Page 37 of Capitol Matters

I stretched to see over the countertop piled with deposit slips and pens on beaded chains. All the snooping I’d already done had gone unnoticed but, this time, the conjurer happened to be looking my way.

“Fitch!” he shouted. “You snake in the grass! Youyellow belly! How could you betray us like this?”

Slumping back into Holland’s shadow, I grimaced. “Avery. His name is Avery.”

The investigator huffed a breath. Wisping tendrils of darkness swirled around her, making her platinum locks appear almost luminescent.

“That’s what I was afraid of,” she muttered. “Who are the others?”

For that question, I had no answer. She could have tortured me for information on the Bloody Hex fan club and come up dry.

I bounced my shoulders, owning my ignorance.

She nodded. “If they’re working with the Hex, they’re dangerous by default.”

“You might be surprised,” I said under my breath.

Avery had returned to business, unbothered by my presence, but at least he was playing along. I’d feared he’d go congenial on me and hang my Capitol cover out to dry. The fact that he hadn’t implied that he knew there was an audience to perform for, and that Holland’s shadow wasn’t as stealthy as she must have believed.

In profile, I studied Holland’s expression. It was tight and focused, like a predator on the prowl, but she made no move toward her gun.

“What are we waiting for?” I asked.

“There’s too many of them for us to manage alone,” she whispered back. “I have a call in to the tactical team.”

I remembered those brutes. The same commandos who covered me with laser sights at Jacoby Thatcher’s house. The ones who snapped a shock collar around my neck and damn near ran out the batteries giving electro-therapy to my twisted, criminal brain.

They would barge in with semi-automatic rifles and flashbang grenades. A whole production I’d like to avoid, and a strong enough showing by the Capitol that they might succeed in taking Avery in. Or out.

I poked an elbow into Holland’s side. “I seem to recall you facing down the entire gang during the Thorngate prison break. Put a hurt on Grimm and Vinton.” I grinned. “And that was just you. Now, it’s you plus me.”

“That was different,” Holland hissed. “This is a hostage situation.”

The reminder prompted another scan of the bank’s customers. It wasn’t a large crowd—plague times had pushed occupancy restrictions everywhere—but they looked pathetic. Surely some of them had the magical juice to fight back against Avery and the gang, but ours was a society trained into pacifism. Displays of power could frighten or harm our human visitors, and that policy hadn’t changed since the city gates closed.

Holland pulled off her sunglasses and dropped them in her breast pocket. “If we misstep, they’ll start killing civilians,” she said. “I can’t risk that.”

I cocked my head at her. “I don’t think you know what you’ve got here. I’m a valuable resource. A hot commodity. Put me in, coach. I wanna play.”

“Nobody’s playing anything!” she snapped, louder than her previously hushed tone. “This isn’t a game. It’s life or death.”

Ripley’s quip about Holland’s use of my skills, or lack thereof, echoed through my mind like a bell’s toll. In thelast two weeks, I’d been chauffeured around, loaned out, and bullied by people who, by Holland’s own admission, weren’t sure what to do with me.

Maximus had understood. He’d taken full advantage of being handed a loaded gun, ready to point and shoot. But that concept seemed to elude his daughter.

“Do you even know what I can do?” I jabbed a finger toward the outlaws slinging bags comically stamped with dollar signs. “I can take all of them on by myself. You’d be stupid not to let me help.”

Holland threw up her hands. “Maybe I’m not sure who you’ll help!”

My nose wrinkled before I replied, “Then let me show you.”

Standing from the swirlingcloud of darkness, I called across the bank lobby, “Avery!”

The conjurer spun round, his face alight with thrill. “That’s right. Come out and face me!” he crowed. “It’s high noon, and we’re gonna have ourselves a good, old-fashioned shootout.”

I emerged from behind the pamphlet counter in time to watch a tumbleweed roll from Avery’s hand and bounce across the floor.

Slowly approaching the kerchiefed conjurer, I replied, “You know, I’d love to do that, but,” I held out empty hands, “no gun.”

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