The Dream Crafter(77)
Fallon’s head tilted, and she kicked back further into the seat. “Your sister is no longer under our control. The job involved taking an item from Merc – I assume you know that name too, considering half the people in here have done jobs with him?” Yeah, he knew the name, and if Amana was around that fucker… His gut tightened, and at his nod, Fallon continued. “Well, Merc is Merc, and getting the best of him is near impossible. Bottom line, mission failed and he has your sister.”
“Is Amana alright?”
“As of last night, she was alive. Last sighting of her, no one noticed any obvious wounds. Other than that, I don’t know.”
Her voice held more emotion when she was asking about the scenery spell earlier than about his sister possibly being dead, and he couldn’t focus on the hatred that fact brought up, because he wouldn’t give any excuse to be thrown in the hole while his sister was in danger. “Why are you here?”
She leaned forward, her manner intent. “I have no interest in what happened ten years ago, and I have no need in seeing any type of justice served, if such a thing is possible. I only care about what your sister was supposed to get me, which is a Spellbook.”
“You don’t care my sister is under Merc’s control?” He needed to know absolutely where his sister stood with them.
“Nope. Why, you want me to lie about that? Would me getting weepy make you feel better?”
No. If she did that, he might let the berserker have full control. He wanted her honesty, because that was the way he was going to get his sister. “Tell me why you’re speaking to me. You can’t be here for the pleasure of torturing me with this information.”
“You want your sister. I want the Spellbook. Merc has both. So I’m going to get you out of here and aim you in his direction, and hope you can find the bullseye.”
Hundreds of fragments of thoughts, questions, and feelings shot through him, and through them all cut the only truth that mattered. “I only care about my sister.”
“Yeah, well, if Merc is dead, it’s easy enough to pick up a book next to him, isn’t it? That book is your ticket to freedom, after all.”
“I’ll be able to remain free?” His heart beat triple-time, shock speeding the muscle as if to process the words faster. Freedom. He pretended for his sister, but he never…not really…
Fallon clucked her tongue, like a schoolmarm at a disruptive student. “Depends. I want the Spellbook. You put that Spellbook in my hands, you get to stay out. I don’t get the Spellbook, you’re returning, only this time your sister won’t be on the allowed visitors schedule.”
That would be signing his death warrant. If he no longer had Amana to wait for, he had nothing. “And if I decide not to come back no matter what? Take my sister and run?”
“Do you really think this is my first rodeo? How dumb do you think I am? Let me be really clear, lest your prison-damaged psyche get any ideas. If you decide to grab your sister and run, I will make it my life’s mission to hunt her down and I’ll sic every god, wizard, and demon I can on both of you.” There was almost a note of the comical in Fallon’s declaration, a shade of exaggeration, but now her gaze locked with his and all humor, all flippancy left her bearing, and hairs rose on the back of his neck. “You don’t want to see what I’ll do to her if you run.”
No, he wouldn’t run. After Amana was safe, he’d get the Spellbook or die in the pursuit. “I’ll agree…on one condition.”
Fallon’s eyebrows rose, but that was the only sign of surprise on her face. “Go on, I’m listening.”
“If my sister is…” His throat closed, went raw. It was too close a possibility, and every superstitious bone revolted at mentioning that word. He breathed deep and pressed forward. “If my sister is dead, you don’t put me back here until I kill him and anyone else who might be involved. After that, I don’t care what you do to me, but the Guild lets me hunt.”
Those gold eyes went shrewd, and it took only half a second before she nodded, rising from the chair and making her way to the door, motioning for him to follow. “Let’s go show you what the world’s looking like these days.”
Chapter Forty-Two
‡
“I’ve found Hadrien.”
At Nemesis’s voice, Merc jerked up from the drowsy semi-slumber he and Amana were sharing right now, where he made lazy circles on her back, enjoying the sleep-warmed skin under his palm. “Who has him? And will they give him to you?”
“The Blackguard, and diplomatic talking hasn’t produced any results yet.”