“Don’t move,” a male voice whispered in her ear. She ignored him and thrashed in his arms, dropping Veil. The cat paid no mind to her distress and ran down the hallway.
Then she felt a knife press into her back.
“I said, don’t move.”
Enne froze and swallowed down her scream. The man pushed her forward, walking her into the bedroom where the cats had escaped. The window was shattered, and a rope stretched down from it.
Keeping the knife pressed against her and his hand covering her mouth, he turned her around to face him. A mask concealed his features, except for a pair of dark eyes and a few tufts of dirty blond hair. Enne didn’t recognize him, but she felt she knew his voice from somewhere she couldn’t place.
“We’re going to climb down,” he told her, slapping a handcuff around her wrist and the other around his belt. “You aren’t going to make a sound. You aren’t going to fight.”
Enne tried her best not to panic, but her bounty was worth the same if she was dead or alive. He might let her live for now, but if she fought back, there was nothing stopping him from slicing that knife across her throat.
The Spirits were all downstairs. How long would it take them to realize Enne had gone missing?
The man reached into his pocket and pulled out a gag. He stuffed it in Enne’s mouth, even with one hand still clutching his knife. Enne guessed he favored his left hand, and judging from his size, she wouldn’t overpower him in a battle of strength.
But she was not weak.
While he secured the knot around her gag, she grabbed the hand that held the knife and twisted it away. His balance veered, and she kicked his feet out from under him. It sent them both falling, but she landed on top.
She punched him as hard as she could in the face.
“Muck,”she cursed. Ithurt. As she shook out the pain in her fist, he grabbed her by the shoulder and flipped them over.
He pressed his knife against her throat. “You’re more of a pain than I expected.”
“Yes,” Grace said at the door, making him jolt. She dropped Veil onto the floor. “I’m very proud.”
Then she lifted her boot and kicked him in the chest. He sprawled backward, his knife skidding across the floor, sending several cats dashing after it. Enne, too, was yanked by the handcuff, getting brush burn across her arms. Grace pinned him down with her knees and ripped off his mask.
He had a young, handsome face, with cheekbones so strong it was no wonder Enne had nearly broken her hand on them.
Grace reached over and pulled the gag from Enne’s mouth. Enne sputtered out a thank-you.
“I’m not alone,” the handsome man said sharply. “The captain knows my position.”
“I was there when the whiteboots shot up the Orphan Guild,” Grace said. “So either you’ve all lost your rifles, or you’re alone. I’m guessing the latter.” She dug through his pockets and removed a pouch of orbs, his badge, and the keys to Enne’s handcuffs. She handed the last item to Enne, who quickly freed herself. “How did you find this place?”
He said nothing, only turned his head to the side and glared at the wall.
Grace punched him on his other cheek, and she didn’t curse like Enne had. “Youwilltell us who you are and who else knows about this place, or I will kill you very, very slowly.”
He seethed, but remained silent.
“Enne, get the rope,” Grace ordered, and Enne pulled the whiteboot’s escape rope up from the window. She and Grace forced him into a chair in the room’s corner, then bound his arms and legs to it. “I say we kill him. I hate whiteboots.”
“Kill him? Here?” Enne echoed. The Spirits were accountants—not assailants. “In Marcy’s bedroom?”
“He knows our location now, and he’s seen you without your mask. We can’t let him live.”
Grace had a point, but Enne still stopped her as she reached for his gun.“No,”she commanded. Even if she’d needed Grace to save her, she was still the lord. She would decide if and when they killed him. “I’m going to get the others.”
“But... You can’t—”
Two minutes later, all nine of the Spirits huddled in Marcy’s bedroom. Several of them still carried the tabloids they’d been reading. Others clutched knives, as though a bruised man tied to a chair still posed a threat.
“Holy muck,” Marcy murmured, which was the first time Enne had ever heard her curse. She squeezed one of her cats for support, even as it squirmed in her grip. “Look at his face.”
