That’s all right. I’m going to find out more about you, Cyntag Valeron. And somehow, some way, I’m going to make you pay.
Purcell stepped into the captain’s office without knocking. The man bid the person on the phone goodbye and stood. The Dragon bristled at his territory being invaded without diplomacy, especially by a Deuce.
Purcell kept his singed palms out of sight. “Do you remember me? It’s been fifteen years since the last time I was in your office.”
Recognition clicked in the embers of the man’s eyes. “Yes, I believe you were identified as Mr. Smith. What can I do for you?” His words were clipped.
“You sent one of your best Vegas on that assignment for me.”
The man’s expression shut down. “The yacht.”
“Are you sure he completed the assignment?”
“The man and woman were not a big deal, but executing a child troubled him. That assignment ruined him. He quit.”
“Quit? After how many years on the force?”
“He was a Ward.”
An orphan pledged to the Guard. “You’re sure he killed her?” The child named Ruby.
“Yes.”
Purcell reached into his mind, just a little. Not enough for the man to notice. He seemed to be telling the truth. He was also angry over losing his Vega. The Guard tapped Crescent orphanages for their most promising Wards, mentoring them and luring them into service. Perhaps this man was the Vega’s mentor. “What was his name? I want to talk to him.”
“We never give out the names of our employees.” The captain’s mouth tightened with a hint of smugness. “I’m sure you understand, Mr. Smith.”
Purcell reached again, probing for the name now. Sin. Similar to the name he’d overheard in the conversation between Brom and Moncrief. He knew of a Cyntag, an old Dragon with a fearsome reputation who had served in the Guard many years ago. “Is his name Cyntag?”
People usually gave away their answer when you took them by surprise. The captain shuttered his expression but not fast enough. “As I said—”
Purcell raised his hand. “I understand. I had reason to suspect that perhaps he hadn’t done his job. But you assure me he did, so I shall consider the matter closed.”
His hand was on the doorknob when the captain’s voice stopped him. “Why was it necessary to kill a girl?”
“If we were trying to make it look like an accident, she would have been a witness to the fact that it wasn’t.”
The captain gave a quick nod of understanding. “But why would it matter now? If she was alive, what could she do?”
“Loose ends, that’s all.”
What could she do, a girl who had no powers? She could ruin everything, according to Brom’s vision. Brom had referred to a granddaughter named Ruby who was destined to save thousands of Crescents. Purcell would not wait another eleven years to accomplish his goal.
His phone rang when he stepped out to the parking lot. His son, who was monitoring the scry orb he’d planted at Moncrief’s property. “Yes?”
“The girl who showed up at Moncrief’s returned, and you won’t believe this—she is a Crescent. A Dragon. So she’s probably Justin’s daughter after all. I suspect Moncrief used a masking spell, which is why we couldn’t tell yesterday.”
Purcell stroked his trimmed beard. “You are, as always, late with your revelations. I’m sure she’s Ruby. You are continuing to monitor the scry orb?”
Darren’s silence spoke the anger that the boy didn’t have the guts to express. Finally he said, “Of course. She’s driving to an area populated with Dragons. Wait. She’s pausing in front of a martial arts studio, staring at it like she wants to incinerate the place. The sign says Dragon Arts.”
“Keep watching.” Purcell disconnected, then made a call that garnered the name of the proprietor. No surprise that it was Cyntag Valeron.
Chapter 3
Ruby sat in her truck across the street from Dragon Arts. She’d changed clothes and done a quick cleanup at home. Even taking that bit of time had stretched her tight. She’d wanted to drive right over and tear out Cyntag’s throat.
Those kind of thoughts usually disturbed her, hinting at a primitive violence that reared its head when someone wronged or threatened her. It throbbed inside her, curling her fingers into fists.
Get it under control. This is one bad dude. All I’m doing right now is finding out how bad.
The logical part of her brain added, A bad dude who possibly has control of bizarre and deadly weapons while you have a gun. Hullo?
But what else can I do, let him just get away with killing Mon and never know why? No way in hell.