“How to you know Ms. Cross, then, if she’s an Order agent?”
“I know some people in Magic Side. It’s useful to have contacts at the Order for dealing with…” He hesitated, clearly searching for the right word. “Individuals who are like me.”
“You mean criminal kingpins.”
He shrugged elegantly and sat down on one of the stone benches beside the pond. I took a seat beside him and watched the ducks flapping their wings at each other. “I suppose you could call them that,” he said. “Chicago’s magical criminal underground predates Al Capone.”
“You mean gangsters? Like with Tommy guns and flappers on their arms?”
“Some might call them that, but it’s a bit more complicated.”
I grimaced. I’d gone a long way from Police College to associating with known criminals. “You don’t deal in guns or drugs or women, do you?”
His eyes flared with surprise. “Of course not.”
“Good.” I believed him. Mac had told me something of the sort when we’d first talked about Grey, and in all my time knowing him and visiting his headquarters, I’d never seen anything that would turn my stomach. There were plenty of ways to circumvent magical law and make a fortune that didn’t involve selling your soul.
As we waited, my mind turned back to the book I’d read last night. “You helped found Guild City.”
“Yes.”
“Care to give any details?”
“What do you want to know?”
I shrugged. “I’m not sure. Why aren't you on the Council anymore if you played such an important role in creating the city itself?”
“I don’t want to be involved. Not anymore, at least. I served for several decades when the city was getting off the ground. Though I was never close with the other members, we agreed on most things. But the years passed, and people changed, and I lost interest.”
“That was when Councilor Rasla came, right? Making the laws about the guilds and requiring everyone to join?”
He nodded. “But times were different then, and I was no longer involved.”
Sadness pulled at me. “You’ve lost every friend you’ve ever had, haven’t you?”
“Immortality has its downsides.” He gazed into the distance. A normal person might have looked sad, but Grey looked like Grey. Cold and perfect.
Slowly, I reached for his arm.
Just a little touch, enough to see if I could feel anything in him.
“It was long ago, Carrow.” He looked at my hand inching toward him, his expression knowing. “I’m fine now.”
“Are you?”
Grey
Was I?
I’d been fine then, a shadow of my former self. A statue formed of ice and cold. It kept me alive. Kept me sane.
It was only with her that I’d begun to feel, to know loneliness and longing. It was bloody uncomfortable, in fact. I resisted the desire to rub my chest.
Across the courtyard, a figure appeared on the steps. Oddly, the wind whipped at her hair, though there was no breeze to be felt. She raised a hand and waved.
Ms. Nevaeh Cross.
I stood, grateful for the distraction. “We can go now.”