Page 25 of The Thief's Mark

six

Cal

ElationsurgedthroughCalas he followed Griff out of Bald Locke’s office. He couldn’t resist casting one last smug look back at the Brotherhood leader laid out on the floor.Serves the Void-eater right.

He still couldn’t believe his plan had worked so well. Or that Griff had actually held up his end of the bargain. Cal had half-expected him to accept Bald Locke’s deal and hand Cal over, washing his hands of the whole affair. It’s probably what Cal would’ve done in his place

Instead, Griff had stood up for him. Cal knew that supporting him was mostly incidental—it was the threat of the void orb that Griff cared about, not Cal’s well-being. Still, it was a nice feeling to have someone else in his corner for the first time since…well, since Kelsith.

Yeah, and look how that turned out…

Cal grimaced and focused back on their surroundings. They weren’t out of the woods yet. At any moment, Locke might startshouting for his guards. The only reason he hadn’t already was probably Griff’s threat with the ledger.

Making sure no one was watching them, Cal shifted his disguise into a random Brotherhood thug, their signature crossed swords tattooed on the back of his neck.There. That should make it easier for them to slip out unnoticed.

He gave a gap-toothed grin to Griff beside him. “You really put Bald Locke in his place. Maybe you’ve earned that badge after all. Remind me never to cross you—well, more than I already have, anyway.”

Griff just grunted.

Cal’s smile faded as he took in the inspector’s pale face. “Are you all right? You don’t look so good.”

“I’m fine,” Griff said, sounding strained. “Never felt—”

He cut off as he stumbled barely a handful of steps from Locke’s office. He would’ve fallen, maybe even toppled off the edge of the dock into the murky water, if Cal hadn’t snagged his arm. The maneuver left Griff flush with his chest—a position Cal didn’t particularly mind.

“Care to finish that sentence?” he said with a smirk. “Because it looks to me like…”

He trailed off as he noticed something hot and sticky on his fingers. He glanced down, his eyes widening when he saw the fresh blood coating Griff’s side.

“Eternal Dark, you’ve been shot! I thought he missed!”

“I’m fine,” Griff repeated through clenched teeth. He struggled feebly to extricate himself from Cal’s arms. “I’ve had worse.”

“Your tough-guy act doesn’t impress me.”Well, okay, maybe it did. Just a little.“We need to tend to that wound before you lose any more blood. You can barely keep your feet!”

“Later,” Griff hissed. “Once we’re out of here.”

He tried again to pull free of Cal, but Cal refused to loosen his grip. “Fine,” Cal said. He resumed walking, ushering thewounded inspector along with him. “So long as you let me make sure you don’t go tumbling into the cove. I don’t want to see what this bracelet of yours makes me do if you start to sink to the bottom of the bay.”

Griff grimaced but relented in his resistance. Cal couldn’t help noticing the sensation of the inspector’s hard muscles pressed against him as they walked.

They drew a fair few stares from the dockworkers they passed, but no one interfered. Guess that was one benefit of working for a violent criminal syndicate—everyone minded their own Void-cursed business.

The stairs were the hardest on Griff. They were forced to take their time, each step eliciting a pained grunt from the inspector. Cal remained on edge for anyone coming to accost them, but no one did.

When they reached the top, Cal took a moment to fiddle with Griff’s coat, doing his best to cover up the worst of the blood. The less attention they drew, the better. Then, affecting his best bad-guy snarl, he shoved open the door.

The barkeep glanced up. His brow rose as he took in the disguised Cal assisting a stumbling Griff. “What the Void happened to him?”

Cal shrugged and spat on the ground. “Boss got a little carried away. Not that I can blame him—Void-cursed protties. Told me to see our guest out.”

He started across the bar toward the exit, then skidded to a surprised halt when he suddenly found the glaring bartender in his face. “What the Void wasthat?”

Cal blinked. “What was what?”

The bartender gestured angrily to the wet splotch Cal’s spit had left on the dirt-streaked floorboards. “How many times do I have to tell you lot not to do that in my bar!”

Cal found himself at an uncharacteristic loss for words. Furrowing his brow, he made a sweeping gesture to indicate the floor. “But…this whole place is one enormous mess. If anything, I helped clean it up a bit.”