Drink Deep - Chloe Neill [89]
Tate frowned and shuffled in his chair. “Humans have an irritating desire to group their fellow men and women into categories. To give them a type, and to give the type a name, so that by definition ‘they’ are otherwise. ‘They’ are not who ‘we’ are. Frankly, I find the endeavor exhausting. I am what I am, just as you are what you are.”
A confession from Tate—of his magical identity and his responsibility for the water and sky—would have been nice. But I knew when to push and when to listen. And even if he wasn’t going to confess, he seemed to honestly believe he understood what was happening. That was definitely worth my time.
“If you didn’t have anything to do with this, then tell me who did. Explain to me what’s happening.”
Slowly, a smile curved his lips. “Now this is interesting. You asking me for information. For a favor, as it were.”
“It’s not a favor if I’m helping save the city you swore an oath to protect.”
“Oaths are overrated. You’ve sworn them as well, did you not? To protect your House?”
“I did, and I have,” I growled out. He hadn’t expressly suggested that I’d broken my oaths—presumably by failing to protect Ethan—but it rode beneath his words.
“Hmm,” he noncommittally said. “And if I was to give you this information, what’s my incentive? My payment? My boon?”
“The public good?”
He laughed heartily. “You amuse me greatly, Ballerina. You really do. And while I enjoy Chicago, there are plenty of cities in the world. Saving this one is hardly incentive enough for the kind of information you’re talking about.”
It wasn’t surprising that he wanted payment for the information. But I didn’t want to offer up a prize without a little negotiation.
“I owe you nothing,” I told him. “If anything, you owe me. You’re responsible for my Master’s death.”
“And the death of your enemy,” he pointed out. He leaned forward over the table, hands flat on the tabletop, and stared at me like I was the subject of his psychological experiment. Which I probably was. “Does it bother you that you’ve killed? That a life was extinguished by your hand?”
Don’t take the bait, I reminded myself. “Does it bother you that you were the true cause of her death?”
“Let’s not get into a philosophical discussion about causation.”
“Then let’s agree that you owe me one, and you can tell me what you know.”
“Interesting tactic, but no.”
Probably not surprising that his questionable ethics didn’t prompt him to help me out of his own accord. “What do you want?”
“What do you have?”
I thought about the question. Honestly, I didn’t have much. My dagger and sword were outside with Catcher. I didn’t have much else of value beyond the family pearls in my room and the signed baseball Ethan had given me, and I wasn’t giving those up.
While I considered the question, I absently touched the Cadogan medal around my neck. Tate’s eyes widened at the move.
“That would be an interesting prize.”
Instinctively, I cupped my fingers around it. His expression was guarded, but clearly sincere. I wasn’t sure about his motivation, but unlike the fairies, I didn’t think his interest was in the gold. Did the medal have magical properties? I’d never thought to ask. Regardless, it was precious to me.
“There’s no way in hell you’re getting this.”
“Then we have nothing to talk about.”
I recalled the first time I’d made a bargain with a supernatural creature. “How about I owe you a favor? A boon of some kind?” That offer had worked with Morgan Greer, now Master of Navarre House, but Tate didn’t seem impressed with it.
“You’re a vampire. You could renege on your offer.”
“I would never,” I said, but since there’s no telling the kind of favor Tate would extract, I silently admitted there was a possibility I wouldn’t go through with it.
Tate sat back. “We’re done here. You can solve this problem on your own. Perhaps one of your friends could help you. They’re sorcerers, no? They should be able to explain things to you.”
Should be able, but were at a loss, I thought.
I touched the pendant again, running my fingertip across the engraved letters.