Maximus left along with most of the gallery. Gone to get dinner or some fresh air, while Talbot and I sat in the hard wooden chairs as if we were trapped in them. It was either that or send me to a holding cell for the duration, probably that nice one I’d seen on my last visit to the Capitol. But Talbot refused to be rid of me, claiming that as long as I was his client, I was his responsibility. It was endearing, but I wished he put me in cold storage for a nap instead while he got us something to eat.

  So, we sat because me standing or moving freely around the courtroom might be seen as “threatening.” Or worse, as an attempt to flee, which was grounds for additional felony charges.

  Nerves gave way to mind-numbing boredom, then slipped into dread. Was it good that it was taking so long? Bad? Talbot appeared unconcerned, reminding me the jury had to render a verdict by midnight or cause a mistrial. Starting over a week, a month, or even longer from now sounded like a slow form of torture. Why worry about a death sentence when the possibility of endless delay existed?

  Finally, the crowd returned. Rows of seats filled fast, bringing quiet chatter and scathing glares. The jury entered next, followed by Maximus Lyle, who sat high above the rest of us as if he were the one passing judgment.

  Once everything was settled and everyone silent, Maximus turned to the jury’s foreman. “Have you reached a verdict?” he asked.

  The foreman stood, a pink-cheeked, mustachioed fellow who was suddenly the most important person in the world to me. He held a scrap of paper in one hand and a sheen of sweat glistened on his brow.

  “We have,” he said in a soft voice.

  Talbot patted my arm and waved me to standing. Between the numbness creeping up my legs and the nerves making my knees wobble, it took all the composure I could muster to rise.

  Maximus’s nod prompted the foreman to clear his throat.

  “After careful consideration of the evidence presented,” he began, “we find the defendant, Fitch Farrow, not guilty on the basis of reasonable doubt.”

  Sound left and so did my breath, sucking out a vacuum in my middle. My fingers tightened around the wooden table’s edge, going white-knuckled and tingly from pressure.

  Not guilty.

  That’s what he said.

  I swallowed, hearing an ocean in my ears while the foreman droned on.

  Aster Osborn leaped to her feet, red-faced and shouting. Talbot’s abrupt clap on my back nearly knocked me over while my eyes ran laps around the room. Members of the crowd stood in silent shock or shook angry fists. I couldn’t hear them, and I was glad.

  Not guilty.

  He kept saying it. For every charge.

  When he finished, I squinted up at Maximus Lyle and found him staring back.

  “Are you all right, Mister Farrow?” he asked.

  I coughed at the lump in my throat. “Yes, sir.”

  He looked severe, reminding me of childhood scolding when he caught Holland and I snooping in his office, or the time I wrecked the dessert buffet at a gala dinner. Kids learning magic were a liability at every occasion, and I had been no exception.

  I watched the older man without blinking as the chaos of the courtroom swelled around me.

  Raised voices and questions hurled from the crowd assaulted my ears at last.

  “He’s a murderer!”

  “He can’t get away with this!”

  In the gallery a few rows back, a woman collapsed, wailing.

  Maximus didn’t respond except to finally call out, “Court is dismissed!”

  Still unsteady, I turned toward the exit, but Talbot grabbed my shoulder and forced me back into my seat.

  “Wait,” he commanded. “Let the media sharks clear out, or they’ll eat you alive.”

  The Thorngate guard appeared in my peripheral, moving quickly toward us. He stopped in front of the table and held out a hand to Talbot. His wordless request eluded me until Talbot reached into his pocket and produced the shock collar remote. The guard took it and pressed a button.

  I flinched, expecting pain, but heard a mechanical click instead. The collar fell open, bringing the immediate levity of freedom. Magic thrummed in me like a second pulse, reminding me how dead I felt without it. The moment of sweet relief rushed by. I had no time to savor it while the guard stood over me, scowling.

  I loosened my tie and unbuttoned my shirt to fish the collar out. Once I had it in my grasp, I was tempted to snap the hinge backward out of spite. Let the guard say something. Call me inmate. Give me a reason to prove I wasn’t so easily subdued outside of a prison cell.

  Instead, I tossed it onto the table for the guard to take.

  He scooped it up, then took off at a brisk pace. In his stead, Holland Lyle approached. No limp in her step from Avery’s knife attack, but of course the Capitol princess had access to the best healers. She wouldn’t suffer so much as a paper cut but for the time it took to call a medic.

  The way her head kept swiveling back to where Briggs lingered near the far wall, I could tell her attention was divided, but mine was fixed on the dips and hollows of her stomach, easily viewed through her sheer mesh top.

  When my eyes made it past her breasts to her face, I flashed a smile. “Long time no see, Investigator. Did you come to congratulate me?”

  She bent over the table, bracing on her arms to lean very near my face. “I don’t know what you or your connections did to make this happen, but you should use it. Turn your life around. Better yourself. Make a fresh start.”

  She smelled faintly spicy, not like the flowery body store bullshit most girls wore. It suited her.

  I took a deep whiff before replying, “That’s strange advice to give an innocent man.”

  Her face puckered as though she’d tasted something sour. “There’s a difference between innocent and not found guilty.” She stood straight and reached into her slacks pocket, pulling out a small metal case. “Regardless, take this.” She handed me an embossed black and gold business card. “Call me if you want to talk. About anything.”

  I leaned back in my seat and crossed my arms. “I have to say, Investigator, I’m disappointed. Not that I didn’t want your number, but I figured you would at least make me work for it.”

  “Unbelievable.” She yanked off her sunglasses so she could scowl directly at me.

  The sight of her eyes, hazy gray and narrowed with eyeliner giving sharp edges, held me rapt.

  “Do you realize what just happened here?” she asked, her nostrils flaring. “You got away with murder. Dozens of murders. You should be on your way to the guillotine right this minute.” The tap of her finger along with the last three words added emphasis.

  “Instead,” she continued, “you’re sitting here, looking smug, dropping shitty pickup lines. You don’t even have the good sense to be grateful.”

  Gratitude was somewhere in the mixed bag of feelings through which I was currently muddling. Alongside the fear that if I pinched myself, I would wake up in a prison cell with a growing sense of betrayal. Grimm’s testimony may have given the jury reasonable doubt, but it did a number on me, too. My win in court was a massive loss for my reputation. In one day, they effectively discredited everything I’d ever done.

  Thirty-two kills and counting. Was I proud? Donovan had asked. Maybe a little.

  Talbot leaned over, drawing the investigator’s focus. “I think you’ve said enough, Miss Lyle,” he told her.

  Holland’s eyes darted from him back to me, not ready to quit. “You know I felt sorry for you?” she asked. “I thought you needed help. Wanted it. But maybe you’ve had what you wanted all along.”

  I held her gaze steadily and silently.

  She shoved back from the table to stand straight once more. “Congratulations, Fitch. I hope you’re happy. Really, I do.”

  As I watched her go, my thoughts and mood yo-yoed.

  Ruckus continued outside the courtroom, muffled by the distance and closed door between it and me. I imagined the lawn outside, littered with protestors, was in full-blown pandemonium. The press was lower on my list of concerns than vigilantes ready to exact justice in the absence of a guilty verdict. I may have been a free man, but I had no fewer enemies than before. And, if I wanted to maintain my newfound squeaky-clean persona, my options for self-defense were limited.

  Talbot was in no hurry, silent beside me since his brief words to Holland.

  Standing, I turned toward him. “This has been fun, but I am ready to get out of here. A little scared they’ll change their minds, you know?” My effort at laughing was choked by a surge of anxiety.

  Talbot rose as well, smoothing his suit coat. “We’ll go out the back. Usually, I would return you to Thorngate to gather your belongings but, with all the turmoil from last night, the prison is still on lockdown.”

  I nodded, mentally inventorying the contents of my pockets when I’d been arrested. Cigarettes and lighter, wallet, keys…

  “What about my car?” I asked.

  The lawyer led the way toward the front of the room, to a small door beside the podium where Maximus had sat.

  “It’s in impound.” Talbot ushered me through the doorway. “You’ll be able to pick it up later. Tonight, your plans have already been made.”

  I thought to ask by whom, but I already knew. Talbot and I worked for the same person, after all. “Do those plans include food and a bed?” I asked. “Not to be a buzzkill, but I’m dying here.”

  He chuckled. “I’m afraid not.”

  I groaned, following him through the darkened judge’s chambers and into the hallway beyond.

  “Drive-thru on the way?” I offered. “I’m good for it. Grimm owes me half that bounty.”

  “Ah, yes.” Talbot nodded. “Though there might be a bit less of that now.”

  “Huh?” I paused, prompting him to look back and wink.

  “How do you think he paid me?”

  26

  Now Hiring

  Talbot’s BMW pulled into the parking lot of the Bitters’ End alongside the line of people that stretched from the door. The bar was a bustle, not uncommon for a Friday night. It made me wonder how far and fast news from the Capitol had traveled, and who here tonight would be less than thrilled to see this dead man walking.

  Stuffing the last bite of burger into my mouth, I wadded the paper bag, then pushed the car door open. I paused, perched on the edge of my seat with one foot on the gravel outside. I glanced back at Talbot, who watched from behind the wheel with an easy smile.

  “Thank you.” I reached to shake his hand. “Whatever Grimm paid you—or I did—it wasn’t enough.”

  Talbot clasped my hand firmly. “It was my pleasure. Now, for my final act as your legal counsel, may I give you some advice?”

  I nodded.

  “Don’t talk to the press,” he said. “And don’t go too public for a while. People run hot around here. I’m sure you can handle yourself, but it’s best not to give people a reason to do you harm.”

  “Got it,” I replied, and he released me to exit the car.

  I didn’t watch it pull away, turning instead to the customers queued outside the Bitters’ End. Peace came in familiar places, and this one was like home to me. The sound of distant waves hitting the bluff mingled with the crowd’s lively chatter. I stood still, looking up at the whitewashed siding and shuttered windows I’d feared I would never see again.

  The moment of serenity passed in a blink.

  “Holy shit, he’s here!” someone shouted.

  “Right there!”“Oh my God, Fitch? Fitch Farrow!”

  People broke away from the line to cluster around me. Any coherent words were lost in generalized squealing as they grabbed and pulled at my clothes and hair. Every duck or sidestep bumped me into someone else squeezing in. It was funny at first, then rapidly overwhelming.

  When someone snagged the collar of my suit coat and tried to bend me backward, I’d had enough. Thrusting both hands downward with my palms flat, I raised a low wall of force. It swept the innermost circle back a foot or so and knocked one woman down entirely. I stepped over her and moved without stopping through those cluttering the entrance of the Bitters’ End.

  Breaking into the open air found the entry hall abuzz. Strangers crowded into every corner and stacked up the spiral staircase.

  I found no sign of Grimm, or the gang, or anyone I knew for that matter until Nash burst through the wall of patrons barricading the bar entrance.

  “Hey, Trouble!” He beamed a wide grin and threw an arm around my shoulders for a tight squeeze. The ensuing palm thumps on my back drove a laugh out of me, and I pulled away, putting space between us so he could look me up and down.

  “Haven’t ever seen you in a suit,” he said. The arch of his ginger brows was not unappreciative.

  My outfit remained the same as it had been in court, only the tie was stuffed in my pocket, and I’d left the shirt’s top button undone. Letting my neck air out after bearing the weight of the Capitol’s dog collar all day.

  Regaining my footing, I tugged on my jacket lapels and struck a preening pose. “Best part of my defense was being too damn good looking to die.”

  Nash nodded solemnly. “It is your burden to bear. That and having to carry around your enormous ego.”

  I snorted, leaning to see past him into the bar area. “Is Grimm here?” I asked.

  “He’s inside.” Nash jerked a thumb in the direction I searched. “They all are. Waiting for you. But I wanted to get a word in before the night kicks off.”

  Crossing my arms, I fixed him with an ornery grin. “And what’s that?”

  “I’m glad you’re back.”

  The sincerity in his soft, brown eyes warmed my insides, and I bit my lip.

  “Did you miss me that bad?” I teased. “It’s only been ten days.”

  Nash raised his hands. “What can I say? You’re my best customer.”

  Chuckling, I started past him. But his fingers brushing against mine stopped me in place.

  “Find me later,” he whispered near my ear. “If you want.”

  I wouldn’t have to look hard. With this many customers, Nash would be behind the counter all night and up to his elbows in drink orders. And poor Pippa would be drowning in them if her brother bailed on his job to fool around with me.

  “In the middle of your shift?” I asked.

  “I can step out.” He winked. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

  We broke apart and single-file squeezed through a gap in the crowd and into the bar area. As I crossed the threshold, new sounds assaulted me. Music blared and voices rose above it. Mostly jovial, but not entirely. The crowd outside had been mild compared to this rowdy bunch. They gathered around and on top of tables, spilling drinks in spontaneous toasts and barking orders at Pippa as she darted about.

  At first, I saw no one familiar, but closer inspection found several members of the group wearing the same color—make that the same outfit: khaki coveralls with inmate ID numbers stitched on the fronts. The escaped prisoners had not been invited for my sake, I hoped, because I was eager to put as much distance as possible between myself and all thoughts of Thorngate Correctional Institute.

  I moved along the perimeter of the room, spotting someone I was searching for at last. Avery perched on another man’s shoulders, squared off with a second stacked duo in an out-of-water chicken fight. The spectacle took up a whole corner of the room. Onlookers cheered while Avery grappled with his opponent.

  Behind them, a table had been sequestered and was occupied by the people I’d come to see. Grimm sat in the middle, facing out into the room with Vinton on his right side and Donovan on his left. In the seat beside Donovan, Ripley Vaughn reposed with a pink-haired Goth girl in his lap. She didn’t look like a zombie. Certainly not the half-rotted Hollywood version covered in grave dirt. Must have been the right girl, though, because the cameo necklace hung around her neck.

  Donovan spotted me and leaped up, rounding the table to give me a hug. “You made it!” he exclaimed. “I don’t believe it.”

  Made it to this party, out of jail, and away from the Capitol’s murderous intentions. I didn’t believe it, either.

  Grimm waved us closer. “Boys! Have a seat. We’re about to get started.”

  Donovan returned to his chair and left me standing. I wasn’t eager to cozy up to Vinton or rub shoulders with the punk prom king and queen. But the room was too full for me to leave much space and hear anything Grimm had to say, which was a fair amount judging by his rush to get started.

  “Welcome home, son.” He smiled. “Glad to have you with us for this momentous occasion.”

  Behind me, Avery and his partner toppled over, landing on a neighboring table with a crash and clatter. Uproarious laughter ensued as the two men clambered out of the broken glass and shards of wood from the table. Avery scrambled to standing, then spun and grabbed the other man and went in for a kiss, tongue deep.

  I rolled my eyes and turned back to Grimm.

  He swept a hand in reference to the room. “Lest you wondered why we liberated all these ne’er do wells from Thorngate’s depths, allow me to explain. We’re recruiting!” he crowed. “First time in a century.”

  Of all the questions that sprung to my mind, I voiced only one. “Why?”

  “Safety in numbers, of course,” Grimm replied. “And, since you and I will be busy with Capitol matters, we need more soldiers in the field.”

  I wondered about Donovan’s place in all of this. Since his initiation had been put on the back burner, I’d rested a bit easier. But if Grimm wanted to grow the Bloody Hex, there was little reason to continue to delay.

  “You keep talking about battle and now soldiers,” I told Grimm. “But for what? I don’t get it.”

  With his plan to take things over from Maximus Lyle well underway, I saw no point in large-scale combat. The Capitol didn’t have an army, just a few dozen investigators. I squinted out into the crowd as Grimm spoke.

  “It’s a leader’s job to give orders, not explain them,” he said. “Today in court, you trusted me with your life. Surely you can trust me with this.”