Trillian grunted. “What do you have in mind?”
“A night with your woman.” Roche gave him a lopsided grin. “Can’t see her face but from the walk, she’s got it where it counts.”
What the fuck? The look on his face was that of a mad dog’s. I stiffened, then it occurred to me this was the perfect way to get alone with him. I forced myself to relax, wondering if Trillian would think of that little fact, too.
Giving no sign that the request had unnerved him, Trillian leaned back in his chair, glancing up at me. “What makes you think she’s for rent?”
Roche’s breath came heavy as he leaned across the table. “Every coin in my pocket against a night with her.”
Trillian frowned. “Let me consider it while I have a drink.” He motioned to me. “We’ll be back. Have an account of how much you’re willing to wager.” He paused, not turning as we reached the door. “And don’t even think about lightening the pile on the table. I know exactly how much is there. I’m not lenient with thieves,” he added. He motioned to the boy who was running drinks for the players. “Tygerian brandy. Now.”
The boy scurried off and within seconds was back with a shot of brandy. Trillian tossed him a coin and then motioned for me to follow him out of the den.
“This is the way for me to get to him,” I said when we were out of earshot.
“It’s dangerous. Did you see the glint in his eye? He’s hunting, and he’s after you.” Trillian shook his head. “I don’t like the idea of leaving you alone with him, even for a few moments. I’ll follow you, of course, but I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to get in there in time to stop him.”
“I need to take him down,” I said. “At first, I just wanted to save my job, but after seeing the look in his eyes…” My words drifted off as I glanced back at the tent. “Too many people are dead because of him, including his own family. They need justice. If I don’t do it, nobody else will.”
Trillian leaned down and brushed my brow with a kiss. “And this is what I saw in you the other day in the bar. I may be a mercenary, but I’ve got a code of ethics. And you, Camille D’Artigo, exceed my standards.”
I shivered. “I don’t want to do this, but I’ve got to. You’ll back me up?”
He nodded. “I promise you on my honor. I’ll do everything in my power to prevent him from hurting you.”
I patted my bag. “I’ve got an ace up my sleeve. Let’s just hope I don’t have to use it.” Checking to make sure my stiletto was strapped to my thigh for easy access, I straightened my shoulders and drew the hood back over my head. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”
Trillian parted the flaps of the tent. “As you wish,” he said, but his eyes told me he wasn’t at all happy about the plan.
Chapter 4
Roche jerked his head up as Trillian slid back into his chair. He looked hungry, like he hadn’t eaten in a long time, but it wasn’t food he was looking for.
Trillian glanced at the pile of coins, then nodded. Apparently everything was still there. “I accept your wager. Empty your purse and pockets. I want to see everything you have on you.”
Roche tossed his purse on the table. He slowly reached into his pockets. I held my breath, but he brought his hands into sight again, filled with coins. Large denominations, at that. He dumped them on the table as Trillian motioned to the dealer. The man, a burly bald Fae who was part-goblin by the looks of him, opened the purse and up-ended it over the pile of coins. The bet had tripled. I wondered if Roche had a stash of money hidden somewhere. He surely wouldn’t be stupid enough to wager everything on the chance of winning a night with me.
Trillian glanced at me and I gave him a slight nod. He picked up the dice and tossed them to Roche. “Winner takes all.”
Roche sucked in a deep breath and let the dice fly. Everybody who was in the tent was watching the game by now and leaned in to see what he would land.
The dealer carefully tallied the points. “Twenty-six pips.”
Trillian picked up the dice and tensed. I knew he was going to skew the numbers. Whether by magic or sleight of hand, he’d lose. He casually bounced them across the table. They skidded across the surface to ricochet off one of the bumpers and land squarely beside the pile of coins. Two fours, a six, a three, and a five. Twenty-two pips.
“Twenty-two pips. You lose.”
Roche triumphantly gathered up the coins. “She’s mine for the night. You aren’t going to try to back out on me, are you?”
Trillian shook his head. “No, but I claim the right to wait outside.” He stared at Roche. “After all, you can’t expect me to trust you.”
A dark cloud swept across Roche’s face, but after a moment, he shrugged. “Whatever you say, but no interference.” His voice was ragged.
I shivered. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. He could do a lot of damage in the time it would take Trillian to bust through the door. But then I thought of the women and children Roche had murdered. Lathe thought he could break me with this one. I’d show him just how freakin’ strong I was and bust his balls, and in the process I’d take down a killer.
Trillian stepped outside and I followed. Roche followed me. He was fixated—I could feel his energy sliming around in my aura.
To calm my nerves, behind the cowl of my drape I kept my mind on the surprise he had coming. Maybe I should just use the death scroll the minute we were alone, but the Moon Mother’s energy was working on me. The hunt wouldn’t be nearly so much fun if I gave him an easy exit. No, if I could capture him alive, the families of the dead would have the right to request blood-vengeance. And they would be harsher than I could ever be.
Trillian put himself between Roche and me. “Your name, first? I won’t let anybody touch her without a name.”
Roche arched one eyebrow. “She must really be good,” he said. “They call me Roche. Follow me.”
We followed him through the maze of vendors until we came to Azyur Boulevard, where he turned left into a long, narrow street. The streets were lined with worn cobblestones and the buildings were old, two-story stone and mortar. He stopped in front of a seedy-looking dive. The sign read calisto’s.
“Second floor,” he said, leading us in through the foyer. The innkeeper—a short, squat rawhead—was sitting behind a roughly hewn counter, his feet propped up on the wood, a bottle of booze in his hands. He cast a quick look our way, then went back to his drinking. We couldn’t count on him for help. Rawheads were nastier than goblins, out for themselves and nobody else.
We headed up the narrow stairwell to the second floor. Roche stopped in front of a door that was scarred with the wounds of past intruders. A patch job covered a fist-sized hole.
He turned to Trillian. “As agreed, you stay out here.”
Trillian shrugged. “Play by the rules and we won’t have a problem.”
Roche unlocked the door and ushered me into the dingy room. It stunk of stale food and the faint scent of urine. I glanced around. The bed was a single cot with a thin mattress and ratty spread. Movement caught my attention and I looked closer. Fleas. Gross.
In one corner were a table and chair, and a small stand with a water pitcher and a bowl sat near the bed. There was no sign of bath or private commode—whoever Calisto was, he was definitely a slumlord.
My courage wavered and I decided to take the quickest way out. No chance in hell was I letting Roche lay one hand on me. If that meant using the death scroll, then that’s what it meant. I edged toward the table, gently setting my bag on the splintered surface. Roche was watching me, I could feel his eyes on my back.