“What do I get out of this anyway?” Ciprian asks.
“A good night’s sleep for the duration of your stay on the Fringes.” I rub the tips of my fingers together. “I never kill my informants.”
“Bro.” Ciprian claps me on the shoulder. “If all your deals go like this, your informants need to unionize. Pronto.”
“Start work tomorrow at noon?” I ask, ignoring his joke.
He rounds the kitchen counter to leave, nodding over hisshoulder as he heads for the door. The tingling presence grazes my back again, softer this time... approval? I guess they’ve gotten everything they need.
“You’re going to forgive me, Ali—I’ve got a good feeling about this.”
The grin on his face is boyish. All charm and hopeful excitement.
I stay quiet, but my chest tightens. It’s official now. I’m using Ciprian Casanell for information while hiding the truth from him. In one way, it’s poetic justice. In another, hypocrisy. I tell myself I shouldn’t feel guilty. I’m not sure I believe it.
The door closes firmly behind him, and I hurry to lock it. Ciprian may be right about earning my forgiveness, but it remains to be seen if repaying his omission with one of my own will sever the final thread of trust between us.
FIFTEEN
Unspoken rule of the Fringes #201:
Even magic bends when the stack is fat enough.
ALISTAIR
“Well done,” the voice says. “Are you convinced now that I mean you no harm?” I have a hard time hiding my disbelief. The only thing I’m convinced of is that I’m talking to a snitch. And the longer they continue to invade my privacy, the less patience I have.
“What did you do to him?” I demand.
Ciprian didn’t appear sick or hurt, but the invisible demon clearly feels better now, and magic is nothing if not a complex system of checks and balances.
“Again, you ask the wrong questions,” they say. “Let’s return towhatI am: a mazzikin demon. Made entirely of magic; formless, we exist only by remaining in the presence of other demons, preferably powerful ones.”
“You live at the compound?—”
“Out of necessity and tradition, yes. My clan hasbeen linked to the Casanell family for centuries. We siphon their magic to power ourselves and do a few simple household chores in exchange. An agreeable deal for the most part. As for what I did to him, young Casanell didn’t notice when I siphoned from him at age two, and he certainly won’t notice now. Do try to quell your absurd qualms.”
Household chores, siphoning magic, their obvious defensiveness—if they’re telling the truth, I’m starting to believe this demon can’t do much physical damage. But keeping an invisible servant around is the perfect recipe for a ready-made spy that no one suspects.
“Your history lesson was fascinating, but I have no way of verifying it,” I say, examining the cuff of my shirtsleeve. “I think it’s time you told me why you’re really here.”
Their silence is absolute, interrupted only by the gentle drone of electricity and the puff of cool air exiting the ceiling vents. The mazzikin is trying to make me nervous and get me to backtrack. I’m far too experienced with silence for that to work.
I sit on the couch and casually prop one ankle on my opposite knee. With a steady pulse and nothing but time, I wait them out. I’m not the one who needs siphoned demonic energy to make myself heard, and I’ve already begun the good faith portion of this negotiation by bringing Ciprian here to be snacked on.
The mazzikin will come around, or they won’t. The outcome can’t concern me. My business remains successful because I refuse to scramble. Ever.
“There’s a prize at the compound—a being more powerful than any born on Earth in hundreds of years. She dropped into the enclave’s lap quite by accident, but they won’t hesitate to make use of her.”
My brow wrinkles. That’s incredibly vague. “Use her how?”
“Money, power, control... the implications are endless,” they whisper smugly.
“Uh-huh.” I steeple my fingers and relax against the couch. “That’s fascinating, but from where I stand, the enclave already has all those things. Why should I give a damn if they do some recruiting?”
“You’re a fool,” they hiss. “Have you seen many djinn walking your scum-encrusted streets? Her powers will ignite war. These lawless Fringe communities, where you do as you please and answer to no one, will disappear—turned to dust with a snap of her fingers.”
I focus on keeping my breathing even and my face slack. The djinn report is interesting. It’s worth investigating, but the mazzikin’s heated speech made it clear they aren’t here for equality and justice for all. “Why would you betray the Casanells?” I ask.
