Chapter 17

SEVENTEEN

Ganfrey lives in a small,historic community.

There are no gates, no security. Just centuries old architecture, and neighbors who actually talk to each other.

It's the middle of the week, and he might not be home, but I don't have another address. I don't even know if he has a job.

His door is frosted glass, and when I ring the bell, there's movement beyond the milky pane. Thank the saints.

"Drift?" His smile is laced with amused astonishment, until his gaze shifts behind me, then it contorts in confusion. "And Kimba?"

He looks like he's just gotten up. Robe belted, slippers on. It makes him look a lot older than I know he is.

"Can we come in?" I ask, while he's still distracted by her.

She might still be getting used to being famous, but I don't feel the same confusion she does at his awe.

Ganfrey recovers quickly, shaking the confusion away and sweeps his hand toward the living room I can see from where we stand. "Of course. Anything for the brotherhood."

He steps aside and I let Kimba precede me. He watches her like he can't quite believe she's here.

He'll get over it.

A quick scan of Ganfrey's house is all I need to know he has no regard for his own safety.

It's all windows at the back.

There's not a curtain to be seen and the vast expanse of the grass, seemingly unending until it hits the foothills and the mountains that rim the exterior caldera.

"It's a beautiful view of the place you call home," he says, stopping beside me and smiling out at it. "If we could get the cavrinskh under control, I'd have already inquired about one of the empty outposts. The Zone is so beautiful, it is a shame it is relegated to the domain of monsters."

I don't know Ganfrey well enough to decide if he includes me in his grouping of monsters.

"To what do I owe this visit?" he asks, moving to stand behind his counter—close to the knives.

"Have you seen the news? Mada and the others are all dead."

"What?" Ganfrey's smile fades like melting ice and he blinks, too quickly. "Please tell me this is some sick joke."

"I wish I could. Someone tried to contract Kimba to kill me eleven days ago."

Ganfrey looks at Kimba, bewilderment on his face. "They thought she would kill you?"

Nodding, I look around the house, trying to see if anything is out of place. "You could be next."

"They asked your bondmate to kill you?"

"I wasn't his bondmate when this started." Kimba has moved to the far end of the room, looking at the strange collection of things he has on display.

"But you've been seeing her at Margot's for—" His voice trails off and he looks away like he's doing math.

"How do you know that?" Kimba has turned back to him, fully and I don't know if he's seen her rest her hand on the gun.

"I try to keep track of everyone on the council—clearly I'm not doing a good job of it—and knowing what women they prefer at Margot's is part of that."

"But you didn't know we weren't bonded?"

"I don't go digging into files. I just observe what is presented to me."

I should have paid more attention too. "She's the only one I've let get close to me in the last six years. It could have worked… had circumstances been different and if she'd wanted the payment they offered her."

"I see…"

"I don't doubt they're coming for you, too."

"Unless," Kimba says, still studying him from the other side of the room. "You're the one who put out the hit."

"The hit." Ganfrey looks like she'd hit him with a handful of zurgle shit.

"What century do you think this is?" He catches himself and dips his head. "I apologize, you do not deserve the anger of my bewilderment. But I would never…"

"I've lived here long enough, I know that there are some things that span galaxies. A lot of you play at being more evolved than humans, but at the end of the day, our species are more similar than simply being able to mate."

While he doesn't look happy about it, Ganfrey doesn't argue any further. "I swear on my life that I am not behind this."

Kimba might still be suspicious, but I believe him.

"How is it possible no one's made the connection between those three?" He asks, scratching at the skin above his brow ridge.

Stalking around the room, I start to check the too-many windows. "How many people would know the link between the five of us?"

"Only the other members of the council and any CSS officials who have access to the databases."

"That narrows down your suspect pool, doesn't it?" Kimba asks, squinting out the window, like she might see something. But before I can follow her gaze, movement in Ganfrey's garage catches my attention.

Someone is moving around on the other side of the wall, trying to be as quiet as possible.

"Who else is here?"

"No one. I live alone…" Ganfrey's voice trails off, and I follow his narrowed gaze out the window. "That gate wasn't open when I got home."

The back of his property might be open to the field, but the sides are lined with panels of interwoven metal, the floral and vine design is broken.

Closed, the lines would blend seamlessly to the normal eye, open…

Whoever is in Ganfrey's garage, he's not good at sneaking around.

He's probably like Kimba, opportunistically set up to perform the task. I'd be amazed if Ganfrey doesn't know him.

"Your garage has access from the back yard?"

"Of course."

The door that leads out from this room is half-hidden behind a bushy red palm. When I get to it, watching the man move in the darkness on the other side, it's clear he's not there for a simple theft.

I spare a glance for Kimba. She's got the gun drawn. It's at her side, and I doubt that Ganfrey has noticed it.

"Turn off the lights."

Ganfrey shoots a confused glance at me, but he doesn't hesitate. And neither do I.

It takes two seconds to slip through into a corner of the garage. To wait and watch.

They work quietly, but with no attempt to hide themselves. Darkness always feels like safety to those intent on causing harm.

Too bad for him, I can see perfectly.

He's unfamiliar to me, but that doesn't mean anything. The ugly brick of a device in his hand when he turns, however, is something every boy old enough to watch an action flick has seen.

I let him get on his back, let him half shimmy under the car, then I grab him.

One hand on his neck. One on the wrist holding the bomb.

The man makes a sharp noise, but he doesn't speak. His eyes are so wide, I can only imagine what he thinks of me, a looming figure in the dark of the garage.

I'll let him keep thinking I am whatever creature he's come up with that has kept him silent.

I twist the brick out of his hand and drag him to his feet, hauling him back through the door into Ganfrey's house.

Kimba immediately lowers the gun she'd had raised and steps out from in front of Ganfrey.

"Do you know him?" She asks, not bothering to look at the man who would have tried to kill him.

"No. Wait, yes." Ganfrey leans forward on his counter, studying the man. "You came to my office weeks ago, wanting to buy this house…"

Ganfrey looks from me to him and out to his garage. "This place isn't worth killing me over."

"I don't think that's why he was here." Kimba says, looking at Ganfrey instead of me when she asks. "Do you?"

"You think he was hired, the way they tried to hire you?"

"We could always ask." She's watching him, and I wonder if they can see the faint silver light behind her pupils.

She is changing. But that is a concern for another time.

"Why are you trying to kill me?" Ganfrey asks. "Were you hired?"

He nods, jerkily. "They told me I had to place that on the underside of your car, or else." Swallowing, the man looks between the three of us. "They were going to kill us."

"Us?"

"My partner and I."

"Chances are they were going to kill you either way." Kimba says, reholstering her gun.

"I sent him to Lasiana for a week, just in case."

I drop the brick on the counter—it's inert. "He was planting a bomb under your car. "

"Would it arm when he hit fifty?" Kimba asks, her snort of a laugh draws all our attention. But she waved us away. "Nevermind."

The man's pulse still throbs in his neck. He's frantic. Panic makes his tongue looser than it probably should be.

"I don't know how it was supposed to work or what it was supposed to do. I was just told to put it on the car."

"By who?"

"I don't know." He shakes his head, "I don't have a name. All I can give you is a description. But he knew things about me… things not even my partner does."

I see the movement, too late—too focused on what's inside, instead of what's out. I only hear the shot a second before it knocks him back into me and throws both of us to the ground.

As soon as the window shatters, I hit the ground. The second D's back touches the tiles, I scramble across the floor to him, using the furniture to block me from view.

The harsh "what the fuck" from behind the counter tells me Ganfrey was smart enough to take cover too.

Pressed against the cabinetry, he looks up, as if he's trying to see over the counter.

There's nothing to see.

No one outside… and I would see them.

Ganfrey whispers harshly. "I already called for the CSS when D told me he was in the garage. Do you think they'll get here in time?"

D is hurt, but not badly. It's the man laying over top of him that's the problem.

He's dead.

A limp weight on top of D, watching me with a death stare.

Underneath him, D is perfectly still, but that's because he's looking for the shooter, his clear pupils narrow and widen like a camera aperture.

When he relaxes, I relax.

"They're already gone. Help me get him off me."

I stand, and Ganfrey comes too, pulling the man away and lowering him to the tiles in the same pool of blood that covers D.

The bullet went clean through the middle of the guy's chest, leaving him a glassy-eyed mess. But it didn't make it through the material beneath D's shirt. It embedded itself dead center.

Dead.

He should be too.

"I think I like this stuff," I say, plucking the mangled metal from where it was embedded. "If it keeps you alive, I'm a big fan."

He smiles, but it's not real. All of his focus is trained on the windows outside. He doesn't trust that we're safe yet.

"You should be dead." Ganfrey says, glaring at D's chest.

"Hurts like fuck, but it's not serious."

D draws me to him, turning us so he blocks me from the door when the CSS personnel kick it down and flood in.

Ganfrey glares at the officers. "I already have to replace a window and now my door. Knock next time, assholes."

"They tend to get over excited when someone calls in a murder. Especially when the caller says the murderer is still on the property." Riann doesn't look happy to see us. "Especially right now."

"I didn't say there was a murderer on the premises." Ganfrey pulls his phone from his pocket, scouring the alert he sent in.

"Actually, we got two calls." Riann looks between all three of us, stopping on Ganfrey. "Yours, of course, that's why I'm here, but they're here because someone reported three murders and a suicide."

"What?"

"An anonymous witness—we still don't know who he was or how he called it in without his location being logged—told us an altercation had taken place."

"They thought they killed me and you two were next." D looks out the window again. "I'd guess they realized they didn't finish me off after they made that call."

"Is this related to the other thing?" Riann asks.

"I don't know."

"Why did they think they could sell this as a murder suicide?"

D glances at me, giving me the option to tell or not.

I pull Riann aside, and briefly explain. He looks disturbed, but accepts it and then says, "Maybe he hoped to paint the three of you in a similar light?"

"How?"

"Ganfrey is one of the many men who frequents Margots… that only goes when you dance."

Ganfrey looks at him, wide-eyed, and Riann shrugs.

It's D who says, "But they don't know that you're not there because you want her."

Riann scrolls through his device. "Even if your bank records try to tell a different story?"

"I appreciate the way you move," he says to me, before turning to glare at Riann. "Those records will also show that I don't use the facilities. I pay my membership fee, I tip for the dances, and I occasionally have a meal. There is no jealousy to stoke."

"No?" Riann asks.

Ganfrey looks at me. "You're beautiful, but not the kind of beauty I covet."

I think I understand.

While D and Riann argue over something else, I step closer to Ganfrey. "Do you want me to teach you some of the moves sometime?"

His eyes widen, just the smallest amount. "I would, thank you. If you have the time."

"Talk to Margot about ordering a pole for a guest room, if you'd rather do it here than there." I glance at the others before I say, "Or ask Margot to set you up with one of the other dancers if you'd be more comfortable. Several of them teach."

He nods, and I go to D's side.

"He's not going to like that." Riann says.

"I don't care what he likes." D nods toward Ganfrey. "I don't care what any of them like. All of the members of the council should have CSS details until we figure out what's going on."

"Even you?" Riann can't feel the irritation, but he can see it on D's face. "Look, I can warn them and offer. That's it."

"Let me know which ones don't take you up on it."

Riann gives him a curt nod, but I don't think he wants to agree to it.

"Thank you," I say, not sure D has remembered to in the midst of all this chaos.

"You're welcome. I haven't had a chance to get in touch with Kilo."

"He has some interesting insight. And he might be willing to tell you some of the less savory things." D glances at me. "He censored large parts of it for the women present."

I roll my eyes and that, at least, makes Riann smile.

"I'll call him as soon as we're done here," he says.

"Do." D's voice is brusque.