Ian

  I sat in my rickety chair in my ratty little office, thinking wistfully of the opulent halls of the Winter Palace. The last of Lachlan's money sat on the desk in front of me, freshly counted. After the flights to the Palace and back, there wasn't even enough left to cover next month's rent. I needed to start looking for more work.

  Instead, I tipped my head back to stare upside-down out the window. There wasn't much to see except cloudy night sky. The angle made my neck hurt, even when I put a foot on the edge of my desk and leaned the chair up on its back legs.

  Footsteps in the corridor outside. I set the chair back down, feeling my heart start to race. I should have thought first about Nosa Costra hitmen, but-

  Lachlan walked in with even less ceremony or knocking than his previous visits, like a family member coming home from work. He was wearing the same kind of pristine white suit he'd always worn to call at my office, that maddeningly fluffy mop of hair all the fuzzier this time. His heels tapped sharply on the floor.

  Trying to hold my nerve, remembering that he was probably a high-ranking Imperial spy of some sort, I said, "Don't you have a party to be at?"

  "I begged off." He placed a tall bottle of russet liquid on my desk, then a pair of tumblers. "A little better than your usual rotgut, I think, but I tried not to go too far up-market."

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  I stared at the bottle. It was a good single malt, twice the price of anything I normally bought. And he'd brought his own glasses? Well, after what he'd said about my coffee and cups, that was fair enough, I guess.

  He sat down in the chair opposite my desk. "An apology. I should have sent you more backup."

  "You… did, didn't you? Horace?"

  "That didn't stop you getting beaten within an inch of your life." Lachlan leaned forward, picked up the bottle and began opening it. "He couldn't shadow you any closer and he saw the vet coming out of his surgery right as the mafia man caught you."

  "I thought I was dead," I said, and found my throat thickening. "I thought-"

  He nodded. Whatever he was doing to the bottle must have been witchcraft, he already had the cork out. Whiskey splashed neatly into first one glass, then the other. "You're fit now?"

  I nodded, stretching, trying to loosen my chest. "Can't complain."

  "Good." He pushed one of the glasses towards me. "You do good work, Spector, you were a great asset."

  My nerve failed me, or maybe I was still struggling with the memory of that street in Konstantowa, but I couldn't come up with any quip about great assets.

  Lachlan took a sip, and gave every appearance of appreciation. I'd half-expected him to pull a face, with all his jokes about my tastes, but maybe he wasn't so bad after all. Then he said, "I'd like to continue using you, in a more… permanent arrangement."

  I felt my eyes bulge a little at his choice of phrasing. Sure, he just meant continuing to hire me, or maybe bringing me into whatever secretive branch of the civil service he ran. But I did need a job, and when he purred at me like that, how could I refuse?