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“And she died?”
That had his brow puckering. “What kind of question is that?”
Conor cleared his throat. “Someone led us to believe that Star’s mother might be alive.”
Dagda frowned. “Impossible.”
“How do you know?” I insisted.
“You want the details?”
“I want whatever you, as an ally of the Five Points, can give me.”
Dagda flicked a look at Conor. “She’s yours?”
Conor merely dipped his chin.
Though the question pissed me off, I knew why he asked.
“Got her in the throat.” He sighed. “Watched her die through my scope.”
I thought back to that traumatic day at the funeral home. It had started with an argument because Dad hadn't wanted me there. Then, I'd seen her and I'd understood why he'd tried to protect me.
Mom didn't have it in her to be still. But she was.
Her skin was faintly clammy when I'd pressed my lips to her forehead, with a smooth, porcelain-like texture that had felt fake. There'd been no color on her cheeks aside from an unnatural blush.
I remembered Dad had the undertakers put her in her favorite sweater and jeans. He'd said she'd be more comfortable like that.
Had they dressed her in a turtleneck to hide her wounds?
It made more sense than using reconstructive makeup.
Mind stuck in the past, I loomed above Dagda, stuck a thumb over the bloodied spot on one of his bandages, and pressed down.
His heart rate increased to the point that the machine started beeping, but he only clenched his jaw.
“No way she could have survived.”
“You sure about that?”
He gritted his teeth when I didn’t let up, but he didn’t shove my hand away, didn’t try to stop me. “I’m positive. 100%. I watched her pass.”
The nurse from earlier tried to rush in, but Conor blocked her as he reasoned softly, “Star.”
Disregarding his warning, I maintained my stare into Dagda’s eyes. Not relenting until I was certain he wasn’t bullshitting me.
Only then did I pull back.
“You’ve no idea why Jorgmundgander targeted her?”
“I wasn’t in on the decision-making process,” he rasped, gaze darting to his blanket-covered knees. “I was a tool. Nothing more.”
Blood-stained hand held high, I retreated. I grabbed the corner of his bedsheet as the nurse busied herself around him, glowering at me as she ministered to her patient while I wiped the blood onto his coverings.
“Though I promised your niece that I wouldn’t kill you—” The nurse gasped but I ignored her. “—if I leave this room and find out you have lied to me, I won’t be afraid to break that promise. Understood?”
His nostrils flared, further exposing the tubes that supplied him with oxygen. “Understood," he croaked. "I’m an ally now. We’re on the same goddamn side.”
