"So sentimental of you. Would you have said the same thing if he still stood with his hand wrapped around Rebecca’s heart?"

"I don’t know." Her answer was charged with uncertainty. "It doesn’t matter. We’re not talking about Mom now. We’re talking about slavery. I’ll deal with the consequences later, but I won’t have anybody turned into a belonging on my watch. Let him go, or every deal we’ve made is void."

The vampire locked eyes with her for a long, drawn-out silence. "You’re very bold, Miss Knight."

"You’ve gone to one hell of a lot of trouble to keep me on your team, Mr. Daisani. Be a shame to blow it all now, wouldn’t it?" To her own surprise, she felt no fear. Whether she’d moved beyond it or whether she trusted Daisani more than she liked to think, Margrit found herself able to meet his eyes without flinching, without her heartbeat racing. "Your choice."

Daisani’s lip curled, and then a handful of dirt broke the blood circle, absorbing liquid, smearing it across flagstones. Margrit drew in a sharp breath, searching for Daisani, but nothing was left of him but a fading breeze. The djinn remained frozen within the broken ring for a few long seconds, his expression blank with disbelief before he said, "You’re a fool."

"Leave my family alone and I can live with that."

"You should have made that bargain before you set me free."

"It wouldn’t have meant anything if I’d coerced you."

"It might have meant your mother’s life." Then, like Daisani, the djinn was gone in a gust of wind, leaving Margrit to sag against Alban and stare at the ruined circle at her feet.

"I thought you said the gargoyles were the only Old Race to have ever been enslaved." Her voice came from a far distance, as if disbelief or weariness had made an unbreachable wall around her.

"I didn’t know." Alban slipped his arms about her, offering strength and support. Margrit groaned and turned against him, feeling distance melt away into comfort. "Perhaps it’s somewhere in the memories, buried in mountain roots. I’ve never studied the djinn histories that closely."

"Maybe you should. Maybe it’s all a lot more complex than we think." Margrit let the slow steady beat of Alban’s heart drown out the world for a moment. Then she lifted her head, a sense of unease sliding through her. "Alban…"

"Yes?"

"Where’s Janx?"

As if her question triggered it, her phone rang, the William Tell Overture out of place in the churchyard. Margrit swore and dug it out of her pocket, muttering, "I can’t believe I didn’t turn that off before the service. God. Yeah, hello?"

"Margrit, why didn’t you tell me you were going after Janx?"

Margrit stepped away from Alban, trying to control the surprise that popped through her. "Tony?"

"All of this makes more sense now," Tony went on. "Even the job for Daisani. Is that real, or are you looking for a connection between the two of them? They obviously know each other. I saw them at the ice rink. Why couldn’t you tell me? I might’ve been able to help, Grit."

"You-what? Tony?" Margrit pressed fingertips to her hairline, as if doing so would help her order her thoughts.

"Kaaiai gave me the documents half an hour ago, Grit. You could’ve told me."

Margrit let out a slow breath. "I couldn’t have. It’s…" She’d done so well earlier, putting together Kaimana’s association with the djinn. Following Tony’s logic shouldn’t befuddle her now. "I couldn’t have," she repeated. "How do you-why do you think it’s me?"

"Oh, come on. The way you’ve been acting, and the way you’ve been working those two? Why else would somebody like Kaaiai get Janx’s tax records? You really think you can get Daisani, too?"

Margrit laughed unhappily. For a moment, as she grasped Tony’s interpretation of events, she wished he was right, that the twists and turns of her life over the last months had been part of a sting intended to bring down one of New York’s crimelords, and maybe even one of its business moguls. He was right twice: in that light, her behavior had a certain logic to it. It looked like a pursuit of justice above all else.

Agreeing to the fallacy made her stomach churn with distress, but the truth was even more difficult to explain. Dizziness wrapped her as she pushed herself to lies of omission. "Probably not. Daisani’s too big a target, unless Janx comes in willing to talk, which doesn’t seem likely. I didn’t mean to be in a position where I knew both of them, Tony. It just happened."

"Because of me." He made the accusation she refused to.

"Maybe, yeah. Because I met Janx because of you, maybe. Everything’s happened fast, and I had no idea where it would end up." She laughed again, this time out of frustration at the magnitude of her understatement. "I didn’t talk to you about it because…" Because there’d been no plan in place, but admitting that left her with nothing more than honesty, both unpalatable and improbable.

"Because we were having problems anyway." Tony filled in the silence again. Margrit knotted her hand in her coat pocket as the cop sighed. "I wish you’d told me, Grit. I might not’ve said some of the things I did."

"There’s a lot of regret under the bridge. It’s okay."

"I hated seeing you at that ball with him," Tony admitted.

Margrit turned to look at Alban, a little of the tension running out of her. He met her eyes without challenge or concern, nothing but trust and support in his gaze.

"I know," she said quietly. "But I’m seeing him now. Right now nothing you and I said or did that we would change. The best I can do is be sorry that I’ve hurt you, but I’ve got to try this."

"And if it doesn’t work?" Tony’s voice was low.

"I can’t think about that right now, either. You broke up with me. Not that you were wrong to, but don’t stay up nights waiting for me, not after that. You earned the Janx sting. That’s not about me, or you and me. It’s you."

"First a black-tie job with Kaimana, now a takedown that any cop in the city would envy. What are you, Grit? My good luck charm with a catch?"

"He giveth and He taketh away." Margrit gave a lopsided smile, looking from Alban again. "I’m glad to talk to you, Tony. I-"

"Don’t. I’m not ready for that yet."

Margrit swallowed. "Ready for what?"

"I know you pretty well, Grit. That was about to turn into an ‘I hope we can still be friends’ speech, and I’m not up for that. Breaking up and then finding out you’ve been acting so weird because of this sting is bad enough, and knowing you’re dating that guy is worse. So don’t do the wouldn’t-it-be-great thing. Not now and maybe not ever. Sorry." He said the word without meaning it; Margrit was all but able to hear the stiff shrug accompanying the apology. "I’m not that big a guy."

"I think you probably are." She took a deep breath, unable to hide the shakiness in it. "But okay. I won’t. Just-well, I was going to say let me know how it goes, but I guess I’ll read about it in the papers sometime in the next couple months."

"No." Tony’s voice roughened. "With any luck you’ll read about it in the papers tomorrow. We’re going in tonight."

Alban caught Margrit in his arms, propelling her toward the shadows and then leaping skyward before she had time to protest. None of the usual sensuality filled the movement of his body against hers as he pumped his wings, climbing higher. Urgency, yes; she’d known that in his body before, but not with this sort of purpose, words and thought for once left behind in the name of action. The "What?" that burst from her lips was as much directed at the gargoyle as Tony.

"No choice, Grit. I know Janx owns people on the force. We gotta move in before he’s tipped off. If we’re lucky we’ll nab him coming home from that service with no fuss. Look, I have to go. We’re moving out."

"Okay. Be-be careful, Tony."

"Always." Rough amusement filled the word, and then he was gone, leaving Margrit clutching the phone and staring from it to Alban.