“No, in my office. That’s my safe zone.” She led the way, arms crossed tight over her chest. Let him follow.
“You know you can’t stay here.”
“I’ve got records to grab, so I can let the customers who are coming in over the next few days know…What do I tell them? ‘Can’t work on your vintage soda cooler because someone’s trying to kill me. Hope you can be patient.’”
“I wouldn’t tell them that.”
“I was kidding!”
Cyntag glanced at his watch. “You have a little time to grab the things you need. But not much.”
He put his hand at her back and guided her onward. She stepped into the cool, dark office. No one had been in to turn on the lights. She didn’t bother to do so either, finding the dimness more comfortable. This time they were in her territory, and she was in control.
He set a gun on the desk and walked over to the window to peer out.
She patted her back. Nothing. “How’d you do that?”
“One of the skills you learn at the Guard is to quickly disarm anyone who’s potentially dangerous.”
Did that mean he saw her as dangerous? Remembering their encounter earlier, she decided probably not. “You mean the National Guard?”
“No. Our Guard is the police force that governs Crescents. They report to a council called the Concilium, comprised of members of all three classes of Crescents.”
Cyn surveyed the yard outside again, seeing the three men he’d just met talking and glancing toward the office, no doubt discussing him. Two of them were young Crescents, full of the piss and fire he hadn’t possessed in decades. Crescents aged slowly, but one benefit of taking Dragon power was that it slowed the process even more.
Cyn turned back to find her pulling folders out of a filing cabinet drawer. “Do the three guys out there work here?”
“You’re interrogating me.”
He lifted a shoulder. “It’s my nature. I need to know who’s in your life.”
“Was that supposed to be an apology?”
“I don’t apologize.”
She stared at him, and he could tell by the spark in her eyes that she was considering defying him, or maybe making him wait for an answer to assert some sense of control. Fine, let her have it. It might be the last time she felt in control for quite some time.
Her muscles relaxed, the defiant spark dimmed. “Jack Aster works here after school and weekends.”
And he had a crush on Ruby.
Cyn glanced out the window. “He’s close to storming in. Wave at him, let him know you’re fine.”
She narrowed her eyes again, most likely at the order, but gave Jack the universal OK sign. She crossed her arms over her chest and tilted her head at Cyn. “Happy?”
“Yes. I don’t want to have to kill him.”
“You’re kidding, I hope.”
“What about the other two?”
She paused, probably realizing he hadn’t answered her question. “Nevin is my business partner. He didn’t have that”—she wiggled her fingers in front of her eyes—“flicker. Leo said he wasn’t one of us.”
“He’s a Mundane, a regular human. And Leo’s the one who was manhandling you?” Cyn’s Dragon had bristled at the sight of the man’s arm around her waist, the rough way he was carrying her.
“I don’t know what that was about. Leo came in looking for a part yesterday, the first time I’ve seen him in eight years.”
“That seems odd, him showing up the day your uncle is murdered. He’s a Deuce, but not powerful enough to make a star orb. That’s the kind of orb that killed your uncle.”
She swallowed hard. “How can you tell what he is?”
“Deuces’ eyes swirl like fog.”
Her face paled as she shifted her gaze from the Yard to Cyn. “Your eyes had embers, and so did mine when I saw them in the mirror. Dragon eyes are like embers. No.” She shook her head hard, making her hair float out like a cloud. “Magick being real, I’m just beginning to grasp. Big ole lizards with talons and wings and scales, well, I saw that. But that I’m one, no friggin’ way.”
“What about the protected—or, rather, kidnapped—Garnet in Moncrief’s stories? Didn’t she turn into a Dragon?” Surely he would have accurately portrayed Ruby.
“The Dragon Prince put a spell on her that made her go Dragon. When they fought, they became savage beasts, with drool dripping out of their mouths. And they smelled like dirty socks. But in reality she was a Deuce.”
Something like a growl emanated from his throat. He swallowed it back. “Nice of him to portray us that way.” Moncrief not only hated Cyn, understandably, but also he disdained Dragons in general. Neither surprised Cyn, but the man should have kept his prejudices out of the stories. After all, Ruby was Dragon, too.