H Mallory - To Kill A Warlock

I wouldn't admit anything. Not when whatever I'd thought we had was as fragile as a balloon and Quillan was playing the role of the needle. “Whatever we had, Quillan, it's long gone now,” I said in a small voice. I swallowed against the tears that suddenly threatened my eyes.

I would not cry.

I would focus on the facts of this case and figure the damned thing out. It was all I had left. “So, all those illegal potions I found in the vault at Headquarters…you never intended to destroy them because you were selling them all along.”

“How did you get in there? How did you know about…”

“Never mind that now,” I interrupted, holding up my hand to silence him. I stared at the black stains on the beige carpet, questions swarming through my mind like flies on a carcass.

“How are you involved in this?” For now, the personal part had to be shelved. All that remained were the dry, dirty facts. And, as a good Regulator, I lived for those facts.

“Dulcie, please believe I never wanted anything to happen to you.” He dropped his eyes. “My feelings for you haven’t changed.”

“Well, in that case, why don't we forget about the fact that because of you, Fabian, Guy and Tad are dead, and let’s go get married,” I said, my eyes constricted. “Holy Hades, Quillan, you screwed up…royally.”

Quillan nodded, and the emotion in his eyes dissipated, replaced by cold stone-as if he’d just had the misfortune of glancing at Medusa. He pointed to the mattress, his jaw even tighter than it had been before. “Sit down. I’m in charge and I’ll ask the questions.”

I took one look at the filthy mattress before returning my less-than-thrilled gaze back to Quillan. “I'm not getting anywhere near that thing. I don't care if you shoot me or not.”

He sighed. “Sit wherever. I don't have time to screw around with you right now, Dulce. In case you haven't noticed, we're in a grave situation.”

I sat down in the corner of the room and leaned my back up against the wall, exhaling with exhaustion. “Don't call me Dulce.” It was all I could think to say. Quillan wasn't my friend and, truly, never had been. Only friends could call me by my nickname.

“How did you get here?” he asked.

“I never stopped working the case,” I started. “I guess you can say I'm good at my job. I just figured it out, and here I am.” I purposely omitted any references to Knight. Speaking of, where the hell was he? If he wanted to show up any time now, that'd be great. Goddamn men.

“Who helped you?”

Hmm, Dagan, Knight, even Bram a little. Trey, Sam…the list went on. “You should know better than to ask me that question.” He knew the rules… I'd been trained not to give up names-even under duress. Quillan smiled. “I should never have expected less of you.” I didn't return the smile. “Now, how about you answer some questions for me?” He shook his head. “The less you know, the safer you are.”

I gave him a courtesy laugh. “You really don't think I'm just going to walk away from here? That vamp out there is dying to kill me. No pun intended. And if he doesn't get to do the job, the gnome looked pretty thrilled about taking it on himself and the human…”

“No one will hurt you,” he interrupted, the pained expression on his face suggesting how much he disliked the thought of my death by anyone's hand. Touching…but I didn't have time for this.

“I'll say you escaped.” He paused, as if deep in thought. “Dulcie, do the smart thing and pretend like you never came here tonight.”

“And what? Continue working with you? Knowing you're a criminal?” I could feel the anger simmering through me and burning my eyes. “We'll just continue going to lunch and making fun of Trey and acting like everything's hunky dory?”

“I'm done with Headquarters. Obviously, I can't go back.”

If I had anything to do with it, he would be going back to Headquarters, all right, but occupying a cell until the Netherworld figured out what to do with him. Even though I knew it had to be done, it wasn't a thought that brought me any sort of joy. “I want answers, Quillan. I'm not giving up on this.” I was probably signing my own death warrant, but it was too late for regrets. Guess I have a big mouth.

“Stand up,” Quillan said. “I'm going to break the window, and I want you to climb down and run out of here as fast as you can. Don't look back.” I shook my head. “You should know me better than that.” I wouldn't run away. I couldn't run away. “Goddamn, Dulcie, for once don't be so pig-headed. I'm trying to buy your life. I don't want you getting hurt.”

He made the mistake of looking away, so I shot to my feet and jumped on him, knowing he couldn't shoot me…well, hoping he couldn't shoot me. I pushed him into the wall, and we clamored against one another, me straining for the gun and him trying to hang onto it. Not wanting to alert the three stooges in the living room, I buffered our little tiff with a magic cloud so they couldn't hear a thing.

With a growl, Quillan flipped me over his shoulder. I hit the floor square on my back but not before trying to stabilize myself against the wall. Searing pain shot through the palm of my right hand. Glancing down, I saw the tell-tale signs of gold and glimpsed a rusty nail jutting from the line where the carpet met the wall. Damn, that was the hand I used to create fairy dust. Looked like I couldn’t rely on my magic for the rest of the night. Hades be damned!

Before I could roll out of the way, Quillan pinned me to the carpet. “Damn it, Dulce, listen to reason. I’m trying to save your ass.”

But I wasn't interested in him saving my ass. I was more interested in overpowering him. Even though he had me pinned, fairies are faster than elves. In a split second, I bucked him off and wrenched the gun from his grasp, trying to ignore the searing pain as the gun made contact with my ripped palm. Even if it hurt like a son of a bitch, at least I could close my hand around it. The night was looking up.

“Back off me,” I hissed and thrust the gun into his sternum.

Quillan must have been more afraid of me shooting him than I was of him shooting me, because his eyes widened as he pushed away from me. Then his gaze found the drops of gold falling from my palm like Rumpelstiltkin’s wet dream.

“You’re hurt.”

I pushed aside his concern with a shake of my head. “I want to know how long you've been working with these creeps.”

He swallowed, the mental conflict of whether to tell me or not playing out on his features like a classic movie. I had a feeling the barrel of the gun pointed at his face might influence his decision. “A little over a year.” “And tell me if I’m right-you killed Fabian and Guy because they were infringing on your turf?” He shook his head and stood up. “No, I had nothing to do with their deaths.”

“And how did you feel about the fact that even if you didn’t kill him directly, because of your involvement, Tad is dead. A kid, Quillan, he was just a kid.”

He dropped his head. “I didn’t want any of them dead. This whole situation went too far. The six of us were working together distributing illegal potions but Frank, the human, got greedy and decided to dust Fabian and Guy.”

“So, why kill Tad? He wasn’t selling anything.”

“They killed him behind my back. He’d been at Guy’s when they’d put the hit out on Guy and Tad had seen Frank.”

I promised myself I’d see Frank dead. If it was the last thing I did, I would see him dead. I owed that much to Tad. “So, Frank called the creature to kill all three of them?”

Quillan shook his head. “The vamp did-he has connections directly to the Netherworld. This all happened against my will, Dulcie, you have to believe me. I never wanted it to go this far.”