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His fangs show up, making his face truly frightening—less weasel and more wolverine.
I surreptitiously back away. “I ask because Kain told me as much. I just want to double-check, so—”
“Kain is the only reason you’re not a blood bag. Push me again, and I’ll risk his wrath.” His gaze drops to the vein pulsing in my neck. “I’d love to show you your place in the food chain.”
I figure I can safely take this reaction as a yes. Time for some reconciliation. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”
He stares at me the way I plan to look at a proper Gomorran meal after all these Earth bananas.
I decide to throw him another olive branch. “Your alibi checked out, by the way. I don’t know if Kain told you that.”
His expression doesn’t change.
Clearing my very dry throat, I say, “Is there a place where the Council keeps records of things like voting, the Mandate ceremonies, or when each member joined the Council?”
Might as well dig through some files, like a real detective.
Filth glares at me for another second, then turns on his heel and strides to the door.
I grab a bunch of bananas and follow him through the maze of corridors, keeping a few feet between us at all times, just in case.
He stops when we reach a set of doors with a fancy design carved into them. Without a word, he opens them for me.
As soon as I step inside, he slams them shut behind me.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Relieved to be out of his sight, I sanitize all the places where he touched me and look around, whistling appreciatively. This is the largest library of paper books I’ve ever seen. How many trees died to make this happen? On Gomorrah, a tree costs as much as a week of Mom’s medical bills, so most people read electronically. Only the obscenely wealthy enjoy printed books.
“Anything interesting happening?” Felix asks in a gravelly voice. “I couldn’t fall asleep after all.”
Not much, I text him. About to look through some records.
The faint sound of typing emanates from the earpiece. When he’s not hacking Earth banks and such, Felix makes his living working for humans as a software engineer and, ironically, as a cybersecurity consultant.
I advance deeper into the library. In the back, I spot a person sitting in a lounge chair. He’s holding a bagel in one hand and a paper book in the other.
I know him. It’s Chester, the probability manipulator whose dream I entered a few hours ago—and he’s not alone.
Felix stops typing. “Wow.”
You can say that again. Next to Chester lies an enormous white lion ravaging something that looks suspiciously like a chunk of goat. At least I hope it’s a goat and not, say, an unlucky monk.
I stop several yards away and warily eye the tableau. Neither man nor lion are paying attention to me, so I speak up. “Excuse me. I hope I’m not interrupting your breakfast.”
The lion’s ear twitches, but he keeps eating his grisly meal.
Chester puts down his book, revealing a satyric grin. “If it isn’t the detective extraordinaire. Do you have questions for me as part of your investigation?”
I nervously peel one of the bananas. “I’m just here to review some records.”
Chester’s grin widens. “A coincidence, huh?”
“Doesn’t he look just like the Joker from the Arkham video game franchise?” Felix whispers. “It’s Ariel’s favorite.”
I smile at Chester and say politely, “You’re a probability manipulator, right?”
“You looked into me?” He scratches the lion behind the ear as one would a cat. The beast doesn’t seem to mind, perhaps because it’s too busy with the meal, or perhaps because Chester’s luck prevents him from getting mauled.
I swallow a piece of banana without chewing. “I created a dream link with you while you slept last night. It’s only prudent for me to know more about you.”
This is a lie, of course. I can’t say what powers many of the Councilors I connected with have. Kain didn’t bother telling me that.
“Did you hear that, Bertie?” Chester looks down at the lion. “I didn’t banish you from my bed just for shits and giggles.” He gives me a crooked grin. “Bert is still surly with me over that.”
“He sleeps with that lion?” Felix exclaims, echoing my thoughts. “How does he still have all his limbs attached?”
“I appreciate your asking Bert not to be there.” I dry-swallow another piece of banana. “I have a feeling he wouldn’t like someone touching his master in the middle of the night.”
Chester’s grin turns sinister. “Oh, he’d love it if someone tried. If you don’t count napping, killing things is Bertie’s favorite pastime.”
How lovely. I picture the lion engaged in said pastime and suppress a shudder. “Well, it’s nice to have met you both. Research awaits.”
“One second.” Chester’s grin evaporates. “Don’t you want to know what I was doing when Gemma died?”
