No more rocking. Shawn had frozen in place, her gaze fixed on Mirren.
“What I will advise him to do depends on the next few minutes. You can tell me exactly what the fuck is going on. If I believe you, I’ll recommend he wipe your memories and send you somewhere way the hell away from Penton.”
Nik didn’t believe that for a second, but it sounded good. It sounded like a lifeline thrown to a drowning coyote.
“Or,” Mirren said with exaggerated slowness, which made his faint Scottish accent more pronounced. “Or you can tell me lies, and if I know they’re lies, I’ll recommend that you be killed. Your final choice is to say nothing, in which case I’ll recommend you be killed so fucking slow you’ll beg me to finish you off. Maybe you’d like to go the way your friend Britta suffered.”
Finally, Shawn reacted. “Britta’s missing. Do you know where she is?”
Mirren studied her with such intensity even Nik wanted to squirm, but Shawn didn’t so much as twitch. Nik thought she was telling the truth, which meant if she was indeed both vampire and shifter, Fen Patrick was very likely their jaguar.
“Britta is alive, for now.” Mirren still had that blank, cold expression on his face that had probably put the fear of the sword into many opponents over his long lifetime. Nik hoped he’d never see it directed his way. “She was brutalized—crucified with silver, her guts laid open—at the hands of your accomplice.”
Shawn had been standing on her knees, but at the word accomplice, she crumpled. “There’s another one? Oh my God, who is it?”
“Another what?” Mirren asked. Such an agreeable, calm voice. Deadly. “Say the words, and remember the options I gave for your future.”
“Another abomination.” She hung her head. “It’s what I am.”
“You are both vampire and shape-shifter. How is that possible?”
Nik knew the instant Shawn decided to talk. Her shoulders drooped inside the billowy fabric of Cage’s shirt. Her fingers, clutched into such tight fists the knuckles had whitened, relaxed at her sides. Sitting back on her heels at Mirren’s feet, with her head down, she looked like exactly what she was: a supplicant, making confession to the high priest who would decide her fate, whether penance and forgiveness or death.
She began talking without another prompt. Now that her decision was made, the words seemed to come easily, and Nik listened with horrified fascination at a glimpse into a world so corrupt he found it hard to imagine it existed in tandem with his own.
She never knew her contact’s name, only that he’d found out she was a shifter who’d racked up enough gambling debt to be vulnerable. He made her an offer, and she took it.
“Coyotes are loners; we don’t travel in packs or even keep in touch with our families, so I didn’t have anyone to go to. And he did a great sales job.” She shook her head. “I was so stupid. God. All I could see was the picture he painted. I’d be immortal, and I’d be rich. I’d be able to walk in sunlight like a shifter but have the strength and longevity of a vampire. In return, all I had to do was come here, take orders.” She took a deep breath. “It didn’t quite work that way.”
“No shit,” Robin said. She’d crawled in Cage’s lap, and they held each other, listening, the horror in their faces mirroring the others. Glory was crying—whether for Shawn or for the sorry state of affairs in general, Nik wasn’t sure. Shawn had been selfish and stupid, but she was paying for it.
“Did you start the fire?” Nik knew the answer to that question but wanted to gauge her response.
“Yes. A bottle of some flammable liquid was left for me; my contact said to take it to Cage’s room, open it, light it, and get the hell out.” She stared at the floor. “I didn’t know Hannah was in there. I swear.”
“I notice you didn’t worry if I was anywhere in the house.” Cage’s face had shown a little pity, but that was gone.
“And the construction site—did you sabotage that?”
This time, she looked surprised. “N-no. I wouldn’t even know how to sabotage a construction site.”
Nik believed her. If Fen Patrick had worked in third-world countries doing dirty mercenary jobs, he probably would know how to weaken a brick wall.
“The only other thing I did was leave the drugs for Mark Calvert. I knew Britta would be blamed for it.”
Mirren again: “Did you ever see your contact?”
“No, and his number never showed up as a recall option. I had to wait to hear from him.” Shawn paused. “He had an accent, though. German, maybe?”