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Karoly Kral wasn’t supposed to know about SI’s role in his sons’ deaths. The whole point in working with Victorine Tremblay was so she’d take the blame, not us. It was no secret how much she hated Karoly and all the Krals.
Now, Karoly would be doubly on guard. Worse, it gave him ammunition in his fight against SI.
Crow seemed to read my mind. “You’re not getting cold feet, are you?”
I drew myself up. “Of course not. I knew the risks when I signed on for this op.”
“Good.” She finished her espresso. “By the way, Stygian asked me to tell you that the passport you requested for P2 is ready. You can pick it up in an hour at the current drop.” Crow dabbed her mouth with a napkin and got up. “I’ll contact you in a few days for an update. Don’t bother contacting me—you can’t reach me.”
“Understood.”
She put her hands on the table and leaned forward. “It’s up to you and Twilight now. Don’t fail me.” Twilight was Lainey Q, the slayer assigned to Rafael Kral.
I raised my chin, uneasy at how she kept implying I wasn’t capable of doing my job. “I won’t.”
“Good.” She turned and left the café, chin up and shoulders back, the picture of a rich woman whose only worry was whether to wear Chanel or Valentino to the party that night. Except I knew for a fact that Crow had grown up in a small town in Oklahoma.
I fiddled with my cup, chest heavy, stomach a sick tangle.
I had the bad feeling that if I kept going with my part of Operation Angel, I’d spend the rest of my life regretting it.
But that was crazy talk.
I was a slayer. Killing monsters was what I did. I’d sworn a vow of loyalty to Slayers, Inc. That meant I followed orders, even those I disagreed with.
My switchblade was in my hand. I glanced down, blinked. I didn’t even remember taking it out of my pocket. At least I hadn’t released the blade.
I returned it to my pocket, then texted Twilight myself. Just to make sure there weren’t any more “communication misfires.”
Reaper: You know we’re in a holding pattern for now?
Twilight: Roger that.
Reaper: Keep close to the target, but don’t take any further action until you hear from me or C.
Twilight: Everything OK?
I hesitated. Twilight was the closest thing I had to a friend in SI. If only I could talk the situation over with her, ask if she knew why the Krals were being targeted. But that wasn’t the kind of question you could ask in a text message.
I replied with a thumbs up and turned off my phone.
Thunder sounded in the distance. I put a handful of euros on the table to pay for our coffee and left the café. I had some time to kill before picking up Zaq’s passport, so I picked up sandwiches for dinner, then stopped at a touristy-type store to buy him a T-shirt and a two-pack of boxer-briefs. I didn’t have to guess at his size. I knew it, like I knew he liked hamburgers and the color blue, and that unlike his brothers he didn’t have a Kral black wolf tattoo because he’d never officially been “made” in his father’s syndicate.
So Torch was dead. We hadn’t been friends; neither of us was the sort to get cozy with other slayers. But we’d been members of the same squad along with Twilight and a couple of others.
Torch had been a lot like me, actually. Efficient, focused, emotionless.
So why did her death make me feel like I’d been sucker-punched?
I shoved my hands in my pockets, wondering if Twilight knew. But informing her wasn’t my job, and I’d pushed Crow enough for one day.
I came up behind a woman with a teenager girl, their arms linked. They had the same curly dark hair, the same greyhound-lean bodies, and the way they inclined toward each other like matched bookends made me certain they were a mother and daughter.
The woman nodded at the teenager as I hurried past them. “Tu as absolument raison.” You’re absolutely right.
Longing hit me. Longing, and envy.
The woman was so clearly in her daughter’s corner. Right then I’d have done almost anything to have even a few minutes with my own mom.
