“Killing you wouldn’t get me answers,” I hiss.
“That sounds like a good excuse,” he says. “But you’re just not a killer.”
“That’s not really an insult.”
“You lack follow-through.”
“Alright, that is an insult.” I press the end of the crowbar into his throat, adding pressure to what I hope is an uncomfortable but nonfatal spot. “What did they ask you to do? Kill me so they could take the book?”
Rook scowls. “Kill you? You’re the one who attacked me.”
“Yeah, because you were about to attack me!”
“No, I wasn’t.”
“Yes, you were,” I insist. “You’re working for the Cult of Hades, and your job was to stick with us until we got the codex translated and then steal it right out from under us.”
“What?” He has the audacity to look offended. “None of that is true.”
“Please,” I say. “So I guess someone else beat you up the day of our first meeting. And I misread all of the anxiety at the gala and how squirrelly you got when I mentioned the Cult of Hades.”
“Yes,” he says. “Yes to all of that. You’ve made up this whole story based on, what…body language and coincidence?”
“Like body language and coincidence aren’t important.”
“If I was working with the Cult of Hades, why wouldn’t I have just let that demon at the gala take the codex?”
I pause. I have to admit that’s a good argument.
“Hold on, give me a minute.”
That demon could have easily overpowered us and taken the grimoire. There was no good reason for Rook not to reveal himself at that point. Instead, he protected me from the demon’s spell.
“Can you please,” he grunts, “get off me? I’ll explain everything. Answer every question you have. But this is quite uncomfortable. And I’d also like to point out: You forgot to pin my arms, and I could have shoved you off at any point.”
He lifts his hands by his head and waves them.
Oh. Damn.
I scramble off him but don’t drop the crowbar. I sit in the dirt, knees pulled up to my chest, trying to process what just happened. Rook pushes himself up and sits next to me. He breathes heavily for a few moments, letting out a few coughs.
I grip the crowbar tighter. “I may have a problem with trusting people.”
“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” he says dryly, brushing dirt off his clothes.
I take a deep breath. “Okay, explain. First the injuries before that first meeting.”
“That was the people who killed Credence, as you guessed, but they’re not the Cult of Hades. I’ve seen neither horns nor claws. They are…specialty art dealers who wanted a painting I didn’t want to part with. They’ve mentioned nothing about the codex or resurrecting Hades or any of that.”
I swallow and look away. “Well, I guess that makes sense. How did you get to me so quickly when the demon at the gala was going to attack me? Did you know what it was going to do?”
He laughs. “No. I just knew you were going to do something reckless.”
“Oh, thanks very much for that.”
He leans closer, bumping our shoulders together. “Reckless but brave.”
Ugh. Stupid butterflies in my stomach. Stupid Rook, saying all the right things.