Page 28 of Pulling Strings

Behind my back, my hands remained zip tied and numb. My wrists weren’t strong enough to snap the tie, but my mind was. I had a bad feeling about the effect of the collar fastened around my neck, but the fading sensation in my fingers was a more pressing concern. Atendril of thought slipped out, testing the air. The metal ring gave a hum, and pain snapped like a rubber band in my temple.

“Shit,” I hissed.

Antimagic shock collar? What would they think of next?

I glared at the door, certain I’d be left to stew till dawn, but equally certain someone in the halls outside could hear me.

“Somebody in this place has a serious kink!” I shouted. “When I figure out who it is—”

A mechanical beep made me jump.

The barred cell door slid aside, allowing entry to a woman in her mid-twenties. She wore a pinstriped skirt suit and round, reflective sunglasses, and was surprisingly put together for nearly midnight. Then again, this was a career-defining moment for her. If you’re going to make history, you might as well look good doing it.

She looked so good, in fact, that I couldn’t help but continue my statement by saying, “When I figure out who it is, I’d like to have a long chat with them about our shared interests.”

I bumped the collar with one shoulder. “Did you bring the leash that goes with this, Investigator?”

She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a black leather wallet.

“Holland Lyle.” She flipped it open to show me. “Special investigator for—”

“Spare me.” I rolled my eyes. “Are you really going to carry on like we don’t know each other? I took you to the freshman formal.”

Yes, we had history. More than even the media knew. Maximus Lyle did his best to bury rumors about our childhood friendship after the Bloody Hex got itsclaws into me. But the truth remained that long before she became my Capitol counterpart, Holland Lyle was my first love.

“It’s been a long time, Mister Farrow,” she said. “Or do you prefer Marionette?” The bifold wallet snapped closed, concealing the silver badge and ID card I hadn’t bothered to inspect.

No surprise she was the one sent to greet me. My arrest was just the feather she needed for her cap if she intended to run the Investigative Department one day.

“It’s Fitch,” I said. “You know that.”

She glanced around the cell before returning her attention to me. “Shall we do something about those?” The angle of her eyes implied the zip cuffs securing my arms.

I shrugged, and she produced a pair of short-bladed scissors, then reached around behind my back. With a pull and a click, the pinching pain in my wrists relented.

I rolled my stiff shoulders, bringing my hands around to rest in my lap. The hollow sockets of the Bloody Hex skull tattoo stared up at me from the back of my hand.

“Forgive me if I’m not entirely prepared for this meeting,” Holland said as she tucked the scissors away. “This was not the turn of events any of us expected.”

It wasn’t how I’d planned to spend my Tuesday, either. Overwhelming didn’t begin to cover my experience of the past few days. From Warren Reeves to Jacoby Thatcher and every bit of bullshit in between, none of it readied me for this.

“We have much to discuss,” Holland continued, “but first, do you have any questions for me?”

“So fucking formal.” I frowned. “Are you wearing a wire, or do you always carry on like you’ve got a stick up your ass?”

Her lips pursed.

She’d been my first kiss, too. Not that it mattered since she seemed determined to pretend the first fourteen years of our lives never happened. We were living in the now, where I was a criminal, and she was a cop. Cut and dry.

“Let’s take a walk,” she said.

I looked past her at the cell door standing open, vacant of security guards or uniformed officers. A moment passed wondering if this was a trap or if she planned to take me somewhere worse than the cushy jail cell.

“It’s been some time since you visited the Capitol,” she added. “Perhaps you’d like to see how things have changed.”

A wave of her hand motioned me past her into the hallway outside. I preferred not to turn my back on any investigator, even a pretty one, but the wide-open passage stretching ahead gave a feeling of freedom that put my fears at ease.

In these wee hours, the building was closed to the public. Even overachieving staffers would have gone home long ago.

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