“Those shadows were concealing the demon.”
He snorted. “Yeah, right.”
“Not very bright, I’m thinking,” Ginny murmured.
“Hey, that’s not nice,” he growled.
“Being insulted is the least of your problems right now,” Ginny said. “Why were you sent here? To attack Monica?”
“We were to attack anyone who came through the door to investigate her screaming.”
“And you didn’t think it odd that she was screaming at shadows?”
“No. I mean, she’s a witch.”
And all witches were strange, his tone seemed to imply. “Who is the man who came here with you?”
“Another contractor. Don’t know his name, don’t care.”
“Then what is your name?” I said to our captive. “We’ll tear the information from your brain anyhow, so you might as well tell us now.”
“Grant Hopkins. And what do you mean, tear it from my brain? That sort of stuff is fucking illegal.”
“Not when you’re suspected of attempted murder.”
“Now hang on a moment?—”
“Give me the name of the person who sent you here,” I said flatly. “You might just escape with a year or two of prison time rather than the rest of your life.”
He stared at me for several long minutes and obviously decided I was not shitting him. “Fine,” he said with a sigh. “But I honestly don’t know who’s behind the contract, because the job came through my agent, and she never tells us stuff like that.”
“Thugs have an agent?” Ginny asked before I could.
“The brighter ones who want regular work do. They have all the contacts and handle all the contract details for a twenty percent fee. Works out well.”
“And is your agent the one who will kill you if you blab?”
“No, it was in the contract. Kinda standard for these sorts of things.”
The stuff you learn.
“If itwasLanie who did the contracting,” Ginny said to me, “she may well go after the agent next, just to ensure there’s no trail leading back to her. She’d have known things went south here.”
I nodded and lightly kicked the man’s boot. “Agent’s name and address.”
He hesitated, then complied. Ginny immediately contacted Betty and asked for an identity and location check to be run. I turned and walked back to Monica, rechecking her pulse and making sure the stomach bandage remained in place, then rose and returned to the other room. The shadows had indeed gone, and they’d apparently taken René with them, because he was nowhere to be seen.
Atticus was sitting on the kitchen counter, idly pushing things off and watching them smash to the floor.
“Seriously?” I said.
Bored now.
“Then go find a mouse to hunt.”
I would rather hunt she who called demons. Are we going soon?
“Love to, but I haven’t a car.”
