The door swung open, and we were ushered along another hallway, tighter than the last. Then, after pushing us inside Argus’s lair, Thug Number One slammed the door behind us. His boots echoed as they faded down the hallway.
I squinted to see in the dim light. There were no windows, and the lanterns were turned low. We were met with a wave of heat from the fire crackling in the hearth.
“Did you bring my money, witch?”
The voice seemed disembodied, and I spun, trying to locate the sound. Argus leaned against the edge of a giant cabinet filled with crystal decanters. He lifted a glass to his lips, and ice clinked.
“I have until the end of the month.”
“So, this is a social visit? What a surprise. If I’d known, I would have laid out snacks. I guess we’ll have to make do with bourbon.” He swallowed a deep gulp of the amber liquid, then stalked closer, offering a second glass to Vivian. Challenge lurked in his eyes.
She eyed him warily before accepting the drink. Argus crooked his lips to watch her down it. Wiping a lingering drop from the corner of her mouth with a thumb, Vivian swallowed.
“Argus Ward.” He held out a hand. “The witch is terrible at introductions.”
“Vivian James.” She didn’t return his handshake, and he closed his fingers with a stony expression.
“You know, your friend doesn’t think too much of me. What about you? First impressions?”
Vivian worried her bottom lip. Argus’s green gaze dipped to the spot, his knuckles tightening against the glass. She focused her eyes over his shoulder for a long moment, then returned his steady stare.
“I think you’re a haunted man.”
His arrogance slipped, and an odd look flashed across his face. When he spoke, there was a gruffness in his voice.
“Maybe I am. What should I do about it?”
Vivian glanced over his shoulder a second time and angled her head as if she were communicating with an invisible force. She leaned closer, and Argus went still.
“My consultations aren’t free.”
His bark of laughter broke the tension, and I exhaled in relief. Tipping his glass at Vivian, Argus rounded a large mahogany desk and settled into a high-backed chair, where he rested his chin in his hand and gestured to the seats in front of him.
“Ladies, please. Where are my manners?”
“First time I’ve seen any,” I muttered, arranging my skirt to take a seat.
Vivian did the same, then reached behind her neck to pull her long, glossy hair over her shoulder. Argus watched, transfixed. When I snapped my fingers to regain his attention, he reluctantly obeyed.
“If you aren’t here to deliver my money then I suspect it’s because you have information on Ironhazel. Does Detective Do-It-All know you’re here? Have you told him about us?”
I ground my teeth together, forcing my irritation down to a manageable level. “I’m here because I need answers, and you’re going to give them to me.”
He arched a brow. “I’m certainly interested to see you try.”
Reaching into my pocket, I removed the slip of paper that contained Argus’s seal and slid it across the desk. I tapped the inked mark.
“Do you recognize this?”
“Of course. You have one with your name on it. In fact, lots of people have them. I’m a busy man. What’s your point?”
“My point is, this belonged to Jane Porter, a barmaid murdered in an alley six months ago.”
Argus flinched. It was subtle, but it gave him away. He steepled his fingers under his chin.
“Exactly what are you accusing me of, witch?”
“Nothing yet. But I want to know why Jane owed you money, and why you’re interested in Ironhazel. Unless you’d rather I hand this paper over to the royal authorities? They might jump to conclusions and think you have a motive for murder. That could be bad for business.”
