“See,” Garth said. “Eva.”

“Oh . . .” I couldn’t tear my eyes from the creature, not when I was getting the very distinct impression that she was plotting my death.

Garth uncorked the whiskey, filled one glass a third of the way, the other quite a bit more, then slid the fuller one my way, along with the bottle. That got my attention, and I risked breaking eye contact with the cat to catch the glass before it reached the edge of the counter. The bottle didn’t travel quite so far, but it was near enough for comfort.

Garth picked up his own glass and rounded the island, taking a sip as he walked. He stopped by the cat—Eva—and scratched the top of her head. Her eyelids slid shut most of the way, just a sliver of green and black remaining trained on me.

“Don’t be offended if she doesn’t warm up to you right away,” Garth said, moving his hand under her chin. Eva stretched out her neck, giving him freer access. “She’s kind of a one-man cat.”

I forced a closed-mouth smile and picked up the glass, downing half the Jameson in a single gulp. It burned going down, just the way I liked it. “Thanks for this,” I said, clearing my throat, and saluted him with the booze. I cleared my throat, took another sip, then set the glass down. “It’s been a rough week. A strange week.”

Garth’s gaze moved over my face and hair. “Where are you staying?”

I stared at him, hard. “What makes you think I’m not staying at my place?”

“I stopped by the shop,” he said. “Nik told me you wouldn’t be around for a while. That, on top of the warrant issued for your arrest this afternoon, well . . .”

I stiffened, feeling like I’d been doused in frigid salt water straight from the Puget Sound.

“Your photo’s been all over the news. They say you were responsible for the fire at that warehouse . . . and that you killed someone.”

“Shit,” I hissed. That might explain the stares from the librarian and the fear in the convenience store clerk’s eyes. If there was a warrant out for me, not to mention news alerts, my plans would have to change drastically. No more evenings in bars. No more traipsing around the city. And definitely no impromptu trips back to the shop. I had to lay low, for real this time. There was no doubt in my mind that the Senate was behind this. It was their way of slowing me down, using the humans to track me so they could focus their efforts on fighting Heru.

I supposed I shouldn’t be surprised. But that didn’t stop me from being irritated. And pissed off. What was I supposed to do now?

I could go to the Tent District. Law enforcement barely had any jurisdiction there since the city had already written off most of its residents as lost causes, nuisances better contained within the unofficial district’s fences than out and about on the streets of Seattle. I could duck out there . . . or I could leave the city altogether. My city. My home. My mission would take me away from Seattle one of these days, anyway, so why not today?