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He wanted to ask about Malek and Tai.

He really, really wanted to ask if Wynter had been released.

“Did you know at the time that Detective Damon Jordan, or Detective Charlene Raider, were two of those hostages?”

“I did not,” Nick said.

“Did you know at that time that Detective Damon Jordan had been murdered and poisoned, and was in the process of transforming into a vampire?”

“I was aware he’d been poisoned, yes,” Nick said, keeping the sarcasm out of his voice with an effort. “I was the one who found him at the house out in Amityville. For the same reason, I knew his transition was a distinct possibility.”

“Ah. Of course.” The agent gave him a coy smile, letting Nick know he hadn’t merely forgotten that detail. “I forgot it was you who heroically saved him from a real death… keeping him alive long enough to become one of yours.”

Nick didn’t respond.

He didn’t hear a question there, and anyway, he doubted he would have been polite.

Was this fucker seriously implying it would have been better to let Damon die the “true” death, as vampires called it, than allow him to fully transform?

Nick definitely got the sense hewasimplying that.

“All right, Detective Midnight.” The I.S.F. agent’s eyes slid in and out of focus, showing him doing something with his enhanced eyes. “You went through a review just a few days ago, so I’ve been cleared to free you without assigning you another. If we have any further questions, we’ll be in touch. When a final determination is reached as to your permanent file, you will be informed in writing, and via the H.R.A. main office.”

Another of those cold smiles.

“We know where to find you,” he added, a touch more maliciously. “So I wouldn’t leave town, if I were you. Although I doubt that’s in the cards for you for a good long while, Detective Midnight.”

When Nick didn’t respond, the agent’s voice grew bored.

“I’m told you are still awaiting assignment to permanent housing, after the disturbances in the vampire quarter…?” the human drawled.

That was a hell of a euphemism.

Those “disturbances” entailed the complete destruction of something like eighty-five percent of the vampire ghetto north of The Devil’s Cauldron. That meant most of what used to be called Washington Heights. Coven 6, where Nick’s apartment had been, was entirely gone. Not just damaged, or even damaged badly––it was fucking gone.

It had been razed to the ground.

The one time Nick drove by where it had been, it wasn’t even a parking lot; it was a pit that still smoked in several places.

“…you’re fit and willing to return to your duties for which you’ve been contracted,” the man added in that bored voice. “I’ve just been notified that the H.R.A. has approved chaperoned housing in the private residence of one of your employers for the time being. They will inform you when and where any new, private housing becomes available. However, be aware that the chaperoned agreement will continue until H.R.A. approves a private residence assignment for you, given your recent and multiple troubles with the authorities. It’s thought by some you could use the extra eyes on you for now.”

The man smirked, his expression openly mocking.

Nick barely noticed.

He blinked, realized he’d missed something.

“Excuse me?” he said.

The agent frowned.

A slightly more menacing look rose in those enhanced, fake-blue eyes. He clearly thought Nick was being a smart-ass about the other’s shitty remarks. He looked for a second like he might pursue the issue, then seemed to change his mind.

“We’ve informed yourotherhuman employer, David Farlucci, that you’ve passed all of your psychological and physical examinations, as well,” the agent said, his voice back to bored. “He’s aware that you’re fit and able to return to your duties for his contracted services, so you might want to check in with him soon. He seemed keen to have you back on the clock.”

Nick did his best to keep the frown off his face.

He nodded, once.