would be very different and a lot worse without your music.
Last of all, thanks to you, the reader holding this book. You’re the reason for all of this. I hope I don’t let you down.
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