I sat in my car, feeling the fatigue wash over me, and thought of Curran. Two months ago I'd
found the Beast Lord in my house reading a book. We made some small talk, I threatened him with
bodily harm if he didn't leave, and then he moved like he would kiss me. But instead he winked,
whispered, «Psych,» and took off into the night.
He had made me coffee. I drank every last bit of it that night.
I wasn't sure if he would come back, but if he did, I wanted to be prepared. I had imagined our
encounter a dozen times. I had constructed long conversations in my head, full of barbs and witty
comebacks.
The bastard didn't show.
The longer his MIA lasted, the surer I became that he would never show up. It was blatantly
obvious-he enjoyed screwing with me, and having done so, he got all funned out and moved on.
Perfectly fine with me. Best solution possible. I had dreamt of him once or twice, but other than
that, everything was peachy.
Wherever this thread of Derek's troubles led, I really didn't cherish the idea of finding Curran on
the other end.
It was always good to have a Plan of Action. I started the engine. Item one of the POA: avoid the
Beast Lord. Item two: do not fall asleep.
CHAPTER 3
«KATE? «
I have a superior reaction time. That was why although I shot out of my chair, jumped onto my
desk, and attempted to stab the intruder into my office in the throat, I stopped the blade two inches
before it touched Andrea's neck. Because she was my best friend, and sticking knives into your best
friend's windpipe was generally considered to be a social faux pas.
Andrea stared at the black blade of the throwing dagger. «That was great,» she said. «What will
you do for a dollar?»
I scowled.
«Scary but not worth a buck.» Andrea perched on the corner of my desk. Short, blond, and
deadly. A full knight of the Order, Andrea had one of those nice-girl faces that instantly put people
at ease and made them fall over themselves in a rush to disclose their problems. I once went
shopping with her, and we heard no fewer than three life stories from total strangers. People never
wanted to tell me their life stories. They usually scooted out of my way and said things like, «Take
whatever you want; just go.»
Of course, if the total strangers had known Andrea could shoot dots off dominoes at twenty
yards, they might have decided to keep their issues to themselves.
Andrea eyed the file on my desk. «I thought you were off today.»
«I am.» I jumped down. I had caught three hours of sleep, dragged myself to the office in search
of background information on the Midnight Games, and promptly passed out at my desk facedown
on the open file despite the near-critical amount of coffee in my system. Which explained why I had
failed to hear Andrea enter the office. Typically I didn't go zero to sixty out of dead sleep unless I
was startled.
I rubbed my face, trying to wipe away the layer of fatigue. Somebody had poured lead into my
head while I was sleeping, and now it rolled around in my skull, creating a racket. «I'm looking for
some info on the Midnight Games.»
Unfortunately, the file on the Games proved to be anorexic. Three pages of shallow overview on
structure, no specifics. This meant there was another file, a big fat one, with a nice CLASSIFIED
stamp on the cover, which put it squarely out of my reach. As security clearances went, mine was
bare minimum. This was one of the rare moments when I regretted not being a full-fledged knight.
As it was, getting my hands on the secret file would prove slightly harder than getting an ice cream
cone in Christian hell.
«I don't know much about it,» Andrea said. «But one of my instructors was in it, before the
tournament was outlawed. I can tell you a little bit about how it worked back then. Over lunch.»
«Lunch?»
«It's Friday.»
That's right. Andrea and I always had lunch on Fridays. Typically she just waylaid me in the
office and didn't give me any choice about it. In Andrea's book, lunch was something friends did. I
was still getting used to the idea of friends. Steady relationships were a luxury I wasn't allowed to
have for most of my life. Friends shielded and protected you, but they also made you vulnerable,
because you sought to return the favor.
Andrea and I had worked closely during the flare. I had saved her life; she had saved my kid,
Julie, who had started the flare as a street rat with a missing mom and ended it a killer of demons,
who lost her mother permanently but gained crazy Aunt Kate. After the flare, I had expected
Andrea and me to quietly drift apart, but Andrea had other plans. She became my best friend.
My stomach growled, informing me that I was ravenous. Food and sleep-you could do without