Page 73 of Edge of Darkness (Night Prowler 4)
“Which is?”
“Information. If you have to choose between the lesser of two evils, you need as much information as possible in order to decide which way to go. It might not make you less conflicted, but at least you’ll get some comfort knowing you did all you could to inform yourself beforehand.”
Christian looked up from his desk and looked through the library windows to the day outside, sunny and bright. “Thanks, brother,” he murmured, watching a tiny white butterfly hover over a blooming bush of rosemary outside, then fly out of sight with bumpy grace.
“Don’t mention it. Can we get on with the conversation now?”
Christian smiled. Leander hated discussing things over which he had no control. “Aye, aye, captain.”
“Good. I’m emailing you all the information I have about this character Jahad who’s now running the Expurgari—”
“How’d you get it?” Christian asked, surprised. The Expurgari—a group of religious zealots affiliated with the Catholic church since the time of the Inquisition who’d made it their mission to eradicate the Ikati—were notoriously secretive, their ranks impenetrable. If the Council of Alphas, of which Leander was leader, had obtained any information on their enemy, it almost certainly involved a great deal of danger or bloodshed or both. This was confirmed with Leander’s next, darkly spoken, words.
“The old-fashioned way.”
Christian understood in an instant: interrogation. Torture.
“You caught one of them.”
Leander made a noise of assent. “Near the Quebec colony. We think he was doing recon.”
“For?”
“We don’t know. Unfortunately he expired before we could find out. Xander is a little too good at his job.”
“Xander’s back?” This, too, was a surprise to Christian. Xander was the tribe’s most feared assassin from the Brazilian colony who’d retired a few years ago.
“So is the rest of The Syndicate,” Leander said, respect evident in his voice. Then his voice turned lighter, filled with amusement. “And so is Morgan. Apparently retirement didn’t suit them.”
Morgan Montgomery. At the mention of her name, Christian had
to smile.
Xander’s wife, the first woman ever to serve on an Assembly, the first person to remind you she’d rather kick your ass than say hello, was a force of nature and fierce with a capital F. They’d grown up together, and he suddenly felt a pang of homesickness when he thought of her and all the trouble they’d gotten into when they were young.
Then he felt a second pang—darker, more twisted—when he thought of another woman who could be described by a word with a capital F: his little firecracker.
An ache unfurled in his chest like a snake unwinding its coils.
He’d fallen for her fast, hard, and completely, in spite of his attempts to keep away, to keep his head. And now that she wasn’t around, he felt like one of those people who’d had a limb cut off but still felt it itch and throb, a phantom presence that wouldn’t fade no matter how he tried to distract himself. No matter how hard he wished it away.
There was just something about her. Something that stuck. He realized she’d gotten under his skin in a way he’d never expected…and couldn’t appreciate fully until she wasn’t there anymore.
He’d stared at her number on his cell phone for so many hours over the past few weeks the image was probably burned into his retinas.
He tuned back into the conversation just as Leander was saying, “…we did find out however, that they still don’t know about the colony in Brazil. Which is damn good luck, since most of the other colonies have been moved there. It’s just a matter of time, though. If they’re watching us and we’re leaking deserters like a sieve, they’re going to catch one of them before we can. And our goose will be cooked.”
Which meant it was even more important Caesar be dealt with—immediately.
“They’re keeping a very low profile, wherever they are,” said Christian. “They’re being careful. I’ve been back to Gràcia nearly every day since…”
He didn’t say “since the murders,” because that would have been a little too obvious—and he’d already taken such a shitstorm of criticism over the debacle that he didn’t want to bring it up again. If he were anyone else, at any other time, that kind of display in public would have signed and sealed his death warrant. The Ikati had lasted in the human world as long as they had because of only one thing: secrecy. Not that it mattered anymore.
“But they’re nowhere. They’re ghosts.”
“Well, even ghosts can leave trails. Just keep your eyes and ears open. And listen—there’s one other thing.”
Christian waited, his attention now caught by the edge in Leander’s voice, the new undertone of warning.
