I settled back against the wall and closed my eyes, and then opened them just enough to see Remy mirror me. And then we waited. I don’t think either of us were surprised when the footsteps coming down the corridor stopped right outside our cell, and then we were up on our feet before we could stop ourselves.

  Me, because I had sudden visions of a violent newcomer being added to our cage, and Remy, well, for whatever reason had him looking that hunted. We turned to face the bars.

  “These are Officers Harper and Black. You can see from the way Harper’s dressed that she’s been in elven hands. We’re assuming that because they were together, they crossed at the same time, but we haven’t had time to question them, given how quickly you arrived.”

  The patrolman who’d brought me in wasn’t alone, and I wasn’t sure I liked the looks of the company he was keeping. I exchanged a look with Remy, and we moved to stand, side by side, in the centre of the cell. The patrolman ignored us and continued with his spiel.

  “From his uniform, and the records we’ve found, Officer Black is a paramedic from the twenty-first century, and we know Harper was involved in the Paranormal Operations Squad running at the time.”

  This drew sudden interest from the men and women standing in the corridor, and I felt went from feeling uncomfortable to downright uneasy. Remy shuffled a little closer, until I could feel his shoulder close to mine. Whatever was coming, he was sticking with me.

  At least, I hoped that’s what that meant. I took the time to assess the patrolman’s companions.

  Three men, two women, all hard-edged and stone-faced. All as human as they come.

  I wondered if that was a good thing. The Squad had been bringing in elves as officers in my time. Pixies, too. But then, these guys and gals didn’t look like POS officers. They were paramilitary of some kind, each of them wearing the usual black fatigues I’d come to associate with mercenaries in the movies, and each of them just as armed. Had to admit, that last one surprised me a bit.

  Back in the day, we’d never have let armed visitors into the cells. The patrolman’s next words caught me by surprise.

  “So, you interested?”

  I watched as the leader pretended nonchalance, looking us over with the bland, bored look of someone hiding how they really felt. The look, though, that was pure professional assessment, kinda like a sergeant inspecting potential troops. I didn’t know whether I wanted to be found lacking, or to meet with his approval. The world sure was turning fast.

  I was glad of Remy’s shoulder against mine.

  “Could be,” the guy said. “It depends how much you’re asking.”

  “Harrogate’s is offering the standard.”

  “Harrogate’s are a pack of butchers.”

  The patrolman shrugged, glanced over at us, then back at him.

  “I don’t set the price,” he said, “But I’m damned sure you could do with another medic.”

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  Now, I was torn. I might not be a medic, but I didn’t like the sound of this Harrogate’s outfit.

  “Do we get a say?” I asked, and the patrolman shot me a nasty look.

  “You say any more, and it’ll be the last thing you do say for a very long while. You can go out upright, or in a box.”

  I opened my mouth, and then shut it again. Sonuvagun looked like he meant it, even if I couldn’t quite see how he was going to back it up.

  I settled for raising my eyebrows at him, and giving him my most doubting stare. It didn’t quite say ‘bring it, little man,’ but it was darn close. One of the women, behind him, smiled.

  It was fast, a flash of approval that came and went so quick I almost missed it.

  “Harrogate’s don’t have to know,” the leader said, just as we heard the door to the corridor open.

  They turned to look. We tried to peer around the corner, without moving any closer to the bars. It was like being at the zoo, with the lions on the outside of the cage…or maybe the sale yards with buyers looking in, but I was trying not to think of that.

  “Garrett.” The mercenary leader was clearly not pleased, and the newcomer wasn’t alone—he had two medics and a box following in after.

  “Brant.” Obviously, the feeling was mutual, but Garrett wasn’t going to let that get in the way of business. “We’ll let you have the medic, but we want to the investigator.”

  “We’ll outbid you for both.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “Care to tell me why?”

  Yeah, I thought, realizing he wasn’t asking why he’d be outbid, but why Garrett’s crowd was after me. Tell me why.

  “Reports have her as dying in a fire, but there’s another one that said he saw an elf take her, alive, from the warehouse, and that she was badly burnt.”

  I remembered, felt the blood leave my face, couldn’t help glancing down at my hands. Garret kept talking, though, like none of them had noticed what I’d done—except they were all looking through the bars, right at me.

  “Well, I don’t see a mark on her, do you?”

  The merc leader, Brant, made a show of looking me over, and I resisted the urge to hold up my hands for inspection. There was no point in being too cooperative. Besides, if Garrett, or either of those medics came anywhere near me, they were going to get a good close look, anyway—at my fist.

  When Brant shook his head, Garrett continued.

  “We want to see what the residual of druid magic looks like.”

  I saw Brant cast a quick glance at me, saw him swallow, hard, as he turned his gaze back to Garrett.

  “We need an investigator with her experience,” he admitted, and I saw the patrolman’s face take on a look of calculating greed.

  Garrett shrugged.

  “You’ll find someone else.”

  “We have priority.”

  Garrett cast a self-satisfied look at the patrolman.

  “Not today, you don’t.”

  “But you already know what the residual looks like. I’ve seen the reports.”

  That had a desperate edge I didn’t like. Like he was begging for my life…or trying to ask for it without begging. Neither was an option I particularly liked.

  “What can I say? You can’t have too much of a good thing.”

  Brant tossed me a quick glance, and Remy nudged me in the ribs.

  I nodded. This could go all to hell on us, but I wasn’t leaving with Garrett without a fight—and then several things happened at once.

  Brant said, “But…”

  And Garrett cut him off.

  “It’s non-negotiable.”

  To which Brant replied, “So, negotiate this!” and slugged Garrett so hard he was out cold on the floor before anyone could blink.

  Except Brant’s crew, two of which shot Garrett’s companions before they could drop the box, and one of which had a good hold on the patrolman who’d been doing the sales pitch, the patrolman who was now very quiet as he spread his arms wide, and let one of the mercs take his keys.

  Brant flipped Garret over onto his stomach and held out his hand to the other patrolman, who handed him the cuffs he’d been wearing on his belt, no questions asked. He’d gone a funny shade of pale and kept his hands up, while Brant’s crew went to work around him.

  The cell door opened.

  “Come on,” was an order and not a request, but Remy and I went, anyway.

  The rhythm of the world had changed around us, but despite anything Argyllis had said, we could still choose some of the steps that came next.

  And these looked like the prelude to an interesting dance.

  Maybe, one day, we’d even be able to find the rhythm.