She entered the anteroom to Moor’s cell. Arms crossed, Terryn stood at the viewing window, his wings sparking with flashes of indigo and white. Laura stopped beside him. Inside the glass-encased room, Moor prowled, her limbs elongated and bristling with blond hair. She stared back at them, snapping her long-hinged jaws, unable to see through the one-way glass but knowing they were there.

“How long has she been this way?” Laura asked.

“Since I pressed her for the password,” Terryn said.

“She doesn’t look too far into the boggart mania. Has she spoken?”

He shook his head. “Howled a few times.”

Laura grasped the doorknob. “I want answers.”

“Do you think that’s wise?” Terryn asked her back.

“We’ll find out.”

She opened the door. Moor lunged as soon as she stepped inside. Laura activated her shields, a hardened layer of essence enveloping her body before Moor made it halfway across the room. As the brownie brought her claws forward, Laura swung an essence-charged fist at her chest and sent her flying into the wall. Moor hit with a loud grunt, then fell to the floor. She scrambled into a crouch, set to leap again.

Thrusting her hand out, Laura stunned her with a blast of essence. Dazed, Moor slumped to the floor. In two long strides, Laura reached her, grabbed her by the hair, and held her up. Biting off the sounds of a binding spell, she sent burning lines of orange essence spiraling out of her free hand and pinned Moor against the wall.

“Drop the act. We need to talk,” she said.

Moor threw back her head and howled in pain as the bindings dug into her.

Laura stepped in closer, heedless of Moor’s sharp teeth. “Do you think I know nothing about brownies? You’re forcing yourself boggie. Knock it off.”

Moor thrashed, the bindings pulling tighter with her movements. She howled again. Laura crossed her arms. “You know how the binding works. You move, it burns. You will calm down or stand there until you pass out from exhaustion, and the bindings sear your arms and legs. Your choice. Either way, I’m going to get what I want.”

Moor growled in her face.

“Keep it up, Moor. I may not be patient enough to wait for you to pass out.” Laura held her hand up and wrenched her fingers closed. The bindings bit in several places, drawing blood.

Moor banged her head back against the wall and screamed. With eyes squeezed shut, she panted, spittle running out of her mouth. Her breathing slowed as her limbs shortened, and her claws retracted. She groaned against the pain of the bindings as her normal brownie shape returned. Still breathing heavily, she glared at Laura through bloodshot eyes.

With a flick of her hand, Laura released the bindings. As Moor fell forward, Laura grabbed her and shoved her onto the metal folding chair. Moor wrapped her arms against her stomach and hunched forward. “I’m going to kill you when I get out of here,” she rasped.

Laura crouched so that Moor could watch essence well up in her eyes. “I’ll look forward to the attempt.”

Moor tried to hold her gaze and failed. “I’m not afraid of you.”

Laura stood and paced to the table. “Good. Any damage I do to you will be more pleasurable that way. Tell me the access codes to the V drive.”

“That wasn’t part of our deal,” Moor said.

Laura folded her arms. “Our deal was cooperation. You want to draw a line? Go right ahead. I’ll get the information one way or another. You talk, and life will be easier for both of us.”

Moor tried to look her in the eye. “It’s financial data. You already have it. You showed me.”

A waver in her modulation said lie. A partial lie, but still a lie. “I didn’t ask what it was. I want access.”

Moor did stare then, malice glittering in her eyes. “Do you think I can’t take whatever you throw at me? Do you think that after everything I’ve done to take down the monarchy, a little pain means anything to me? Do you?”

Laura leaned over the table. “Who said anything about a little pain?”

Moor laughed. “You’re not the Guild. InterSec won’t let you go as far as you’ll need to. If you think I’ll give you the key to bring it all down, you’re wrong. Do you hear me? Wrong. I’ll die before I tell you.”

Truth. Hard, clear truth rang in her words. She wasn’t going to tell.

Laura straightened up. “There are all kinds of pain, Moor. I don’t have to touch you to start,” she said. With the honed skill of years of practice, Laura swapped out the Mariel glamour for the Moor glamour without revealing her true face. Startled, Moor stared at her own image. “Have it your way. I’ll fuck the password out of your boyfriend.”

Howling screams followed her out the door. Laura stopped short in the anteroom. Sinclair, his face troubled, had joined Terryn while she had been inside. He looked about to say something, then gave her a crooked smile and left without speaking.

“How long was he here?” she asked.

“He saw and heard it all,” Terryn said.

Laura didn’t speak as she watched Moor’s face bulge and contort. She wanted to follow Sinclair and explain. It was the job. Part of the job. Sometimes . . . sometimes things needed to be done. Things she wasn’t always proud of.

Terryn interrupted her thoughts. “How did you know she was faking before?”

Laura blinked, stared at her feet. “She agreed to cooperate. She would go boggie only if something kept her from cooperating, and the only thing doing that was herself.”

“Unfortunately, we are no closer than before,” he said.

Laura shook her head. “Not true. Now we know that drive is important, and we don’t need to waste time on other things.”

She watched Moor pace back and forth across the room. Trapped. She wondered why Sinclair’s watching bothered her. No, why the look on his face bothered her. He knew what she did. He knew the stakes were high. They were always high. She clenched her jaw. She knew why it bothered her and didn’t want to admit it. Sinclair was a good guy. Honest. Sincere. Honorable. Things she thought about herself. But in that look he had, she doubted that was what he was thinking. And it bothered her.

Mission after mission, she did what needed to be done. She knew some people believed the ends never justified the means. Those were people who had never walked in her shoes. Sometimes what she did to get results was irrelevant. She would have been dead many times over if she didn’t believe that. If she had died, how would that have furthered a greater goal? Or was she being selfish? Did her life matter if her principles were betrayed?

Terryn more often than not held an even harsher view about the brutal necessities of their work. He was immortal. All that time accrued on him made him seem indifferent to the emotion. She knew him, though, knew he had sides he revealed to few. As a druid, she wasn’t immortal, but she wasn’t human either. She would live a long time. She wondered if the cold precision she brought to the heat of battle was making her lose something intrinsically important about herself.

She closed her eyes. Sinclair didn’t have to say anything to make her face herself. She wasn’t sure what his look meant, but she knew it wasn’t admiration. What was she becoming? And was Sinclair enough reason to change? Did she even want to?

A bang against the glass startled her. Moor scratched with clawed hands against the viewing glass, her face contorting in a snarl. Her eyes blazed yellow as she snapped, her jaw filled with razor-sharp teeth. Frantic, she flipped backward onto her elongated limbs, then scrambled around the room looking for a way out.

“I don’t think she’s faking it this time,” Terryn said.