I pursed my lips against a smile I felt coming on. "Compliments will get you nowhere."

"Which one? Vindictive or pretty?"

I shrugged. "Either one works for me. But if you're worried that I'll choke the life out of Markus, I promise I'll be perfect."

Mychael chortled. "A perfect what?"

"Whatever Markus deserves."

"No punching or choking."

"I would never dream of it."

"Raine." That one word held a world of warning.

"Okay, I'd dream of it, but I wouldn't do it."

"Because you'd rather stab him."

I just smiled. Mychael was getting to know me way too well.

"That's not what we're here for," he told me.

"That's not what you're here for. If Markus had anything to do with Balmorlan kidnapping Piaras or getting Tam charged with murder, there are some impulses that I won't even try to control."

"Can you control yourself long enough for us to get into the house?"

My smile was tiny and perfect, maybe even demure. "Oh, you can count on it. I want to get in the same room with Markus. The question is how you propose to do that. We can't exactly stroll up to the front door looking like this, knock, and hope we get invited in for drinks."

"I thought we'd start by dropping our glamours." Mychael dropped his.

I followed suit. I have to admit, it was a relief. My back was starting to hurt from carrying around what was no doubt Maire Orla's pair of pride and joys. "Though what about the guards? If everyone's supposed to believe we're in the citadel and then Markus's men see us, guess what? Cover blown."

"We won't be seeing the guards and they won't see us."

"Then what-"

"If you can't control a situation, you have to know every detail, don't you?"

"What's wrong with that?"

Mychael's eyes twinkled from under the brim of his hat. "I'll bet you don't like surprises for your birthday, either."

"No, I don't. And what the hell does that have to do with anything?"

He leaned in close with a conspiratorial whisper. "Not all surprises are bad."

Mychael took my face in his hands and those blue eyes gazed down into mine. There was no question reflected there, no uncertainty, and he sure as hell wasn't asking my permission. Those eyes told me what he wanted.

He kissed me.

His lips didn't demand; they simply took. With delicious slowness. His fingers of one hand ran lightly up the curve of my ear, lingering for a breath-catching caress at the tip before sliding down to my throat, leaving a trail of tingle-inducing heat in their wake. By the time his hand slipped around the back of my neck and pressed me to him, my hands were on him, sliding up to his chest and around his neck. My hands didn't ask my permission, either. Traitorous hands.

Mychael's kiss turned into a tantalizing nibble, gently pulling my bottom lip between his teeth, sucking, teasing.

I opened my eyes and was met with twin pools of deep ocean blue, gleaming with mischief as he released my lips and planted light kisses on my nose and forehead. His lips lingered there, the warmth of his breath and body doing a fine job of banishing the night cold-or at least giving me something better to think about. His lips had released mine, but his arms were wrapped firmly around my waist and didn't seem to be in a rush to let me go.

"What was that for?" I found myself short of breath.

"Hopefully, a pleasant surprise."

I looked up at him, a slow smile spreading across my face. "Eh, I've had worse."

Mychael grinned and his fingers found that ticklish place on my ribs and I squealed before I could stop myself. His lips instantly covered my mouth, muffling the sound. He took his sweet time muffling.

"See, not all surprises are bad," his lips murmured against mine. "And some are more enjoyable than you'll admit."

"Was that a distraction to keep me from stabbing Markus?"

"That depends. Did it work?"

"As a distraction, it was first-rate."

"My lips humbly thank you."

"As a deterrent . . . sorry, no dice."

Mychael pressed his lips together. I actually think he was trying not to laugh-at me. I narrowed my eyes and glared at him.

"That sounds like a challenge to me," he said. "I'll have to make every effort to do better next time."

"So what's your plan?" I asked. "For Markus," I quickly added.

Mychael ran his hands down my ribs to my hips and back again before releasing me. "Very well. After we're in the house and have informed Markus of the situation, I plan to find out the truth of his involvement in all this."

I bared my teeth in a fierce grin. "Now, that's a plan I can-"

"My way," he told me firmly.

"Your way what?"

"We're going to find out my way. No fists, no daggers."

"And which way is that?"

"I'll ask him."

"You expect him to be honest?"

"I'll know if he's lying, and so will you."

True. Part of me didn't want to know that Markus was lying-or that he would lie to me. It was the same part of me that didn't want to know that I had been a part-time agent and a full-time patsy. I thought I meant more to Markus than that, and if I didn't . . . well, dammit, it hurt. It hurt like hell. Not to mention it made me feel naive and downright stupid. I didn't like either one. During my life, I'd been screwed over by professionals, people who'd done it before and would gleefully do it again. I really didn't want to add Markus's name to that list.

"What if he is lying?" I asked quietly. "Or what if he tells us the truth and admits he did it?"

Mychael's expression was cheerfully grim. "Then we'll do it your way."

"Best idea I've heard all night," I muttered. "So, how do we get in the house?"

"I thought I'd give my usual signal and Markus's butler would let us in through the back door. A quick veiling spell and the guards don't see us. Markus has plenty of clandestine meetings in the middle of the night."

I just stood there, and then I think I blinked. I wasn't sure if I had or not; I was too stunned by what I'd just heard.

"Your usual signal?"

"I've been there before."

"Apparently. What about the not so little fact that Markus is Taltek Balmorlan's boss?" I asked. "The sadistic son of a bitch who kidnaps people for his personal armory. Carnades's new best friend. Minion to the late and leathery General Aratus."

"You have suspicions but no proof that Sevelien condoned any of Balmorlan's activities," Mychael said.

"When his people are attacking my friends, suspicions are all I need. Just because Markus's name isn't on Balmorlan's orders doesn't mean he's innocent."

"Nor does it condemn him as guilty." His look softened. "You've worked with him for how long?"

"Nine years."

"That's a long time, Raine."

"Yeah, it is," I admitted reluctantly. I didn't want to let go of a perfectly good vindictive anger.

"During that time did Markus Sevelien ever do anything to earn your distrust?"

"No, but-"

"What do your instincts tell you?"

"The same thing they always tell me. Be careful."

"Good advice in any situation. Do they tell you anything else?"

"Markus is Balmorlan's boss; he gives the orders."

"That's not an instinct; that's an assumption." His hands slid up my arms to just above my elbows. "Raine, many things are not as they seem, and people aren't always who you think they are. But that doesn't mean you can't trust them just as much as you always have. And that includes their plans."

"Are we still talking about Markus?"

"What I said applies to both me and Markus Sevelien."

I paused. "Do you trust Markus?"

"I do."

I sighed. "And I trust you."

"Why, thank you."

"Don't take this the wrong way, but I'm going to reserve judgment on Markus."

One side of Mychael's lips curled in a crooked smile. "I wouldn't expect anything else."

Mychael decided to hide the gold. Made sense to me. If we needed to run away from anything, Mychael's clanking would be a sure giveaway. He found a neat little hidey-hole in the alley he'd yanked me into. He hid the satchel in the hole and kicked some alley garbage over it. When we finished with Markus, we'd stop back by and collect our ill-gotten booty.

We got within fifty yards of Markus's house without incident. I was nothing short of stunned. But what didn't stun, surprise, or shock me in the least was a stone wall around the property that had to be at least eight feet tall. The only way I caught a glimpse of the house was through a pair of massive iron gates wide enough to admit a carriage and outriders. The iron glowed blue with protective wards that snapped and sparked whenever a moth flew too close. That was one hell of a bug zapper-or elf-kidnapper zapper. The top of the wall sported the same blue glow. Cozy.

"Other than this one, the only other occupied house on the street is at the far end," Mychael said in mindspeak.

That would explain the quiet-that and it was past two bells in the morning. Just because we didn't see Markus's guards didn't mean they weren't there. Markus hired only the best. Our dark leathers helped us blend into the stonework of the building at our backs.

We'd been standing in the shadows for nearly ten minutes, motionless, letting our eyes adjust to the darkness surrounding the house, to discern what was a shadow and what might be guards standing as still as we were.

There were no guards.

There should have been.

Something was very wrong.

I knew Markus well enough to find him using my seeking skills. If he was in that house, I'd know it. No need to step in something deep-or worse, a trap-if the man we needed to see wasn't even there. But if he was there, and he was in danger, or hurt, or . . . or he was the man who ordered the people I cared about kidnapped and arrested and threatened with execution. If he'd done that, whatever danger was in his house with him right now was welcome to him. But if he hadn't signed those orders and Balmorlan had acted alone . . .

Dammit. Why did this have to be so complicated?

Mychael's hand was a comforting pressure on my shoulder as I took a deep breath, letting it out slowly and silently.

"Is he in there?" Mychael asked.

"I don't know."

"Can you find out without anyone-"

"Yes."

"Do it."

I closed my eyes and tried to relax, breathing deeply. Breathing I could do; relaxing wasn't going to happen, so I stopped trying and just went to work. I focused my will on an image of Markus in my mind until it was almost real enough to touch. Then I reached out across the street, over the wall, and froze.

I started shaking, but not from cold. Death was on the other side of that wall, inside that house. A chilled, spidery- light touch, a manipulator of death.

Mychael's fingers tightened on my shoulder. "Reapers?" I kept my will focused on not moving, not giving myself away. It wasn't a Reaper; what was in Markus's house didn't harvest the dead. It was alive and took a perverse pleasure in bringing back the dead. And he was powerful. Oh yes, he had power in spades, bone deep and cold as the grave.