Margrit frowned up at him, shaking her head. “Just a guess. I-Why? What’s happened, Tony?” When he didn’t answer, she took a step forward. “Tony?”

“Eliseo Daisani’s personal assistant, Vanessa Gray, was murdered this morning, a couple of hours before sunrise.” He met her eyes. “I don’t suppose you know anything about that.”

Horror pounded in cold spurts through Margrit’s body, tingling and prickling. She shook her head, a jerky, numb movement. Tony sucked on his teeth. “You were one of the last people to see her alive, you know.”

“I only met her Thursday,” Margrit whispered scratchily. “She didn’t like me.”

“From what I’ve heard so far, she didn’t like anybody except Daisani, and maybe not even him. She had no social life outside the office.” Tony gave a sharp nod. “Which is why you were one of the last to see her. Unfriendly or not, she was good at her job. And she fit the profile.”

“Nobody else was that high-profile, though.” Margrit shuffled to the chair Tony had abandoned, sitting down hard and clutching the book against her chest.

“No, and this time he made a mistake.”

“I was with Alban all night, until just before sunrise.” And not until after sunrise had it struck her that Alban’s daytime refuge had been compromised. Irritation welled in her breast again, this time at the simple lack of foresight that gave her no way to contact the gargoyle. “It wasn’t him.”

“I know.”

Margrit wrenched her gaze up. “You know?”

“Gray’s building has security cameras on the doors and in the elevators. We’ve got an unidentified male assaulting the doorman and getting off the elevator on her floor. Nine minutes later he gets back on. It’s not your man.”

Margrit sagged, putting the book in her lap and covering her face with her hands. “He’s not mine,” she said quietly, though voicing the statement made her heart tighten. “Does that mean this is over now?”

“For you, yeah. For me, no. I still gotta find this guy. He’s an expert.” Tony made his way through books to the stairwell, lifting his hand to put it against the wall, then dropping it before he touched soot. “And I still want to talk to Korund. There’s something off about that guy.”

“This guy in the elevator’s killed three people and you think Alban’s off?” Margrit looked up through her fingers to see Tony’s faint smile.

“All a matter of taste, I guess. Look, Grit. I’m sorry. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

“Me, too.”

“Yeah.” Tony stayed silent a few seconds, then turned back to look at her from the stairwell. “I’ll call you?”

“I guess.” Margrit lowered her eyes, keeping her gaze fixed on the floor until he left. She let go a rough laugh once she heard the door click shut, and collapsed onto her back on Alban’s cot, staring up at the depthless, soot-covered ceiling. It had been a coincidence that pulled her into this mess. A coincidence, and now she was eyeball-deep in debt to a gangster dragon, and had a job offer from a corporate bloodsucker.

“At least it isn’t boring.” Her voice sounded hoarse in her own ears, and she put a hand over her throat, giving a rough laugh. “Jesus, Grit. You’re so fucked.”

And there was nowhere to go but straight through it. It didn’t require thinking about; neither Janx nor Daisani would let her slide off their radar simply because there’d been a misunderstanding. Nor was there any point in breaking down. Margrit had gone into the situation with her eyes open. She’d taken on the risks knowing what Alban was.

“Just one little breakdown?” she asked no one in particular, and sat up again, scrubbing her hands over her face. “All right, girl. Time to go see Daisani.”

CHAPTER 23

“I WANT HIM dead.”

Margrit stood with her palms stiff against her thighs, shoulders hunched. This was not how she’d anticipated the interview with Daisani beginning. After long moments she swallowed, trying to wiggle life into her fingers. “Are you talking to me, Mr. Daisani?”

Daisani whipped around to face her, afternoon sunlight glowing white through the tall windows directly behind him, a blinding aura. “Of course I am. To who else would I be speaking?”

Margrit squinted and turned her head, trying to focus.

“I don’t-I don’t understand.” The speech she’d prepared fled from her mind, leaving her feeling unexpectedly fragile and very alone. “I don’t kill people, Mr. Daisani.”

“Neither do I, Miss Knight. I’ll let the criminal justice system do it for me. But they must catch him.”

Margrit shook her head. “I don’t understand what that has to do with me.”

“Everything.” The vampire clipped the syllables. “You have walked into the House of Cards not once, but twice, and come out not just whole, but with information you wanted. You are involved with Alban Korund. Cara Delaney has turned to you for help. Unless you are a tremendous fool, which I doubt, you are clearly aware of factions that the police and legal forces in this city are not. I cannot and will not further compromise my position by allowing another party to be privy to information you already hold. Find him, Margrit.”

A knot of tension snapped in her shoulders and she exhaled, turning to lean heavily on one of the overstuffed leather chairs. She folded her arms beneath her breasts, knowing that the action signaled closing herself off, and shut her eyes for a few moments. Daisani went still, so still that even in the silence of his office she couldn’t hear him breathing. “I’ll want something from you in exchange.”

His silence became incredulous. Margrit looked up, her fear drained away. Not even excitement was left to chill her; this was the deal moment, too important to color with emotion.

Daisani’s mouth worked, as if he was searching for words. His teeth were perfectly normal and flat, unlike Janx’s.

“Vanessa was with me longer than you can imagine. She was indispensable to me. I will not allow her killer to go free and I require you to obtain the information I need. You have the audacity to demand something from me in return?”

“You need me, Mr. Daisani. You’ve just said so. You can’t go to Janx and his people for this because you think they’re responsible, and you’re not willing to bring another player into the game. So you need me.”

Daisani hissed, stepping toward her, sunlight trailing after him like a golden cloak. The walls of the office seemed to constrict, trapping her. “Of course Janx is behind it, but I cannot touch him.”

“Why not?”

Daisani snarled, turning away with another hiss. “He and I have an understanding. If I remove him, someone who doesn’t know the rules will take his place. I have no wish to begin the game anew.”

“You mean, when you need someone butchered, you go to Janx, and when he needs someone financially ruined, he comes to you. It’s a nice setup, Mr. Daisani. I imagine you’ve been doing it for a long, long time. And in the meantime you just take out each other’s pawns? A game of one-upmanship?”

“Vanessa was far more than a pawn,” Daisani snapped. “She was with me for decades. I will extract real revenge at a later date. For the moment, the killer himself must be exterminated. You will find this man!”

“Then you’ll give me the selkie skins.” Margrit nodded toward the displayed furs without taking her gaze from Daisani.

Fury lit his eyes, and for all that she was watching him, Margrit didn’t see him cross the space. He was simply beside her inside a breath, lividity raging in his expression. “You dare. You dare negotiate with me. That is a very bad idea, Miss Knight.”

“People keep telling me that.” The vampire’s proximity sent waves of alarm through her body, painful tingles and an impulse to run. Margrit held herself still, meeting Daisani’s eyes, and saw surprise reflected there.

“People.” He spoke the word despite himself, in a low and warning growl. “Is that what we are?”