What the hell?

Mychael swept off his massive gray cloak and handed it to the uniformed man. I looked over at Mychael and my mouth fell open. I let it hang there; I had better things to do, like determine why the paladin of the Conclave Guardians was dressed like someone you’d meet in a bad bar, dark alley, or darker highway just before he demanded that you “stand and deliver.”

Mychael wore dark, rough leather from head to toe: high boots, formfitting trousers—extremely formfitting—and a doublet with various slits that I recognized all too well. Hiding places for dozens of small, bladed weapons. Straps from a sword harness hugged his wide shoulders. Mychael out of uniform signaled a heavy frost in Hell; but what raised my eyebrows and left them there was that he looked perfectly comfortable, relaxed even. I closed my mouth, lowered my brows and made a conscious effort to keep them that way, and decided to just let the strangeness play itself out.

The man and woman didn’t speak, but the woman noted the way my blades were angled over my shoulders and adjusted her own sword harness to a perfect match.

Vegard shifted uneasily. “I don’t like this, sir.”

Mychael put on a broad-brimmed hat and pulled it low over his eyes. He handed me a dark cloak and I took it and put it on. “None of us do, but it’s necessary. Vegard, it’s critical that everyone, especially Carnades and Balmorlan, believes that Raine and I are in the citadel tonight. Escort our doubles to my apartments and post guards to see to it that no one gets in. When Sedge delivers those statements to my office, take them to Justinius, and then stay there. He knows what to do. Raine and I will see you in the morning.”

The big Guardian took a deep breath and blew it out in a stubborn puff of steam in the cold night air. I gave him the hug I’d wanted to earlier. To my surprise, he hugged me back. Tightly.

“Be safe, ma’am,” he murmured against my hair.

“I always do what I can.” “Though I could do a better job of it if I knew what the hell your boss was up to,” I thought directly at Mychael.

“In a moment.”

“It better be a quick one.”

We watched as the fake Mychael and Raine went into the courtyard and mounted Kalinpar. Vegard quickly walked past them and out into the street. A few moments later I heard the clatter of horses’ hooves as the remaining Guardians headed back to the citadel with Talon. The sentry dragon unfolded his leathery wings and in three beats was hovering over the courtyard. Then Mychael’s double turned the dragon toward the citadel; in a few moments they, Vegard, and the Guardians with him were gone.

And Mychael and I were alone.

“How are you holding up?” he asked me.

“I’m ready for anything.” I looked him up and down and took my sweet time doing it. “So, is this what you wear when you’re off duty?”

“I’m still on duty, just a different kind of job.”

“When someone in my family dresses like that, it means they’re up to no good.”

“No doubt certain people would see it that way.”

“Like Carnades or Balmorlan.”

“That’s two.”

“You knew what was going to happen in there.”

“Carnades is many things; fortunately predictable is one of them. When I found out that he’d framed Tam, I knew what he would do to try to make it stick. So I did what Carnades expected and wanted me to do—I came here.” He flashed a grin. “Though I don’t think he got what he wanted and neither did Taltek Balmorlan.”

“Incriminating ourselves as being in an umi’atsu bond,” I said silently. Our bond was something that I would not discuss out loud. “Three birds with one stone. Or in our case three birds and one stone.”

“Counteracting Carnades was a simple matter of Vidor and me working out a few details ahead of time.” Mychael moved to mindspeak, too.

“The lie about him hearing Nukpana—”

“Was one of them. This was another. Coming here gave me the opportunity to be seen leaving here—with you.”

“Where are we going?”

Mychael reached out with both hands and pulled my hood up to hide my face. “Hunting.”

Chapter 10

Watcher headquarters was on the edge of the city center near the entertainment district. When you’re law enforcement in a college town, it makes sense to be close to the most likely source of disturbances. With the dusk-to-dawn curfew, the only people on the streets were either watchers or Guardians. Within a few minutes of leaving headquarters, Mychael pulled me back into the shadows as a pair of watchers turned the corner across the street from where we were.

Okay, it was now officially snowing in Hell. Mychael Eiliesor was hiding from the law.

Once the pair had gone far enough down the street, Mychael took my hand tightly in his and we quickly slipped around the corner of the next side street. It was narrow, not much more than an alley. I didn’t speak and Mychael didn’t slow down. We passed another four patrols, two of them Guardians. We hid from all four, and Mychael supplemented the shadows concealing us with a veiling spell as the Guardians passed.

My nose told me that we were getting close to the harbor. My instincts told me we were getting close to our destination. I was right.

Mychael stopped at a boarded-up building that looked like its best days had come and gone long ago. He led me from the street and down some narrow stairs to a door without a knob. He laid his hand flat against the wood and murmured a few words. The door opened on silent—and well-oiled and maintained—hinges.

Mychael shut the door behind us and, with a word, wove a lightglobe into existence that floated above his open palm. We were in a basement that looked like some of the more comfortable hideouts Uncle Ryn had in every major port city. It had the basics: table, a couple of chairs, a bed in the far corner.

And weapons. Lots and lots of weapons.

“So this is your secret hideout.”

“One of them,” Mychael said out loud. “And there’s no need for mindspeak; this room is soundproof and spellproof.”

I grinned and shook my head. “Damn.”

“What?”

“Mychael Eiliesor has a secret lair and is hiding from the law.”

He held up a finger. “Not hiding. I just don’t want to answer any awkward questions or have anyone know where I am.”

“Sounds like Phaelan after he’s pulled a job.” I gave him a slow smile. “What job are we pulling this evening?”

“Sarad Nukpana has an uncle—” Mychael began.

“Janos Ghalfari, the nachtmagus who’s helping him,” I interrupted. “Tam told me. He also told me that he found four houses in the city owned by Nukpana’s mother’s family, and that Nukpana isn’t in any of them.”

“He’s not. What else did Tam tell you?”

I told him about the coach, horses, houses, and how Uncle Janos had nicely come all the way from Regor to help his dear nephew grow his body back.

Mychael nodded in approval. “Good, that saves me a lot of talking. We don’t have time. We have a meeting to go to.”

“Okay, now I’m completely confused.”

“No doubt.”

“What kind of meeting?”

“When a goblin needs something done that another goblin can’t or won’t do, there are a handful of humans on Mid who will get them anything they need for the right price. Janos Ghalfari is helping his nephew regenerate, but he’s not the kidnapper. As far as Ghalfari is concerned, that’s why you hire servants. A goblin would be too easily traced. I’ve discovered that he’s hired two humans through an intermediary.” Mychael paused. “A man and a woman.”

Shit. Mychael didn’t need to say anything else, or even think it. I knew what he wanted me for.

A glamour. To use my magic to make myself look and sound like someone else. It was something I’d never been able to do before the Saghred had done its enhancement work on my previously meager magical skill set.