“Zania,” I said, “please don’t be scared of us. I’m Anna, and this is Kopano. We’re not going to hurt you. We came to talk to you because we know Sonellion is gone, and he has no idea we’re here. You’re safe with us. I have important things to tell you. Will you be calm if Kopano lets you go?”
Her response was an obvious no as Kope let out a small holler and jerked his hand away from her teeth. He still held her tight, even as she let out a string of vicious words in Arabic, ending with “Go to hell!” in English. This was going to be harder than I thought. I bent down and picked up the knife.
“Listen to me, Zania, please. I know you feel threatened, so I’m going to put this knife back into your hand and Kopano is going to release you. I want you to have the means to protect yourself. But I am unarmed. I promise you. We only want to talk. We’re like you. We have no loyalties to the Dukes.” In truth, I carried the hilt as a weapon, but it could only be wielded against demons.
Zania breathed heavily through her nose as I slowly took the step forward and slipped the knife into her hand. An awful thought crossed my mind and I squeezed my hand over her fist.
“Do not try to hurt Kopano when he lets you go, or you and I are going to have a problem. He’s a good man.”
“There is no such thing as a good man,” she snarled.
“Yes, there is. And you’ll see for yourself if you give him a chance.”
“Tell this good man of yours to release me with my back to the street.”
“Okay, but don’t run away.” I let my desperation for her cooperation show as I stayed close for a few more seconds. I took my hand off hers and stepped back, nodding at Kope. He turned her and let her go, stepping swiftly back, next to me. Zania spun and faced us in a slight crouch, eyes skittering as if expecting our malicious intent to come out now. Her head scarf was dangling like a hood, and she ripped it from her neck, throwing it to the ground. She looked like a warrior princess. Kope cleared his throat.
“Perhaps my presence is a hindrance.”
Good point. She definitely had issues with males. I nodded my agreement, still watching Zania, but her eyes were on him. He took a careful step forward and she jutted the knife out.
“I must pass you, Zania,” he said in a silky, deep voice. “I will keep to the wall.”
They sidestepped along their own wall with few precious feet of separation, eyeing each other. She followed his every move until he passed her and was out of sight. Keeping her back to the wall, she turned her head toward me.
“I am no fool. I know he stays near.”
“Yes, you’re right. He’s my friend and he wants me to be safe. But he won’t interfere now unless you hurt me.”
Speaking of that, I lifted my hand to the spot under my chin. It was still wet and sensitive but healing fast. Adrenaline kept me from feeling anything. I looked down at the spots of blood on my shirt. That was probably going to get me some unwanted attention during the walk back to the hotel.
“I might need to borrow a shirt,” I said, chancing a small smile. “Should we talk here, or do you want to go somewhere else?”
Her breathing had finally slowed, but she still watched me warily.
“You may come inside, but not him.”
“That’s fine,” I said. “Thank you.”
She waved me forward with the knife to walk in front of her. When I got around the corner, Kope was nowhere to be seen.
“Go in,” she told me. The door was unlocked, so I pushed it open. Inside she quickly closed the door and locked it behind us before peering out a side window and motioning me into a parlor. I took in the array of color and design. Everything from the multicolored Persian rug and gold drapes to the handcrafted woodwork of the furniture. Taking a seat in an ornate chair, I ran my fingers over the thick maroon and yellow tasseled cushion, then the mosaic tabletop next to me. I looked up to see Zania watching me from across the room, knife still in hand. For the first time I noticed the dark band of addiction, running under her black badge, as if it would squeeze the life from her.
“Will you sit with me?” I asked.
Without answering, she moved gracefully to a wooden case and lifted the lid, revealing a beverage bar. She poured a shot of something dark-amber colored and drank it, the knife coming dangerously close to her eye. She poured a second glass and looked at me. My insides were tight enough to snap.
“Do you want one?” she asked.
Yes. I paused two beats. “N-no, thank you.”
“No?”
Just one! I didn’t know what to do. I was already jittery, but I really wanted that drink. As if sensing my internal struggle, she smiled as she sipped the second shot.
“Okay,” I whispered. “Maybe—”
Zania straightened up and made a faraway face. “He whistled. Why did he whistle? Is he signaling someone?”
“Who? Kope?” Oh . . . I slouched a little. I was officially the only Neph I knew who didn’t regularly use their extended hearing to listen out. “No, he’s whistling to me. To tell me not to drink.”
My insides unraveled the slightest bit. Kope wouldn’t whistle for no reason. If he was telling me not to drink, then it was a good idea for me to listen. I suppose two girls with a weakness for drink and a bottle of liquor wasn’t the safest combination. I had a job to do and a limited amount of time to do it.
Zania’s stricken face revealed that she thought otherwise. “He forbids you to drink? And you obey? Why?”