Reckoning Page 0,46

right thing.”

“They found you?” August pushed past Christophe into the room, sweeping the door shut behind him. “When?”

Christophe had things he wanted to know, first. He locked the door, then slid past August and stalked into the room. “An incident with the police? Dru?”

I stopped dead. Stared at Graves.

You shouldn’t trust me.

No. I couldn’t think it. I just couldn’t. “Where did you get the cell phone? If you were looking for a signal, Graves, where did you get the phone from?”

His irises were black now, no trace of green. His hands in his pockets, his shoulders slumped. “Stole it out of some lady’s purse. That WalMart in Pennsylvania.”

“Oh, so that’s where Ash learned to shoplift, I bet?” My hands curled into fists. “God damn it, Graves—”

“Dru.” Christophe was suddenly next to me, his hand curling around my shoulder. “Leave it. If he had not called the Order, I would have sooner or later. You must be protected.”

“Yeah, real bang-up job they’ve been doing of it so far.” I tore away from him. “Who died and left you in charge of me, huh? I’m not going back to the Order. I’m heading we—oh.” I shut up. Telling August where I was headed was not a good idea. Except I’d already spilled the beans to Christophe.

Christophe grabbed my arm again, his fingers sinking in. His eyes burned blue. “The Maharaj have decided to ally with my father instead of with us. For what reason I cannot guess, unless they know something we do not and wish to treat with the victor instead of the vanquished. The Order will have a difficult enough time fighting on two fronts, and if the djinni-ji are watching for you as well, I prefer you safe within the Order’s defenses. Gather your things.”

All this time I’d been wishing for someone else to show up and take charge, and now that he was doing it, I seriously wanted to smack him. “The Order’s not going to protect me.” I tried yanking away from him again, but his fingers bit down and I stopped, glared at him. “Or Graves. Look how well that turned out. Why should I give them another chance to screw up and make my life miserable, huh? At least out on my own I know who to depend on!”

“Oh, I don’t think you do.” The aspect settled over Christophe, his hair slicking down, the blond highlights eaten by darkness. He looked as grim as I’d ever seen him. “I think you trust entirely the wrong people, kochana. Now.” Either he was shaking or I was, I couldn’t tell. “If you do not pack your things, August will, and I will drag you to whatever extraction point they’ve managed to hold in this city. Do you understand me?”

I stared up at him for a long moment. Ash whined softly, deep in his throat. The entirely mad idea that I could use the touch to make him jump Christophe floated through my head, but that would be stupid.

Still . . . the thought had some merit.

“Dru.” Augustine stepped forward, avoiding Christophe’s malaika on the floor in front of the TV. “Dru-girl, princess, please. There’s me and Hiro. And your wulfen friends. Reynard’s right, if the Maharaj are playing fast and loose we need to get you under cover. I know you’re scared, but please. Listen to us. We’ve got to get you out of here. There are nosferat all over the city; they’ve been on your trail since the warehouse. I don’t know how you’ve stayed alive so far—”

I don’t know either, Augie. It’s been a hell of a ride. For the first time, August was talking to me like I was a fellow adult. I couldn’t even feel happy about it.

“Let go of me.” I didn’t sound like myself. Christophe eased up a little, and when I took my arm away from him I could feel the aspect smoothing over bruises his grip had left. “Thanks, Augie. You’re the one who asks me instead of tells me whatever-the-fuck to do.”

He actually looked shocked. “Language, kiddo.” It was the same thing he would have said during the month I spent with him while Dad was up hunting something out Canada way—hunting, probably, for Sergej. I’d figured out that much later, at least. “Come on. Please?”

“I think we ought to move it along.” Graves stood, his hands in his pockets and his head cocked. “Whatever we’re going to do.” He sounded . . . weird. Flat, monotone, and