Nick followed Hugh to the door. He was wearing clothes and seemed no worse for wear. A woman walked with him, at least fifty, but strong and fit, built like she could punch a tank out. Bright red paint crossed her left cheek, an upside-down T, smudged, probably drawn with a finger. It stood for Uath, the sixth letter of the Ogham alphabet used by the ancient Celts. It meant horror or fear, and according to Voron, Uath had earned her name. My adopted father had found her years ago. She was one of his elite soldiers who later formed the backbone of the Order of Iron Dogs. Hugh must’ve inherited her. I had no idea she was still alive. Voron knew how to pick them.

Hugh flicked his fingers. Nick and Uath backed off, took a couple of steps down the stairs, and waited.

Hugh pulled a glove off his hand and reached for the doorway. His defensive spell flashed green and drained down. His fingers touched the invisible wall of my blood ward. He pushed.

I kept cleaning my sword.

“Clever girl,” Hugh said.

“Learning as I go.”

He reached into his cloak and pulled out a small white bottle.

“What is it?”

“Ibuprofen,” he said. “For your headache. I know you have one.”

Hugh, a benign and considerate mass murderer. Always thinking ahead.

Hugh shook the bottle at me.

“No, thanks. I’ve had my daily dose of poison already.”

Hugh smiled.

“Something funny?”

“The more you struggle, Kate, the more I learn about you.”

“Learn anything interesting?”

He moved, stalking around the landing. He seemed to have gotten bigger somehow since our encounter in the Black Sea. Taller, broader, stronger. Maybe it was my memory playing tricks, or maybe it was the cloak.

“You can break my ward. This morning I knew of eleven people in the world who could. Now there are twelve.”

“Whoop-de-doo.”

Hugh shrugged his shoulders. “You know what I hate about the winter in this city?”

The longer we kept talking, the more time I would buy for Derek, Ascanio, and Robert to take the ceiling apart. I raised one eyebrow. “Mmm?”

“It’s so damn cold, I wouldn’t let a dog out, but there’s no snow. There’s just this crud. It’s not rain, it’s not snow, it’s like freezing mud falling from the sky.” He rested one hand on the wall next to the side of the door. “I say we call it quits. The new Four Seasons has VIP suites. I stayed there on my last trip here. We’ll have them build us a nice fire and hide in the room, hot, dry, and cozy. We’ll order some food, some decent wine, and talk.”

“What would we talk about?”

“About the future.”

I pretended to think about it. “Pass.”

Hugh flashed his teeth in a narrow smile. Before a hungry tiger pounced on its prey, he would smile just like that.