Shadowdance(5)

Talent bristled, and she let a small smile escape. He bristled further, but Director Wilde ploughed ahead.

“Good.” Setting his hands upon the polished mahogany table, Director Wilde proceeded to give them the facts. Mary had already memorized them, and so she let the director’s words drift over her as she studied Talent. The man was good, his strong, blunt features not revealing any hint that he might have personal knowledge of the Bishop of Charing Cross’s most recent kill.

One powerful arm rested upon the table, and the fabric of his plain black suit coat bunched along the large swell of his bicep. Talent did not so much as twitch when the director set down a photograph of the last victim.

“Mr. Keating of Park Place,” said Director Wilde. “As with the other murders, he has been branded with the Bishop’s cross. The sole difference in this victim is that, while the others were demons, this man was a shifter, and by all accounts a law-abiding citizen of London.”

Mary glanced at the photo, featuring a young man stripped naked. The cross branding his chest was a raw, ugly wound, but it was his eyes, wide and staring, that made her clockwork heart hurt. It was the expression of an innocent man pleading for mercy.

Talent looked as well. And when he did, she watched him. The ends of his brows lifted a fraction, and she was inclined to believe that he was surprised. Then again, he had always been a fine actor. In the beginning of his association with the SOS, Talent had made a name for himself by successfully tricking a powerful primus demon into believing he was Poppy Lane. Of course being able to shift to look exactly like Poppy had been part of it, but it was his mimicking of her character to the letter that had made the difference between success and catastrophe.

How could a man who had nearly died defending others be a murderer? But Mary feared she understood all too well. Although he was arrogant, obnoxious, and a general ass, he’d survived an ordeal that would break most men. Was he irrevocably broken?

“Do you recognize the victim, Master Talent?”

Wilde’s query had Mary focusing once more.

Talent’s heavily lidded eyes lifted from the photograph. “Shifters by nature are a solitary lot. No, I did not know Mr. Keating.” His long fingers curled into a fist upon the table. “I was under the impression that the SOS kept the identity of shifters secret.”

The director’s mouth tightened. “We do. There is no indication that the files have been breached.”

Talent made a noise that might have been construed as a snort, but it was just soft enough to get by Wilde without earning any reproach. For once, however, Mary agreed with Talent’s sentiment.

After researching long into the night, Mary had learned that, in the last hundred years, the SOS had made a concerted effort to locate and document the existence of all shifters living in Europe. A daunting task. However, when the Nex began hunting shifters for their blood—whose properties gave demons the ability to shift into anything—the SOS, realizing its mistake in outing shifters, provided as much protection as it could by offering them new identities and keeping their whereabouts hidden. But it was a constant battle, for the Nex, an organization dedicated to seeing supernaturals rule the world over humans, was resourceful and ruthless.

Talent leaned forward a fraction. “Who was Keating? Before?”

“Johannes Maxum.” Wilde pulled a paper from his file and handed it to Talent. “He’s an older shifter. Date of birth unknown, but he once worked as an alchemist for Augustus the Strong in the quest to discover the Chinese’s secret to making porcelain.”

Talent scanned the page, then set it down. Protocol dictated that he hand the paper to Mary, and she might have been insulted at his obvious slight, had she not been expecting it. No matter, she’d read about Maxum as well. Besides, Talent’s juvenile tactics would not cow her.

In any event, Director Wilde was now looking at both of them. “Research has been instructed to provide any and all assistance you might require.”

“Thank you, Director,” Mary said. “We shall keep you informed as the case proceeds.”

Talent’s jaw snapped up as if he’d been punched. “We?”

The force of his inner agitation was a maelstrom creaking against the walls. Any moment now it would break. Mary remained calm. “We are to be partners now, Master Talent. Or haven’t you been paying attention?” And I will stick to you like a barnacle until I find out the truth.

The small vein at his temple pulsed. “I work alone. Always have.”

Wilde laid a hand over the file. “There is a time to every purpose under the heaven, Master Talent. Which includes knowing when to receive help.” The steely look in the director’s eyes made it clear that Talent would find no leeway should he protest.