Angelfire | The Whispering Wall #3

Fifty Eight: Captive

The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife.

Arlen glared across the table at Marcus, who stared steadily back. When it seemed nothing was forthcoming, Arlen growled, "And what are you expecting me to do with it, exactly?"

The bundle in the corner of the room shuddered at the sound of a voice. It was still quiet enough that Arlen heard the faint rasp in the corner as it shuffled its wings about within its tethers. He couldn't see a face; Marcus's men had gagged the Angel and pulled a sack over its head. Its bare toes curled on the boards, as if it sensed Arlen watching.

"You're the best man to get the required information," Marcus said slowly, as if they were having a casual conversation about nothing of great importance. Nothing important, of course, about having kidnapped an Angel without any guarantee that it had the answers they wanted. What it did carry with it was a guarantee of retribution from Caelum if anyone found out, no matter who they were really working for. "We are simply your allies. This is your campaign."

"You should have contacted me first."

"If I had contacted you first, you wouldn't have had a captive even if you'd wanted one." Marcus sniffed, and the two priests he'd brought with him shifted, eyes fixed on Arlen. "These things often happen within very narrow windows of opportunity. You are, of course, welcome to dispose of the captive, though I advise killing them first."

"I'm not a fool," Arlen snapped. He looked at the captive again, and his gorge rose. He needed the answers. He would likely not have this opportunity again. He just couldn't stand the idea of having an Angel in the same building as he was, breathing the same air, sensing his men as they came and went. This kind of captive left them vulnerable, whether they had answers or not. And he hadn't wanted Marick on guard ahead of the guild vote for Caelumese cooperation; if this was one of Marick's conspirators, and they were noted missing before that meeting, Arlen would be the first under suspicion. He had hoped that a guild vote against working with Ilan and, by extension, Lucifer, would buy him more time. If he was suspected of sabotage, Marick would force a public challenge. "Fine. We'll take it."

Marcus's smile was thin and cold. "I thought you might."

Arlen glanced behind him, and both Usk and Jesper started forward to take the captive. Marcus's men shifted to stand in front of the Angel.

"No reward?" Marcus cocked his head.

"You either want an alliance or you don't," Arlen growled. "I hadn't realised you expected me to hire you. That's not the same arrangement at all."

"Oh, I don't want the reward." Marcus jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the two lackeys he'd brought with him. "But a tip never goes amiss."

Arlen glared at all three Nicts with as much resentment as he could muster. He might have been leading this campaign, but his allies outside the Devils seemed insistent on having him over a barrel. He couldn't afford to upset Marcus. The priest knew too much, and had a lot to gain from watching the Devils implode rather than siding with either party. He doubted Marcus would go to Marick if Arlen pissed him off, but weighing in even as a neutral party could end up disastrous. If the Nicts weren't going to stay out of it completely ­— which it was apparent they had no plans to do — it was better that he had them on side.

He dug in his pockets. He'd suspected Marcus wouldn't want to leave empty-handed, even if Arlen hadn't asked for a captive and wasn't particularly thrilled to have this one, despite its potential uses.

As the bag of coins clanked onto the table, the two Nicts stepped aside and allowed Usk and Jesper to manhandle the Angel onto its feet; Usk held its arms still while Jesper teased its ribs with a knife to keep it from struggling too much.