He’s quite possibly right, of course. Heightened emotions will make my little “diggers” logic fly out of the window—if this place had any.
Mostly, I’d like to defenestrate Daniel.
But I must consider. If the wolf is in the thick of a fight, he could easily find himself in the path of a stray pipe without me having to lift a finger.
That could be interesting.
“A fair point,” I pretend to concede. “Daniel, leave us.”
The rat disappears, I’m sure off to a safe hiding place.
Bevan wavers on his feet. Releasing a sigh, I come to the conclusion I’ll have to aid him. I step toward the cage, and reach through the bars.
My palm presses against his chest and for a moment, the acid-green light flickers. I draw back just a portion of the black film I left in his marrow—enough to give him his feet, but not enough to give him his teeth.
“What are you doing to him now?” Aurora demands. “Stop with that shit.”
I ignorema mie, and watch, fascinated as the wolf gasps, his back arching as the paralysis lifts.
“Better?” I ask.
He stumbles, catching himself on the bars. “Feeling just peachy.” His voice has gained a fraction of its former power. “Let’s do this.”
As I unlock the cage, Aurora pulls at Bevan’s shoulders. “Make sure Sky isn’t down there. Imran too.”
He gazes at her through bloodshot eyes. “Of course, top priority, babe. But you need to stay in the cage, just in case. This might get real ugly.”
The wolf has a point. I will be leaving Aurora unattended, but ironically the bars will keep her safe.
“Come along, Bevan. Let us see if your leadership is as robust as your ego.”
Taliesin follows me out of the cell, his gait unsteady but determined. “Tally!” Aurora’s yelling follows us into the corridor, as the scent of smoke and adrenaline rises to meet me. “Be careful.”
Touching.
At the junction leading to the back service-tunnel, shadows at the end of the hall shift. “Ahead.”
“I see it.”
Four figures in navy jumpsuits step into our path.
“That’s Thad, Dimitry’s number three,” Bevan hisses in my ear.
This Thad-person, plus his three stooges, approach with rudimentary weapons held fast.
“Well, well, well.” Thad speaks and swaggers with an unearned bravado. “The pussy-whipped loser and Frankie the Frog.”
He spits onto the concrete floor.
That crude gesture is tiresome and far too frequently used in this place.
The wolf steps forward. “Leave, Thad, now,” he growls. “This won’t end well for any of you.”
The air is already thick with the scent of impending violence. “For once he is correct,un autre imbécile,” I nod.
“What did you call me?” Thad sneers. His knuckles whiten around the handle of his weapon, then he spits again, in my direction.
Enough.
