Page 21 of The Thief's Mark

five

Griff

WhattheLightwasI thinking?

That was the question at the forefront of Griff’s mind as he approached the entrance to The Last Drop with ‘Cal’ in tow. He must have suffered a blow to the head during that brawl to agree to this insanity.

For now, he’d reluctantly allowed Cal to return the void orb to the extradimensional space in his magical tattoo for safe storage. Whoever had tried to purchase such a dangerous magical artifact represented a grave threat to the city—that much was clear.

Faced with such a threat, however, heshouldhave called for backup and turned Cal and those Brotherhood thugs over for questioning. Instead, he was about to march straight into a Brotherhood stronghold while workingwiththe infamous Blackjack—the very thief he’d been so desperate to hunt down mere hours ago.

He cast a wary glance over at Cal. For now, the thief seemed content to play along with this fool’s errand. But Griff wasn’t fooled by his apparent nonchalance. The man was an accomplished liar and master of disguise.

Griff had dealt with this sort of criminal all his life. Men like Cal didn’t care about anything but themselves. The first chance he got to betray Griff, he’d seize it without a second thought. Griff would have to make sure to keep a careful eye on Cal to ensure he didn’t do anything funny. At least the pacifier cuff offered some peace of mind.

Griff’s steps faltered mere paces from the door to the tavern. He hesitated, ignoring the questioning look Cal gave him. There was still time to turn around. Those Brotherhood thugs were likely long gone, but he could still return to headquarters with the greater prize.

Capturing the infamous Blackjack would likely be the crowning achievement of his career—enough to earn him whatever promotion he desired. It would make all the long nights he’d spent away from his home and his wife worth it.

Clenching his jaw, he thought of the corrupt magic that had seeped from the void orb when he’d attempted to delve into it with his power. He could still feel the slick stain of its aura like a vile film over his skin. Whatever that thing was, it had him worried. It was powerful magic, highly illegal—and highly dangerous.

If there was even a hint of truth to Cal’s assertions that protectors were involved, then unmasking such a conspiracy definitely trumped arresting a single thief. Even one as wily as Blackjack. As much as it galled Griff, this joint investigation seemed worth the risk.

And if Cal actually upheld his end of the bargain, Griff would let him go. A promise was a promise, and he was a man of his word.

“Everything all right there, Inspector?” Cal asked. “Having second thoughts about confronting the Brotherhood?”

“Nope.” Griff grabbed Cal by the arm and shoved him through the door ahead of him into the tavern. “Just second thoughts about agreeing to this insane plan of yours.”

“Don’t worry,” Cal replied, his voice low. “This’ll work out. Trust me.”

Griff barely managed to hold back a disbelieving snort. He led Cal past the rough tables that filled the dingy tavern. By the time they’d reached the bar along the back wall, Cal’s demeanor had completely changed. The cocky, confident thief from outside was gone, replaced by a weary prisoner, his head bowed and shoulders slumped.

“I need to speak with Bald Locke,” Griff told the barkeep.

The barkeep slowly set down the dirty glass he was polishing and gave the two of them a once-over, looking deeply unimpressed. “Yeah? What makes you think he wants to speak withyou,prottie? Pretty sure he made that clear enough the last time you marched in here.”

“Trust me, he’ll want to see the gift I’ve brought him.”

Griff jerked Cal’s head up by his hair to show his face. The barkeep squinted at it. Griff was gratified to see his eyes widen a fraction. Good—Cal had been telling the truth about at least that much. This was indeed the Blackjack persona he’d used while doing business here.

“Wait here,” the barkeep grunted. He left the bar, moving to a door in the back and slipping through. Griff didn’t miss the discrete gesture he gave the pair of muscle there, who casually drifted toward the front entrance.

Probably to make sure he and Cal didn’t try to run. He cast a wary eye over the half-filled tables scattered about the filthy room. No doubt a good chunk of the people here were ready tooffer backup if needed. Griff didn’t much like those odds, even with his reloaded revolver. Hopefully, it wouldn’t come to that.

There was no telling how long the bartender would be, so Griff settled in at the bar to wait. He reached up to fiddle with his silver aura blockers as Cal slid in beside him.

“What are those for anyway?” Cal murmured. “Are you trying to spark a new fashion among Derimay’s elite?”

Griff considered ignoring him, but it seemed a harmless enough question. Besides, he needed Cal’s cooperation for this plan to work. Best to keep him in a good mood.

“They’re designed to block my aura-sight,” Griff said. “Without them, it’s much harder to filter out all the white noise.”

“Wait, so you mean you see auras, like, all the time? It’s not something you have to spend energy to do?”

Griff jerked a nod, sneaking a glance toward the back door. How long was the bartender going to take?

Cal gave a low whistle. “Eternal Dark, that sounds exhausting. I’d probably be looking for a way to tune it out as well.” He peered keenly at Griff’s face. “Still, an ability like that must come in handy in your line of work. How does it work?”