An unexpected pang of panic followed the thought. I liked what I did. Once I’d worked past the “I’m too good for this” phase, I’d genuinely enjoyed tracking down UFOs and Hell Spawn sightings, far more than I’d ever liked covering drive-by shootings and political scandals. But if I wasn’t working for the council and wouldn’t be plugging supernatural leaks…
Had I ever been suppressing leaks? Helping my fellow supernaturals survive under the cover of secrecy? Or had I just been covering up a Cabal’s messes?
My gut twisted. Oh God, what had I done? I thought I’d been—
Stop it. Not now.
I looked up at Marsten. “We’re in the northeast quadrant, closest to the main doors, which I know we can’t use, but there must be an emergency exit—”
“There’s one along the west side, probably fifty feet from the front.”
“Perfect. I’ll watch for exit signs; you listen for company.”
We found the exit. As Marsten strode toward it, I called, “It might trigger an alarm.”
“A chance I’m willing to take.”
I stayed at his heels, eager to be out of this place—
Every hair on my body leaped to attention, and I stopped short, lips parting in an involuntary hiss. Then I grabbed Marsten by the back of the shirt.
“It’s trapped,” I said.
“I said—”
“Not alarm-trapped. Trap-trapped. Magically. They must have a witch or a sorcerer—” I stopped myself. “Earlier, you said something about a Cabal sorcerer. You meant Tristan, didn’t you?”
As Marsten nodded, I winced. Another unforgivable faux pas. Tristan had let on he was half-demon, but I’d never seen a display of his powers or even asked what those powers were. If I’d known he was a sorcerer, I would have been suspicious of his “working for the council” story.
Witches led the interracial council, and witches and sorcerers had as little as possible to do with one another. The Cabals were the great sorcerer achievement—powerful corporations staffed by supernaturals and run by sorcerers. I knew little about Cabals—every half-demon I knew stayed away from them and had warned me to do the same, but if I’d realized what Tristan was, I’d have had a good idea who I’d really been working for.
“What kind of trap is it?” Marsten asked.
I shook my head. “No idea. I can just tell that it’s there, and it’s trouble.”
When I caught his frown, I said, “That’s my so-called power. Chaos detection. Like you said, trouble suits me.”
“Your ‘power’? So you’re a half-demon?”
When I nodded, his frown grew. “I thought—admittedly, my knowledge of demons is next to none, but I was under the impression that they were all chaotic. They feed off chaos or some such thing.”
“Demons, yes. Half-demons, no. Half-demons inherit their father’s special power without his affinity for chaos. Lucky me, I’m the one type that gets the reverse.”
I walked toward the door and peered at it. “All I can tell you about this is that someone cast a spell on it, and I know as much about spells as you do about demons. It might just alert Tristan…or it could immolate us instantaneously.”
“Having no great desire to end the evening in flames, I say we don’t test it.”
“Agreed.” I paused. “I’m sure, then, that he’ll have the other unguarded exits trapped, too. So now what?”
“We’ll skip the ‘fleeing’ part and revert to the second mode of defense: hiding. We’ll start by getting that gun for you, then find a safe place and try to outlast them. Eventually, someone is bound to realize a security guard is missing and sound the alarm.”
“Making it too hot for Tristan to stick around.”
“Or hot enough for us to escape out the front door in the confusion.”
When we reached the hall adjoining the one with the offices, Marsten made me wait while he scouted. When he came back, I could tell the news wasn’t good.
“Tristan left a guard behind,” he whispered. “Either in case we come back or to forestall discovery of the crime scene.”
“Maybe they’re moving the guard’s body. Getting rid of it.”
He shook his head. “Tristan will want it found eventually. That’s his backup plan.”
“But you said—” I stopped. “That was a lie, wasn’t it? About being part of the werewolf Pack.”
“Not…entirely. I’m what you might call a quasi-member. But the Alpha—the Pack leader—knows I’m not a man-eater. My reputation in that respect is spotless.”