“Unknown. I have insufficient information to answer the query. I have no known quarrel with this group. My priorities are personal.”
“What is your mission?”
“Protect Marley.”
“Why?”
There were a number of ways to interpret the question. He chose the most literal and felt the pressure on his mind ease. “She would have been collateral damage. I couldn’t allow that.”
“How did Marley get wounded?”
At his mind’s instinctive attempt to shutter the thought, he hesitated. Tara repeated the question, her voice shifting to ultrasonic tones that scraped his brain like razors. Something popped in his ears. Blood dripped, hot and wet, onto his shoulders. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he said, “Burned too much energy to help us escape from the squad of Shadow Walkers sent to exterminate me. You showed up, and I thought you were a threat. It tripped my instincts to feed, despite my better judgment. She was wounded in an illusion.” His voice sounded muffled to his own ears.
Tara dropped her voice to a whisper Ian couldn’t hear with his perforated eardrums, but he could read her lips. “I’m sorry.” Misery crackled around her. That was the difference between this woman and the Truth Takers who worked for the Council. They enjoyed the work.
He hissed a few breaths, shook his head. “Just doing your job.”
“Do you mean Marley harm?”
This he could answer freely. “I’d sooner cut out my heart.” Weary from the strain and the worry, he looked at her father. “Do anything you want to me, just tell me she’s alive.”
Harm pulled the earplugs and squeezed a hand on Tara’s shoulder. “We’re done here. Thank you, Tara.”
Ian’s eardrums reknit in time to hear the siren’s relieved breath.
As Tara rose to leave, Harm turned to her, his face softening. “You okay?” He knew this process hurt her, cared that it did so. Wasn’t that interesting?
“I’m okay,” Tara confirmed, and slipped out the door.
Harm took the chair she’d vacated and leaned forward to brace his arms against his knees. “So we’re clear, I could’ve pressed for more. I could’ve pressed for all. If your answers hadn’t been satisfactory, I would have.”
Ian tipped his head in acknowledgment. He hadn’t expected the restraint. Marley had to be alive. If she hadn’t survived, he had no doubt Harm would’ve ripped his mind open completely without compunction, no matter the cost to the siren for doing so.
“Your file didn’t mention you were one of the Made.” He said it in a conversational tone, as if they were shooting the shit over a bottle of Jack.
Ian wished his arms were free to cross over the runes that scarred his chest. His status as one of the first wraiths was not a fact he wanted to advertise.
“Is that why your illusory abilities can affect other Mirus? Nice job with the fire, by the way. I’ve never met one of the older wraiths, so I wasn’t aware it was part of your skillset.”
No wraith, Made or otherwise, should be able to affect other Mirus. Ian had no idea why his desperate ploy had worked. But he wasn’t about to share that piece of information.
“You’d have had access to that because of Matthias, I suppose.”
Harm inclined his head. “That file is a conundrum for me, Ryker. Absolutely everything in it says you’re the enemy. I have a duty to protect my people, and I have a really fucking hard time with the idea of letting a wraith, who can manipulate and presumably feed from other Mirus, loose among them.”
“You don’t trust the results of your Truth Taker?”
“Oh I do. You passed our vetting process. Therein lies the conundrum.”
“Vetting for what?”
“For ever seeing the light of day again.”
The Felis didn’t plan to kill him. Not at the moment, anyway. Despite his lack of equal footing, Ian decided to try for a little quid pro quo.
“Tell me, how does a leader of the Underground wind up being owed favors by someone so high up in the Council’s infrastructure?”
Approval flashed across Harm’s face. “Well done. Matthias did say you were sharp. What tipped you off?”