Now he was dead, and a pretty good argument could be made that it was because of her.
“Nest!” Ross called sharply.
At first she ignored him, not wanting to talk to anyone, still wrapped in her grief. But then he called to her again, and this time she heard the urgency in his voice and looked up.
Findo Gask stood a dozen yards away at the edge of a clump of alder and blue spruce. He had materialized all at once, his black-garbed form barely distinguishable from the dark, narrow trunks of the alder trees and the slender cast of their shadows. He wore his familiar flat-brimmed black hat and carried his worn leather book. His eyes glittered from beneath his frosted brows as they fixed on her.
“A tragic turn of events, Miss Freemark,” he said softly. “But accidents happen sometimes.”
She stared at him without speaking for a moment, frightened by his unexpected appearance, but enraged as well. “Who would know that better than you?” she said.
His smile did not waver. “Life is uncertain. Death comes calling when we least expect it. It is the nature of the human condition, Miss Freemark. I don’t envy you.”
She glanced over her shoulder at Ross, Bennett, Harper, and Little John, who stood in a loose clutch, watching. Then she looked back at the demon. “What can I do for you, Mr. Gask?”
He laughed softly. “You can give me what I want, Miss Freemark. You can give me what I’ve come here for. You and Mr. Ross. You can give it to me, and I’ll go away. Poof—just like that.”
She came forward a few steps and stopped, distancing herself from the others. “The gypsy morph?” she asked.
He nodded, cocking his head slightly.
“Just hand it over, and you’ll be gone? No more unexpected accidents? No more visits to my home by deluded law enforcement officials inquiring into drug buys in the park?”
His smile broadened. “You have my word.”
She matched his smile with her own. “Your word? Why is it I don’t find that particularly reassuring?”
“In this case, you can rely on it. I have no interest in you or your friends beyond finding the morph. Where is it, Miss Freemark?”
His eyes locked on hers, probing, and she was struck with a flash of insight. He doesn’t know it’s Little John he’s looking for, she realized. That was the reason for the threats and the attacks; he was stymied unless he could compel her cooperation. He couldn’t identify the morph without her.
She almost laughed aloud.
“You seem perplexed by my request, Miss Freemark,” Findo Gask said jovially, but there was an edge to his voice now. “Is there something about it you don’t understand?”
She shook her head. “No, I understand perfectly. But you know what? I don’t like being threatened. Especially by someone like you. Especially now, when I’m not in a very good mood and I’m feeling angry and hurt, and it’s mostly because of you. I’ve known that man you let die on the ice for most of my life. I liked him. He didn’t do anything to you, but that wasn’t enough to save him. That doesn’t matter to you, does it? You don’t care. You don’t care one bit.”
Findo Gask pursed his lips and shook his head slowly. “I thought we were beyond accusations and vitriol. I thought you understood your position in this matter better than it appears you do.”
“Guess you thought wrong, huh?” She came forward another step. “Let me ask you something. How safe do you feel out here?”
He stared at her in surprise. His smile disappeared, and his seamed face suddenly lost all expression.
She came forward another step, then two. She was only a few paces away from him now. “I’m not afraid of demons, Mr. Gask. I’ve faced them before, several times. I know how to stand up to them. I know how they can be destroyed. I have the magic to make it happen. Did you know that?”
He did not give ground, but there was a hint of uncertainty in his frosty eyes. “Don’t be foolish, Miss Freemark. There are children to be considered. And I did not come alone.”