While she was speaking, the phone chirped letting me know that yet another call from a number I didn’t recognize was coming in. And so it begins.
“Listen, Lusa. For starters, I didn’t kill any of those people. And for another, I’m working with the authorities on this ongoing case, so I’m not free to offer exclusives or discuss it.”
“Interesting . . . so the story was what, a ploy? I’m guessing the retraction will be interesting. Maybe I’m glad you didn’t come to me.”
And I’d said too much already. How had I forgotten that anything beyond “no comment” was too much when it came to reporters? It was time to end this call.
“I have to go. There is another call coming in.”
“Wait, I—” Lusa started, but I said my good-bye over her and switched calls, prepared to tell whichever reporter was on this line that I had no comment on the current situation.
Except it wasn’t a reporter.
“You were supposed to find him. Not kill him,” a distraught voice yelled through the line as soon as I answered.
Taylor. I probably should have anticipated my client seeing that broadcast. I was going to kill Briar.
“Taylor, calm down. I promise that I didn’t kill Remy, and that wasn’t actually him robbing the bank.”
“Shut up. I never should have gone to you. I’m calling the police right now and telling them everything.”
Great. Well, the police were probably about to get a lot of calls about me. I wondered if Briar had passed this plan by them before releasing a story full of half-truths and misdirections.
“Feel free to call them. I’m working with the authorities on this case.” Which was more or less true. I was working under Briar, at least.
“Shut up, shut up, shut up. You’re a liar and a murderer,” Taylor said, her voice getting louder with every word until the final one broke into a sob.
The line went dead a moment later. She’d hung up.
Well, that definitely could have gone better.
I had to wonder what the police were telling people when they called. This was definitely not going to be good for business.
I shoved my phone in my pocket, and it immediately started ringing again, Jim Morrison’s slightly creepy lyrics alerting me that it was yet another unknown number without even looking. I didn’t answer. I was done with calls for a little while. I considered turning the phone off, or at least putting it on silent, but changed my mind. If someone I did want to talk to called, I wanted to be able to hear their ringtone. After all, it wasn’t like most people could track me down at the castle if they needed me.
As if the universe wanted to immediately refute that thought, a loud knock sounded on my door.
I jumped, my hand flying to the dagger in my boot. Which was a rather ridiculous reaction. For one thing, if someone meant me harm, they wouldn’t knock first. For another, the castle didn’t get visitors, which meant it had to be someone who lived here. Despite that, my heart thudded in my ears as I cracked open the door.
Falin stood in the hall, his hand lifted as if poised to knock again. Small lines pinched at the edges of his eyes, betraying either agitation or worry, I couldn’t tell, but I was guessing I was about to find out.
“Hi,” I said, hoping my smile didn’t look quite as feeble as it felt.
He didn’t return the smile. “What is going on?”
I opened the door wider, revealing the empty room behind me. “What do you mean?” I asked with as much innocence as I could summon.
Falin was not fooled. He stepped into the room, scanning the interior, but the action seemed more habit. Most of his attention remained fixed on me.
“What were you thinking, volunteering for this farce? Do you understand how much trouble you’ve just created yourself?”
I grimaced. “I take it you’ve seen the news?”
His look was answer enough. He’d seen it.
“Well, in my defense, I didn’t exactly volunteer. It was Briar’s bright idea and I didn’t find out until after the segment aired.”
Falin stared at me, and then he shook his head. He sank down into one of the overstuffed chairs. “Only you,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “You’ve put me in a terrible position.”
“You? How does this have anything to do with you?” Me, yeah. I was in a bit of an ugly spot. But what did it have to do with him? “I’ve seen absolutely no connection to any fae or to Faerie in this case.”
He frowned at me. “You. You’re the connection, Alex. You’re an independent in Winter’s territory, and an asset the queen still plans to exploit if she can. My job is to protect her interests, which means I really should take you into custody right now and drag you to Faerie until things cool off in the mortal realm.”
I gaped at him. He just sat there, studying me. When he didn’t immediately follow through on those threats, I crossed the space and sank into one of the other chairs.
“So . . .” I started, but I’d had a few too many shocks in the last few minutes, and my brain wasn’t coming up with anything clever to say.
Falin leaned back in his chair and ran his hand through his hair again. It was starting to look rather mussed. He still wore that same pinched expression, and I decided it was worry mixed with exhaustion. He was my friend. But he was also the head of the FIB and the queen’s bloody hands. If she gave him a direct command, he couldn’t disobey.
“How long before the queen is likely to hear about this?” I asked, because the silence was getting thick.
“I’m not sure. The situation in Faerie is . . . tumultuous. She’s currently rather distracted by potential threats from other courts. She might not hear about what is happening here for a few days, if you’re lucky.”
So he wasn’t going to act on his own. That was good.
“I’m surprised you’re out here if it’s that bad,” I said, and he just looked at me. “Crap. You’re not working in Nekros, are you? You go off fighting her duels and whatever other dirty work she has and then head back here for supper, don’t you?”
And with the way the doors to Faerie worked, as long as he got the timing right, he could spend days at a time in Faerie doing whatever the queen needed while only a few hours passed in the mortal realm. No wonder he’d looked so exhausted most nights. I’d foolishly thought that the queen had forgotten to lift the proclamation that forced him to live in my home. That he was working with the FIB in Nekros and the queen hadn’t questioned where he was living. But if he was in Faerie on court business regularly, she clearly was still sending him back each mortal night to keep an eye on her “asset.” Me.
“Given the change in circumstance,” he said, after another silence stretched a little too long again, “it might be prudent if I stay on your side of the door for the next few days.”
“I’m guessing you don’t mean in your office at FIB headquarters,” I said, sinking lower into my chair. He shook his head and I sighed. “So you’ll be what, my bodyguard? My keeper? My parole officer waiting for me to step over the line?”