Chapter 31 #3
Somehow I find the strength to break his stare, pushing away his extended arm so I can grab the Baron’s ankles. Not being caught in the hall with a dead body is priority number one—I can freak out about who I’m in the presence of later.
Tugging with all my might, I manage to slide his body a foot or two towards a set of double doors that lead outside. I’m not sure what I plan to do when I get him out there, but leaving the Baron here isn’t an option.
For a long moment, it’s silent, save for the sound of fabric scraping marble and the occasional grunt that I’m incapable of suppressing.
The Baron wasn’t very large, but he’s bigger than I am, and he’s entirely deadweight.
Even when I drug drunks out of Frankie’s bar, they’d been at least half conscious, and I think their squirming made it easier to drag them.
It’s on my third heave that the silence breaks.
“What are you doing?” he asks, tone flat.
When I glare up at him, he’s still crouched by where the Baron’s body had been, elbows propped on his thighs, and no sense of urgency at all. No panic or concern on his face. Just a blank expression and a fraction of genuine curiosity.
“Oh, I’m going to take him to see the doctor,” I grit out, dragging the Baron another six inches. “Maybe find his wife and tell her that her husband’s a piece of shit.” With another grunt, I make it to the door, dropping his ankles to catch my breath.
The Hound is still watching me. Still curious. A flicker of amusement in his ancient eyes.
“What the fuck does it look like I’m doing?” I whisper back.
Slowly, with preternatural grace, he stands. Unfolding his limbs until he’s towering at his full height. Taking one full step towards me, he slides both hands into his pockets, glances down at the Baron, and shrugs. “It looks like you’ve just killed your first source.”
My hands fall from where they’d been propped on my hips. “The Baron was a source?”
He nods.
I look down at his body, sprawled across the floor, pale skin still riddled with blackened veins. Lifeless yellow eyes bulged and unseeing.
I guess it makes sense that he’d be a source. I knew he ran in the Countess’s inner circle, but I was too charged with anger when he came onto Alesi to entertain that as a possibility. It didn’t even cross my mind.
“How do you know?” I ask.
“Is that really important right now?”
“Yes, it is.” No, it isn’t. I look up at him. “You deflect every question I ask you. Actually, you deflect every question anyone asks you.”
He did it with the Countess at dinner, refusing to give up his reason for being here, and then he told me he was here for retribution. And if that’s the case, and he really is the Hound, then why hasn’t he just taken it? Why is he dancing around the answers and following me through dark hallways?
“Why are you here?” I start firing off my questions.
“What is it that you think I can offer you? Why, if revenge is all you care about, wouldn’t you just fucking tell me who the other sources are?
Why not kill them yourself? You know what they’re doing to the people below us, and instead of helping, you’re taunting the answer in front of my face.
Watching me struggle to fend off the Baron from a dark corner of the hallway. ”
“That hardly seemed like a struggle.”
“See,” I whisper. “I just asked you four questions, and you ignored all of them.”
For a long second, he just stares back at me—the Hound.
The godsdamn Hound. His genetic makeup is closer to that of a god than a human.
An animal in his own species. An actual living, breathing myth standing right in front of me.
Not only is he standing right in front of me, but I’m the sole object of his attention. Me.
And yet, I find I’m lacking the instinct to be afraid.
I’m far more irritated with my lack of insight.
With his refusal to give any real answers.
I’m not considering his proposition—I’m even more opposed to it now that I know what he is—but how can he expect any sort of alliance without revealing a fraction of his hand?
So, harboring a foolish kind of confidence, I stare back. Unblinking, unflinching, and alarmingly unafraid.
“How about this?” he starts, bending down to grab the Baron’s arm.
He lifts his body as if it’s weightless, hauling the dead man over his shoulder without so much as a twinge of struggle, A true mockery of the way I strained to drag him over here.
“Let’s take care of him first, and then I’ll answer all of your questions. ”
He’s either being serious or he’s brazenly insulting my intelligence. I can’t be sure of which, but when I don’t move, his brows rise in question.
I glance at the grip he has on the Baron’s legs, pondering the proposition for a second longer before deciding, “With the actual answers.”
“Excuse me?”
I’m proud enough of myself for catching a potential loophole that I smile. “You have to answer all of my questions with the actual answers. The truth.” I shake my head. “No deflecting.”
The Hound inhales through his nose, gaze falling to where my arms are crossed over my chest. To my surprise, when he looks back up at me, he’s smiling too. “Deal.”
I’m not given a chance to be surprised because, without another word, he turns, taking off down the hall, the Baron’s body bouncing over his shoulder.
It doesn’t hit me until I’ve caught up to his side, unsure of where he’s going but certain of where I’ve gone wrong.
It was written in his smile. In the knowing glint in his eye, and the satisfaction on his face right before he took off walking—my first source slung over his shoulder.
It’s the way the word deal rolled off his tongue.
I made a deal, alright. A deal with the devil.