Anastasia pressed her lips together and looked away. Her expression was closed, touched with anger. “Yes. Orders.”

“Orders,” I said. “From the Merlin, I guess.”

“From Ebenezar McCoy, actually.”

I grunted in surprise. McCoy had been my mentor when I was young. I respected him.

“I get it,” I said. “He was afraid that if I heard Morgan was on the run, I’d hat up and dish out some payback.”

She glanced up at me, and then across the street at Zero. She shrugged, without quite looking me in the face. “God knows you have enough cause to do so.”

“You agreed with him,” I said.

She looked up at me, her eyes a little wider. “If I did, then why am I standing here?”

I frowned at her and scratched my head. “Okay. You’ve got me on that one.”

“Besides,” she said. “I was worried about you.”

“Worried?”

She nodded. “Morgan’s done something that is hiding him from even the Senior Council’s abilities. I was afraid that he might come here.”

Poker face don’t fail me now . “That’s crazy,” I said. “Why would he do that?”

She squared her shoulders and faced me steadily. “Maybe because he’s innocent.”

“And?”

“There are a number of people who have sought permission from the Senior Council to investigate and interrogate you under the presumption that you were the traitor who has been feeding information to the Red Court.” She looked away again. “Morgan has been one of the most overt agitators.”

I took a deep breath. “You’re saying that Morgan knows he isn’t the traitor. And he thinks it’s me.”

“And he might be moving toward you, in an attempt to prove his own innocence or, failing that . . .”

“Kill me,” I said, quietly. “If he’s going to go down, you think he might have decided to take out the real traitor before he gets the axe.”

And suddenly I had to wonder if Morgan had shown up at my door for the reasons he’d given me. Anastasia had been Morgan’s mentor, when he was an apprentice. She’d known the man for the vast majority of his life, literally for generations.

What if her judgment of him was better than mine?

Sure, Morgan wasn’t in any shape to kill me personally—but he wouldn’t need to. All he had to do is call the Wardens and tell them where he was. A lot of people in the Council didn’t like me much. I’d go down with Morgan, for giving aid and comfort to a traitor.

I suddenly felt naive and vulnerable and maybe a little stupid.

“He was already in custody,” I said. “How did he get away?”

Luccio smiled faintly. “We aren’t sure. He thought of something we didn’t. And he put three Wardens in the hospital when he left.”

“But you don’t think he’s guilty.”

“I . . .” She frowned for a moment and then said, “I refuse to let fear turn me against a man I know and trust. But it doesn’t matter what I think. There’s enough evidence to kill him.”

“What evidence?” I asked.

“Other than finding him standing over LaFortier’s corpse with a literal bloody knife in his hand?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Other than that.”

She raked her fingers back through her curly hair. “The information the Red Court has attained was exclusive to a very small pool of suspects, of which he was one. We have telephone records of him in frequent contact with a known operative of the Red Court. We also tracked down an offshore account belonging to him, in which several million dollars had recently been deposited.”

I snorted derisively. “Yeah, that’s him. Morgan the mercenary, nothing but dollar signs in his eyes.”

“I know,” she said. “That’s what I mean about fear clouding people’s judgment. We all know that the Red Court is going to come after us again. We know that if we don’t eliminate the traitor, their first blow could be fatal. The Merlin is desperate.”

“Join the club,” I muttered. I rubbed at my eyes and sighed.

She touched my arm again. “I thought you had a right to know,” she said. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to get here sooner.”

I covered her hand with mine and pressed gently. “Yeah,” I said. “Thanks.”

“You look awful.”

“You sweet talker, you.”

She lifted her hand to touch my face. “I’ve got a few hours before I need to be back on duty. I was thinking a bottle of wine and a massage might be in order.”

I only barely kept from groaning in pleasure at the very thought of one of Anastasia’s massages. What she didn’t know about inflicting merciless pleasure on a man’s aching body hadn’t been invented. But I sure as hell couldn’t have her back over to the apartment. If she found out about Morgan, and if he truly intended to betray me, it would be frighteningly easy for her head to wind up on the floor next to Morgan’s and mine.

“I can’t,” I told her. “I’ve got to go to the hospital.”

She frowned. “What happened?”

“A skinwalker picked up my trail earlier tonight, when I was at Billy Borden’s place. Kirby’s dead. Andi’s in the hospital.”

She sucked in a breath, wincing in empathy. “Dio, Harry. I’m so sorry.”

I shrugged. I watched my vision blur, and realized that I wasn’t only making an excuse to keep her away from my place. Kirby and I hadn’t been blood brothers or anything—but he was a friend, a regular part of my life. Emphasis on the was.

“Is there anything I can do?” she asked.

I shook my head. Then I said, “Actually, yeah.”

“Very well.”

“Find out whatever you can about skinwalkers. I’m going to kill this one.”

“All right,” she said.

“Meanwhile,” I said, “is there anything I can do for you?”

“For me?” She shook her head. “But . . . Morgan could use whatever help he can get.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Like I’m gonna help Morgan.”

She lifted her hands. “I know. I know. But there’s not much I can do. Everyone knows he was my apprentice. They’re watching me. If I try to help him openly, they’ll suspend me as captain of the Wardens, at best.”

“Don’t you just love it when justice can’t be bothered with petty concerns like fact?”

“Harry,” she said. “What if he’s innocent?”

I shrugged. “The way I was all those years? I’m too busy admiring the karma to lend a hand to the bastard.” Out on the street, Thomas’s Jag cruised by the end of the alley, then pulled up to the curb and stopped.

I glanced at the car and said, “There’s my ride.”

Anastasia arched an eyebrow at Thomas and his car. “The vampire?”

“He owed me a favor.”

“Mmmm,” Anastasia said. Her look at Thomas did not say yum. She looked more like someone who was trying to judge by how much she would need to lead a moving target. “You’re sure?”

I nodded. “The White King told him to play nice. He will.”

“Until he doesn’t,” she said.

“Walkers can’t be choosers,” I said.

“The Beetle died again?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Why don’t you get a different car?” she asked.

“Because the Blue Beetle is mycar.”

Anastasia smiled faintly up at me. “I wonder how you make something like that so endearing.”

“It’s my natural good looks,” I said. “I could make athlete’s foot endearing, if I really had to.”

She rolled her eyes, but was still smiling. “I’ll head back to Edinburgh and help coordinate the search. If there’s anything I can do . . .”

I nodded. “Thank you.”

She put her hands on my cheeks. “I’m sorry about your friends. When this is over, we’ll find some quiet spot and relax.”

I turned my head to one side and kissed the pulse in her wrist, then gently clasped her hands with mine. “Look, I’m not making any promises. But if I see something that might help Morgan, I’ll let you know.”

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

She stood up on her toes and kissed me goodbye. Then she turned and vanished into the shadows farther down the alley.

I waited until she was gone to turn around and join my brother in the white Jag.