Page 92 of Capitol Matters

I had reasons, but not ones I was willing to share with him. Bridges were burning all around me—withGrimm, Maximus, and probably Holland, too—and the wall around our city only encompassed the land. If my brother and I were in the market for a new home, I could think of none better than the kind that could ferry us away from here.

If Ripley thought Ihad nerve to ask him for the plague cure after our clash at the gala, Nash must have felt similarly when I stopped him on my way out of the house with a request for five memory potions to go.

He didn’t ask questions, simply met the demand, then gave me a skeptical look as I hurried toward the exit. Donovan didn’t want me along for this task, and I wouldn’t put it past him to ditch me if I held him up.

I skidded out into the Bitters’ End’s gravel lot and found the Bronco idling with my brother in the passenger seat. He gestured to the driver’s side, and I wasted no time sliding behind the wheel while juggling the tiny potion bottles Nash had provided.

Donovan had his nose buried in his cell phone and the radio blaring. I took that to mean he didn’t want to chitchat, so I hummed along to the music. The queue of songs didn’t cut to commercial until we were nearly to Lock n’ Roll. In that time, I’d burned through a cigaretteand roughed out a plan I was ready as I’d ever be to share. Over the monotone of the local weather report, I spoke.

“Everything’s gonna be fine. Let me do the talking.”

Donovan frowned. “What talking?” He tracked the memory potions as I stuffed them into my sweatpants pockets. “What are those?”

I raised the final bottle to the sunlight for a shake. The purple fluid inside bubbled. “Mind wipe,” I answered. “Can’t have these fine folks remembering anything except what I’m about to tell them.”

We cruised past the front office, hitting the entry speed bump well over the suggested 5 MPH limit.

“You still got that mask in here?” I peered into the passenger floorboard.

Donovan opened the glovebox and retrieved the scrap of black leather I’d worn the night I nabbed Lover Boy.

With a crook of one finger, it flew from my brother’s hand to mine. I pulled it over my mouth and nose and hoped it would be at least as effective as Clark Kent’s glasses at concealing my not-so-secret identity.

“Whatareyou gonna tell them?” Donovan asked after a quiet moment.

Steering the Bronco down a row of units, I explained, “That if they want to walk away from this, the city gate needs to open. So, they’re gonna have to decide real quick what they value more: their political views or their lives.”

Donovan processed the words, but I wasn’t sure he understood until he asked, “Are you sure you know whatyou’re doing? The last few days? The last few weeks? You’ve been…”

My eyes cut a hard angle to pin him with a look, warning him to proceed carefully.

“Weird!” He threw up his hands. “You’ve been really weird. Even before you went to prison.”

He continued despite my scoffing laughter.

“You tried to run me out of town. Nearly scared off everyone who wanted to join the gang. You gave away the plague cure. To an investigator, of all people. And you’re fighting with Grimm all the time. You even got Nash to ban him from the bar—”

“That wasn’t my idea,” I cut in.

Donovan shook his head. “It’s just a little crazy, is all. Like you’re a loose cannon or something.”

He shrugged and looked aside, but I couldn’t stop staring at him. Those weren’t his words. My brother, with his third-grade education, didn’t say things like that. But he did repeat them when he heard them from others.

We reached the far corner of the property and stopped before the row of units Grimm had reserved. I shoved the gearshift into park and let the SUV’s subtle rock drive a breath from me.

“What does that even mean, Donnie? ‘Loose cannon?’” I swiveled in my seat to face him. “Do you know?”

His mouth tweaked something between a frown and bitten-back words. Finally, he said, “Like… you’re dangerous.”

“Dangerous?” I echoed. “To who?”

And who had been filling his head with thatnonsense?

I glanced at the phone gripped in his hand and got a pretty good idea.

“I’m no threat to you, Donnie,” I said. “That’s for damn sure. You have nothing to worry about.” Killing the engine, I swung open the door and bounded from the vehicle.

It was quiet save for the distant sounds of traffic in this industrial part of town. Walking forward, I jingled Donovan’s key fob, sorting through the small, silver keys corresponding to eight roll-up doors. Approaching the nearest one brought Donovan rushing up from behind. He darted around in front of me and raised his hands in a defensive pose.

---