Bishop vanished them, and Verity's eyes burned with afterimage. She tried to catch his gaze, to tell him she could handle this herself, but he was focused purely on the man behind her. "Let her go."
 
 "Or?" Trask sneered, jerking her backward.
 
 Bishop froze again.
 
 Look at me, damn you. She growled under her breath and he finally, finally glanced toward her.
 
 I've got this, she tried to tell him. She wasn't telepathic, alas, but the tense muscles in his shoulders relaxed. Somehow he saw the message in her expression.
 
 "We just wanted to ask you a few questions," Bishop said, watching only her.
 
 "Aye." Trask shifted behind her, which made the knife prick her throat. "Course you did. That's why you come in here with them blades."
 
 Bishop smiled. It wasn't very nice. "If I were here on a commission, you wouldn't have seen me coming at all. Let her go."
 
 "Why should I? Seems to me that this here"—Trask jerked her roughly—"is what we call insurance. Or perhaps... the spoils of war, I should say. What? What are you smiling about?"
 
 "That was your last warning," Bishop told him. "Verity."
 
 Verity let her breath out slowly then gathered in her power, a stealthy glide of pure heat through her veins.
 
 "Don't you try nothin'," Trask snarled, and she knew he'd felt her blossoming with heat.
 
 Verity vanished.
 
 She slammed back into being just behind Trask as he stumbled forward, coming up with her pistol in hand. "I really don't want to hurt you," she said, drawing the hammer back as she pressed the muzzle of it against the back of his skull. "But I will, if need be."
 
 Trask spun, and she punched through time and space again, slamming a fist into his side as she reappeared. Then she was gone again. A kick to the back of the knee. A knee to his groin when he bellowed and spun toward her. Then behind him again, where she shoved him through the curtain, onto the counter. Trask groaned.
 
 Stepping through the door, she leveled the pistol in his face coolly. "Spoils ofwar?"
 
 This... this was the memory worker and she felt a sudden intense fury. Who knew what he'd taken from her? She'd faced dangerous people before, stared death right in the eye—but the idea of losing bits and pieces of herself both had her back up and sent a shiver of fear down her spine. Imagine if he'd taken Mercy from her? Or even the few faint traces she could recall of her mother?
 
 "Verity," Bishop warned. "Don't hurt him. We need answers."
 
 She stared along the barrel of the pistol and almost wanted to pull the trigger. "And Ineedmy memories back."
 
 Trask panted, half curled over the counter. "You," he said, recognition gleaming in his eyes. "Murphy's little crow."
 
 Verity hadn't missed those memories until now, but the thought of this man in her head.... It made her feel dirty. "Don't tempt me, you filth. I can run rings around you if I so desire, and Mr. Bishop already wants to knot your intestines together."
 
 Trask laughed under his breath at her. "So that's how Murphy did it," he said, half to himself. His cock-eyed gaze slid over her shoulder as Bishop pushed through the curtain, pausing at her side like some lethal shadow. "Or did she fuck the Chalice out of you?"
 
 Bishop moved, and somehow Verity caught his arm.
 
 "I thought we didn't want to kill him?" she asked Bishop when he flexed beside her with fury. "Save your blows for later, if Mr. Trask grows somewhat recalcitrant with answers. His petty insults are simply not worth it."
 
 Trask glared back at her. "I ain't talking."
 
 Verity stepped to the side. "Oh, I think you will. Mr. Bishop, he's all yours."
 
 "Thank you," Bishop replied, looking faintly amused for some reason. He stripped off his coat and began to unbutton his sleeves at the wrists. "This won't take but a moment. Just make sure I don't get any blood on your skirts. I know how you feel about that."
 
 "Isn't he thoughtful?" she asked Trask, who looked green.
 
 "Here now," Trask muttered, his fingers curling into a fist. "No need for theatrics."
 
 "Flex those fingers again and I'll cut them off." Bishop's voice was pure ice as the two of them locked eyes. "Like you said: we both know what the other is capable of."