murderous glare in his direction, a vein throbbing in my temple. He didn’t seem terribly bothered by it, though he didn’t meet my gaze for long. If the bite marks were his idea of “watching out” for Sara’s health, I could give him a few puncture marks of his own to see how it felt.
Sara’s hand on my chin forced me to look back at her instead. She gave it a little shake. “Stop that. He’s done the best he could. What about you? Are you okay? How are you holding up?”
I took a breath and forced myself to relax. “I’m okay. As well as could be expected, I guess. Any idea what’s going on? With the cops, the FBI?”
“Someone broke Mr. Carlyle’s cover,” Gideon said, but from the tone of his voice I wasn’t sure how he felt about it. When I looked back at him, he was staring at the video camera above the door.
Much as I wanted to ask questions about his plans, I didn’t dare. Not while we were being watched. I hated it, but I’d have to trust that he’d give me a signal when he was ready.
I gestured for Sara to follow me back outside. As I led the way, she looked around, one brow raised, otherwise not seeming very impressed with the surroundings. Maybe she was staying in an equally opulent prison. I had no idea if Max had stuck her in a closet or another big suite of rooms. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.
Gideon trailed after us, adjusting the cuffs of his long-sleeved shirt, which was a dark green that matched his eyes. Sara and I sat down and the necromancer leaned against the door frame, watching from afar with obvious interest. The others gave us a wide berth but kept an eye on Sara and me. Mostly on me. Except for Iana, whose golden eyes were glowing intently as she stared unblinking at Gideon, her hands hooked into twitching claws.
“There’s got to be a way out of here. Some way of letting those cops know we’re here.”
Sara shook her head. “I don’t see how. I heard you guys banging on the bars before we came in.”
That gave me pause. I looked down at the seat, then back at the window. The wrought iron bars didn’t have enough room between them to squeeze a hand through to bang on the glass, but they did leave enough room for one of the chair legs.
I rocketed to my feet, grabbing the chair and scraping it across the inlaid tile. “God damn, Sara, this is why I love you. You’re fucking brilliant.”
Puzzled, she rose, following me at a slower pace. “Uh ... thanks? What’d I say?”
“Grab a chair. Come on, the rest of you, too!” I hefted the one I’d dragged over to the iron bars, adjusting the legs to poke through the holes. As soon as the others saw what I was doing, they all went for chairs and stools, anything that might have legs long enough to reach the windows beyond the bars. We wouldn’t be able to get out, but we might be able to attract some notice from the cops searching the grounds.
I shoved at the chair, braced for the impact against the glass. It shivered and chipped under the blow, but didn’t crack.
The others started doing the same. Iana and I did the most damage. In addition to being soundproofed and tinted, the damned windows must have been bulletproof or something. Hairline cracks were the best we could do, even with supernatural strength, but I was betting the noise might attract attention if we kept it up.
Gideon didn’t try to stop us, but he did turn a newly appraising eye in my direction when I glanced at him over my shoulder.
The rest of us continued our assault on the windows, doing everything we could to make noise. That is, until someone smacked me on the back of the head hard enough that my forehead snapped forward to hit the chair, momentarily knocking me senseless. I fell to the floor and the chair landed on my chest hard enough that I was sure there would be a huge bruise on my ribs and stomach later.
Breathless and stunned, once I blinked the blurriness out of my vision and could do more than gasp air into my constricted
Sara’s hand on my chin forced me to look back at her instead. She gave it a little shake. “Stop that. He’s done the best he could. What about you? Are you okay? How are you holding up?”
I took a breath and forced myself to relax. “I’m okay. As well as could be expected, I guess. Any idea what’s going on? With the cops, the FBI?”
“Someone broke Mr. Carlyle’s cover,” Gideon said, but from the tone of his voice I wasn’t sure how he felt about it. When I looked back at him, he was staring at the video camera above the door.
Much as I wanted to ask questions about his plans, I didn’t dare. Not while we were being watched. I hated it, but I’d have to trust that he’d give me a signal when he was ready.
I gestured for Sara to follow me back outside. As I led the way, she looked around, one brow raised, otherwise not seeming very impressed with the surroundings. Maybe she was staying in an equally opulent prison. I had no idea if Max had stuck her in a closet or another big suite of rooms. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.
Gideon trailed after us, adjusting the cuffs of his long-sleeved shirt, which was a dark green that matched his eyes. Sara and I sat down and the necromancer leaned against the door frame, watching from afar with obvious interest. The others gave us a wide berth but kept an eye on Sara and me. Mostly on me. Except for Iana, whose golden eyes were glowing intently as she stared unblinking at Gideon, her hands hooked into twitching claws.
“There’s got to be a way out of here. Some way of letting those cops know we’re here.”
Sara shook her head. “I don’t see how. I heard you guys banging on the bars before we came in.”
That gave me pause. I looked down at the seat, then back at the window. The wrought iron bars didn’t have enough room between them to squeeze a hand through to bang on the glass, but they did leave enough room for one of the chair legs.
I rocketed to my feet, grabbing the chair and scraping it across the inlaid tile. “God damn, Sara, this is why I love you. You’re fucking brilliant.”
Puzzled, she rose, following me at a slower pace. “Uh ... thanks? What’d I say?”
“Grab a chair. Come on, the rest of you, too!” I hefted the one I’d dragged over to the iron bars, adjusting the legs to poke through the holes. As soon as the others saw what I was doing, they all went for chairs and stools, anything that might have legs long enough to reach the windows beyond the bars. We wouldn’t be able to get out, but we might be able to attract some notice from the cops searching the grounds.
I shoved at the chair, braced for the impact against the glass. It shivered and chipped under the blow, but didn’t crack.
The others started doing the same. Iana and I did the most damage. In addition to being soundproofed and tinted, the damned windows must have been bulletproof or something. Hairline cracks were the best we could do, even with supernatural strength, but I was betting the noise might attract attention if we kept it up.
Gideon didn’t try to stop us, but he did turn a newly appraising eye in my direction when I glanced at him over my shoulder.
The rest of us continued our assault on the windows, doing everything we could to make noise. That is, until someone smacked me on the back of the head hard enough that my forehead snapped forward to hit the chair, momentarily knocking me senseless. I fell to the floor and the chair landed on my chest hard enough that I was sure there would be a huge bruise on my ribs and stomach later.
Breathless and stunned, once I blinked the blurriness out of my vision and could do more than gasp air into my constricted
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