But she had made a play. And a clever one at that. He nodded his approval and made a note of what she’d done before reaching for the slip of paper anchored under the board.

Heinrich would have loved this touch—the perfect irony to the ghost story, when the liar told the truth. Confessing his weakness knowing she wouldn’t know whose weakness it was or believe it if she did know. Using it to his own advantage.

She’d written something on the back. He flipped it over. Paused.

She was praying for him. He’d asked for it simply because it seemed the thing to say—not because he expected her to respond to that. Get well was more what he’d thought she’d say.

His breath still burned when he drew it into his lungs. His muscles still ached. Maybe she wasn’t really going to do it. And it surely wouldn’t matter if she did. There may well be a God up in heaven, but if so, He surely didn’t concern Himself with a ghost roaming the earth. If He’d favored anyone, it was Heinrich. And look how that had ended.

Even so. It meant something that she would pray for him. Meant something about her. He folded the paper into a precise square and slid it into his pocket.

His gaze traveled through the darkness to where the Old Building stood out of sight, proud and stiff. He’d known from the start that Margot De Wilde wasn’t his enemy. But she was proving herself the best sort of opponent.

The kind he could admire.

He gathered the stones yet again, slipped their pouches into his pockets, and tucked the board under his arm.

He wouldn’t hurt her, if it could be helped. Not directly. Despite the company she’d been keeping—what a strangely small world was this sphere of intelligence—she was a worthy opponent. He would respect that. He would do what he must to get into the Old Building or get her to go in on his behalf, but Der Vampir wouldn’t taste her life’s blood.

Heinrich wasn’t the only one with a streak of honor after all.

26

Margot’s lips twitched up at the string of curses echoing down the corridor—colorful enough to make her glance over at Camden, who wasn’t paying any mind to the diatribe underway. She could only imagine how Drake would chide the men out there if he heard them. There were ladies in earshot, after all.

But the reason for the cursing was far more interesting to her than the words themselves. She pushed away from her desk and peeked into the corridor.

“What is the point of it all if they don’t listen?” Commander James stood in his office door, facing both Hall and Knox.