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“Lila wanted us to take care of things ourselves,” I say. “So, also no.”
He groans. “This is trouble heaped on top of trouble.”
I give Anton’s body a last look. Something glitters in the light. Zacharov’s diamond tie tack near Anton’s left hand. He must have taken it from his pocket.
I reach down and pick up the pin.
Zacharov is leaning against the doorway when I stand. I didn’t hear him come in. “Cassel Sharpe.” He sounds tired. “My daughter tells me that this was her idea.”
I nod my head. “It would have worked better with a real gun.”
He snorts. “Since it was her idea, I am not going to cut off your hand for touching my skin. Just tell me one thing—how long have you known you are a transformation worker?”
For a moment I open my mouth to protest. I didn’t work him; how can he be sure that I wasn’t faking? Then I remember the blowback, and me twisting on the tile floor. “Not long,” I say.
“And you knew?” Zacharov turns to Grandad.
“His mother wanted to keep it a secret until he was old enough. She was going to tell him after her release.” Grandad looks over at me. “Cassel, what you can do is very valuable to some people. I’m not saying your mother was right, but she’s a smart lady and—”
I cut him off. “I know, Grandad.”
Zacharov is watching us, like he’s weighing something in his mind. “I want to make this clear: I never agreed to let your brothers live. Either of them.”
I nod, because I can hear that he’s not done talking.
“Your grandfather’s right. You’re valuable. And now you’re mine. So long as you keep working for me, your brothers stay alive. Understand?”
I nod again.
I should tell him I don’t care. That it doesn’t matter to me if they’re dead. But I don’t. I guess it’s true; no one will ever love you like your family.
“We’re settled here,” he says. “For now. Go into the kitchen and see if someone can scare you up a clean shirt.”
Grandad pulls back on his right-hand glove. Now one of its fingers hangs as floppily as those on his left hand.
“Oh. I found—,” I say to Zacharov, holding out the Resurrection Diamond before I notice something strange. A corner of the huge rock is chipped.
Zacharov takes it from me with a tight smile. “Thank you once more, Cassel.”
I nod, trying not to let it show that I know the Resurrection Diamond can’t protect anyone. It’s worthless. It’s made of glass.
* * *
Outside the bathroom the party is still going full swing. The noise crashes over me like a surreal wave, music and laughing and speeches loud enough to cover gunshots. None of what’s happened—definitely not Anton being dead—seems real in the dancing light of the chandeliers or reflected in thousands of champagne bubbles.
“Cassel!” Daneca yells, running up to me. “Are you all right?”
“We were worried,” Sam says. “You were in there for too long.”
“I’m fine,” I say. “Don’t I seem fine?”
“You’re covered in blood standing in the middle of a party,” Sam says. “No, you don’t seem fine.”
“This way,” Zacharov says, pointing toward the kitchens.
“We’re coming with you,” says Daneca.
I feel drained, and my cheek is throbbing. My ribs still hurt. And I don’t see Lila anywhere.
