“Who got captured with you?” I asked Lisandro.
“I came to with just Bernardo and a guy I didn’t recognize.”
“What about Nicky and Olaf?” I asked, and I forgot to use Olaf’s “marshal” name. In that moment, I didn’t try to correct it. I’d learned when accidentally giving away someone’s alias that just ignoring the mistake attracts less attention than repeating and correcting. Most people edit what they hear to match what they expect to hear anyway.
“I passed out when you did, Anita.”
“Shit,” I said. “Thaddeus.”
He turned and gave me those serious green eyes in their mask. “While I fetched weapons they moved your friends. I have failed you.”
“Who’s the man that Lisandro didn’t know, and what happened to the other two men with us?”
“The red tiger mongrel that you made your lover,” he said.
“Ethan?”
“I believe that is his name.”
“I’ve only slept with Ethan once.”
“You have a reputation for bonding very closely with your lovers after very little contact.”
“How did you get him out of the red tiger’s lair?”
“Our spy knew a way to get him to come to us.”
“Good ol’ George,” I said.
“That is one of his aliases.”
I wanted to argue, but wasn’t sure I could, so I pushed the thought away. I’d look at it later. I didn’t ask again about Nicky and Olaf either. If they were dead, there was nothing I could do, and there’d be plenty of time for mourning. Right now, I needed to get us out alive without being possessed by Marmee Noir; until those two goals were reached nothing else really mattered. I told myself that and almost believed it.
“Fine, where would they take them?” I asked.
Then a voice called from ahead, “Anita, we have your lovers; if you do not throw down your weapons and surrender we will begin cutting pieces off them.” It was Harley; great.
I didn’t answer him. I believed he’d do it, but I also believed he just wanted to hold us here in this corridor until nightfall. All he had to do was wait for darkness and the vampires would rise behind us, and Harley and the red tiger Harlequin I’d wounded—George, if that was his real name—and the female wereleopard who’d helped carry Lisandro would have more allies.
“Answer me, Anita, or do you need proof?”
“I heard you, Harley,” I yelled back.
“That is not my name.”
“Then give me a name to call you.”
“He is Marius,” Thaddeus said.
“Okay, Marius,” I yelled back, “you want us to surrender. We want our men safe. What happens next?”
“Wolf, you have given them my name, my real name. I curse you, wolf.”
“I was cursed long ago, Marius. You are cat and that was always her favorite animal. The wolves are worse than the meanest cur to her. I will not go back to it.”
“Traitor!” A woman’s voice yelled it, so she was the wereleopard that we’d met earlier.
“Yes,” Thaddeus said.
Marius gave a wordless scream, and cursed, and then there was a muffled scream from someone else. Shit. “Marius.” I called out his name, but there was nothing I could do to undo what had caused that scream. That bit of damage was done. Fuck.
There was a small sound, and Thing One made a sign with his free hand. Thaddeus said, “They’ve thrown down a finger.” He motioned and the werelions moved up and out in the large, nearly circular open area. The stairs lay on the far side of the space. The werelions moved quickly across it, guns out, alert, but there was nothing but the thing at the bottom of the stairs. One of them covered up the stairs while the other picked it up, and then they retraced their steps, watching behind them as if they expected the others to rush them. But they didn’t need to rush us, all they needed was to outwait us. They could just wait and cut pieces off . . .
The man held out his black-gloved hand and there was a pale little finger in it. It was Ethan’s; Bernardo’s skin tone was darker. If they hadn’t used silver, Ethan would grow another finger. It meant they weren’t trying to do permanent damage. That was almost interesting on its own.
“The next thing I cut off won’t be from your pet tiger. The next finger will be from your human lover and it won’t grow back!” Marius yelled.
I didn’t try to argue that Bernardo and I had never been lovers. I had a reputation for liking men, a lot, and that meant they’d never believe that I’d passed Bernardo up. Besides, if they knew we weren’t lovers, they might hurt him more and faster. There was just no way to tell. I stared at the finger in the werelion’s hand. It felt like I should do something with it, but I couldn’t think what.