Moon Sworn (Riley Jenson Guardian 9)

"Not too neatly if you noticed."

He shook his head, his expression concerned. "You need to take it easy, Riley. This job isn't worth dying for, no matter what Jack says."

Again, the frustration surfaced. "Jack doesn't want me dead. I'm of no use to him that way."

"But he will keep pushing until you begin to think you might be better off dead." He reached into his pocket and tossed me another Mintie. "Sooner or later, you're going to have to set boundaries."

"Which is easier said than done." I squinted up at him. "I don't see you saying no too often."

"My situation is not the same as yours."

"No. You haven't been injected with drugs that are changing the very chemistry of your body."

"That's irrelevant, and you know it."

It wasn't, because it was the one reason I couldn't walk away from the Directorate and Jack.

"I'm just saying that you need to be careful." He hesitated, then added, "Jack may be a good boss, but he doesn't run the Directorate. His sister does. And trust me, she's a hard bitch who won't hesitate to suck you dry and then spit you out."

Curiosity stirred, and I raised my eyebrows. As far as I knew, no one had ever met the elusive director Madeline Hunter - none of us plebs, anyway - although they did speak of her in the administration halls with varying degrees of trepidation. "You've met Director Hunter? What is she like?"

"She's everything Jack isn't, and she doesn't care who she has to use - or use up - to get the job done."

The bitterness in his voice raised my eyebrows. "So you've crossed swords with her?"

"Not me personally, but someone I know." He glanced away, his expression grim. "He died because of her, because she and the Directorate kept pushing. I'd hate to see the same happen to you, Riley."

The anger in his voice was very clear, and yet here he was, working for the very people he seemed to hate. "It won't."

"Good."

The short, sharp way he said that made me realize he wasn't about to go into details, no matter how much I might want them. So I wasn't surprised when he changed the subject.

"Did the victim have any idea why the murderer dragged him into full view?"

"No, but the most obvious answer is that he wanted Johnson's body found." I shrugged. "Someone who runs around dressed as a demon obviously isn't dealing with a full deck of cards."

"And that," he said heavily, "is the most sensible thing I've heard all day."

I laughed and rose. I finished the coffee in one swift gulp that burned my throat, then handed him the plastic cup. "You'll let me know if you find anything?"

"Nope," he said, his eyes twinkling as he slapped the cup back on top of the thermos. "I'm going to keep it all to myself."

"Heard that about you."

He smiled and walked away, and I headed down the hill to interview the woman who'd reported the murder.

As it turned out, she wasn't much help. She seemed to be the local busybody, but she was elderly with failing eyesight, and she was convinced she'd seen a real demon, not someone dressed up as one. Weirdly, the idea seemed to thrill rather than scare her.

When I got back to my car, I switched on the onboard and typed in the partial plate number, requesting a search for gray Toyotas with those letters. It'd probably turn up hundreds of possibilities, but at least that would give us somewhere to start.>Valley View, indicating we were being watched.

"Have the police interviewed the owner?"

"The police weren't called first. We were."

I frowned. "That's a little unusual, isn't it?"

He reached forward and plucked a bloody thread from one of the wires, putting it in a plastic bag before saying