Chapter 3 #2
I clicked to expand the article, bringing up a headline that read, “Rogue Agent Kit Morris Responsible for Violent Attack in Vlieland.”
“It’s so unfair,” I complained. “If I weren’t a rogue, that headline would be ‘Daring Agent Kit Morris Single-handedly Brings Down International Artifact Thief Floris Visser.’”
“Single-handedly?” Lienna asked.
I tilted my head to flash her a grin. “‘Daring MPD Agent Kit Morris Lurked Behind the Pier while his Amazing Girlfriend, the Prodigy Sorceress Lienna Shen, Set Off Explosives on All of Visser’s Boats’ just doesn’t have the same zing.”
With a huff of laughter, she leaned over my shoulder to read the details of my crimes. “Two civilian vessels destroyed, no reported casualties. Your motives are ‘unknown.’”
I could feel her eye roll on my cheek at that last word.
I slung my arms over hers again, keeping her tucked against me. “Why are they keeping Visser’s name out of it? She’s also a wanted criminal, and she isn’t in the Consilium’s pocket.”
At least, I was pretty sure she wasn’t. Otherwise, the Consilium wouldn’t have shelled out thirty million smackeroos for her stolen merchandise—specifically, for the mysterious and no doubt horrific weapon she’d stolen from the tomb of a Viking queen.
Lienna pursed her lips. “Maybe the MPD—or the Consilium—doesn’t want to risk creating a vigilante narrative around you. They want you to remain an unequivocally bad bad guy.”
“At this rate, I’m going to make Hannibal Lecter look like the Tooth Fairy by comparison,” I grumbled.
“Huh.” Lienna freed her arm to click on another report. “Look at this one from early last week.”
“Someone says they saw me in Moscow two weeks ago? But we’ve never been to Moscow.” I frowned. “What was two weeks ago? Morocco?”
“Slovenia was two weeks ago.”
I snapped my fingers. “Right. The artifact guild.”
Those long hours I’d spent poring over Darius’s compendium of all things Consilium-related had given me an edge: I’d unintentionally memorized the names and details of many known and suspected Consilium supporters—including the ones Darius and I hadn’t had time to investigate in person together.
Like the reclusive GM of a guild on the coast of the Adriatic Sea that had delivered a constant stream of dangerous potions and artifacts into the Consilium’s greedy hands.
And by sheer, totally unforeseeable coincidence, that seaside guild had fallen victim to a mysterious landslide right around the time Lienna and I had visited. How unfortunate.
“We’ll just add that Russian sighting to the list of things that don’t make sense.” She returned to the bed and scooped her phone off the covers. “We should go as soon as I’m done with my call. Are you ready?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” I leaned back in my chair with a long sigh. “I was thinking of running a bubble bath, having a nice hot shave, and ordering in a fancy breakfast. How do you feel about mimosas and eggs benny?”
Her expression was more pained than amused. “Don’t tempt me.”
She had no idea how much I wished we could spend a lazy morning soaking in the tub and ordering a sumptuous breakfast. The last three months had been a never-ending rush away from danger and straight into our next perilous excursion.
And this foray into the Omani desert could prove to be one of our most important destinations yet.
“At the very least, I do need to shave.” I ran a hand over my scruffy jaw. “I’ll keep it quick.”
Nodding, she tapped on her phone and lifted it to her ear. I swiveled back to the laptop and closed the MPD website window. I was about to close the TOR browser with its lonely blinking cursor as well, but I hesitated, then left it open just in case.
“Hey,” Lienna said softly. “It’s me. How are y—yeah, I’m good. How are you?”
I couldn’t hear the voice on the other end of her call, but I could guess the gist of the conversation. It went approximately the same every time Lienna called home, which she did whenever we were about to change locations.
It was safer that way. We left our phones behind when we moved locales, so even if our devices were tracked, they couldn’t be traced back to us.
“I’m glad,” Lienna murmured. “That’s great news, Dad. When’s your next follow-up with your oncologist?”
Pulling my backpack onto my lap, I unzipped it in search of my razor. My face was getting far too fuzzy, and as much as I admired the magnum opus that was Daoud’s chin canopy, I couldn’t pull off the same suave cheek thicket. Also, it was kind of itchy.
“I’m being careful.” Lienna’s voice was patient and gentle. “I’m always careful. You know that.”
Setting my backpack on the floor beside the desk, I watched her profile—the way her eyebrows shifted with her changing emotions, the way her nostrils flared, the unhappy tilt to her lips.
Not unhappiness about speaking to her parents.
It was the unhappiness of causing them anxiety, of being unable to assuage their fears, of missing them, of wishing she could do more.
I was so damn lucky she was here with me. She’d left her family to walk through hell by my side, and I would appreciate her sacrifices every second of the day from now until my last breath.
Turning, I started to set my razor on the desk so I could offer Lienna a silent hug while she reassured her terrified parents that she was as safe as she could be while fleeing the MPD in the company of the world’s most wanted mythic—not that she’d ever actually said she was with me—when my gaze caught on the laptop screen.
>Porcupine has logged in.
>Porcupine: Who is this?
“Holy shit,” I blurted. “They’re here!”
Lienna was at my side before I’d finished typing my mole-specified codename into the chat.
>You: Rose Petal.
>Porcupine: What’s the name of your precinct pet?
Confusion cut a burning hole through my surging eagerness and trepidation. “Huh? I think the mole has lost a few marbles from their little rodent brain.”
“It’s—hold on, Dad.” Lienna muted her call. “It’s a security question. They’re confirming it’s really you.”
“But my precinct pet? I don’t have a pet, and even if I did, we’re not allowed to bring pets to—”
A memory of Blythe’s sharp, reprimanding tone popped into my head, followed by a vision of Vinny flat on his back in the middle of his semi-demolished cubicle. Ooh, that pet.
My fingers tapped across the keyboard.
>You: Biscuit.
>Porcupine: Holy shit
>Porcupine: I can’t believe it’s you.
My eyebrows rose at the effusive enthusiasm of that greeting—at least by the mole’s usual standards—but I didn’t bother asking about it. There was only one thing I wanted to know.
>You: How’s everyone at the precinct? How is Vincent?
I held my breath. Lienna, still leaning over my shoulder, wasn’t breathing either. Neither of us so much as blinked as we waited for the mole to respond—to answer the question that had been haunting us both for the last three months.
>Porcupine: Vincent is good. It was touch-and-go for a bit, but he pulled through. Been back at work for a month or so now.
I sagged forward, the air leaving my lungs in a rush. Lienna’s forehead dropped to my shoulder, her other hand gripping my upper arm.
The last mental image I had of Vincent Park was his pale, blood-soaked form in Agent Tim’s arms after taking a bellyful of Kade’s murder magic to save Lienna’s life. I could finally replace that vision with one that didn’t involve a tombstone.
Pushing herself upright, Lienna stepped away to resume her call with her dad. As I settled more comfortably in my seat, new text popped onto the screen.
>Porcupine: Everyone else involved in the NY shitstorm is on probation. Except Blythe. She’s still MIA luckily.
The knot of tension in my neck, which had started to release, tightened again.
>You: Luckily???
>Porcupine: I sure as hell wouldn’t want the SI finding and questioning ME.
>You: I thought the IA would take point on the New York murders.
>Porcupine: They’re keeping it quiet, but I have it on good authority that Director Griva himself is overseeing the investigation.
>You: Whose authority?
>Porcupine: Mine.
I rubbed my face with one hand, the fluctuation in my stress levels leaving me more exhausted than usual.
When I killed Jayce Tyrian, I made my proverbial bed. And now I was lying in it. The last thing I wanted was for my friends and colleagues to join me. I was supposed to face these consequences alone.
Behind me, Lienna was reiterating to her parents that she couldn’t just come home despite their insistence that she would be safe back in LA.
>Porcupine: The SI have been overstepping. Been rubbing the other big departments the wrong way. Seems the men in charge are having a pissing contest.
Did “the men in charge” include Sparks, the Internal Affairs Commissioner, and Druthers, the Director of Obscura Influentia, along with Director Griva of the SI? All three men we knew for a fact were members of the Consilium.
And they weren’t getting along? How interesting.
>Porcupine: That’s just the beginning of what the SI has going on. They’re up to shit at every level, from the top all the way down to the precincts. Even here. You need to watch your back.
>You: What do you mean?
>Porcupine: It’s too much to get into now. But they’re going full authoritarian, and people are noticing. The Regional Director of the PNW walked off the job last week, and there’s been an exodus from their London HQ as well.
>You: Why are you telling me all this?
>Porcupine: Are you done carving a path of destruction across Europe already? Figured you’d want to know.
The mole wasn’t wrong. Their insight was helpful, though I wasn’t sure how I would use it.
>Porcupine: Is there specific info you need right now?
>You: Is that an extortion-free offer?
>Porcupine: If things keep going in this direction, there won’t be anything left to extort. The noose is tightening. I’ve got eyes on me too.
“What?”
That single word from Lienna wasn’t significantly louder or more emphatic than any other word in her half-murmured conversation with her parents, but the brittle layer of dread coating it yanked my attention off the laptop screen.
I twisted in my seat. She stood at the foot of the bed, the phone pressed to her ear. A deep V was notched between her eyebrows.
“How do you know that?” she demanded.
I spun back to the laptop.
>You: I’ve gotta go. Will you be around?
>Porcupine: I’ll try.
>Porcupine: Stay safe.
For an instant before I closed the chat, the mole’s parting words hung alone on the screen, heavy with the genuine concern of a friend.
I shut down the laptop and yanked the USB stick free. As I got up from my chair, Lienna tossed her phone on the bed but remained otherwise still, doing the best version of a ten-thousand-yard stare possible in this single-bedroom apartment.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
Without looking at me, she sat on the edge of the mattress. “My dad …”
“Is he okay?”
Sitting next to her, I wrapped an arm around her waist, expecting some horrible news filtered through oncological jargon.
“Yeah, he’s fine.” Her gaze finally broke away from the far-off focal point. She gave me a fleeting sideways glance. “Someone in the MPD—someone pretty high up—told him something. They warned him …”
“About what?”
She exhaled harshly through her nose. “They put a bounty on me.”
That unyielding ache inside me sharpened to a point.
“Fuck,” I whispered.
“They’re making it public today.” She sat up straighter. “But we knew this was bound to happen. It doesn’t change anything. We stick to the plan.”
Her words were confident, her shoulders were thrown back, and her expression was full of toughness and determination—but the slight tremble in her voice betrayed her.
I pulled my arm from around her waist. “I shouldn’t have dragged you into this.”
“You didn’t drag me into this.”
We’d had this conversation numerous times, but no matter how much she reassured me, I couldn’t shake the guilt. When Darius offered me that dagger, I knew what he was asking me to do. Kill Jayce Tyrian, sure. Put my life on the line, yeah.
But more than that, taking the knife from his hands meant I was taking on the same responsibility, culpability, and burden he’d carried for twenty years. Darius had sacrificed his career, his reputation, and his relationships—including his romance with Blythe.
Lienna twisted to look me in the eye. “I’m not here by accident, Kit. I found you, and I’ve been beside you every step we’ve taken since. This was my decision.”
I shook my head. “The whole point was for me to take the blame so no one else got hurt. But now Blythe is missing, Vinny and Tim are on probation, and you’ve got a bounty on your head. I don’t know how to fix it.”
Lienna sighed and brushed stray hair off my forehead—my jawline wasn’t the only thing that needed tidying up these days.
“We can’t fix any of that,” she said. “Not now. All we can do is stick to the plan.”
A small, lonely, logical corner of my gray matter knew she was right. Time travel wasn’t in my ever-expanding arsenal of magic abilities, so the only path I could walk was straight ahead. But that goddamn ache in my chest refused to believe it.
“We should get going,” she murmured, rising to her feet. “We have a long drive ahead of us.”
I caught her hand before she could step away.
She gave me a questioning look.
“How much is the bounty?” I asked, unsure if I wanted the answer. “And what kind of bounty?”
“Twelve million,” she answered matter-of-factly.
That was a shitload. The MPD—or rather, the Consilium—wasn’t messing around.
Then she spoke three words in answer to my second question, words I wished I could unhear, a question I wished I hadn’t asked.
“Dead or alive.”