“A birnenston-fueled fire will make great footage for the evening news,” he said. “She might still be burning.”
“At least no one can get close enough to be infected.” Liam turned to the laptop Archer had brought. “They’re updating the story hourly and still haven’t speculated on a cause.”
“Speculation will get them nowhere this time,” Sid assured him.
Liam let out a sound somewhere between a grumble and a sigh before pinning Archer with another annoyed look.
Archer raised one hand. “I swear.”
“Hoarding that much birnenston isn’t a talya trick anyway,” Sid pointed out. “Whatever metaphysical quirk makes our demons repentant spares them that nastiness.”
Liam rubbed his temple. “Why would one djinn-man poison another?”
Jilly bumped his hand aside and took over the massage. “Why does Ecco drink right out of the OJ cartons?”
“Because he’s a rude beast,” Sera said. “That’s reason enough for a djinn-man to court the eternal enmity of another?”
Jilly shrugged. “They probably have their own ideas about what makes for courting, same as we do.”
Sera shook her head. “I don’t think destroying Thorne’s home, key source of income, and the external manifestation of his persona in one fell swoop is a good way to make friends.”
“But it doesn’t give him a lot of choice about what he does next, does it?” Sid tapped his pen against the notepad on his lap. “If they wanted to drive him in a particular direction …”
“Like into a blind fury.” Archer tweaked the computer out from under Liam’s nose. “I’ll keep an eye on the story. I’m curious if we might get a hint—maybe from the insurance claim—who might have benefited from covering for his illegal gambling operation.”
Liam grunted. “Run it by Bella. She has a sense for shady business in this town.”
Archer held his hand out to Sera. “We’ll see what we have by tonight.”
“The forecast calls for rain later,” Sid said, “but the fire won’t go out until the boat sinks and the birnenston dissipates. Then there won’t be anything for the fire marshal to collect, much less analyze.”
“Maybe we can make sure of that,” Liam said. “I’ll send Pitch to put a hole through the hull if necessary.”
Archer lifted one brow. “You want to send him that close to a djinn-man. Sometimes I wonder. …”
“He’s subtle,” Liam said. “He won’t leave a sign to follow.”
“It won’t matter,” Alyce said. “Thorne will blame us.”
Sid watched her twist the rivet on her finger and wondered if she could wind his nerves any tighter. “Why would he blame us? As I said, birnenston isn’t a teshuva weapon.”
She kept her gaze on the ring. “I didn’t say he would think we did it. I said he’d blame us.”
“Unreasonable,” Sid objected.
Finally she slid him an arch glance. “You can tell him that.”
“He’ll have enough on his plate for today,” Liam said. “What with avoiding the reporters and police.”
Alyce shrugged. “But tonight …”
Liam stood, and the talyan followed suit. “Everybody, take a nice nap this afternoon.”
They split up in the hallway, Archer and Sera to follow the cyber trail, Liam and Jilly to track down Pitch presumably, and Alyce …
“Wait up.” Sid hurried after her while the others continued on their way. “Where are you going?”
“To my room, as Liam said.”
Sid’s hackles prickled. “Because he said.” His tone fell flat.
She kept walking. “Because it made sense.”
“Oh well, in that case …”
She stopped abruptly and faced him. “Am I not allowed to follow good sense when I hear it? Does that not fit your understanding of a rogue?”
He bristled back. “You’ve been displaying some of your previous aberrant ways since we got back from the hospital, and just now you seemed almost admiring of Thorne’s reprehensible behavior.”
Her eyes widened. “Admiring? I am dreading it.”
“Well, your demon has a special affinity for dread, so that would explain—”
She stepped right up to his toes. “Explain what?”
“Why you like him.”
“Like him? I’ve tried to kill him. More than once.”
“And didn’t succeed.”
She gave him a disbelieving glare. “Because he is possessed by a powerful djinni, and I have the demonic equivalent of a windup toy.”
“Or maybe because you didn’t want him to die because he was there for you when no one else was.” He watched her closely.
She stiffened and took a step back. “He came around occasionally to poke at me and watch me flail. Which, yes, now that I think of it, is really very reprehensible.” She gave him a meaningful glare.
He tried to shut up. After all, why was he needling her? Because she knew Thorne best? That made her an asset, not an enemy. And yet he found himself circling her, looking for the weakness in her armor, for a way in.
She was weak, just as she claimed, but somehow she had closed herself against him. “You’re changing,” he said.
She narrowed her eyes. “That’s a rogue for you. So erratic.”
“Why are you wearing that rivet?”
“It fits.”
“That’s …”
“Unreasonable? Aberrant?”
He wouldn’t apologize for the words. If she was backsliding, they needed to get her back on the talya path. “That’s the sort of memory you don’t need.”
“What makes you think so?”
His jaw worked, but he couldn’t spit out anything that didn’t sound stupid.
The angry spark in her eyes eased just a bit, and she nodded. “You’re learning.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“That you don’t know everything.”
“I know you’ve been quiet and withdrawn ever since you destroyed the therapy room and took that piece away with you.”
She sighed. “You think the ring is making me withdrawn?”
“I think we pushed your rehabilitation too fast.”
“Is that what you were doing in my bed?” She tilted her head. “Fixing me?”
“Not just you,” he conceded. “My demon’s first ascension—just as your teshuva has been unbalanced all these years—made me susceptible too.”
“But you’re over it now, and I’m still … aberrant.”
A curse of frustration surged up in his throat, but that wouldn’t very well prove his own balance. “I just meant you shouldn’t dredge up memories that are going to set you back.”
“Missing memories is what made me crazy,” she said. “I thought you’d understand; the more I know, the less I fear.” She held out her hand. The rivet was a dark stripe across her pale skin. “I lost the teshuva’s talisman somewhere across the years. I was left adrift. This can be the symbol of us beginning anew.”
His heart skittered. “Us …”
She curled her ringed hand into her chest, her gaze unwavering. “The demon and I. Who else?”
The violence with which she’d flipped the steel table was nowhere in evidence, yet he ached as if she’d thrown him across the room and knocked the breath from him. “Who else. Right.”
She watched him a moment. “Did you need something from me?”
Answers churned through him, each less coherent than the last. How could he answer when he had barely formulated the questions? A good researcher didn’t want any particular outcome. He didn’t anticipate results. He observed what was.