The Veil
Page 77
“My apologies. No offense meant.”
“Really? I’m pretty sure you said it just to gauge my reaction. So I think offense was quite intended.”
His jaw tightened. “I’m doing my job.”
“Which is?”
“Taking care of this city.”
I gestured at the store. “Then that makes two of us.”
“I understand you’re friends with Liam Quinn.”
I felt the blush creep across my cheeks. “I wouldn’t say friends.” I wouldn’t say a lot of things, but “friends” didn’t really seem to cover it.
“What would you say?”
Stick to what Containment already knew, I told myself. “As you’re probably aware, he’s training me.”
“You accompanied him into Devil’s Isle.”
“He thought I’d be a good bounty hunter. He wanted me to see it.”
Broussard leaned against the counter. “Being a bounty hunter would be a big change from running this shop.”
“I’ve already fought two wraiths,” I pointed out. “And I still run the shop.”
“Touché, Ms. Connolly.” He straightened, adjusted his suit jacket. “I understand you’ve seen his apartment.”
If the quick change of topic was supposed to trip me up, it succeeded. It figured there’d be cameras in Devil’s Isle, but not that Containment would have been interested enough to trace my movements, or his. Still, there was no point in lying, or in elaborating too much.
“Very briefly.”
“You know his sister died, and he has an unhealthy obsession with the manner of her death.”
I lifted my eyebrows. Had he seen the board, too? Had Containment been in Liam’s apartment? “His sister’s killer was a wraith. His job is hunting them.” I shrugged. “That seems pretty logical to me.”
“Does it? Or does it sound like a man obsessed? A man not quite stable?”
I wasn’t sure Containment was the best judge of anyone’s stability these days. “You’d have to take that up with him. Like I said, he’s training me, not psychoanalyzing me, or vice versa.”
Broussard nodded deeply, as though he was mulling over important, weighty things. “I could do that. I could talk to him. Wouldn’t be that hard to do.” He looked at me, considering. “He did mention that he investigated your father? Before he was shot, I mean?”
All the sound in the world dropped away. I’d never stood in silence so immense as the silence that fell around me in the wake of that question.
I’d gone into Devil’s Isle with Liam Quinn. I’d met his grandmother. He’d been in my store, met my friends, seen my magic. I’d told him things about me, about my family.
Maybe Broussard was lying. Maybe this was a setup, a trick, to get me to turn on Liam. But maybe it wasn’t. And he’d been hiding from me that he believed my father could have been a traitor.
Broussard watched my reaction, could probably see my skin buzzing with sudden and unexpected fury. “I see he didn’t tell you. That’s curious, don’t you think?”
He managed to look concerned, like he actually cared about my reaction, about my possible hurt. But I didn’t want his pity. And I certainly didn’t want his truth. I had my own to deal with.
I slid the owl closer, picked up a set of tweezers, was proud that my fingers weren’t shaking, because it was taking monumental control. “Get out of my store. And don’t come back unless you have a warrant.”
Broussard held up his hands. “I just thought you should know. In these times, we all have to figure out who to trust. In the meantime, be careful. It’s dangerous out there.”
“Really? I’m pretty sure you said it just to gauge my reaction. So I think offense was quite intended.”
His jaw tightened. “I’m doing my job.”
“Which is?”
“Taking care of this city.”
I gestured at the store. “Then that makes two of us.”
“I understand you’re friends with Liam Quinn.”
I felt the blush creep across my cheeks. “I wouldn’t say friends.” I wouldn’t say a lot of things, but “friends” didn’t really seem to cover it.
“What would you say?”
Stick to what Containment already knew, I told myself. “As you’re probably aware, he’s training me.”
“You accompanied him into Devil’s Isle.”
“He thought I’d be a good bounty hunter. He wanted me to see it.”
Broussard leaned against the counter. “Being a bounty hunter would be a big change from running this shop.”
“I’ve already fought two wraiths,” I pointed out. “And I still run the shop.”
“Touché, Ms. Connolly.” He straightened, adjusted his suit jacket. “I understand you’ve seen his apartment.”
If the quick change of topic was supposed to trip me up, it succeeded. It figured there’d be cameras in Devil’s Isle, but not that Containment would have been interested enough to trace my movements, or his. Still, there was no point in lying, or in elaborating too much.
“Very briefly.”
“You know his sister died, and he has an unhealthy obsession with the manner of her death.”
I lifted my eyebrows. Had he seen the board, too? Had Containment been in Liam’s apartment? “His sister’s killer was a wraith. His job is hunting them.” I shrugged. “That seems pretty logical to me.”
“Does it? Or does it sound like a man obsessed? A man not quite stable?”
I wasn’t sure Containment was the best judge of anyone’s stability these days. “You’d have to take that up with him. Like I said, he’s training me, not psychoanalyzing me, or vice versa.”
Broussard nodded deeply, as though he was mulling over important, weighty things. “I could do that. I could talk to him. Wouldn’t be that hard to do.” He looked at me, considering. “He did mention that he investigated your father? Before he was shot, I mean?”
All the sound in the world dropped away. I’d never stood in silence so immense as the silence that fell around me in the wake of that question.
I’d gone into Devil’s Isle with Liam Quinn. I’d met his grandmother. He’d been in my store, met my friends, seen my magic. I’d told him things about me, about my family.
Maybe Broussard was lying. Maybe this was a setup, a trick, to get me to turn on Liam. But maybe it wasn’t. And he’d been hiding from me that he believed my father could have been a traitor.
Broussard watched my reaction, could probably see my skin buzzing with sudden and unexpected fury. “I see he didn’t tell you. That’s curious, don’t you think?”
He managed to look concerned, like he actually cared about my reaction, about my possible hurt. But I didn’t want his pity. And I certainly didn’t want his truth. I had my own to deal with.
I slid the owl closer, picked up a set of tweezers, was proud that my fingers weren’t shaking, because it was taking monumental control. “Get out of my store. And don’t come back unless you have a warrant.”
Broussard held up his hands. “I just thought you should know. In these times, we all have to figure out who to trust. In the meantime, be careful. It’s dangerous out there.”
