I should go see her and have a cup of tea, it always helps me think clearer. But we had a witness stashed at her house, and it wouldn’t do to go visiting her again and perhaps bring trouble to her door.

Saul didn’t buckle his seat belt. Waited, staring out through the windshield. His profile was beautiful. I looked at his mouth—he had such a lovely mouth, his upper lip chiseled and his lower slightly full, a little bruised from kissing. One of these days, I’m going to leave a hickey on him. He’ll like that.

“This is a break,” I told him. “A good one.”

He shrugged. “I don’t like it. Broadway’s only four blocks away.”

Meaning they’re playing with me. They dumped the body less than four blocks away from where they tried to kill me. Or did it come straight from dumping the body to mangle me? Either way, it’s not good. “I know. But this is still a break.”

“You’re visiting Perry tonight.”

Thanks for reminding me. The skin on my back roughened. I buckled myself in. He reached for his own seatbelt.

I twisted the key. The Impala’s engine purred into life. Sixty-seven was the best year in American car history. My hands gripped the wheel. I decided silence was my best option.

What he said next destroyed that theory. “I want you to stay there.”

“What the fuck?” I twisted my head to look at him so quickly a silver charm flew and smacked the window on my side, my hair ruffling out. It almost hit me in the eye, but thankfully the red thread held and it was snatched back as my head turned.

“I want to go do some research. I want you to stay at the Monde until I get back. It might take me a little while.”

“Why? Where are you going?” I heard my voice hit the pitch just under “shriek.”

“Just out to the barrio. I got a few things on my mind.” He stared out the windshield.

“Like what?”

“Just a few things.”

Fuck that. “I’ll go with you.”

“No, kitten. There are some places down there you shouldn’t go.”

It didn’t help that he was right. The barrio was a good place for someone of my racial persuasion to end up dead; the Weres ran herd out there and only called me in if something boiled over. “People are dying, Saul. I’ll go anywhere I need to.” I settled back into the seat, listening to the engine’s steady comforting purr.

“Please, kitten. If you’re at the Monde, I know you’re at least alive. I don’t want to take you into the barrio.” His eyes dropped, he looked at the dash.

“You’d rather leave me with Perry.” Was that accusation in my voice? Wonders never cease.

“He’s got a vested interest in keeping you alive, you keep reminding me of that. And he chased that thing off last night.”

“I don’t think he chased it off.”

“It left when he showed up. Good enough for me. Come on, Kiss. Please.”

This is something I never thought I’d hear from you, Saul. I looked at my knuckles, white against the steering wheel. Then I reached down, shifted into first to pull out onto Edgerton. “Jesus Christ, Saul. What the hell’s going on?”

“I wish I knew, kitten. I really do.” He did, too. I could hear it. Whatever he suspected, it had to be really bad if he was going into the barrio; doubly bad if he wanted me to spend any more time with Perry than was absolutely necessary. “I just want to ask some questions.”

“Like what questions?”

“Like some Were questions. Watch your driving.”

“Shut up about my driving.” I took a right on Seventh, turning up toward downtown. “Talk to me, Saul. Come on.”

“I just want to ask about that braid and knot pattern, that’s all. It looks familiar, but I can’t quite place it.”

“Is the arrowhead genuine?”

“You’re a sharp girl. I think it is.” He shifted in his bucket seat, leather moving against the red fur of the seat covers; he fished a Charvil out of the box in his breast pocket. Rolled the window down a little, lit it with his wolf’s-head Zippo. I reached down and yanked out the ashtray.

“The hair?”

“Human.” His voice was shaded with distaste.

“Christ.” I shifted into fourth, the tires chirped a little when I stamped on the gas. “Give me a vowel here, Saul.”

“Wish I had one to give. It just looks familiar but I can’t place it. Makes my hackles go up.”

Yours too? “Instinct.”

“Trust it.”

“I do.” I have a healthy respect for a Were’s instinct. “All right.”

He obviously hadn’t expected me to give in so easily. “You’ll stay there?”

“I will, Saul. If you want me to, I’ll put up with Pericles. Just do what you have to and don’t leave me there long, for God’s sake. I suppose you want my car.”

“I’ll clean out the ashtray.” He inhaled, blew out a long stream of cherry-scented smoke. His unhappiness mixed with mine, a steady tension between us. “And I won’t grind the gears. We going to the hospital?”

“I want to check in on Father Rosas. Something about a Chaldean in a seminary after a Catholic artifact doesn’t sit right with me. And an artifact I’ve never heard of—and that Hutch hasn’t, either?” I paused, hit the left-hand blinker and turned left on Pelizada Avenue. Then we’re going to visit that doctor on Quincoa.

He inhaled a deep lungful of cherry-scented smoke, blew it out the window. “Catholic rites do offer protection against Chaldean sorcery and possession. That bird-thing couldn’t get out of the chapel.”

You’ve been studying, you naughty boy. My wrists weren’t steady enough, a tremor running all the way up to my elbows I ignored. “Catholic immunity only started in the sixteenth century with the creation of the Jesuits and their Shadow Order. Loyola created the Society in 1534 and the Shadow Order in 1536 by secret charter; the Sorrows started to feel the pinch in 1588 when their House in Seville was cleared and torched. That was Juan de Alatriste.” I knew I was babbling, couldn’t help myself. “And then Alatriste went against the scurf in Granada and—”

“Breathe, Jill.”

I took a deep breath. My knuckles almost creaked, my fingers were clenched so tightly. “The only thing worse than going there is anticipating it.”

“He counts on that.”

“And you want me to stay there after he’s finished with me.” You hate him. The very first thing you learned about me was that I smelled like hellbreed. You hated me, as much as a Were can hate, I guess.

His silence answered me. He inhaled again. Dry cold air bloomed through his slightly open window.

My heart twisted. I still didn’t know why Saul had changed his mind about me. I didn’t know what he got out of staying with me. All my life I’ve stayed alive by knowing the motivations of everyone around me, especially everyone who could hurt me. Anyone who made me vulnerable.

I could understand, I guess, why Saul wanted me somewhere he knew I’d be protected if that thing—whatever it was—came after me again. What I didn’t understand was why he was with me at all. He was Were, and human rules didn’t apply. I mostly thought that was a good thing.

Now I wondered.

I’d trusted him this far, with my body and whatever was left of my heart. I’d trusted him with everything Mikhail had left me. And I’d trusted him to watch my back more times than I could count.

It would have to be good enough.

“Okay.” I downshifted as the light on Pelizada and Twelfth changed. “Okay. You got it. Okay.”