“Speaking of crazy, can you believe she drugged me?” He slipped his hand into Chrysabelle’s, glad the mood had lightened, but feeling like he owed her a little more explanation. “I know you’re not happy that I drank blood from another comarré, but I didn’t have much of a choice.”

“You’d better take that antidote.” Her mouth thinned, but she squeezed his arm. “And you’re right. I’m not happy about the other comarré, but I also understand. You did what you had to do.” She offered him a wisp of a smile. “It’s all for the end game, right?”

“Right.” The end game that would finally free them to live a peaceful life raising their child.

Her gaze shifted back to the exit. “When we get back to Paradise City, we need to have a long talk with Creek and come to some kind of understanding.”

Mal stuck a pinch of the white powder under his tongue. It tasted like sugar, not much like an antidote to anything. “The only understanding that matters is that they leave us alone. If someone has to die to make that happen, so be it.”

Chapter Thirty-five

The knocking on Creek’s door fired up his internal alarm system. He wasn’t expecting anyone, Annika included. And with Octavian in the wind, there was no such thing as being too cautious. He snapped his crossbow into place, locked a bolt into it, and slid the door back half an inch. “Who is it?”

“Doc. Chrysabelle’s friend. The varcolai.”

Creek opened the door farther as he dropped the crossbow. “How do you know where I live?”

Doc gave him an odd look as he came in. “You know I’m the leader of the Paradise City pride now, right?”

“Yeah, I’d heard that.” Creek slid the door shut, then led Doc to the kitchen. “I take it you’re telling me you have access to the kind of people who can find people like me?”

“Actually, all I had to do was ask Chief Vernadetto.” Doc looked around the machine shop. “Interesting place to live.”

Creek removed the bolt from his crossbow, stored it, then collapsed the bow again so that it resembled a length of titanium pipe. Notching it back onto his holster, he leaned against the counter. “What can I do for you?”

Doc stopped checking out the makeshift apartment to look at Creek. “I need help finding someone and I thought you might have the resources. Mine don’t extend much beyond the city. I can call on other prides, but they tend to be territorial and keeping tabs on another pride’s business is frowned upon, you dig? Plus, I don’t really want to tip my hand that I’m looking for this cat.”

Creek nodded. “Sure. Who is this person?”

“Name’s Fritz Haber. He was one of Sinjin’s council members, but quit when I took over.”

“Didn’t like the new regime, huh?”

“Didn’t even give it a chance. Anyway, he may be connected to the death of Heaven, Sinjin’s wife.”

None of that made sense. Creek shook his head. “I thought Heaven was your wife. And didn’t Fi kill her? In that challenge battle?”

Doc pointed to one of the battered club chairs. “You mind?”

“No, go ahead. You want something to drink?” Creek was about to go out looking for Octavian again, but this was getting interesting.

“No, I’m cool, thanks.” Doc sat. “Fi won that fight, but as it turns out, Heaven died because someone laced silver dust into the arena’s sand. It got into Heaven’s system and…” He exhaled. “She couldn’t take it. Heart shut down. Silver does some pretty nasty stuff to varcolai.”

“I guess that’s thrown a wrench into the works.” Creek kicked his feet up onto the cable spool coffee table. “If it was silver, I guess you know it wasn’t a vampire or another shifter.”

“I wish that was true. Two of my council members, Barasa and Omur, are currently being held by police because the messenger who delivered the silver dust will only say he delivered it to a council member, but says he can’t remember which one. He’s human and says we all look alike to him.”

“Idiot.” Creek rolled his eyes. “Where’s this Fritz fit in?”

“Cops found a box with traces of silver dust in his apartment.”

Creek nodded. “Then he’s the council member who ordered the stuff.”

Doc leaned back. “I don’t know. Fritz was Sinjin’s right-hand man. If he was going to do anything to fix that fight, he would have worked out a way to make Heaven the victor.”

Creek tapped his fingers on the chair’s arm. “You think that box was planted?”

Doc stared at his hands, nodding slowly. “Could be.” Suddenly he sat forward. “You know, I went to see Fritz, thought maybe I could talk to him shifter to shifter, ask him if he knew anyone who might have wanted to hurt Heaven. When I got to his place, he acted all freaked out, like he didn’t want to let me in for reasons beyond just who I was—and pride law dictates that if the pride leader requests your presence, you had best present yourself, so not speaking to me would have been a dumb move.”

“Dumber than quitting the council?”

“Quitting the council only removed him from his standing in the pride. Not speaking to me would have been considered a personal offense. I could have him removed from the pride altogether for that.”

Creek nodded. “Got it.”