Julie Kagawa - Soldier

I heard the faint rumble of a growl in the back of Riley’s throat. “How do I know you’re not lying to me again?” he asked. “Or that you’re not still working for them, and I’m walking into a trap?”

“You don’t,” Griffin said easily. He smirked, and I wanted to fly across the table, grab his smug neck and shake him until he either gave us the info, or it snapped. “But you’re going to trust me, anyway, because this is too good to pass up. You can’t risk me being right and letting the facilities slip through your claws, can you? All those poor breeder females, slaves to Talon forever.” He spread his hands, palms up, on the table. “But, the choice is yours, of course. You know what I want. We have a deal or not?”

Riley’s jaw tightened, and I could sense the dragon surging in him, too, wanting to spring up and burn the self-satisfied triumph right off the human’s face. But his voice was carefully controlled as he answered. “Fine. Tell me where the facilities are, and you have a deal.”

“Your word,” Griffin replied, his expression serious now. “I want your word, Riley. I give you what you want, you help me disappear, and neither you—” he shot a quick glance in my direction “—nor anyone in your network, ever bothers me again.”

“Yes,” Riley growled. “You have my word. Now give me the damn information before I change my mind and rip that forked tongue out through your teeth.”

Griffin nodded. Fishing in his breast pocket, he withdrew a pen and pulled a napkin toward him across the table. After scribbling a few lines, he folded it again and shoved it toward Riley.

“GPS coordinates,” Griffin said as Riley grabbed the square and flipped it open. “Give that to Wes. He should be able to find it. Have him confirm that it’s there.”

Riley frowned. “This is just one location,” he said, holding up the napkin. “You told me you knew where the others were.”

“I do. And I’m certainly not stupid enough to hand them over all at once. What’s to stop you from running off and leaving me high and dry with Talon?”

My temper flared. “Because we’re not like you?” I challenged, and he gave me a patronizing smile.

“You mean handsome, well-dressed and able to see when the tide is turning? More’s the pity.”

My dragon raged at him, itching to rend and claw and bite, but Riley’s warning glare stopped me. Griffin pulled a phone out of his suit jacket and glanced at the screen. “Well. I think we’re done here, for now, anyway. I do hope you rented rooms at decent hotel, Riley, and not one of those hole-in-the-wall dumps you usually go for.”

I curled a lip. “He’s coming with us?”

“Of course. How else am I going to avoid the organization? I certainly can’t uphold my end of the deal if a Viper sneaks in my window one night and caps me in the head. Then you’d never get the rest of the information, would you?” At my disgusted look, he chuckled. “Don’t worry, chickadee, you won’t even know I’m there. And once Wes sets me up with a new identity and life, you’ll never see m—”

A muffled pop rang out, the distant retort echoing behind us, and Griffin jerked in his seat, his eyes going wide. I jumped and stared in shock as a thin stream of blood ran down his face from the hole in his forehead. For a second, he sat motionless, looking stunned. Then he toppled forward and hit the table facedown with a thud. The empty glass fell to the sidewalk and shattered, the crash unnaturally loud in the sudden quiet. For a single heartbeat, everything was frozen.

Then someone close by let out a shriek and pandemonium exploded around us.

Riley leaped up, shoving his seat back, as the restaurant crowd began to flee, overturning tables and chairs, shoving each other aside in their desperation to get away. “Get inside, Firebrand!” he snarled, glaring wildly at the rooftops across the narrow street. “Get out of the open, now!” Dodging humans, we ducked into the tavern, which was in a similar state of chaos. People were either running away, hiding or talking frantically into their cells. I heard the bartender on the restaurant phone, trying to speak into it while two patrons yelled at him over the counter.

Riley pulled out his own phone and spoke briefly to Wes, his golden eyes scanning the crowds and rooftops across the street. The patio was nearly empty now. I could see Griffin’s body lying on the table, a pool of crimson spreading over the white cloth. My cheeks felt sticky, and with a start of horror, I realized his blood had spattered over my face when he was shot. Firmly I shoved my stomach down before it could crawl up my throat.

“I don’t see anyone,” Riley muttered, and a tremor went through his voice. But whether it was fear or rage, I couldn’t tell. I shivered, and he looked down at me, his gaze intense. One hand rose, his thumb gently brushing my cheek, as if assuring himself the blood on my face wasn’t mine. “You okay, Firebrand?” he whispered.

Shakily, I nodded. “Was this...Talon?” I whispered back, and he gave a grim nod.

“Yeah. It must be. Though this is the first time I’ve seen a Viper take someone out in broad daylight, in front of a crowd. That’s not like them at all.”

“Could it have been the Order?”

“I don’t think so. They wouldn’t have any reason to kill him, especially if he was selling them information, too. Talon is the one who wanted him silenced.” His gaze flickered to the patio and the body sprawled on the table, and his brow creased. “They must’ve really wanted him dead, to take him out like that.”

A siren blared in the distance, making us both jerk up, just as a familiar car lurched to a stop in front of the tavern.

“There’s Wes,” Riley said and brushed my arm. “Let’s get out of here. Keep your head down and move fast.”

With one last look at the body on the table, I fled the tavern after Riley, my heart pounding wildly as I threw myself into the backseat and slammed the door. Riley dived into the front as Wes hit the gas, honking the horn and weaving through pedestrians, and we sped away into the city.

GARRET

6:22 p.m.

Parked in the shade beneath a gnarled tree, I raised the binoculars and stared at the mansion at the bottom of the rise. This hilly, residential area several miles outside London seemed to be one of the wealthier parts of town, as large houses with an acre or two of land were not uncommon. Through the gated fence, the enormous, redbrick estate loomed at the end of a long carriage driveway. To the untrained eye, it looked like a normal—albeit huge—mansion, with tall windows, a pool out back, and a perfectly landscaped lawn and garden. But normal homes didn’t have guards posted around the perimeter, or a pair of trained attack dogs that swept the grounds every so often, searching for intruders. Normal homes didn’t have the type of security usually reserved for royalty—the precautions here indicated a man who either was so paranoid, he thought enemies lurked around every corner...or had something to hide.

The first time I followed the Patriarch to this neighborhood just north of London, I’d been surprised, maybe even a little stunned. In the Order, prudence was commended and extravagance was frowned upon. Everyone, from the senior officers to the newest grunt, made do with what he had and did not reach beyond his station. Wealth and physical possessions were unimportant. We served a higher order and anything that could tempt or distract us from our holy mission was to be avoided.

But the Patriarch was certainly doing well for himself, considering the size of his home and the number of guards posted. I knew he also had a small apartment in London, because he’d spent the evening there once, entertaining what looked to be a pair of officers from the Order. Perhaps he kept the apartment to hide the fact that he really lived here, in this enormous mansion. Considering the mansion’s isolation, I suspected most of the Order didn’t know where their revered leader actually lived. I wondered what they would think if they did know. If the man really was receiving visions from God, it was definitely paying well.