“All safe.” Her voice shook. “Everyone’s safe, Noa.”
I’d been told that Hattie and Oscar had a small apartment next to Leo’s apartment, and they’d promised to visit when I was strong enough.
But Laura’s friends? “Are they in Westvale?”
“The Ironstone District. Pulling their hair out because there’s nothing to do.”
“They should open an aesthetics shop,” I suggested. “Farmer’s Market style. Paint nails and design clothes. What they did in Azul.”
“You’d think the Carmag would be open to it,” Laura said with a small frown. “But wolves can be… touchy about strangers.”
“It takes time.” Fallon resettled her hand on the cane.
The street artists had drifted away. A musician took their place—a thin girl dressed in a loose sweater and leggings. She clunked a metal folding chair against the pavement until the chair opened, then used one foot to fully expand the legs. In her hand, she held a violin case, which she left on the ground.
I closed my eyes as she drew the bow and sent the first pure notes into the air. The melody was familiar; it came from a popular musical, but I was unable to recall the name. Still, it was comforting to know that, in the middle of everything, I listened to something beautiful. Where I could imagine a normal life, breathing without worry over an enemy closing in. Where the pure melody from a violin soothed me.
We sat at a table outside a café, close enough to listen to the girl. She’d left the violin case open, and both men and women tossed in dollar bills as they passed. A waitress appeared; Laura ordered. Minutes later, an assortment of sandwiches arrived. Drinks—non-alcoholic, Laura explained, since both Fallon and I were recovering from trauma.
Fallon waved over her shoulder, calling the waitress back, and moments later, a bottle appeared—gin—which she poured into Laura’s fruity drinks with the comment that “now they’re medicinal.”
I stifled a laugh, shocked at the realization that I could still laugh. Still feel pleasure. Laura was happy at the archive; she said it was familiar ground. I pretended not to notice the vacant look in her eyes before she blinked. Anson asked her to research, and the books she’d found were amazing. Some she’d never seen before.
Fallon sipped and asked what Anson was so curious about.
“How Amal might strip wolves.”
“What?” My mouth dropped open. “Like the ancient kings?”
Laura blinked again, and asked, “You haven’t told her?”
“Shout and tell everyone,” said Fallon, as she poured more gin into my glass and shoved it toward me. “Of course she doesn’t know.”
“I don’t know what?”
“What Angel told Grayson and Mace told me.” Fallon topped off her glass. “The time was never right to tell you.”
“Seems like a good time right now.” I gulped the spiked fruit drink. “Since Anson knows if he’s asking Laura to research. Why didn’t you mention it during our lovely meeting today?”
“I probably would have if we hadn’t gotten off on other topics and—”
Perhaps she meant the topic of Julien and red or gray smoke, because she halted in mid-sentence. But when I tipped my head to see what had distracted her… Angel was standing there.
“You want the details?” the mercenary asked. “Or the third-hand version?”
“Sit,” Fallon ordered.
Angel dragged a chair from another table and brought it close, threw herself down, irritation overflowing from her with every breath.
I didn’t know what irritated her when they’d kept me in the dark, so my tone was more accusatory than necessary when I said, “It was you, going in to the Farmer’s Market.” Following us? “Find what you wanted?”
Angel held up a small packet and shook it. “Good for the end of a shit day.” She ripped the paper and poured crystal powder into the drink the waitress set in front of her. “Pain reliever,” she clarified, after glancing at our shocked expressions. “Pressure. Builds up in the eye.”
“Sorry,” I murmured.
“Not as sorry as the asshole who cut me.”
“Specifics about Amal,” Fallon said, a soft alpha order.
