“What? No, no, nobody’s here, I—”
“Who then? Who hit you?”
“I—” What was she going to tell him? She’d thought of something, but it faded under the blazing fury in his eyes. “No, I fell down, that’s all.”
“It were Mr. Clean, aye? What the fuck, Doyle, you left with last night. Him.”
“No, I—How did you know?”
“Watched you. Watched, damn it, thinking you’d be safe.” He shook his head. “Knew I shouldn’t just let you go, fuck, why’d I just—” The flat of his hand slammed into the wall with enough force to make the whole thing shake, once, twice. He braced his palms on it and leaned forward, staring at the floor.
“He hurt you?”
“What?”
“Did he—did he hurt you. Dig?” He glanced at her, his face mottled with rage, his eyes black holes.
“Oh. No.”
He nodded, then nodded again as if he was trying to convince himself of something. “Right. Right.”
“I’m fine.”
Well, at least her worries about how she would face him again were gone. Tension broken. Maybe she should thank Doyle.
“Right.” He shoved one hand through his hair, resting it for a minute on the back of his neck. “Where Brain, then?”
She led the way, guilt slowing her footsteps. There was no way to look at Brain’s death as not being her fault, no way at all, even if she hadn’t been aware of it at the time. She’d let Doyle in, she’d even given him the kid’s name. She hadn’t searched hard enough for him, had forgotten about him. Yes, she had a lot of other things going on, but still … he was just a boy, and now he was dead, and she could have saved him.
Terrible stopped by the bed. “Them runes, do they trap he soul, too?”
“No. They’re just random. They’re not even from the same set. I think they’re a calling card, you know? As if I need one.”
“Damn. Poor kid.” He shook his head. “You got any ideas who done it? Who in the Church, meaning?”
“Yeah, actually. Um. I think it was Doyle.”
His nostrils flared.
“See, I was thinking about it la—this morning. Brain was here the other day, but he took off right after Doyle arrived. I didn’t think anything of it, I thought he was just nervous to have anyone here, but now … Doyle was snooping around in my apartment, too, one night when I left the room. And he was the one who first told me about the Dreamthief. He said a few of us had seen him and wanted to ask me about it. He wanted me to go to the Grand Elder with him and a couple of other people, to tell them what was going on.”
“Figure he playing you on that? Trying to sniff out your knowledge?”
“Basically.”
Terrible reached over and closed Brain’s eyes. “Poor kid,” he said again, then looked up. “Aye. So here’s the day I got. Bump waits for us out in the chiller, dig, where he got the body resting. Old-timer Earl visit the pipes on Forty-fifth round three most days, we stop there after. Then let’s us head to that Church, see who we can talk to. That fucker give you names? Other people seen the thief?”
She nodded.
“Good. We talk with them. Maybe you check with them Elders, give them the know. Cool?”
The clock next to her bed told it was just past two. “What about Brain?”
“Bump got people take care of it. Might want to buy you some new bedding, though.”
“Yeah. I already figured I would.” Tears sprung to her eyes, stinging the tender flesh, and she turned away lest he see them. Why her home, of all places? She didn’t know if she would ever feel safe there again. Even the wards she’d put on the doors hadn’t kept them out—of course not, Lamaru or Church employees would know how to undo them with ease.
Her small, spartan bedroom with its plain gray walls and watermarked ceiling had never looked so cold. New bedding, hell. She’d have to buy a new bed. She couldn’t imagine ever putting her own body where Brain’s had been.
She cleared her throat, aware he was watching her but unwilling to acknowledge it. The tension she’d thought had disappeared curled around her, around both of them. What was he thinking?
“I guess we should go, then,” she said finally. “Just let me, um, let me change, okay?”
He nodded. “Whyn’t you use a different room. I’ll stay here with him.”
“Thanks.” She opened her closet, gathering a dark red top and jeans, then crossed to her dresser. Feeling a little stupid, she turned her body so he wouldn’t see her adding clean pan ties and a bra to the pile in her arms, then folded the jeans over them.
“Where’d you stay last night, anyways? Not here, aye, and not with Doyle, guessing.”
“Um. No. I got a hotel room.” She glanced back, but he wasn’t looking at her. Instead his gaze was fixed out the narrow window.
“Good idea. Hey. You know them people, live there?”
“What people?”
“Cross yon street. I see right in their place. This window awful small, so they probably ain’t see in here, but … how’s the other windows? The living room, say? You think anyone see in?”
“Oh. I don’t know.”
He edged to the side when she stepped near, letting her take over the window. Or maybe he just didn’t want to be so close to her.
He was right about the view. She could see in the window across the street, if the curtains were open. She’d never really wondered if they could see into her room for the very reason he’d mentioned. The window was narrow, the wall thick, and she hardly spent time in here anyway except to sleep or dress. She never brought people here. Never men. Sometimes to the apartment itself, but in her bedroom … no.
“I think I left the curtains open in the living room last night. They’re closed now.”
“How about that big stained-glass window? Anybody see through that?”
“I don’t think so.”
“We ask anyway, cool? Been thinking about the blood on yon floor. When they break in? Only ain’t no blood in the hall or nothing. Only your place. Seems kinda odd, aye, no blood dripping. So I figure maybe they got a place near here they stay, send somebody over to clean up the hall, but ain’t bother with your place what ever reason? Maybe the blood some kind of magic, something like that? A warning?”
Fuck. Why couldn’t he just be stupid, just once? Lex’s men must have wrapped the bodies in plastic or something.
“It didn’t feel like a spell,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “Maybe someone interrupted them cleaning up.”
“All the more reason to ask up, aye?”
She nodded and glanced at him. He stood by the wall, almost pressed against it. “Listen, Chess …”
Shit. “Hey, I should, um, apologize,” she said before he could continue. “I think I was pretty fucked up last night, I don’t really remember much of anything. Did I … did I act strange, when I saw you? I did see you, didn’t I?”
His face didn’t move for a long moment. Then he looked down, shaking his head. “Naw. Naw, you was fine. Don’t worry none, aye?”
“Thanks.”
Silence stretched uncomfortably between them.