Janx’s chair creaked as he leaned back, folding his own hands behind his head in a much different display of body language. "Isn’t it romantic?" he asked happily. "The lonely gargoyle, sacrificing his principles to render services to an enemy over the love of a mortal woman. His condition: free her from the favors she owes me, and he will be my slave." The last words turned into a purr. Janx kicked back in his chair, and smoke dipped and swirled around him, coloring the air. Margrit stared unseeing at the whorls as Janx offered her a broad, delighted smile. "It’s the stuff of fairy tales, don’t you think, my dear?"

"Yes, but why?"

Janx kicked forward again, beaming openly. "To tell the truth, he only negotiated the one favor away. Malik’s safety, and that at night. But you, clever girl, have taken care of the daytime details, haven’t you, and built a multitude of other conniving schemes on top of that. I’m afraid the third favor is still your burden, though. Stoneheart’s strengths do not lie in making bargains. So I still hold your mark, and now have Alban at my beck and call. Why not, my dear? Whyever not? And the very best part is that now you know he brought me the rope to hang him with because of you. Because in knowing, you’ll find your loyalties drawn to me, in order to protect the good and noble Stoneheart."

"My loyalties?" Margrit broke into skeptical laughter. "You think blackmail begets loyalty?"

"Not from the heart." Janx’s smile went wide again. "I don’t care if you curse me every night for the rest of your mortal life, Margrit. I hardly expect to win your love. But I will have your cooperation, and that, my dear, is enough. Especially with your new job. I’m reconsidering. I think that congratulations are in order, after all. My dear lady, you could hardly have made this easier for me. Eliseo," he said happily, "is going to spit."

"Do vampires do that a lot?" Her voice cracked again and Margrit swallowed hard, wishing for a glass of water. "It seems more like a dragon thing to me. Spitting fire and all that."

"That’s because you don’t know as much as you think you do." Janx was on his feet, coming around the table and offering his hands. Margrit took them without thinking, and he drew her up. His fingers were cool, but hers were icy, from panic warring with relief in her veins. Janx lifted them to his mouth, more to smile over them than brush a kiss against cold skin. Her hands went colder still, until Janx’s felt hot. The smile he offered said he’d noticed both the permission granted and the chill that had overtaken her.

"You’ll be my eyes and ears inside Daisani’s corporation, Margrit Knight. How positively wonderful. You’ll report back anything you think might be of the slightest interest to me, and I assure you, nearly everything Eliseo Daisani does is of interest to me."

"I just bet it is." Margrit took her hands from Janx’s and turned away to rest her fingertips on the doorknob before she looked back. "Is there anything else?" She was vividly aware of having not been dismissed. Aware that she was making a play to change the power balance between them. Not to dominate it; that was beyond her scope. Just to change it, to press her advantage where she could, was enough.

Acknowledgment glittered in Janx’s eyes as he recognized what she was doing. "You are so very brave, Margrit Knight. So very brave indeed. I believe that will be all, at least for the moment. Do remember the task I’ve set you to."

"Malik’s safe, Janx. Daisani’s my employer. If you want me to spy on him, I will, but that’s your third favor. You might want to think hard about whether that’s how you want to spend it." Margrit executed a short bow and exited the alcove with her heart throbbing in her throat.

"Margrit." Alban stood a mere handful of steps beyond the office door, his white hair colored to neon blue and surprise clear in his voice. For a moment Margrit saw him as an outsider might: in his human form, his broad shoulders and alabaster skin were as discreet as they could be within the casino’s walls. Even so, he looked dangerous in the manner of a big man-dangerous because anyone so well dressed and well coiffed in Janx’s House of Cards was an employee. Mortals not privy to Janx’s true nature still knew him for what he was in the human world: a crimelord, able to buy and sell people and their dreams as easily as others might buy and discard a newspaper. A man of Alban’s physical stature and quiet grace was the sort who would be sent after bad debts and old loans. Even his coloring was a beacon of warning to the human mind, for no one so pale could be entirely natural. Human nature dictated two options when presented with something new and potentially alarming: retreat or explore.

Margrit reared back as if she’d retreat, then scowled at the door behind her. Janx’s office provided nothing like a safe haven, and returning would lose her what little autonomy she’d just earned. Jaw set, she looked back at Alban, whose expression hadn’t yet cleared. "Margrit, why are you here?"

"What does it matter?" Abrasiveness did nothing to keep emotion away. She wanted to dart forward and crash into the solidness of Alban’s body, to find shelter in his arms, and wanting that angered her. "I got involved in your world, Alban. I can’t get away from it now just because you make a couple of sweeping statements." She twisted to the side as she passed the gargoyle, trying not to brush his clothes.

"Margrit." Alban’s voice arrested her. "It matters because Janx should have released you from your vow to protect Malik."

"Know what?" Margrit turned to face him, hands knotted at her sides. "Believe it or not, I got that covered, Alban. I dealt with it, so you went and broke your vaunted neutrality for absolutely nothing. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve had an incredibly bad day, and I need Biali to take me home before my friends start to worry."

"Biali?"

An unkind pulse of gladness swept her at Alban’s tone. Out of everyone she might have admitted to relying on, Biali would cut the deepest, and Margrit knew it. She’d shared memories with Alban, giving her a sense of the female gargoyle both he and Biali had loved, and over whom they’d fought. It was petty to lash out with Biali’s name as a weapon, but Margrit had a greater sense of injury than justice.

"I’m here, lawyer." The other gargoyle appeared at the end of the hall, arms folded against his thick chest as he leaned against the wall. Alban’s eyes darkened and a nasty mix of smugness and guilt sizzled through Margrit, the latter suddenly turning to a kind of hopeful desperation.

"What do you want from me, Alban?" She lowered her voice. "My life got turned upside down when I met you. Straightening it out is killing me, because I don’t really want it to go back to the way it was. I don’t want you to walk away from me. If I haven’t made that clear, maybe it’s because I don’t know how the hell to make this work, either. What do you want me to do?"

"Carry on." Alban’s gravelly voice scraped along her spine. "You seem to be doing well enough on your own." He stalked into Janx’s office, the door crashing shut behind him. Margrit, fists clenched and eyes downcast, admitted she’d deserved that.

"Come on, lawyer." The acid usually present in Biali’s voice was gone, replaced with a sympathetic note he seemed uncomfortable with. "He’s not worth it."

Instead of saying Hajnal thought he was, Margrit held her tongue and let Biali take her home.

Janx turned with raised eyebrows and an expression of bemusement as the door slammed behind Alban. "Stoneheart."

"What’s she doing here, Janx?" Alban made no pretense at calm, knowing himself for a bad liar at the best of times. "We had a bargain."

"Which I’m keeping. So, in fact, is she. Your word on Malik’s safety in the darkness, hers in the daylight, and I’m impressed, if dismayed, at the hand she’s played. Alban, my old friend, I do believe you’re in a temper. I didn’t even know you had one." Janx put a finger over his lips in an exaggerated gesture. "No, wait, of course you do. It was you who shattered Biali’s face, wasn’t it. How careless of me to forget."