She shrugged. “I think I’d make an excellent female assassin. I have feminine wiles, my aim is decent, and I happen to think I’d look good in the outfit.”
“All good points. Except there’s one problem.”
“What’s that?”
“You’ll be haunted by all of your kills.”
She wrinkled her nose. “That is a problem. The life of an outlaw is tricky. Argus will have to assign me something else.”
Clenching my teeth, I pulled her along the street. “He’s not assigning us anything. We’re just going to talk.”
“Sounds like something his last female assassin said before he shipped her off.”
I groaned. Vivian adjusted her arm through mine so we were walking side-by-side, two ladies on a stroll to visit a gangster.
“So, how do we find him? Does he have a den of iniquity, or do we commit a crime and he pops up in a puff of smoke like a crooked genie?”
I slanted her a look out of the corner of my eye. “Very funny. Actually, I thought we’d ask them.” I pointed across the street at the two thugs leaning against a brick building. “They follow me around enough, they might as well be useful.”
The taller of the two ruffians straightened when he caught me looking and nudged his partner. I waved, wiggling my fingers. His partner waved back, which earned him an elbow in his ribs.
“Okay,” Vivian muttered under her breath. “I guess we walk up to street hooligans now and ask for directions.”
Thug Number One crossed his arms over his burly chest. His tree-trunk legs were spread apart, and he looked like a mountain of muscle encased in a pair of leather boots.
“You lost?” he growled.
“You could say that.” I wiped damp palms on my cloak and forced a smile. “I need to talk to your boss. Where can I find him?”
“He finds you, not the other way around.”
Vivian pinched my side. “See, it is the genie scenario.”
Thug Number Two frowned, the action pulling taut a scar bisecting his cheek. “Genie scenario?”
“Never mind. I need to speak with Argus now. I have the information he’s looking for. He won’t be happy when he finds out you’re standing in the way. He might even—”
“Chop off your fingers, bleach the bones, and use them as writing instruments.”
“Vivian, please!”
She cocked her head. “What? Too much?”
Thug Number One hooked his thumbs into his belt and rocked back on his heels. The mountain quaked as a laugh rumbled through his chest.
“All right, let’s go. I wouldn’t want to lose my fingers. Besides, I think the boss will like this one. Might even give me a raise.” He winked at Vivian, and she narrowed her eyes in disgust.
It took us almost an hour to reach our destination. The streets were congested, and we took every connecting alley available. Evening set in, darkening the sky and giving way to a blistering chill. The two thugs led us around the side of a tavern and held open the back door. A pungent tide of cooked meat and stale beer hit me in the face, causing my stomach to roll. Our shoes stuck to the dirty floor, making a suction sound as we traveled through the kitchen and past the door that led to the main part of the tavern.
Thug Number One sauntered down a narrow hallway barely the width of his massive shoulders. He rapped twice on a wooden door, and a panel slid open to reveal a pair of deep-set eyes.
“Is the boss in? I’ve got the witch and her friend insisting to see him.”
The panel slammed shut, and we stood awkwardly in the compact corridor. Vivian hooked her arm through mine, her lips tight. Some of her bravado had slipped now that we were a closed-door’s length away from seeing Argus in the flesh. No turning back now. My nerves raced, and a thin river of trepidation flowed through my veins. I was empty-handed except for the slip of paper that contained Jane’s seal.
“Let me do the talking,” I whispered, squeezing Vivian’s arm.
She nodded. “Fine by me, but Argus doesn’t scare me.”
