"Release someone who's just killed at least ten people? I hardly think so."
I twisted around to check on Berna, but didn't ease the force of my grip around Nerida's neck. The werefox was huffing, her face darkening with her battle to breathe, but I didn't damn well care. Everything I'd smelled, everything I'd felt, when I first walked up to the blast area had come back with a rush, and the dead and dying who'd filled me with their pain wanted revenge. And my fingers—my whole arm—was shaking with the effort not to squeeze that little bit tighter. To kill her, and let the dead have her.
Berna's brown eyes narrowed a little. Bear-shifters might have the rep for honesty, but I had a feeling I'd be getting anything but that from this bear-shifter. At least for the immediate future.
"Don't speak rubbish, wolf. She was with one of the people from the arena for hours, then she came here. She didn't have anything to do with that explosion."
"Hard to believe when she was actually spotted not once, but twice. And if you don't step back this instant, she's one dead werefox." I squeezed a little harder, just to emphasize my seriousness, and Nerida made an odd gargling sound. I eased up immediately. I didn't actually want to kill her, no matter what the remnants of the dead might be urging.
Berna raised her hands and stepped back. "Okay, okay, just let her breathe."
I loosened my grip a little more, and Nerida's entire body shook as she sucked in great gulps of air. Guilt ran through me, but the dead were having none of that and quickly swatted it away.
And the fact that I could feel them, knew that they were all around me, demanding revenge, was terrifying. Empathy was one thing—but empathy with the dead? What the hell kind of talent was that?
Not one that I wanted, that was for sure.
"Now, just let her go," Berna continued, in that same quiet tone. Like she was dealing with a psycho ready to explode. And if that impression meant they were less likely to try a concerted attack, then I was happy to keep reinforcing it. "And we'll talk about this like civilized human beings."
"Which none of us are." I shook Nerida a little. "Why did you blow up the kitchen area?"
"I didn—"
"You were seen," I cut in. "In your fox form, twice, by guards."
"There are tons of foxes running wild," Berna said patiently. "That doesn't mean squat."
I let the handkerchief unfold and held it up so both could see. "How many foxes run around with a gray and white hanky in their pockets? A handkerchief that held a feminine scent the match of Nerida's—at least until the guard holding it was caught in the explosion."
Berna swore. Nerida didn't say anything, just stared at me with small green eyes that spoke of death. I snorted softly. "I don't fear the death you're threatening, fox, because the dead are all around us. And they are demanding satisfaction."
That got a reaction. Finally, something more than anger sparked in those beady green eyes. "What do you mean?"
"I mean, unless you start telling the truth, I'm going to give the dead what they want. You."
"You can't—"
"I can. Or I could report you to the guards and let them give you to those blue things in the arena."
She shuddered. "No. Please, I'll talk."
"I want truth, not lies." I glanced back at Berna. "I want to know why you're both here and why you blasted the kitchen."
"Then what? You'll go to the guards anyway. We lose either way, wolf."
"Not if you tell me the truth."
"And trust the word of a thief?" Berna snorted softly. "I think not."
I glanced at the covered camera, then back to Nerida. "The guards will undoubtedly be here soon to unfoul the camera. It's your choice—trust me, and tell me what is going on, or I'll hand my discoveries over to the guards and let them make of it what they will."
Indecision shone in her eyes. She didn't want to trust me—neither of them did. But we'd all seen what had happened to anyone who went against Starr's rule, and that was far worse than anything I might do.
"Okay, okay," she said, voice hoarse.
I glanced at Berna as footsteps echoed in the hallway. "And you?"
"I will talk."
"And not attack?"
She grinned. It wasn't a pleasant grin. "Not immediately. But I would suggest you sleep lightly."
That threat could at least be dealt with later. I released Nerida and she collapsed to the ground, alternatively coughing and sucking in air. I stepped past her, past Berna, and into the other stall, slipping the handkerchief under my towel before quickly turning on the water. As I stepped under it, I switched on the com-link. The door opened and the guard stepped in, I put on my best confused expression as I stepped out of the water and grabbed my towel.
"What the hell is going on?" The scowling guard looked me up and down, then shifted his gaze to Berna, who hadn't moved.
"Anxiety attack," she said. "Sometimes happens to foxes in enclosed spaces."
"Why is that towel up there, then?" He waved irritably at the camera.
"I meant to toss it over the stall door and threw too high." I shrugged.
He grunted, and pointed to Berna. "You, get that down immediately."
Berna obeyed.
"All of you, you've got ten minutes. Finish whatever it is you're doing and get back to your room."
The guard gave us all another once-over, like he suspected there was more going on than what was being said, then grunted and spun on his heel. I waited until he was out of earshot, then crossed my arms and leaned against the doorframe. I couldn't physically see Nerida from where I was standing, but her image was crystal clear in the mirror—which was why I'd chosen this stall.
"You heard the man—we've got ten minutes. Tell me a little story."
Nerida leaned her head back against the tiled wall. The red marks around her neck were very evident, and this time not even the dead could hold back the guilt.
"I didn't mean for the explosion to be so big."
"You put gas and flame together, and the end result is usually a big explosion."
She grimaced and ran a hand through her damp hair. "Yeah. But I didn't mean for it to bring down the floors above. I just wanted it to be big enough to kill a man."
"What man?" But even as I asked the question, I knew.
"Leo Moss." She spat the name like it was a curse, and even though I was viewing her through a mirror, it was very evident that the complete and utter hatred she had for the man verged on madness.
"Why?"
"Because he and Merle killed my father and destroyed my family." Her gaze met mine in the mirror. "I will kill them both. Have no doubt of that."
I didn't doubt her vow. I just didn't think she had the strength to do it. I glanced at Berna. "And your part in this whole little revenge scheme?"
The bear-shifter shrugged. "I came here in the hope of keeping her alive. We've been friends a long time."
"If these are those two women you asked me about," Jack said, voice like a scratch of anger in my ear—was I ever going to get a dressing down when this mission was over!—"prelim searches have revealed they had military time together, in the ranger division. Left four years ago, and the trail runs a little cold after that."
"Friends don't usually go to such lengths—unless they've sworn an oath to protect each other." Or were lovers. I paused, then aimed the second question at both Jack and Berna. "How far would you go?"
"Until we know more about these two," Jack said, "you say nothing of your reasons for being there."
Which was going to be damn difficult, considering they already had their suspicions about my identity after I'd challenged them both over the bed.
"She saved my lire." Berna hesitated, then added, "and I will go as far as I am required to uphold my vow and return the favor."