Page 85 of Bishop's Flight
“It’s beenfun getting to know you better, watching you run around the city at night, following your little leads and clues.” Zasha was still pretending to be friendly, maybe more so since Henrik had left Lucas’s room. “It’s been like my own personal detective drama. You even have a tortured psyche to speculate about.”
“Do I?”
“Oh yes. The combination of addiction, Catholic guilt, and obligation makes you most entertaining.”
“Glad I could amuse you.”
Zasha cocked their head. “Do you mean that?”
Brigid frowned. “Of course I don’t. And we haven’t spent any time together, Zasha. Youdon’tknow me; we’re not friends.”
“Now you’re being boring again. That’s your mate talking with his borrowed human morality.”
“Human morality? Why don’t we talk about immortal etiquette, eh? You’ve been terrorizing a young lad who’s under the aegis of two powerful vampires. Humans under aegis are supposed to off-limits, Zasha.”
“I didn’t kidnap him.” They put a hand to their chest. “He came to me.”
“To Alina.”
Zasha’s eyes grew cold and distant. “I am really quite annoyed with my brother for killing that girl. She was a lovely pet.”
Brigid wasn’t particularly pleased with Oleg herself. “Added to all that, you’re carryin’ water for the Ankers, a clan of spies, blackmailers, and thieves.”
“And? You’re listing all the things I like about them. At least their dishonesty is honest. What do you get out of lying to yourself, Brigid Connor?”
Brigid ignored them, creeping closer to Zasha by increments. “You’re more powerful and you’re smarter. Why do you bother doing their bidding?”
“Money.” Their eyes were alight with amusement.
“Bollocks. You don’t care about money.”
Zasha pouted again. “I don’t care about money—you’re right.”
“So why?”
They smiled, propping their chin on their fisted hand. “When I first met you, you were using an alias and you had the most delightful wig. Do you remember that? It feels so long ago.”
Brigid sighed. Trying to have a logical conversation with Zasha was like trying to chase a squirrel. “Are you talkin’ about Claire?”
She’d been infiltrating the human hunts of Ivan Sokholov, Zasha’s direct immortal descendant. She wasn’t sure if Ivan was a child or a grandchild, but there was a blood connection for sure.
Zasha clapped. “Yes! Lovely, innocent Claire.”
“I remember riding across from you in the car from Eureka.”
“Hmmm.” Zasha laughed a little bit. “Claire McKee. So quaint and Irish of you. That was my first clue.”
“That my name was too Irish? Brigid Connor isn’t any less Irish.”
“I know, but there was somethingthere. You were good, but you just didn’t look like a Claire.”
“I didn’t know who you were; I thought you were beautiful.”
“Thank you.” Zasha cocked their head. “I’m flattered. That means a lot to me.”
Keep the focus on them.If there was one thing she knew would kill time, it was Zasha talking about themself. Narcissists loved to talk about themselves.
“And powerful,” Brigid continued. “I couldn’t tell anything about your amnis or your element. You were like an elemental black hole.”
