Perched in the other chair, his back straight and his sallow face expressionless, was Tarquin.
Wolf snarled and lunged forward. I caught him by his hair, and he folded down to the floor, his knees hitting with a thump that shook the entire room. “No.” I yanked his head back, exposing his throat. “ No , Wolf. He will kill you.”
He might very well kill us both . I met Quinn’s flat dark gaze, his jaw set and a muscle ticking in his cheek. His hair was cut military-short, as ever, and he wore boots to match mine. No spot of blood fouled his leathers. The room could have been a charnel house and still he would have been pristine. Only once had I seen him covered in blood, and screaming.
I shuddered to remember.
“I am not here to kill you.” Flat, as usual, each word with the same monotone weight.
Wolf surged forward. I tightened my grasp in his shaggy hair and pulled him back. Quinn watched this, and a shadow of amusement fluttered in his dark eyes.
“Then what?” The enormity of the treachery threatened to choke me. “ He did this. Your precious White King. He gave over his own kind to mortals!”
“Eleni.” Tarquin’s gaze dropped to the lykanthe. “You were a Promethean, however briefly. You were a prize for him . When you left, he took it ill.”
“No more ill than you did?” Old hurt rose.
That garnered a response. His face twisted briefly. It was shocking, a break in his customary immobility. “I made you. I do not wish to see you unmade.”
He said it as if it would be so easy. I did not doubt that for him, it would be.
Then why had he not done it already? Why wait here, with the last victim but one of my vengeance dead on the crusted sheets of the narrow bed? “Why?”
“Because Leonidas is my King. I cannot stop him.” He paused, considering. “Not yet.”
Somewhere in the tenement, a baby woke. Its shrill faraway cry spiraled into an agony of need. In the street, gunfire echoed.
“But you will?” I did not credit my ears. His name was synonymous with loyalty, and had been for far longer than my own long lifespan.
He nodded once and rose, smoothly. Wolf tensed, and now Quinn looked faintly amused. “Only you would preserve a lykanthe .” One corner of his mouth pulled up, a millimeter’s worth. On him, it was as glaring as a shout.
I opened my mouth to tell him what he could do with his amusement, and his master. But he forestalled me.
“Take your dog and flee. I will tell Leonidas you are dead. Preserve what you can elsewhere, and stay away from the White Court and the Red.” He indicated the bed with a swift, economical motion, and I dragged Wolf back as if his hair were a chain. “Some day, Eleni, I will avenge all his victims. Then I will need your help.” He stopped, hands dangling loose and empty by his sides. “Do we have a bargain?”
I considered this. “Why should I trust you?”
“You are still breathing, are you not? And so is he.” This time it was a flash of disdain as he stared down at the growling lykanthe . Sooner or later my hold on Wolf would slip. Then what?
“Very well.” The words were ash in my mouth. “Make him suffer, Quinn. He must suffer to his last breath.”
“Have no doubt of that.” Quinn pointed at the bed again. “I am not merciful, Eleni. That is why you left me.”
“No—”
But he was gone. The window was open, and the cloth-tearing sound of a Kin using the speed slapped the walls. I stared at the body on the bed, the dried lumps of the lungs. Exquisite, and I could be sure Quinn had done it with no wasted motion, not a single wasted drop of blood.
“I left because you did not love me,” I finished, because it must be said.
Wolf sagged, and I realized my hand was still cramped in his hair. I let go with an effort. He caught himself on splayed hands, crouching, shaking his head as if it hurt.
“Bad.” He peered up at me, craning his neck. “Bad vrykolak. ”