Lili St Crow - Defiance

He handed it over. I stopped stuffing my face long enough to press the play button, tilting the screen so the glare didn’t hit it. The bathroom door opened again. Dibs, rinsed off and dried, wearing (thank God) a pair of jeans and a blue T-shirt silk-screened with an elephant, peered out.

He was still blushing fiercely, deep crimson staining his cheeks. I didn’t blame him.

“What you’re seeing is security footage outside that gym exit,” Leon continued. “Your loup-garou should be coming out right about . . . now.”

And there it was. A slice of wall, the camera angled to show the gym door, two paths, and the baseball diamond and bleachers in the distance. The door blasted open so hard little things popped off, a slam I could almost hear as it flew wide and hit the concrete wall. Graves stalked out.

He stamped, coat flapping silently. Veered away from the baseball field, passed behind the bleachers. Crouched and sprang, his hands jetting out, grabbed the top railing of the bleachers, and cleared it in a swoop of graceful authority no human body would have been able to pull off. My heart lodged in my throat, but I took another bite anyway. Had to swallow twice to get the chewed food down.

There he was on the bleachers. He crouched, and it was difficult to make it out at that distance on the small screen, but maybe his shoulders were shaking.

Oh, God. Is he crying?

“Now watch,” Leon said, leaning forward with his gaze fixed on my face. Like he could tell exactly what I was seeing by my expression.

I took another bite, my eyebrows drawn together, and almost choked.

Graves straightened and leapt off the bleachers, running with fluid grace. He was gone in an instant, but there was something else.

A shadow came from the other side of the baseball diamond. A streak of something that resolved into another boy-shape as it paused behind the bleachers, tipping its head. Sleek hair, a dark sweater, and sharp handsome grace.

Djamphir grace.

“What the fuck ?” I breathed. Lifted the sandwich to my mouth again.

It was Christophe. I’d know that body language anywhere .

Christophe paused for just a moment, then loped in the same direction Graves had gone. He passed off-camera toward the little copse I’d found a scrap of Graves’s coat in, determination evident in his stride.

The touch twitched inside my head. A scene painted itself in quick swipes, like a motion-capture sketch, black and white. I’d do it with as dark a graphite as I could find, then go over it with black pen to make the shadows even deeper.

Christophe, leaning against a tree in a shadowed clearing. His eyes turned blowtorch-blue as he watched, and the expression on his face was chilling. Because under the set grim look of a guy watching something distasteful, there was faint, scary amusement. He watched as the struggle took place, and when it was over, his smile was a ghost of itself.

“Just get it out of my sight,” he said, and their narrow white hands lifted the other boy, his long dark coat flapping as he struggled uselessly.

I shook my head, sharply, trying to dislodge the thought. The clip ended in a fuzz of static. “What?”

“Does Reynard have a grudge against your loup-garou ?” Leon’s tone held exactly no mockery, and that was odd to hear. “I ask because . . . well, he hasn’t mentioned being the last to see the wulfling, has he?”

“They said Shanks was the last one to see him,” Dibs whispered. He’d grabbed the door frame, his curls dark with water and heavy on his forehead. “But . . . Christophe was?”

“Shanks saw him exiting from inside the gym; he stayed to make sure Milady was protected. He couldn’t see outside.” Leon neatly subtracted the silver thing from my fingers. “There’s more, Dru. Are you sure you can stand to hear it?”

I stared at him, my hand in midair holding a sandwich half. “I . . . Just what are we talking about here?”

But I had a sneaking suspicion that I knew.

Just keep waiting, Dru. If I’d heard anything, you would know. How many times had Christophe repeated it?

“ Someone erased that security feed. Someone on the Council, no less, transferred my friend when they caught wind of his poking around for the raw footage. I decided to go very carefully, and it’s good that I did. Because—” His fingers flicked again. Hell of a magic trick—a white envelope appeared in his hand, just like magic. “I found out where he’s being held, too. And how do you think I did that?”

I lowered my hand. Nat moved restlessly, Dibs held on to the door like it was keeping him from drowning, and Ash peered up over the edge of the bed again.

“Bang,” the not-so-Broken wulf said, gravely and expectantly.

I handed him the fresh sandwich half, and he ducked down again. My fingers tingled, and rushing noise filled my skull.

Like wingbeats, feathers frantically brushing air.

“Tell me.” Dry-lipped, I whispered the words.

“By following Reynard until I found one of his lairs. He’s a tricky fox indeed. But once I found his latest den, I found papers. Some of his private papers. These were among them.” He offered me the envelope. “Only take it if you’re certain you want to know. Milady.”

“Dru?” Nathalie moved again, like she didn’t want me to go any further. “Eat. Whatever happens, you need your strength to face it. Leave this for after you’ve eaten.”

If I do that, Nat, I’m not going to be brave enough to open it up. I reached up. My nerveless fingers closed on the paper. “Is this a copy or the original?”

“I didn’t see a copy machine around.” Leon shrugged. “He’ll know someone was in there. He has a sharp nose; he may even know it was me. In that event, you’re the only person who can possibly shield me from his vengeance.”

Yeah, like he listens to me at all. “Wait.” My head ached, the rushing noise threatening to spill free of my ears and go walking. A crackling ran through me, like the static was somehow being transmitted from my bones outward. Leon shook his head a little, a curious look falling over his sharp face. “Just hold on a second. Let me think.”

“You’re radiating.” Nat handed me another sandwich half. Even her eyeliner was purple, and it glittered in the honey-gold light. “Please. Eat more; you’ll need it.”

I lifted it mechanically to my lips, put it down again. Stared at the envelope in my right hand. “You’re saying Christophe was there when something happened to Graves. And that he knows where Graves is and . . .”

“I don’t know if they left this morning to free the loup-garou .” Leon showed his teeth. “I doubt it. The entire Council, gone to rescue a wulfen, even a prince among the furred? No offense.” Here he glanced at Nat again.

Her mouth was a thin grim line, and her eyes flared yellow. “None taken.”

“He promised he’d tell me.” My right hand curled up into a fist. “He promised .”

“No doubt he would, when he judged the time right.” Leon folded his arms again. The glow of dusk through the window deepened, the sun’s last hurrah before it sank. “The Council will more than likely return at dusk, Milady. When they do, I’d ask that you allow me to stay in your presence. If Reynard finds out I’ve been in his papers . . . well, as I’ve said, you’re the only person in the Order who can stop him from making me extraordinarily uncomfortable.”

“I don’t understand,” Dibs croaked. “Why would he . . . I mean, Graves . He’s one of us. Why would Christophe do that?”

“For the oldest reason in the book, Dibsie.” Nat sounded tired. She was looking right at me. “How maddening, for a djamphir to get edged out by a wulf.”