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The door was barely ajar, enough to look accidental, as if someone hadn't noticed it didn't close behind him. Inside there could be anything from a lone assassin to a small army.
"I'm going in," Griffin said.
I caught his arm. "You might be impervious to normal harm, but you aren't immortal."
"Maybe not, but it's my job."
He tried to pull away, but I held on. "There must be another entrance."
I was breaking my cover spell to motion to Paige when the door flew open. I quickly recast.
A dark figure stepped out and eased the door all but closed, as if he'd left something jammed at the base to prevent it from shutting.
His build matched Carlos's, as did his dark hair.
My mind wanted to leap to the obvious conclusion and balked when I resisted. I could not make any assumptions.
Griffin had backed into the shadows. His eyes were narrowed, obviously doing the same thing I was--studying the figure with uncertainty. All we could see from this distance was that he was dark haired and clean shaven, like Carlos.
I looked toward Paige's end of the alley. When the man turned in the other direction, she peeked around the corner, breaking her cover spell for a look. Then she gave an exaggerated shrug, meaning she couldn't confirm his identity either.
The man lifted a radio to his lips, seemed to think better of broadcasting in such a quiet alley and reached for the door again. Before he had it half open, Griffin flew down the alley, grabbed him by the collar and threw him against the wall, his hands pinned behind his back.
I knew immediately this wasn't Carlos. My brother's snarls of outrage would have echoed through the night. Instead, the figure only struggled, kicking and writhing in Griffin's grasp. He yanked the man around to face me as I approached.
He was maybe half Carlos's age. "Who are you?" I asked in English, then Spanish.
He only looked at me, then at Paige as she approached, and finally up at Griffin. Griffin shook his head, to tell me he didn't recognize the young man. It was like being in a silent movie, no one saying a word, all too aware of the possibility that whoever was on the other end of the young man's radio was close enough to hear.
"Lucas?" Paige broke the silence. "Do you know him? Does he work for your dad's Cabal?"
Griffin glowered at her and even I wondered what she was doing...until the young man's gaze shot to me, his lips parting in a silent "Oh, fuck."
The first words out of the young man's mouth were, among post-capture utterances, second in popularity only to "I didn't do it."
"It wasn't my idea," he said.
"Where's Carlos?" I asked.
"If I knew--" His teeth clicked shut, expression closing down. "I want immunity."
Griffin's fist hit his jaw with a thwack. Paige covered a wince by looking away.
"Mr. Cortez asked you a question," Griffin said.
"I--I want immunity."
The demand fell into a plea, blood dripping down his chin. If he could still talk, though, the blow had been softer than it looked.
I waved for Griffin to hold back--pure theater, as he had no intention of hitting the youth again if it could be avoided. Then I nodded for the young man to continue.
"It's all gone to hell," he said, slumping in Griffin's grip. "He said it would be easy, but now the girl's dead and--"
"What girl?" Paige said before stopping herself. An apologetic look my way. "Sorry. You said the girl's dead and..."
He shook his head.
"Where's Carlos?" I asked.
