SEVENTEEN
Calum made his way to their meeting place that evening with a vice around his chest, one that had clamped down during his meeting with George and tightened throughout his conversations with Crawford and Lewis.
Lying about how she knew Gibson, even being someone who instilled such fear in George, he could understand.
It made his breath hitch in his throat, but he brushed that feeling aside; he’d known from the day he met her that she was a thief, and that by definition made her dishonest. He’d known all along, too, that she’d likely lied about the burglary she’d been arrested for and that she had done it, despite the evidence exonerating her.
It was the blackmailing he couldn’t wrap his head around.
He told himself he was just letting his sympathy towards her get in the way of accepting the facts, but it was more than that.
It was the contempt in her voice when she spoke of how those with means abandoned those without, the disdain with which she regarded the police—those didn’t add up to someone blackmailing the council to implement increased penalties for criminals.
It seemed he didn’t know her nearly as well as he had thought.
They met at a different spot each time, always in the seedier parts of town where the streetlights were spaced further apart, or where there were so many people no one would notice them amongst the crowds.
Today it was on the northern edge of the city, on a street that appeared to simply drop off into the sea.
Calum listened to the waves lapping at stones, trying to calm his nerves.
She was his informant, he reminded himself.
The possibility that she lied was part of the arrangement.
He had no business being disappointed to learn that she had done.
The way she made him smile, the way her eyes blazed with righteous fury when she spoke of the cruelty of the government and police—all of that was irrelevant.
He’d ask her and give her a chance to deny it. And if he was unconvinced, he’d arrest her for blackmail. It was that simple.
He ignored the twisting in his gut that suggested it was not at all that simple.
“What, no pies today?”
He turned to see Aly standing with her hands in her pockets, a small smile on her face that didn’t reach her eyes. She was trying to act like it didn’t matter, but it was clear she’d been disappointed. It made him feel like a right tosser. “I’m sorry, I forgot.”
Aly shrugged. “It’s fine. I can’t expect you to buy me dinner every night.” She flashed a grin at him. “People might talk.”
Calum felt his lips curve into a smile, unbidden.
He liked her, Méabh help him, which only made this more difficult.
He turned his head towards the water, watching the moonlight dappling the waves.
It didn’t matter if he liked her or not; plenty of likeable people did illegal things, and it was his job to arrest them when they did.
His hands curled into fists. “How did you come to be in possession of Burgess Gibson’s kilt pin?
” He slid his eyes to her to see her reaction.
She lifted her chin, her gaze on the sea. “I told you. He gave it to me as payment.”
“So you said.” Calum’s tone was clipped. “For ‘services rendered’.”
Aly flicked a glance at Calum. “That’s right.”
“Problem is, his wife says he never visited prostitutes.”
“Aye, because the wife always knows what her husband gets up to. Especially when she’s out of town.”
“She was very adamant about it.” Calum turned to look at Aly. “I believe her.”
Aly scoffed. “Meaning you don’t believe me.”
“Why should I?” Calum’s cheeks warmed. “You’ve been lying to me from the beginning. I asked an informant about you today, and do you want to know what happened?”
Aly eyed him, her shoulders tensing. “Not particularly.”
“He was scared of you, so scared he wouldn’t even talk in exchange for payment,” Calum said, watching Aly’s eyelids flutter.
“Scared. Of me? Aye, right.”
“And then there’s this.” Calum dug the letter out of his pocket and thrust it at her. The colour drained from her face as she read the contents, one trembling hand pressed against her lips.
“Where did you get this?” she whispered, her voice shaking as she flipped it over, looking at the address and seal.
Calum sucked in a breath, his ribcage too small around his lungs. She didn’t even bother denying it. “Does it matter?”
The tendons in Aly’s neck stood out in sharp relief. “I have to go.”
Calum’s hand shot out, closing around her arm. “Not so fast.” He pointed to the letter. “Explain.”
Aly tried to wrench her arm out of his grasp, but he held fast. She glared up at him. “It’s none of your concern.”
“You were seen blackmailing a burgess. Of course it’s my concern.”
Aly shook her head, her lips white. “I didn’t write this.”
He shouldn’t have been so relieved to hear it, but her words loosened the tightness around his chest. “Who did then?”
“Someone you don’t want to be getting mixed up with.” Her voice was sharp as a blade.
“Whoever it is, I’m already mixed up with them, thanks to you. You owe me an explanation.”
Aly shook her head again, her shoulders trembling. “I—I can’t.” She jerked her arm out of his grasp and stalked off.
Calum knew he should follow her and arrest her for blackmail.
It didn’t matter that she hadn’t written the letter; delivering it was enough to charge her.
But his feet remained rooted to the spot.
He still held hope, faint as the last dying embers of a fire, that he could trust her, and he watched her go without stopping her.
Grant lied.
He hadn’t just lied. He’d lied in order to get her to do something he knew stood contrary to all her principles.
Her skin blazed with fury as she shoved open the door of the Copper Kettle.
It was one of a number of pubs that Grant owned, and at this time of day was filled with guild-employed labourers gathering for their evening meal.
The place was warm and inviting, with a fire crackling in the immense stone hearth to Aly’s left, and the smell of roasted vegetables made Aly’s stomach growl.
She flexed her fingers, fury simmering in her veins.
The moment Calum had learnt she hadn’t told him the whole truth, he’d stopped treating her as a person and started treating her as a criminal again.
She’d known it would happen and it had still hit her like a blow to the gut when it did.
Grant’s office was on the first floor of the building, against the far wall, with the salching rooms cached beyond.
Aly strode across the sawdust-covered floor to the door at the back that opened onto the staircase.
He wouldn’t welcome an intrusion at this time of day, when he was finishing up with the brewery business.
Aly didn’t care.
The sound of her boots was dampened by the carpet runner on the stairs, but there was nothing to muffle the thud of the doorknob hitting the wall as she threw open the door to Grant’s office, or the thump as she slammed the door behind her.
She strode to the desk, pulling the letter out of her pocket and thrusting it under Grant’s nose. “What the fuck is this?”
Grant’s eyes widened in recognition. “Where did you get this?”
It was the same thing she’d asked Calum. She gave the same answer. “Does it matter?”
“It matters if you’re going behind my back.” Grant leant back in his chair, crossing his arms.
Heat flooded Aly’s cheeks. “Behind your—you’re one to talk! I’m your deputy. How am I supposed to do my job if you’re keeping things from me and lying to me about what we’re doing?”
Grant leapt to his feet, towering over her. “You do your job by doing as you’re told.”
“No.” The word was out before Aly could reconsider.
Grant’s jaw slackened. “Excuse me?”
The smart thing to do would be to apologise now and mitigate the damage.
But she couldn’t. She’d done some heinous things at Grant’s request in the past, but she’d always known what she was doing.
That had changed. “I said no. Did you even read what you’ve written?
‘Harsher penalties for criminals’. Do you have any idea what these harsher penalties entail?
” Capital punishment was illegal in Eskalan, as was torture, but the burgh council still had plenty of options that would make things worse for hundreds of people whose greatest crime was poverty.
“Transportation.”
“Transportation?” There was a reason judges had stopped sentencing people to transportation. Too many people had died under violent or neglectful overseers.
“Think about it, Aly.” He spoke calmly, like he wasn’t pushing for people like Aly to be sentenced to hard labour.
“You know as well as I do that coal has got more expensive recently.” He said it like she could afford to buy coal in the first place.
“More and more people are struggling to heat their homes or cook their food.”
“So you’re a philanthropist,” Aly spat. “You expect me to believe that?”
Grant spread his hands on the desk. “My business has been struggling as much as anyone’s. Brewing needs a lot of coal. I may as well benefit from criminals working in mines instead of sitting in prison.”
“Are you fae-touched? In case it’s escaped your notice, we’re criminals.” She gestured to the pair of them.
Grant’s mouth curved in a small smirk. “Oh, I’m not worried about myself.”
Aly’s heart dropped. She’d known for a long time that Grant’s fondness for her was like a fondness for fine wine or silk stockings; he enjoyed her company, but she was an object to him, not a person, and she could be replaced if necessary.
This, though, was a new low even for him.
“You just tricked me into blackmailing a politician to vote against my own best interests, so next time I’m arrested—probably for something you’ve asked me to do—I’ll be at risk of even worse penalties under the law.
I can’t believe even you would sink to that. ” But she could.
Grant heaved a theatrical sigh. “Oh, Aly. Do you really think I wouldn’t protect you?”
Aly stepped towards him, pressing her hands into the desk.
“When have you before? You’ve never sent an advocate.
You’ve never bribed the chief constable or blackmailed the provost on my behalf.
The only time you ever deigned to do anything to help was after I’d been there twelve hours and you knew they had me.
” And even then, all he’d done was frame a rival of his; nothing that would inconvenience him in any way.
Grant shrugged, insouciant. “It was the only time you needed my help. The other times you managed to worm your way out yourself. I trust you, and you’re clever; I can let you deal with things without interfering.
” Aly staggered back a half-step, her face heating.
It was what she valued the most about her work for him, wrapped in thorns and flung back in her face.
“I’d never let you go to prison, Aly. I fail to see what the problem is. ”
“The problem?” Her voice was rising to a shriek.
“The problem is that you have it in your power to get me out without any bother, but you sit on your hands and don’t care if I have to humiliate myself to get off with a caution.
Because you just don’t give a shit, do you?
As long as I’m back here, doing your dirty work for you, you don’t care about anything else.
” Her chest was heaving. She’d known all this for a long time now, but saying it out loud—to him—made her pulse race and her breath quicken.
She watched his face, some foolish, na?ve part of her hoping for an indication that he’d understood her words—that perhaps, even, he regretted some small part of the way he’d treated her—but he was impassive, and all he said was, “I can’t help it if that’s how you feel.”
She threw up her hands. “I’m done.” She pointed a shaking finger at the letter on the table. It was just a few short lines of text, but it was a turning point. “You’ve crossed a line here.”
She turned and started for the door.
Grant didn’t raise his voice, but his tone sent fear sluicing through Aly’s veins. “If you walk out that door, I promise you that I will personally hunt you down, and by the time I’m done with you, you’ll be begging me to kill you.”
Aly froze, her fingers curled round the doorknob. She tried to twist the handle, but fear locked her in place. It wasn’t an empty threat. He would do it. She knew that beyond doubt.
She lowered her shaking hand, turning back to Grant. “I’m sorry, I—” She couldn’t finish the sentence. Didn’t mean it? She’d meant every word and more. Shouldn’t have said it? Well, perhaps not, if she wanted to live.
Grant waved her apology aside, all fury gone from his face. “There now, we all make mistakes, don’t we?”
Aly gave a jerky nod, her heart in her throat. She swallowed. “Yes, it was a mistake.”
Grant crossed towards her like a wolf stalking its prey.
Her heart raced, but she stood rooted to the spot, frozen with terror.
There was still time to leave. He’d said he would hunt her down, and he’d meant it, but how far did that extend if she left the city?
The country? He couldn’t possibly have enough spies to find her in the remotest moors of the Highlands, or the alpine forests of Uyul or the bustling cities of Vaedhoun.
She could dye her hair and change her name.
She could modify her accent, too, just as she’d learnt the speech of the working class after a childhood of clipping vowels the way only the wealthy and privileged did.
But she would live out her days looking over her shoulder, always tensing for word that someone was looking for a person matching her description. Dyeing her hair wouldn’t hide the copper freckles that dusted over her skin. Changing her accent and name wouldn’t change her stature or face.
And if she made him search half the world for her, the punishment when he found her would be severe, far worse than she could expect from the council’s new bill.
Grant was close now, only steps away from where she stood, the door at her back. She stared into those amber eyes, stark against his pale skin, searching for any sign of humanity, any sign of warmth. She found none.
There was only one option left to her. She had to end him. She would only be safe if she took away his ability to harm her.
And she could use Calum to do it.
The prospect made her skin flush with anticipation. She wouldn’t kill Grant. She would do worse. She’d watch his life fall apart around him and see him locked away, possibly even sent to the coal mines like he was so keen to see done to others. She would destroy him.
He reached for her and cupped her face, pressing a kiss to her forehead. His grip was like a vice. “All is forgiven, aye?”
Aly’s skin crawled beneath his touch. She forced herself to nod. It was only for a little longer, then she’d watch him fall.