The Mech Who Loved Me(109)

Ava nearly vomited in that moment.

The doors to Garrett's office slammed open, and Jasper Lynch, the Duke of Bleight, strode inside, his jaw firm and his nostrils thinned. Once upon a time he'd been the guild master, before he challenged his uncle for the duchy and took his uncle's place on the Council of Dukes that ruled the city.

It had been before her time with the guild, but Ava knew him well. Garrett and Byrnes considered him akin to a mentor, and he'd always been kind to her.

"How is he?" Lynch demanded, striding toward her and the door to Garrett's bedchamber.

"Alive," she whispered, choking on the sudden lump in her throat. She could see it all over again, feel Garrett's blood spraying across her face. "Though we haven't heard anything in the last half hour. Perry's with him."

"Who's this?" Lynch's gaze slid over Kincaid, and she had a funny feeling in her chest-almost as though she wanted to step between them, to protect Kincaid. But that was ridiculous.

"Liam Kincaid," the mech said. "I work with Ava for the Duke of Malloryn."

"The Duchess of Casavian's pet mech," Lynch said. "I remember you. From the night we stormed the Ivory Tower."

"I'm nobody's pet," Kincaid replied coolly.

Lynch's gaze flickered, very mildly, to her. "No?" Then he was heading for the door to Garrett's bedchamber. "Keep an eye on her. I should think a hot cup of tea laced with some blood wouldn't go astray."

"She's got her formula," Kincaid replied, lacing his arms across his chest, as though to prove he knew her better than the duke.

She hadn't told him she'd been taking blood.

"Sir." She caught Lynch's sleeve, and Lynch shot her a hawkish gaze that almost made her tremble. She'd been horribly out of sorts when it all happened, but now she needed to start thinking again. "I know you're aware I've been working with Malloryn on his special project."

"Yes, I recommended you to him."

He had? Ava pushed the thought aside. "This was planned, sir. Someone is behind these riots, stirring them up. We suspect it's Ulbricht, and he has enough of a certain type of poison to kill thousands of blue bloods, but the full depth of the plan is unknown." The words came out of her in a rush. "What I do know is this is a two-pronged attack. We don't know what they're planning with the poison, but they wanted to pit the Nighthawks against the humanists. If I hadn't called out to Garrett when I did, that bullet would have taken him right through the chest. It was deliberate, sir. There was a sniper, one who wasn't involved with the riot."



       
         
       
        

Lynch's face paled, but it wasn't a look of fear-but one of rage. "Why?"

"We think they meant to push this riot over the edge. If they assassinated the guild master, then nothing could hold the Nighthawks back from retaliation." She squeezed her eyes shut. "And it didn't hold them back. They crushed the mob. Forced them back. Beat them down. I've never...." She faltered. "These men are my friends, but I've never seen them like that before."

As if the loss of their leader drove half of them mad, their primal natures overrunning the strict control each Nighthawk was taught upon entry to the guild. Every blue blood knew what they were capable of, but she'd never seen it in such devastating detail.

"It felt like before," she whispered, "when the prince consort sent the Trojan cavalry through the streets crushing people, only this time, we were the prince consort and his automatons. We were the enemy."

Lynch's lips thinned at her assessment. "So they want war?"

"It's a ploy, Your Grace," Kincaid added. "Something designed to take us back into the past, when it was humans against blue bloods, and murder in the streets. Humans have always been wary of the Nighthawks, but they trusted them more than the rest of the Echelon. Nighthawks worked to solve their murders, and kept the worst of the crime down. All of that vanishes after today. And that's exactly what Ulbricht wants-fear, terror, people too frightened to go to the Nighthawks who might protect them. Even unrest."

She could practically see Lynch absorbing the information. "Who's in charge of the Nighthawks cleaning up after the riot?"

"Charles Finch." She hastened to add, "I tried to warn him not to retaliate and to keep order."

Lynch swore under his breath. "Give me a moment to see Garrett, then I'll head out to the scene. Finch's a good man, but he prefers to receive orders, not to give them, and they'll listen to me." Lynch rapped on the door. "Perry? Gibson?"