C.E. Murphy - Heart of Stone

Margrit glanced out the windows, down at the casino. “What about them?”

Janx gestured dismissively. “Old, used, desperate goods. They’ve paid everything they can pay, and all that’s left is a carcass that refuses to die. But you, mmm, yes. You’re much tastier.”

A thin trickle of outrage slid through her belly, lending her strength. “I’m not a snack.”

“Oh, but you are. With spice, at that.” Janx flicked a hand out and curled a lock of Margrit’s hair around his finger, letting go again too quickly for her to react. “Creole, perhaps. Something old and slow-roasted. Am I right?”

Margrit straightened her spine with a deliberate breath that returned strength and the sense of freedom, both emotionally and physically. She smoothed her hair back with both hands, pushing it over her shoulders, and offered a polite smile that went nowhere near her eyes. “My people are from Virginia.”

“Such a pity.” Janx clucked again. “Ah well. Not even I can be right all the time. Now.” He laid his hands on the table, palms down, fingers spread. His fingernails were perfect, smooth rounded arcs with delicate half-moons at the base. “Tell me, Margrit Knight, whose people are from Virginia, what is it that you think I can do for you?”

“Three things.” Margrit kept her eyes on Janx’s face, more than half afraid he would strike like a poisonous reptile if she stopped watching him. Her voice was steady, though, even challenging. He shouldn’t have fondled her as if she were to be assessed as an investment. It made him too fallible in her eyes, relegated him from something worth fearing to someone whose interests could be bought and sold, just like anyone else. From that perspective, he was no more than another lawyer across another courtroom table, negotiating a deal. Her actual life wouldn’t be hanging in the balance if that was true, but the silent reminder was enough to keep her calm.

Janx’s eyebrows shot up again. His eyes were very green and full of mirth.

“Three. Either you have no idea what you’re asking for, or you are far, far braver than your people are generally given credit for.” He examined her judgmentally, and amended, “Perhaps a bit of both. Three things. You understand there is a price for anything you ask.”

“And it can’t be settled ahead of time.” It was an educated guess, but the faintest smile quirked the corner of Janx’s mouth. “I know. I understand.” Margrit lifted a hand, stopping his speech, and went on. “But they’ll be of equal value. The price of a question answered will be another question answered, not an action or an inaction. That much I insist on.”

Janx pursed his lips. Thin blue smoke swirled around him and faded again before he leaned forward a fraction of an inch. “You insist.”

Margrit nodded, lifting her chin.

“What,” he asked, “makes you think you can insist, young lady?”

“Because I’ve met men like you,” she answered with quiet determination. Behind Janx, Malik hissed in a breath. Margrit let herself smile a little, but otherwise ignored him and met Janx’s vivid gaze. “Being a criminal isn’t the same as being without honor. I think your honor is of more worth to you than a bad bargain.”

“The bargain,” Janx pointed out, “would be bad on your side, not mine.”

Margrit shook her head. “Still. I want your word, Janx. Equal value, or I walk out of here now.”

Astonishment darkened his eyes to jade. “And what,” he asked, fascinated, “makes you think you could do that? ”

She leaned back in her chair, suddenly confident. “Because if I do, I’ll owe you something.”

Janx sat back in turn, his chair scraping against the hard floor, and clapped his hands together once, a sharp sound echoed by a bright laugh of delight. The smoky air swirled again, trails lingering around his shoulders as he beamed at her. “My God. No wonder Korund chose you to break centuries of silence with. Very well, Margrit Knight. Your bargain is struck. Three things, with payments of equal value to be rendered at a later time. Name the first.”

Margrit exhaled, letting her eyes close briefly. “First,” she said, looking at Janx again, “first I want to know why you’re talking to me at all.” It was a weak question and she knew it, but she squelched the impulse to shake her head, and kept her gaze steady. Weak, but necessary. Without understanding why Janx was willing to play her game, she wasn’t going to survive.

He blinked once, then smiled a snake’s smile, the expression slithering across his mouth and away again. “Fascinating. Perhaps I sense a kindred spirit in you. A certain pleasure in laying cards on the table, mano a mano, yes? Perhaps it’s that you put Malik in his place, something that needs doing more often than he might care to remember. Perhaps it’s merely a rare occasion that I speak with a young woman of such temporary and fragile beauty and so little fear. Why are you not afraid of me?”

Margrit tilted her head to the side. “Is that your exchange question, Janx? I’ll answer, but it’ll bring me down to two payments owed.”

Admiration slid through his green gaze. “Balls of solid gold. Fair enough. For you, my worthy adversary, I think the price is worthwhile. Why are you not afraid of me?”

“There’s no point.” She slid her hands into her jeans pockets to keep from folding her arms over her chest defensively. “You could kill me before I blinked, and there’s not a damn thing I could do to stop you, so why be afraid?”

Janx’s eyebrows rose until his pale forehead was wrinkled with laughter. “How fatalistic. But do go on, Ms. Knight. My answer came in three parts. I expect the same of you.”

The corner of Margrit’s mouth turned up in a little grin. “Fair enough.” She dipped her chin, acknowledging that she’d stolen his words even as she considered the answer. “Part of it is my job. I’m a lawyer, Janx. If I crumpled every time I had to face down a powerful man, I’d be useless. So even if I was afraid of you, my training is to not let it show.” The impulse to flee rather than admit to being afraid made her feet itch, and she swallowed on a dry throat. Janx’s pupils dilated as if he sensed and responded to the physical changes in her body. He was a formidable enemy, but Margrit found her grin widening. A formidable enemy, but God, what fun! “Mostly, I trust your honor even if I don’t trust you.”

“Not many people would see a difference.”

“Not many people are me.” Margrit pulled a hand out of her pocket to put two fingertips against the cafeteria-style table, her wrist arched high. “Second. I want to know what you know about Alban’s enemies, including whether he and I have any in common.” Her heart rate accelerated, betraying her uncertainty about whether Janx would accept the two-part question as one.

His pupils dilated a second time, a tell as clear as anything a human might reveal. Margrit drew in a slow, deliberate breath, working to slow her heartbeat. Amusement curved Janx’s mouth again and he nodded very slightly, confirming her suspicion: he could hear her heart. It jumped in her throat, making her next swallow thick.

“And if I say I know nothing?”

“Then find out.”

Janx’s eyebrows rose, comically surprised. “Are you delivering me an ultimatum, my dear?”

“You promised me three things, Janx. You have a network I don’t have access to.” Margrit lifted her own eyebrows innocently. “Of course, if you’re telling me you’re incapable of finding anything…”

His eyes narrowed, darkening to jade. “You tread on dangerous ground.”

“I’ve been on dangerous ground since I walked in here. I need answers. People are dying.”

“That,” Janx said icily, “is not my concern.”