No, we could use the high school’s dojo or somewhere like it.
Yeah, but I didn’t need my power to kill someone.
Listen, Boots is toughand good at thinking on her feet. And we could get a ref, someone who could stop me if I went too far. But not Rome. If I bloodied her nose, he’d throw me through the wall. Or try to.
I smirked at the idea of taking on Rome. Nowthatwould be a good fight.
“Okay,” I said at last. “I’ll try it. If you can guess what Zick is.”
“Deal.” She nodded and seemed happy.
I held out the package from my safe deposit box.
“Zick may need more … encouragement … than cash or gold or diamonds to answer our questions. If so, offer him that.”
“What is it?” She took the box, lifted it to her ear, and shook it.
“You won’t hear anything.” I wondered how she’d react when she found out what was inside. “Don’t worry about what it is, but don’t let anyone take it from you except me or Zick.”
“Why? What would happen?”
I started to imagine whatwouldhappen.
“What’s with the sudden silent treatment?” she demanded.
“Sorry. I was just adding up how many ways Zick would try to kill us.”
#
The dark-haired man sitting alone at a back table arched one eyebrow.
“You brought your girlfriend to meet me?” Zick purred.
“I’m not his girlfriend.” Mira tucked the package under one arm, put the other on her hip, and planted her feet in a wide, solid stance. As she spoke, her eyes roved over the place and assessed everyone in it. “I’m his bodyguard.”
I had to clamp down on a laugh at the look of entertainment in Zick’s eyes. Humor left me quick, though, as I sat down at the chair across from him. My back was to the rest of the room, a position I did not like at all.
Aw, I trust Mira enough to know she’ll make sure no one sticks a knife in it.
I reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out a roll of cash, then laid it in the little silver bowl he kept on the table to receive such “offerings.”
“Tell me something I don’t know about Samuel Castle.”
He eyed the thick roll of Franklins and sipped his drink.
“How do I know whatyouknow to tell you what you don’t?” he shot back.
“Nephilim. Warrior with more skills than one should have. Big evil. Blackmailed into working for a human, but would slit his throat in a heartbeat. Saddled me with a demon. Killed my mom.”
As I rattled off the list, my voice steadily dropped until, with the last three words, the crystal glass in Zick’s hand hummed under the pressure.
“Castle ran with a woman,” he said. “Until, oh, maybe twenty years ago. Her name was Susma Tamang. If I didn’t have the habit of keeping my opinions to myself, I’d say she was a nasty piece of work.”
Coming from Zick, that’s saying something. Tamang. Tamang… Where have I heard that before?
“Nephilim?”
“Watcher. Had a flair for dreamweaving.” He tapped his black fingernails on the table. “Liked to plant nightmares in Castle’s targets and zero in on phobias.”
