Bad Luck, Baby

30 - Bad Truths

"Who killed Oscar Vile?" Lucian repeated after a few tense seconds ticked by in which I stared at him like a deer in headlights.

My tongue seemed stuck to the roof of my mouth, and my heart thudded painfully in my chest. He raised the gun and cocked it with a 'click,' holding it so I stared down the barrel.

"Third time, last chance. Who. Killed. Oscar. Vile?"

"I don't know!" The words escaped me in a rush of breath, and my eyes went wide. It couldn't be what he wanted to hear.

He frowned. "You don't?"

I shook my head.

"Speak it!"

I startled. "I don't know who killed my father."

The words came easier this time and brought a strange sense of relief; Ro may have delivered the poison, but he wasn't the poisoner.

Lucian stared hard at me, and I held absolutely still, wondering if the rest of my life could be measured in milliseconds.

Finally, he relaxed and settled back in his chair once more. "All right," he said, "so, you don't know. But perhaps you have an idea. Who do you think killed him?"

"Besides you?" I snapped, and gasped at my own audacity.

Lucian seemed unfazed and cocked a jet-black brow at me. "Why would I kill Oscar?"

I bit my lip. Maybe he'd shoot me once he confirmed what I knew—or didn't know—but he'd definitely shoot me if I refused to speak at all.

"Because of the angelic cult," I said shakily. "You're the Throne he was investigating. He got too close. Al got too close, too. And now I...."

I trailed off and swallowed, looking up to meet his coal-dark eyes.

"Tell me what you know of this 'angelic cult," he said.

I hesitated. If I was right, then he knew all this already; if I was wrong... Well, then I was in uncharted territory, but still in the same burning boat.

Slowly and with great reluctance, I told him what I'd learned from Al, and he prompted me with additional questions until I had revealed everything. For better or worse, it wasn't much, and fortunately his phrasing allowed me to leave out any mention of my mother.

"So," I concluded in a whisper, "my dad discovered something, or was close to something, and someone used Ro to kill him. And it had to be you, because you know Ro's name."

He pressed his long pale fingers to his thin lips as he listened.

"Who else have you told of this?" he asked thoughtfully.

I opened my mouth to say, 'No one,' but my throat closed off, and I choked. With a chill of horror, I realized it was a lie.

I'd told Kyrie and Janelle.

My eyes dropped again to the gun as I saw the choice before me: betray my friends and maybe die, or keep my mouth shut and die for sure.

I couldn't do it; I couldn't repay their kindness and generosity with selfish cowardice.

"Who else have you told?" Lucian repeated with a softness that belied the threat behind his words.

"I can't," I breathed; and even as I trembled, a tiny thrill of pride went through me as the words rang true.

Lucian studied me with narrowed eyes and drew a sharp breath. "Well, I suppose I've heard enough, anyway."

He stood.