choice about it. If they could just walk into your normal life, then they were a part of normal life, and she could no longer separate the two in her head.
But Roiben was indeed standing beside their booth. His hair was white as salt under the fluorescent lights and was pulled back in a ponytail. He was wearing a long black wool coat that hid whatever he was wearing underneath all the way down to his thoroughly modern leather boots. There was so little color in his face that he seemed to be entirely monochromatic, a picture shot in black-and-white film.
“Who’s the goth?” Kaye heard Doughboy say.
“Robin, I think his name is,” Janet replied glumly.
Roiben raised an eyebrow when he heardthat, but he went on. “May I speak with you a moment?”
She felt incapable of doing more than nodding her head. Getting up from the booth, she walked with him to an empty table. Neither one sat down.
“I came to give you this.” Roiben reached into his coat and took out a lump of black cloth from some well-hidden pocket. And smiled, the same smile she remembered from the forest, the one that was just for her. “It’s your shirt, back from the dead.”
“Like you,” she said.
He nodded slightly. “Indeed.”
“My friends told me not to talk to you.” She hadn’t known she was going to say that till it came out of her mouth. The words felt like thorns falling from her tongue.
He looked down and took a breath. “Your friends? Not, I assume, those friends.” His eyes flickered toward the booth, and she shook her head.
“Lutie and Spike,” she said.
His eyes were dark when he looked at her again, and the smile was gone. “I killed a friend of theirs. Perhaps a friend of yours.”
Around her, people were eating and laughing and talking, but those normal sounds felt as far away and out of place as a laugh track. “You killed Gristle.”
He nodded.
She stared at him, as though things might somehow reshuffle to make sense. “How? Why? Why are you telling me this?”
Roiben didn’t meet her gaze as he spoke. “Is there some excuse that I could give you that would make it better? Some explanation that you would find acceptable?”
“That’s your answer? Don’t you even care?”
“You have the shirt. I have done what I came here to do.”
She grabbed his arm and moved around to face him. “You owe me three questions.”
He stiffened, but his face remained blank. “Very well.”
Anger surged up in her, a bitter helpless feeling. “Why did you kill Gristle?”
“My mistress bade me do so. I have little choice in my obedience.” Roiben tucked his long fingers into the pockets of the coat. He spoke matter-of-factly, as though he was bored by his own answers.
“Right,” Kaye said. “So if she told you to jump off a bridge …?”
“Exactly.” There was no irony in his tone. “Shall I consider that your second question?”
Kaye stopped and took a breath, her face filling with heat. She was so angry that she was shaking.
“Why don’t you …,” she began, and stopped herself. She had to think. Anger was making her careless and stupid. She had one more question,and she was determined that she would use it to piss him off, if nothing else. She thought about the note she’d gotten in the acorn and the warning she’d been given. “What’s your full name?”
He looked like he would choke on the air he breathed. “What?”
“That’s my third question: What is your full name?” She didn’t know what she had done, not really. She only knew that she was forcing him to do something he didn’t want to do, and that suited her fine.
Roiben’s eyes darkened with fury. “Rath Roiben Rye, much may the knowledge please you.”
Her eyes narrowed. “It’s a nice name.”
“You are too clever by half. Too clever for your own good, I think.”
“Kiss my ass, Rath Roiben Rye.”
He grabbed her by the arm before she even saw him move. She raised her hand to ward off the coming blow. He threw
But Roiben was indeed standing beside their booth. His hair was white as salt under the fluorescent lights and was pulled back in a ponytail. He was wearing a long black wool coat that hid whatever he was wearing underneath all the way down to his thoroughly modern leather boots. There was so little color in his face that he seemed to be entirely monochromatic, a picture shot in black-and-white film.
“Who’s the goth?” Kaye heard Doughboy say.
“Robin, I think his name is,” Janet replied glumly.
Roiben raised an eyebrow when he heardthat, but he went on. “May I speak with you a moment?”
She felt incapable of doing more than nodding her head. Getting up from the booth, she walked with him to an empty table. Neither one sat down.
“I came to give you this.” Roiben reached into his coat and took out a lump of black cloth from some well-hidden pocket. And smiled, the same smile she remembered from the forest, the one that was just for her. “It’s your shirt, back from the dead.”
“Like you,” she said.
He nodded slightly. “Indeed.”
“My friends told me not to talk to you.” She hadn’t known she was going to say that till it came out of her mouth. The words felt like thorns falling from her tongue.
He looked down and took a breath. “Your friends? Not, I assume, those friends.” His eyes flickered toward the booth, and she shook her head.
“Lutie and Spike,” she said.
His eyes were dark when he looked at her again, and the smile was gone. “I killed a friend of theirs. Perhaps a friend of yours.”
Around her, people were eating and laughing and talking, but those normal sounds felt as far away and out of place as a laugh track. “You killed Gristle.”
He nodded.
She stared at him, as though things might somehow reshuffle to make sense. “How? Why? Why are you telling me this?”
Roiben didn’t meet her gaze as he spoke. “Is there some excuse that I could give you that would make it better? Some explanation that you would find acceptable?”
“That’s your answer? Don’t you even care?”
“You have the shirt. I have done what I came here to do.”
She grabbed his arm and moved around to face him. “You owe me three questions.”
He stiffened, but his face remained blank. “Very well.”
Anger surged up in her, a bitter helpless feeling. “Why did you kill Gristle?”
“My mistress bade me do so. I have little choice in my obedience.” Roiben tucked his long fingers into the pockets of the coat. He spoke matter-of-factly, as though he was bored by his own answers.
“Right,” Kaye said. “So if she told you to jump off a bridge …?”
“Exactly.” There was no irony in his tone. “Shall I consider that your second question?”
Kaye stopped and took a breath, her face filling with heat. She was so angry that she was shaking.
“Why don’t you …,” she began, and stopped herself. She had to think. Anger was making her careless and stupid. She had one more question,and she was determined that she would use it to piss him off, if nothing else. She thought about the note she’d gotten in the acorn and the warning she’d been given. “What’s your full name?”
He looked like he would choke on the air he breathed. “What?”
“That’s my third question: What is your full name?” She didn’t know what she had done, not really. She only knew that she was forcing him to do something he didn’t want to do, and that suited her fine.
Roiben’s eyes darkened with fury. “Rath Roiben Rye, much may the knowledge please you.”
Her eyes narrowed. “It’s a nice name.”
“You are too clever by half. Too clever for your own good, I think.”
“Kiss my ass, Rath Roiben Rye.”
He grabbed her by the arm before she even saw him move. She raised her hand to ward off the coming blow. He threw
Similar Books
