Spirit and Dust - By Rosemary Clement-Moore Page 0,100
Carson came out. “You don’t have any reason to believe me, of course.”
True. But he also didn’t have any reason to lie at this point. And I had more important things to do than burst into tears or kick his ass. Or kick his ass and then burst into tears.
The phone on the librarian’s desk rang. Everyone stared at it like a piece of alien technology. “When did the phone start working again?” asked Marian.
“I don’t know,” said Smith, picking up the receiver. He listened for a moment, then held it out to me. “For you.”
I was, I suppose, expecting it to be Taylor. I managed not to fall over when I heard Devlin Maguire’s voice rumbling through the line.
“Miss Goodnight,” he said, “I am reliably informed that my daughter is inside that building. You have discharged your duty by leading us here—though perhaps with more drama than I would have liked.”
At his words, the rope of obligation fell loose from my psyche. I’d become so accustomed to the constant tension, I swayed a little before regaining my footing. “Reliably informed by whom?” I cared less about the geas and more about seeing Alexis safe. “Did they say where?”
“That is no longer your concern.”
His dismissal made me angry and distance made me brave. I turned my back on the room and hissed into the phone. “I know you knew about the Oosterhouse Jackal the whole time that Alexis has been in danger. Now she’s in here with a bunch of madmen. You should value your family a little more, Mr. Maguire.”
I was looking at him on the computer when I said it. I don’t know how he knew—how did he know we were in the library in the first place?—but he raised his gaze to the security camera and looked right back. “Our business is done for now, Miss Goodnight. Please, if you would be so kind, put my son on the line.”
At that casual “for now,” I bridled my anger and handed the phone to Carson without further comment. It was a short conversation, consisting of only single syllables on Carson’s end before he hung up the phone and addressed the library refugees.
“The, er, terrorists occupying this building have agreed to let you go. The police are going to send the armed response team up the fire stairs to come get you. Stay put until they get here.”
“What about you?” asked Marian. “You said we should stay here. What are you going to do?”
He caught himself rubbing his bruised shoulder again, and dropped his hand. “I’m delivering part of the ransom so they’ll let my sister go.”
The others reacted with worried acceptance as Carson walked out of the office. I stormed after him, much more vocal about my opinion of this idea.
“What part of the ransom?” I asked, following him to the laptop, where he pulled out the flash drive. “The book? That wasn’t part of the deal.”
He capped the flash drive and put it in his pocket. “You really think that matters? It’s part of making the Black Jackal, if you want to split hairs.”
“We can’t give them the real flash drive,” I argued. “We have to give them a decoy.”
“We are not doing anything.” He retrieved the spear he’d brought from the ancient America wing, then picked up one end of the table with his free hand and swung it out of the way. I wasn’t sure what that was supposed to prove. That he could channel Neanderthal strength? How much would that help against lions and Jackals and backstabbing brethren?
“You need me to watch your back,” I said, sliding between him and the door.
“You need to stay away from the Jackal,” he said. “I heard your aunt’s warning, too.”
He didn’t retreat from the door, which meant he didn’t retreat from me. I wasn’t used to having to plead my case. People either listened to what I had to tell them, or they didn’t and I didn’t care.
I cared a whole lot now. About stopping the Black Jackal and the Brotherhood, about protecting Alexis, and about Carson.
“You know there’s got to be a double cross in the works. You need one person there you can trust. If not for your sake, then for your sister—”
He took me by the shoulders, gazing down at me with surface calm and fathoms of emotion below.
“Stop. Talking.”
“But—”
“I need you to promise something. If anything happens to me, get into Maguire’s house. Tell Agent Taylor that if