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Reaper had crouched on her haunches across from me. She hummed with tension, jiggling her leg, glancing at the door.

But she didn’t tell me again to hurry. Instead, she slanted me a compassionate look, like she knew what it was to be starving. “Try a little blood-wine.”

I wanted to tell her where she could shove her compassion, but I didn’t have the energy.

I brought the bottle to my mouth and sipped. My stomach clenched but I managed to keep it down. I shook my head and rewrapped the burger.

“That’s enough for now.”

“I’ll put it in the backpack.” She stood up and reached for the burger.

“That’s okay.” My fingers tightened the half-eaten sandwich. “I’ve got it.”

Silver-gray eyes scrutinized me. I could tell she guessed why I wanted to keep the burger. It represented food—life—and even though I couldn’t finish it, I needed to know it was there when I was ready to eat more.

“All right.” She produced a cotton mesh shopping bag from her backpack and held it out. “Put it in here.”

While I put the burger in the mesh bag, she recorked the wine bottle and stowed it in her backpack. “Here.” She tossed me a black T-shirt. “I figured you could use this.”

“Thanks.” I caught it to my chest and met her eyes, as grateful for the clean shirt as for the food.

Then I looked away, angry at myself. Because she was a slayer, and I was her fucking target.

If she cleaned my wounds and fed me, it was to keep me alive long enough to get to my father. And if she brought me clean clothes, it was so I wouldn’t draw attention when we left Moreau’s lair.

I stripped off my torn, bloody T-shirt and pulled on the black one.

“Ready?” She shrugged into her backpack and offered me her hand.

I ignored the hand and heaved myself to my feet without help, even though it cost me. A man has his pride.

“Ready.”

15

RIDLEY

We caught a taxi on Saint-Germain Boulevard and took it across the river, where I told the driver to stop next to an alley. I paid him in cash and pulled Zaq into the alley.

I risked a quick look down the street. Ines had been following on foot. My suspicions had been right; Moreau was up to something. He knew this was my op. That he’d sent someone after us told me he didn’t trust me.

Ines sauntered in our direction.

I set my mouth to Zaq’s ear. “Go into the shadows.” I pushed him further into the alley.

“I can’t.” He slumped against the wall, face pale and drawn under the scruffy beard.

“Yes, you can, damn it. Now is not the time to turn into a fragile flower. Fade. Now.”

His eyelids lifted. The look he gave me was pure toothy-jaguar nasty, but he managed to complete the fade. Then his outline wavered as he started to return to the physical world. I had to reverse my fade, wrap my arms around him and pull him the rest of the way into the shadows.

Ines peered into the alley a second later. She took a few steps in and stopped inches away from me. She sniffed, testing for our scents.

I held my breath. She was close enough to hear the air that fought to push itself out of my lungs.

She spoke into her earpiece. French, of course, but simple enough that I understood. “Oui, I’m here.” A pause. “Don’t worry yourself, I’ll stay with them.” She headed down the street in the direction the taxi had gone.

My breath came out in a whoosh. I waited until I was sure we’d lost her, then dropped out of the shadows along with Zaq and released him. He bent over, hands on his thighs, dragging in oxygen.

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