Page 57 of Capitol Matters

Behind me, the Town Car’s doors closed with soft thuds, and the engine purred.

Grimm cleared his throat. “On the way, make sure you stop and change into something professional. You’ve caused enough of a stir today without giving additional cause for scrutiny.”

Biting back a response, I turned away from Grimm and Donovan. Let them sort this out. Let my brother prove he could manage it. And, if he couldn’t, I’d take care of it. Like I always did.

After three days ofapologies and excuses for my sudden disappearance, Holland seemed to have forgiven me. But, even with the investigator back on my side, I still had her father to contend with.

That was where I found myself Friday afternoon: summoned to Maximus Lyle’s office for an impromptu, and definitely off the books, meeting.

I sat cross-legged in one of the tufted leather guest chairs. Behind me, Maximus stood before the fireplace, watching the dancing flames.

“You’ve had a productive few weeks,” the older man began. “Earthquakes, bank robberies and, of course, your extracurricular activities…” He hummed a thoughtful sound. “Tell me, are you enjoying your time in the Capitol’s employ?”

Fishing into my jacket’s inner pocket, I pulled out a notepad. The investigators carried them for taking notes. I used mine to make origami.

“The paycheck’s nice,” I said. “I like the way I look in a suit. And I’m rarely bored, which is probably for the best. Idle hands and all.” I tore a sheet from the pad and leaned over Maximus’s desk, folding it then dragging my thumbnail along the creases for added crispness.

The three surviving kidnapping victims remained at Lock n’ Roll. Grimm and Donovan had schemed and, whatever solution they’d come up with, Donovan refused to share it with me. I took that as a sign it wouldn’t hold up to the scrutiny he expected me to bring. Which was fine, as long as it was also fine that I didn’t bring anyone else to the storage units. I was taking a hiatus from abductions. Indefinitely.

Maximus continued to fiddle with the fire. Like Grimm, he possessed a less obvious magical gift. One well-suited to politics and discussions like this one, where it wasn’t only the heat from the burning logs that had me fighting off sweat.

Maximus was an empath. Almost as bad as brain-raping telepaths but worse for me. I could block thought probes with the best of them, but my head had never ruled my heart as well as I wished it would, making my tenuous emotional state a playground for a savvy empath.

I imagined that was what the old man was doing now. Looking busy while getting his hooks in me, readying for when the small talk ended, and the real discussion began.

“Holland thinks quite highly of you,” he said.

I didn’t buy that. Between my bouts of groveling, the lady investigator seemed to find me a nuisance despitehaving given me a license to kill. Okay, she’d very specificallynotgiven me a license to kill but, if we found ourselves in a situation where she flinched, and I didn’t… we’d already proven she couldn’t stay mad at me for saving her life.

Tucking in the last fold on a paper crane, I raised it in my palm. A nudging thought prompted it to shiver and stretch its angular wings. With a couple of test flaps, it took to the air, rising in slow circles to coast overhead.

Maximus turned and reached toward the bird as I steered it to land in his hand.

“Some people call that papermancy,” I said.

Maximus blinked at the origami creation.

“For someone who benefitted so heavily from his abilities being called into question, you seem determined to remove all doubt,” he said in a suddenly severe tone. “I heard about what you did at the bank. Making the men turn their guns on each other. There were witnesses, Fitch. Several of them.” His fingers closed around the bird, crumpling it. “It’s forbidden, what you’re doing. You must know that.”

“I thought it was the kind of firepower the Capitol wanted on their side,” I shot back.

He huffed a breath and tossed the paper wad into the flames. “Discreetly, perhaps. But I’m beginning to gather you’re no master of that.”

Emotions were brewing. Nothing damning yet, but I didn’t put it past the old man to read me like a lie detector given the chance.

I shifted my attention to the objects on his desk. A perpetual motion machine occupied the corner nearestme: a metal wheel with marbles between each spoke. A slight mental prodding started it spinning.

“However,” Maximus continued, “there is something about which you’ve beenmorediscreet than I expected.”

“And what might that be?”

If he dragged this on much longer, I might start rearranging his shelves.

“Four influential people have gone missing in recent days,” the old man said. “No evidence to speak of. No bodies found, even two weeks after the initial disappearance.”

There had been a body, all right. Yankee Doodle was served over ice to a hungry zombie seventy-two hours earlier. The irony was almost enough to make me laugh when Maximus concluded, “Not to call your efforts into question or your methods. But I would like to see some proof.”

“Proof of death?” I asked, unsure whether I should fight the smirk tempting my lips.

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