“No, I’m not.” Not yet, anyway. “But I am partially an energy form. My father is an Aedh, just as Lucian was.”
Something sparked in his eyes. The reporter within had the scent of a story. “So you do know he died?”
I hesitated, though there was little point in denying it. “Yeah.”
“And do you happen to know how?”
“Why? What have you heard?”
“Interesting way of not answering the question, Ris.” He studied me for a moment, then added, “I talked to several people who were near the warehouse at the time of his murder. By their accounts, it appeared that Lucian had been blown up – something later refuted by the Directorate. They said the cause was accidental.”
If the Directorate were saying that, it could only mean Uncle Rhoan was cleaning up my mess and protecting my ass. They knew, as much as I did, that it had been no accident.
But if Jak had been talking to people who’d been near the warehouse at the time of Lucian’s death, it was more than possible he knew my part in it. Still, I returned his gaze steadily. “And you don’t believe the Directorate’s statement?”
He snorted. “I saw the photographer, remember? From what the witnesses said, the manner in which Lucian died was almost identical.”
The photographer had been one of the many leads Lucian had erased before we’d had the chance to talk to him. I’d forgotten Jak had been there when I’d discovered the body. “Whoever killed Lucian didn’t kill the photographer.”
“Never suggested they did.” He quirked an eyebrow. “And that wasn’t actually a question I asked.”
Perhaps not out loud, but it was nevertheless implied. And I didn’t have to be psychic – although, technically, given my somewhat unreliable clairvoyant abilities, I was – to predict his next question.
“It does, however, force me to ask – did you kill him?”
I didn’t pull my gaze away, didn’t react, even if my insides were churning so badly it felt like I was about to throw up. “What do you think?”
“I think it’s possible, and I’d like to know why.”
I considered my options, weighing honesty – and what that might mean – against the knowledge that I still needed his help. Probably more so now than ever before thanks to the fact that I’d pushed Azriel away.
And yet, it was no more right to draw Jak deeper into this whole mess than it was to involve Ilianna or Tao.
“It’s possible,” I said eventually, “that Lucian died the way he did simply because that’s the exact same way he killed my mother.”
Jak blinked. “Lucian killed your mother? Why the hell were you fucking him, then?”
“Why do you think, asshole?” I spun around and stalked toward the elevator.
He took several quick steps and grabbed my arm, stopping me. “Look, I’m sorry, but you’ve got to admit, it’s an obvious question.”
I drew in a deep breath, though it did little to calm the rush of anger – anger that was aimed just as much at myself as at him.
“Do you think I haven’t agonized over the fact I was having sex with my mom’s murderer? It makes me want to puke every time I think about it.” I pulled my arm from his and continued on to the elevator. “And the worst of it is, that wasn’t the end of his crimes. It was just the beginning.”
Jak fell in step beside me. “What else did he do?”
“Just about everything.” I punched the Call button. “He was working with the sorcerer who stole the keys, and he was reading my thoughts during sex to keep up-to-date with everything we were doing to find them.”
“Wow,” Jak murmured. “Even I wasn’t that much of a prick. At least when we were making love, I concentrated on the business at hand.”
A reluctant smile touched my lips. “Oh, I don’t know about that. There were definitely occasions when it seemed your thoughts were elsewhere.”
“If my thoughts were elsewhere, you can bet it was because I was trying not to come. You, my dear, can sometimes make a man a little too quick on the trigger.”
My smile grew. “I did notice you had a tendency to fire off a little too soon —”
“It didn’t happen that often,” he said, nudging me with his shoulder.