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Marat glowered at him.
They did not present a united front. It wouldn’t be me against an alliance; it would be me against four individuals.
“I’m waiting for a response,” Tatyana said.
She felt comfortable picking on me and none of the others warned her off. I failed to impress. Good.
I could slap Tatyana down, but being cagey and evasive would make me seem vulnerable. Let them think I was unsure. If one of them decided I was easy pickings and attacked me shortly after this meeting, I could put a nice bow on this nightmare and get on with my life.
I faced Tatyana. “Prime Pierce, are you planning on lying to me?”
“I have nothing to hide,” Tatyana said.
“Then whether or not I am a truthseeker shouldn’t matter, should it?”
“On the contrary,” Cheryl said. “It matters very much. We all have secrets we don’t wish to disclose.”
Marat slapped his palm on the table. “You’re not rummaging in my head.”
Stephen remained calm and pleasant. He had clearly said everything he felt needed to be said and was perfectly content to let others babble and argue. He would be difficult.
“I can assure you Ms. Baylor isn’t Magus Elenchus,” Alessandro declared.
What was he doing?
“Oh?” Cheryl asked.
“I was at her trials.”
Stop helping me.
“In what capacity?” Stephen asked.
“I was the control.”
Shut up.
“While Ms. Baylor isn’t a truthseeker, her powers are quite formidable.”
“Really?” Stephen raised his eyebrows. “You were impressed?”
Do not answer that.
“It gave me pause,” Alessandro confessed, his face suitably grave.
I would strangle him. My carefully woven cloak of helplessness exploded and dramatically fell to the floor in burning pieces. Instead of being vulnerable and alone, I turned into a mysterious Prime who gave Alessandro, the most powerful antistasi on record, “pause.” Now they would do their homework and find pictures of us attending opera together with Linus Duncan.
Alessandro nodded. “I would characterize it as an unforgettable experience.”
I pivoted to him. I couldn’t help myself. “Really? Was that you? So that’s where I know you from. I couldn’t quite recall.”
Alessandro opened his eyes wide and put his hand on his chest. “I’m crushed. Am I that forgettable?”
“You know what they say, out of sight, out of mind. Perhaps you should work more on making a memorable first impression.”
Surprise flickered in his eyes.
Baiting him was dumb and dangerous, and it felt amazing.
“While the exact nature of Ms. Baylor’s magic remains sealed, should you have any doubts, the Keeper of Records will confirm that she isn’t a truthseeker,” Augustine said. He’d stayed so quiet, I’d almost forgotten he was there. “House Baylor and MII have a long history of professional cooperation. She has my complete confidence.”
“She accused me of lying.” Tatyana stared at me.
There was no point in playing games now. “Prime Pierce, I understand your animosity toward me due to my House’s role in the apprehension and incarceration of your brother.”
Tatyana’s eyes narrowed. Yes, I went there.
“However, right now I would like everyone to find time in their schedule to be interviewed by me individually. The more you stall and attempt to avoid me, the more money and resources it will cost you. Allow me to eliminate you from the pool of suspects.” I turned back to Tatyana. “If Prime Pierce would like to indulge in further antagonism, you’ll have ample opportunity to do so during our personal meeting.”
“She’s right,” Cheryl said. “We’re wasting time.”
She motioned to her assistant, a young slender woman in a pale red dress.
“I’ll need to examine the murder site as well,” I said.
“You can do that tomorrow,” Marat said. “I’m on-site most of the time. If I have to waste time on this ridiculous interview, I might as well get everything out of the way. Tomorrow at ten?”
“That will be fine.”
The other three Primes followed suit. In five minutes, I had appointments for four interviews over the next two days. I would see Marat tomorrow at ten, followed by Cheryl at four, and Tatyana the next day at nine. Stephen would be my last stop, at two in the afternoon.
“Thank you all for your cooperation. I’m sure you must have many things to discuss with Mr. Sagredo. I’ll leave you to it. Good afternoon.”
I turned and walked out.
Chapter 3
I walked quickly, the pristine white wall on my right, the cobalt windows on my left. My heart hammered against my ribs. My throat closed up, squeezing itself too tight to swallow.
The wall ended abruptly, giving way to a short hallway that branched off, two doors on the left and an arched niche on the right, inlaid with a sea glass mosaic. I stepped into the hallway and leaned against the wall, letting it bear the brunt of my weight. Alessandro’s voice surfaced from my memory.
Look at me. Look me in the eyes. Your witchery doesn’t work on me. I’m already obsessed with you.
I breathed in slow and deep.
Beyond the glass, the horizon ignited with the yellow and orange of a Texas sunset, the sky enormous and deep above the city. The blue lights playing on the white walls turned aqua and green. The short hallway turned dark.
If I closed my eyes, I could conjure him right here next to me. I remembered his voice, his face, his scent . . . He was engraved in my memory. The relationship might have meant nothing to him, but it was my first. I hadn’t known it was necessary to guard myself against committing completely. I didn’t realize it was doomed from the start. I just fell in love.
I’d spent the last few months gluing my heart together shard by shard and seeing him stabbed me again, right in the still-raw wound. It was so easy to just rage about it, because the alternative would be to hurt. Anger was better than pain, but I couldn’t afford either. I had to be sharp.
Someone was coming down the hallway. I heard nothing, but I sensed someone moving closer. I sank into the wall niche, my back flat against the glass tiles, found the phone in my pocket, and turned it off.
Alessandro stalked into view. He moved silently; a jaguar, sleek, stealthy, an ambush predator capable of explosive power. I was being hunted.
He stopped.
The tiny hairs on the back of my neck rose. I sank deeper into the shadowy niche. The trick to staying invisible was to think of nothing at all.
Alessandro turned. A focused expression claimed his face. None of the charismatic, urbane son-of-wealth-and-privilege persona remained. He looked predatory and slightly vicious. Bright orange flames curled in his eyes, his magic smoldering just under the surface.
I breathed quietly through a barely open mouth and pulled my magic to me. It built inside me like a geyser ready to erupt.
Alessandro took a step toward the hallway.
That’s it. Come closer. Make my day. This won’t go the way you think it will.
“Prime Sagredo!” Marat called.
The orange fire vanished. Alessandro’s expression rearranged itself. His brow relaxed, his mouth curved, and his eyes lost their lethal concentration, softening. He turned around with a dazzling smile.
“Are you looking for something?” Marat asked.
“A bathroom,” Alessandro confessed, looking helpless. If I hadn’t witnessed it, I wouldn’t have believed the two were the same man.
“It’s the other way,” Marat said. “I’ll walk with you.”
“You’re too kind.”
“I want to make sure you don’t get the wrong idea about this project,” Marat started. “The profits could be sky-high, but we must play this just right.”
Alessandro opened his eyes a bit wider. “Not to worry. As we say in Italy, profit è il mio cavallo di battaglia.”
“What does that mean?”
It meant that profit was his battle horse.
“It’s my forte,” Alessandro said. “Making money is what I do.”
“Fantastic.”
The sound of their voices and steps receded.
I waited another full minute and slipped out of the niche. He would come looking for me. I would bet our family’s entire annual budget on it.
I turned left and hurried down the hallway, turning my phone on. It pinged. A text message from Linus.
I sent a car.
I walked into the waiting area. Cornelius stood by the windows, looking at the city below. Tension radiated from his posture. His shoulders were stiff, his arms crossed on his chest, and a guarded expression hardened his face. It would’ve been a grave sight, except that Rosebud perched on his head, clutching his blond hair in her adorable little hands.
I raised my phone and snapped a picture.
“Where’s Leon?” I asked.
“Calling 911.”
I almost groaned. “Audrey?”
Cornelius nodded.
“What is it this time?”
“There’s an intruder in her house,” Cornelius said. “Leon has to come and save her.”
For some reason, our family had the worst luck with women named Audrey. On the first day of kindergarten, blond Audrey, whose last name I couldn’t remember, didn’t like my backpack so she spat in my hair. In high school, Audrey Swan got together with the guy Arabella liked and the two of them posted a video mocking her on Snapchat. Grandma Frida had a nemesis, a nasty old lady with a shrill voice, who used to be her next-door neighbor. Her name was Audri Burns. The worst officer my mother ever served with was named Jenna Audreigh. Leon’s Audrey was no exception.
