Shane reached through the bars and cupped her jaw. His fingers felt the same as ever, the same roughness of calluses against her skin, exactly the same pressure, as he tilted her chin up toward him.
“It’s still me,” he said, in the paladin’s voice.
She stared into his eyes, trying to see past them, feeling as if she was trying to see the silver at the back of a mirror instead of the reflection.
Something wrapped around Marguerite’s torso like a band of steel, and then she was being dragged back, away from the bars.
It was Wren. The other woman’s breath was harsh in her ears, but she showed no sign of strain at having physically pulled Marguerite away. “It’s not him,” she said. “It’s the demon.”
“I am not possessed,” Shane said, in the paladin’s voice, low and calm. “You know that I can’t lie like this.”
“When a demon’s involved, I don’t trust anything,” Wren snapped.
“Really, that’s fair,” said Wisdom, mostly to the ceiling.
Shane sighed, and it certainly sounded like Shane sighing. A demon might imitate the voice and the expression, but could it really get the sigh right?
“You’re free to go,” said Wisdom. “The rest of you, anyway. Bruno, unlock the door.”
“The rest of you?” Marguerite’s gaze swung from the demon to Shane. “What does that mean?”
“I’m staying.”
“Like hell you are!” Marguerite snapped.
Bruno cautiously stepped into the line of fire, unlocked the door, then hastily retreated.
“I have to stay,” Shane said, not meeting her eyes. “That was the deal so the rest of you could go free.”
“We’ll return your friend’s axes, too,” said Wisdom. “Though you’ll forgive me if we wait until after you’re outside the building.”
Shane pushed the door open. Wren immediately shoved Marguerite behind her and braced herself, clearly expecting a fight, even though Shane was doing nothing more threatening than standing there.
“We’ll renegotiate the deal,” said Marguerite. “You’re not staying here.”
“I’m afraid this particular detail is non-negotiable,” said Wisdom. “Or rather, the deal is already done.”
Shane finally met her eyes, and surely he couldn’t be possessed, because no demon could have poured that much agony into a single glance.
“No deal is non-negotiable,” Marguerite began, praying that it was true.
And then Wisdom’s mask…slipped. Or, more likely, the demon simply stopped pretending to be human. Much later, Marguerite would wonder if it was trying to prove a point, or if it simply was tired of talking.
“This deal is,” it said, and its jaw moved wrong and its eyes were wrong and its voice had a timbre that buzzed and crawled along the spine and drove needles in wherever it touched.
Marguerite stopped arguing. In the corner of her vision, she could see Davith pressed against the bars, trying to get as far away from that voice as he possibly could.
“Come on,” Shane said into the silence that followed. “I’ll see you as far as the river.”
There was a moment, when Wren had her axes back, that Shane watched her think about attacking him. She didn’t look at him and she didn’t do anything so obvious as hefting the axes, but the battle tide hissed in his ears and told him to be ready.
“If you do it,” he said tiredly, “Wisdom will probably insist on taking you instead. Please just…take this chance to get out of here. Please.”
In the end, he was fairly sure that the only reason Wren didn’t attack was because she couldn’t bear the thought that he might not fight back.
Marguerite wasn’t looking at him either. He couldn’t tell if she was furious or sick or sad. All three, maybe. He wasn’t used to seeing it, and some tiny part of him thought this is because of you and then he felt even guiltier.
He’d thought there would be a little more time. Weeks. Months. Maybe even a year or two, if he was very lucky, before things fell apart. Not a few days on the road, and then…this.