Idris bounded up the stairs. “Bryce, watch him,” he ordered with a jerk of his head toward Pellini. “Kara, with me.” He beckoned imperiously and moved to the far end of the porch.
Pellini scowled and tried to stand, but Bryce touched his arm and gave a slight head shake. “Probably best if you sit until you get your color back,” he said, tone mild. Pellini’s scowl deepened, but he settled back in the chair. Though he’d been around Bryce for less than an hour, he had enough cop-sense to recognize him as a man of action with skills honed by ugly experience.
I was dying to tell Idris what he could do with his imperious beckoning but since I really did want to know what he’d discovered I went ahead and followed him.
“I hope that stunt was worth it,” I said with a black scowl, though I kept my voice low.
“He’s marked by Kadir,” Idris replied matching my scowl and volume. “Head to foot. Inside and outside. Even with all potency stripped, he reeks of Kadir’s resonance.” Suspicion darkened his eyes. “I don’t know what he is, but I know he absolutely can’t be trusted.”
The declaration put my back up. “I agree that we don’t know what he is, arcanely,” I said, “But the not trusting him part doesn’t necessarily follow. He said ‘Mr. Sparkly’ came to him in his backyard, which leads me to believe it contains a valve.”
“And I intend to check that out,” Idris said. “However, right now this dude needs to be locked down.”
I counted to five in my head. “Yes, he’s a loose cannon and a potential threat,” I said. “He can stay here until we know more or can train him.”
Outrage flashed across Idris’s face. “Train him? That’s like loading a gun and passing it to the enemy!” He flicked his hand out as if brushing my comment aside. “You don’t know that he’s untrained.” He sneered. “You’re taking his word for it.”
My hand itched to smack the sneer off his face. “I’ve known the guy for a long time,” I countered hotly. “If he’s a mole he’s a damn good one. But, hey,” I continued, loading my voice with sarcasm, “maybe we should kill him to be on the safe side.”
“I didn’t say anything about killing him,” he shot back. “But I do say lock him down in the demon realm until he’s cleared. Neither of us knows what Kadir could pull off through him—even if he’s as innocent as he claims to be.”
“Right, because locking a potential threat down in the demon realm worked out so damn well when you and Mzatal did that to me.” Or had he forgotten that they had, in fact, fucking kidnapped me? And that it nearly ended in disaster when I escaped? “Sure, send him to the demon realm where he can be closer to Kadir. Great idea!”
A vein pulsed near his temple. “Yes, closer to Kadir, but away from people and places on Earth!” Tension held his shoulders stiff as he took a step toward me. “You don’t seem to get it. Kadir set him up to use him here.”
Lifting my chin, I held my ground and matched his anger with my own. “And Rhyzkahl set me up to use me,” I replied in a snarl. “You remember how close Mzatal came to killing me because of that?”
“I remember,” he said. “I also remember that, against all odds, he rescued you after he spared your life and you ran to Rhyzkahl.” His eyes went stone cold. “If he hadn’t pulled you from that ritual, the Mraztur would have turned you into Rowan, and everything would be fucked.”
I could only stare at him, gut punched by shock. “You . . . you think it would’ve been wiser for him to kill me?” I managed to reply, literally trembling. “You who were under the influence of the Mraztur for months?”
“I’ve been cleared,” he snapped. “And I didn’t say he should’ve killed you. I just want you to get what we’re dealing with and the potential damage that could come from the wrong decision.”
“I do get it, Idris,” and I managed to not add you condescending fuck to that. “Trust me, every time I look in the mirror and see the scars, I get it. But even so, I think it’s really shortsighted to lock up everyone we don’t understand or who might pose a threat. If you want to make more enemies, that’s the way to do it!”
“This is not simply someone we don’t understand!” He flung his arm in a harsh gesture toward Pellini. “Kadir has imprinted him. Kadir. One of the goddamn Mraztur.”
My eyes felt hot and gritty. “Your solution is to lock him down indefinitely all because he played in the wrong goddamn patch of sand when he was a kid.”
“Until he’s cleared,” Idris corrected, but I saw in his eyes that he knew it might not be possible to clear Kadir’s influence from Pellini—and wasn’t swayed by it. “And if his sandbox story is true,” he went on, “then no, it’s not his fault, and that sucks, but we can’t let a time bomb loose out of pity.”
“It’s not pity, it’s compassion,” I snapped. Learn it, asshole, I added silently. “Maybe we can gain an ally instead of guaranteeing we end up with an enemy.”