Page 301 of Shadowblood Souls
He hums to himself and adjusts his weight in the seat. I guess he’s probably getting a little restless too, stuck in this van with a particularly strange stranger.
He’s curious, though. Maybe I should be trying to make more of the opportunity.
Do more than sit here like a lump hoping I won’t need to do anything else.
When we were first driving out to this spot from the airfield, I tried nudging him for clues about where we are, but he shut those down quickly. Clancy must have instructed him not to tell us anything identifying.
“It’s safer for all of us,” was how he put it to us shadowbloods.
But even having more of an idea about how Clancy is reaching out to people beyond his Guardianship could be useful to know.
“The man who set up this mission with you,” I venture. “He told you about our powers?”
My guide shrugs. “Some. Not a lot. Enough to be sure that you should accomplish what you’re here to do.”
“It doesn’t bother you? Or did you already know that people like me and my friends exist?”
“Many unexpected things exist in the world. Better to work with those you can when it benefits you, not dismiss them or run away.”
He chuckles lightly, but his gaze flicks toward my back for just a second with the same wariness I’ve noticed before.
He’s happy touseour services, but that doesn’t mean he trusts us.
His mouth tightens with a momentary frown, and he twists a little farther in the seat to face me. “Your friends—they won’t touch anything they find in the house, will they? They only destroy the people.”
“That’s what we were told to do.” I can’t say whether Clancy might have given Riva and Jacob other instructions at the last minute. “Is there something important inside?”
He waves his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about it. That’s for us. That was the deal.”
An uneasy prickle runs down my spine at his words. Who is “us”? What “deal”?
I thought he was helping our mission because he wanted to see the child-slavery ring taken down too—for the good of his community. What would that have to do with anything the perpetrators are keeping in the house?
I try to tell myself that he could simply be thinking of records about the kids and where they’ve been sold or something understandable like that, but I can’t quite shake the sense that he didn’t mean it that way. Why would he avoid talking about it if that’s all he meant?
“Our boss does take his deals seriously,” I say carefully, watching the man’s expression.
He lets out a guffaw. “He should, with what he’s getting out of it.”
The prickle jabs deeper under my skin.
I try to keep my voice even, but I’m not sure I totally succeed. “What exactly is he getting out of the deal this time?”
This time, the man’s gaze darts toward my face rather than my back, with a flicker of panic as if he’s realized he’s said something he shouldn’t have. Then he turns to face the windshield.
“That’s between us and him. Not your concern, right?”
I’m sure as hell concerned now. “Are you saying that youpaidhim to take on these guys?”
That isn’t necessarily so bad, right? They could be a group of outraged citizens who raised the funds to hire someone to deal with a problem they couldn’t tackle themselves.
But the way he’s acting is setting off my internal alarms. And Clancy never mentioned anything about getting compensation—or about being called by the locals.
He made it sound like he’d found the slavers and decided they needed to be taken out all on his own.
“Did he come to you first or did you come to him?” I ask.
The man shakes his head. “We’re done talking about this.”
