people who have no clue whatsoever and think they’re helping.”
I chewed on that thought for a moment. Murphy wasn’t far off the mark. There were plenty of organizations and Lord only knew how many individuals who would want to stay on the Wardens’ good side, or who would want to impress them, or who would simply want to have a real reason to interact with them. Murph was probably right. There probably were tips flooding in from all over the world.
“They’ll check the tip out,” Murphy said. “But I’m willing to bet you real money that, depending on their manpower issues, it won’t happen until several hours after the tip actually makes it into the hands of the folks running the show—and with any luck, given the Council’s issues with technology and communication, that will take a while as well.”
I mulled that one over for a minute. “What are you saying?”
She put her hand on my arm and squeezed once. “I’m saying don’t give up yet. There’s still a little time.”
I turned my head and studied Murphy’s profile for a moment.
“Really?” I asked her quietly.
She nodded. “Yeah.”
Like “love,” “hope” is one of those ridiculously disproportional words that by all rights should be a lot longer.
I resettled my grip on the Rolls’s steering wheel. “Murph?”
“Mmm?”
“You’re one hell of a dame.”
“Sexist pig,” she said. She smiled out the windshield. “Don’t make me hurt you.”
“Yeah,” I said. “It wouldn’t be ladylike.”
She shook her head as we neared my apartment. “If you like,” she said, “take him to my place. You can hide out there.”
I didn’t actually smile, but her words made me feel like doing it. “Not this time. The Wardens know where you live, remember? If they start looking hard at me . . .”
“. . . they’ll check me out, too,” Murphy said. “But you can’t keep him at your place.”
“I know that. I also know that I can’t drag anyone else into the middle of this clust—this mess.”
“There’s got to be somewhere,” she said. “Someplace quiet. And not well-known. And away from crowds.” She paused. “And where you can protect him from tracking magic. And where you’d have the advantage, if it did come to a fight.”
I didn’t say anything.
“Okay,” Murphy said. “I guess maybe there aren’t any places like that around here.”
I snapped my head up straight.
“Hell’s bells!” I breathed. I felt a grin stretch my mouth. “I think maybe there is!”
Chapter Thirty-four
I came through my apartment door, took one look around the candlelit place, and half shouted, “Hell’s bells! What is wrong with you people!?”
Morgan sat slumped against the wall with the fireplace, and fresh spots of blood showed through his bandages. His eyes were only partly open. His hand lay on the floor beside him, limp, the fingers half curled. A tiny little semiautomatic pistol lay on the floor beneath his hand. It wasn’t mine. I have no idea where he’d been hiding it.
Molly was on the floor in front of the sofa, with Mouse literally sitting on her back. She was heaving breaths in and out, making the big dog rise and settle slightly as she did.
Luccio lay where I’d left her on the couch, flat on her back, her eyes closed, obviously still unconscious. Mouse had one of his paws resting lightly on her sternum. Given the nature of her recent injury, it seemed obvious that he would need to exert minimal pressure on her to immobilize her with pain, should she awaken.
The air smelled of cordite. Mouse’s fur, all down his left foreleg, was matted and caked with blood.
When I saw that, I rounded on Morgan in a fury, and if Murphy hadn’t stepped forward and grabbed my arm with both hands, I would have started kicking his head flat against my wall. I settled for kicking the gun away instead. If I got a couple of his fingers, too, it didn’t bother me much at the time.
Morgan watched me with dull, hardly conscious eyes.
“I swear,” I snarled. “I swear to God, Morgan, if you don’t explain yourself I’m going to strangle you dead with my own hands and drag your corpse back to Edinburgh by the balls.”
“Harry!” Murphy shouted, and I realized that she had positioned her entire body between me and Morgan and she was leaning against me like a soldier struggling to raise a flag.
Morgan bared his teeth, more rictus than smile. “Your warlock,” he said, his voice dry and leathery, “was trying to enter Captain Luccio’s mind against her will.”
I