Page 233 of Because I Killed Him
The silence on the other end turns my stomach. I hear Croft breathing, along with the background hum of Copper comms and the clack of boots on concrete.
Finally, he lowers his voice. “I’m about to clock out. Meet me in ten. West entrance of Headquarters.”
I tear southeast across campus, shoot past a yellow light, and run straight through a red. Charlotte braces herself with one hand on the dashboard, fear visible on her face, but urges me faster.
With most students still shaken by last night’s terror, the streets are nearly deserted, but one hovercar stays close behind, fishtailing through every turn as if determined to keep pace. I don’t bother checking who it is. I push the throttle harder, then descend into the west parking lot of the Copper Headquarters.
Croft is waiting by the curb, out of uniform. He’s dressed in a dark purple suit, collar open at the throat, fatigue carved into the pretty bones of his face. One look at his shell-shocked eyes tells me he was part of the Copper response to the Ranger attack.
I roll the window down and wave him over. Without a word, he slides in. When he spots Charlotte, he shifts uneasily, as if her being here is more than he agreed to.
She narrows her eyes. “Don’t worry. I’m Lore’s friend. We met in the Speakeasy. You stepped on my foot.”
Croft nods as if he half-remembers, then speaks to me. “Somerset. They brought him in about two hours ago. He hasn’t been transferred.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means he’s not headed for the Pearl Penitentiary or the guillotine. Not yet anyway.”
“Why would they keep him here?” Charlotte cuts in.
“If they’re holding him in-house, it usually means they’re offering a deal.”
“What kind of deal?” I ask.
Croft rubs his jaw, looking grim. “Above my clearance. But it won’t be pretty. Not if the Coats are working it.”
“The Brasscoats?”
He nods, then clocks the street as if he half-expects one of them to be watching us.
I try to steady myself as my fear hardens into rage. “Thank you, Arthur.” I clutch his hand too tightly. “Truly. Thank you.”
His fingers curl beneath mine, and a flush climbs his neck. Then he straightens, regaining composure as if he’s still in uniform. “I’ll be stationed here next year, too. If you need anything, call. I’ll be around.”
Croft dips his chin once at me, once at Charlotte, then slides out.
By the time the door clicks shut, I’m already dialing Jerome’s number. The call goes straight to voicemail, so I send a text:
“My Grandmaster, Harrison Somerset, was arrested. Do you know anything about it?”
He responds so quickly that I half expect the text’s speed to burn my screen.“Classified, sweetheart.”
I drop my forehead onto the control stick, fighting the sting in my eyes.“Professor, please. He’s my sister’s fiancé.”
“Ah, so tragic taste in men is genetic. Have you considered breeding it out?”
“Jerome, I’m begging you.”
This time, he goes quiet for a full, agonizing minute. Then, at last:
“Don’t know the details, Waldsten. He’s not with my division. The H-1Coats handle high-risk citizens—insurrectionists, conspirators, the big charges. Rough bastards. They’ll give him a deal he can’t live with or a blade he can’t dodge. If he’s smart, he’ll take the blade. Sorry, kid.”
I stare at the message until the letters blur. Beside me, Charlotte seems frozen, so still I wonder if she’s breathing at all. “Lore.” She points out the windshield. “It’s Harry.”
I twist around as he steps through the west entrance. He’s alone, but the lack of an escort only shows how confident the Brasscoats are that he won’t try to run. His Fraternity jacket hangs off one shoulder, torn along the seam. One sleeve is dark with blood from the injury I saw at the Luminescent Lake, and a fresh bruise is blooming under his jaw, crawling into his hairline. He’s clutching his Fraternity cap so tightly it’s nearly bent in half.
Charlotte touches my arm. “Lore, I’m gonna take a walk.”
