The Dream Crafter(68)

“What cares Tenro of such pitiful concepts as good or evil? Tenro cares only what will help its plan, and what will hinder it. Ask yourself – why does such a weapon care if my Master merely touches it? Why would it reject him so violently, if it does not care of good or evil, and knows my Master had no desire to take it?” Zemar leaned closer, his dark voice low. “Why would Tenro care, save it knows my Master might interfere with its ultimate plan? Now think, Battle Mage…why would it believe my Master to be a threat?”

In her mind’s eye Laire beheld Fallon and Reign as they looked from her perch in the doorway. The Master Vampire leaning into Fallon, his eyes not leaving hers even as his hand reached for Tenro, a hand that twitched as it passed her cheek, a half-formed thwarted movement to deviate from its course and land on flesh instead of metal. Fallon’s chin raised in defiance but before she stopped herself, that same chin had tilted only a fraction, only a moment, to bare her neck to him.

Zemar inclined his head and stepped back, always facing her, his dark eyes daring her to look away from him, to deny him and all he revealed. “We have informed Lady Fallon you have the Spellbook. Our business is concluded.”

Laire waited several long moments after Zemar had disappeared. Sure it was because she wanted to make sure he wasn’t lurking anywhere and had a trap out for her.

…Sure.

She needed to get home, and rest, and toss this book into a corner until she could give it to Tec in the morning, so he could put it in the new, spiffier safe that honest really wouldn’t ever get broken into.

Damn vampires. Always screwing with you. She should have grabbed a pizza tonight instead of letting her curiosity rush forward. Turning the corner to head where she might be able to get a cab Laire almost ran into someone. The large body blocked her path, and this late at night, the long hair appeared brunette except for the strands underneath the streetlight, which gleamed their true red.

Well shit.

Laire cleared her throat and held out the book. “Do you want me to give you the Spellbook, or is me having it good enough?”

Fallon’s gaze was unwavering, a heavy weight Laire quelled under. “You having it is good enough. Give it to Tec once we get back to headquarters.”

Trying to lighten the atmosphere, Laire said, “Don’t quote me, but I think Zemar might have a crush on you. If it wasn’t for that assassin of the damned thing, I’d encourage you to go for it.”

Fallon was a stone wall both in expression and in bearing, both of which Laire was familiar with, and neither of which were usually directed at her.

She’d come here knowing she’d have to explain herself to Fallon, and dammit, she’d do it again if faced with the same choice. If Fallon didn’t know that about her by now, the woman wasn’t paying attention. Laire threw up her hands and said, “I’m nosy. This should not be a shock to you. He volunteered to answer a question, so of course I was going to come here. It’s not like there was anything he could say to make me betray you.”

The short nod Fallon gave was involuntary if the annoyed expression that followed right after spoke true. Still, Fallon softened a bit, the annoyance she was expressing now only half-genuine.

Okay, maybe three-quarters genuine. But no more than that.

“Yeah, you are, and everyone knows it. Really, the only thing I should be surprised about is how long it took the little fink bastard to contact you.”

Sensing victory in the air and with her stomach giving a small growl, Laire kept the forgiveness train going. “Can we go? I’m hungry. Hamburgers would be great.”

Fallon was giving some serious side-eye, but seemed to decide it was no longer productive to be angry, because she nodded and turned, walking toward the road, and Laire hurried to fall into step beside the redhead.

Laire gave it a few moments to let the silence become more companionable before she asked, “Is anything he said true?”

That had Fallon stopping again, and this time her face was drawn, worn down in ways she’d never allowed revealed in all the time Laire had known her. “What parts are you asking about, specifically?”

Reign’s face sprung through her mind, and Laire beat it down. Curiosity be damned. She would not make the mistake of asking anything concerning him. “Tenro?”

Fallon’s lip quirked in anything but amusement. “What I do is because of me. Because I decided. Not some bitch of an Oracle, not a hunk of metal, and not any magic from any Realm or any asshole who wields it. It’s all me, and fuck anyone who says otherwise.”

There was a raw truth to Fallon, a directness she seldom displayed, a weariness she’d never displayed, and it tore into Laire, made her want to grab up the much larger woman and wrap her in cotton and settle her down to sleep for a week.