Cassius. Please.
Cass swallows hard past the sudden tightness in his throat. “You’re not going to help me, are you?” he asks, and his voice cracks on the last few words.
Ez’s expression shifts. “We didn’t say that,” she says. “But?—”
Out of nowhere, there’s a knock on Cass’s front door. He almost jumps out of his skin at the sound, whirling around to face it. “What the hell?”
Obie shifts his stance. Bracing for a fight. “You expecting someone?”
Cass’s pulse is roaring in his ears. “No.”
Ez’s eyes narrow. Unexpectedly, she snaps open a rift, steps through it, and waves it shut behind her.
A split second later, there’s a strangled shout and the sound of a fist hitting flesh. Cass’s blood runs cold. “Ez?Ez!”he yells, and he and Obie bolt for the door in unison, wrenching it open and scrambling outside.
Cass skids to a stop on the front porch, eyes widening. Ez is pinning an unfamiliar woman to the house’s outer wall, one arm pressed across her throat and her teeth bared in a snarl. The woman is holding her empty hands at shoulder height and her chin is tucked to try and breathe past Ez’s choke, but she’s glaring straight back at Ez like she’s more annoyed than threatened.
“For Nostringvadha’ssake,Ez,” Obie snaps, and he waves an impatient hand. Cass feels soundproofing and invisibility spells wash over the porch, obscuring the confrontation from his neighbors’ wandering eyes. “Is this how you always greet guests?”
Ez ignores him. “Who are you?” she hisses, leaning right into the woman’s space.
She doesn’t answer. “That’s gotta hurt,” she grunts instead, glancing down at Ez’s bare forearm, and with a jolt, Cass sees angry burns and blisters already festering across Ez’s skin.
“Ez—Ez!”He jumps forward and yanks Ez away from the hunter, glaring at both of them. The woman sucks in a few quick breaths, rubbing her neck and wincing, but doesn’t make any move to attack.
Cass glances over at Obie. Obie frowns back, eyebrows furrowed, before fixing his eyes on the hunter. “You’re out past your bedtime. Don’t good little lackeys like you have a curfew?”
The hunter flinches, but stands her ground. “Well, the Sanctum doesn’t exactly know I’m here right now,” she says, and her cautious eyes shift to Cass. “You must be the boy with the hay that JJ’s been spending all his money on. I’ve been looking for you.”
“Why?” Ez snaps, eyes narrowed.
“Hay?” Obie repeats, confused.
Cass’s heart stutters at the mention of JJ’s name. Quickly, he looks the woman up and down, cataloging her stiff hunter’s posture, the corrosion spell on her skin?—
The way her feet are set and her fingers are twitching like she’s ready to cast a spell, not pull out a weapon. “Roma Gutierrez,” he says, and her eyes widen. “From Strike Team Kappa. JJ’s team.”
Roma’s expression turns wary. “He’s mentioned me?”
“Yeah,” Cass says evenly. “Your demonic soul-tracking spell is the entire reason we’re in this mess.” He leans forward. “Why are you looking for me?”
“Well,” she says, “I was kind of hoping for some help with a jailbreak.”
22
JJ’s execution is scheduled for tomorrow at noon.
He doesn’t think he’s supposed to know about it yet. No one has told him in so many words, at least. But the halls with the interrogation rooms are set up in a circle around the interrogators’ break room, and he can occasionally hear snatches of conversation when the door to his room is left ajar.
It happens more often than he would’ve expected—namely, when the infirmary’s spellcasters are here between interrogation shifts. He knows from Roma that these interrogation rooms aren’t completely magic-proof, but they do dampen spellcaster’s abilities. Leaving the door cracked makes it easier for them to use their magic, easier for them to cast their spells?—
Easier for them to heal JJ’s injuries. They’re giving each interrogator the opportunity to torture JJ from scratch, providing a blank canvas to cut open every time.
Honestly, he doesn’t even think the interrogators are really trying to get answers anymore. He’s pretty sure they’re just enjoying hearing him scream. Nostrand isn’t the only person in the Redwater Sanctum who despises neophyte hunters, after all.
Now, though, it’s been longer than usual since he was last healed, and his next interrogator has yet to arrive. Are they going to give him one last night in peace before he’s burned alive? Somehow, he doubts it. Are they trying to psych him out, to make it worse when the torture begins again? More likely, but it’s a strange tactic for a man on death row. Or are they?—?
The door finally creaks open. JJ glances over to size up his next torturer and immediately regrets it.
