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She waved her hand, doing the whole Advil thing. Light diffused through me, lessening the pain, and I breathed easier. “How long was I out?”

“About three hours,” Kara said.

Damn, that long? “What did I miss?”

“Not much,” Kara replied. She nodded to the door at the other end of the warehouse. “A few screams.”

“They still in there?”

Both of them nodded with serious expressions.

I wasn’t sure I’d want to spend three hours under Virelle’s tender ministrations. “Farron’s tougher than I expected.”

“Or my parents are simply enjoying themselves,” Kara said.

That thought didn’t bear dwelling on, and to distract me I nodded at the mess I’d made of the crates and wall. “Went from nothing to full power. It’s going to take ages to learn if I pass out each time.”

“You have a lot more power than most learn with,” Iyoni said. “It’ll get easier as your body adjusts.”

“I never realized how long it took to learn this stuff.” I sighed. “If my powers had fully awoken back when I was twenty, I’d have this mastered by now.”

“Yes, but then you’d never have bonded us,” Kara said.

“True.” I gave them both a smile. “Maybe, when this is all over, we can—”

The door opened, drawing the attention of us all, and Dacien walked out. “I believe he’s now willing to answer your questions.”

I stood up, wincing as the remnants of my headache objected. But it seemed petty to worry about that when Farron had had it far worse. “Come on,” I muttered.

Both women followed me into the small room at the end of the warehouse.

Farron was tied to a chair, naked from the waist up, his pale skin covered in a sheen of perspiration, his head drooping down.

I’d expected more blood; there was hardly any, just some on his chin and chest that had dripped from a torn lip from where he’d sunk his teeth into it.

Virelle leaned nonchalantly against the wall, looking smug. “There, see? I hardly touched him.”

Farron jerked as she spoke, like a beaten dog expecting another blow.

“What did you do to him?” I asked, then held up a hand before she could answer. “Scratch that. I don’t want to know.”

The room stank of fear and sweat, and Farron’s pitiful state was a blatant reminder that he was here because of me. I needed to make it all worth it.

I stepped up before him. “Let’s start with the questions that matter. Are you going to answer this time?”

“Yes,” he said, the word a mumble like he had no strength left.

I forced my pity aside and pushed on. “Where’s the bomb?”

“Please … I don’t know.”

Shit . I looked at Virelle. “Is he telling the truth?”

“At this point, if he knew, he’d tell you.” She shrugged. “I don’t think he wants me to play with him anymore.”

“No … please … I swear, I don’t know where the bomb is.”

With the desperation in his tone, it was impossible not to believe him. No one in the state he was in could act so convincingly. “Were you the one who leaked the patrol route?”

“No … that wasn’t me.”

Damn it. Did we have the wrong man? All this, for nothing?

I looked helplessly toward the girls, and Iyoni stepped forward. “What can you tell us?” she asked. “What would you like us to know, so that we trust you?”

Her voice was soft, like a cold drink on a hot day, and if I’d been Farron, I’d have answered too.

“It was Turner,” Farron replied. “You know who he works for, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” I growled. “I know who he works for.”

Turner. The man who’d got Myas killed. The man who’d fed the patrol route to Moreau … or, at least, to his kin. Myas had chastised him for having his phone out in the vehicle bay. Had he been sending a message?

He’d been on the periphery of the fight, cowering as if paralyzed by fear … or avoiding friendly fire from the side he was actually working with?

“Moreau has moles inside SPAR, doesn’t he?” I said. “Are you one of them?”

“No … just … a stooge .” The word was laced with bitterness and self-recrimination.

“The contact who fed you information,” Iyoni said. “What faction was it?”

“Moreau Corporation.”

Dacien stiffened nearby, his expression becoming murderous.

“Who was the contact?” I asked. Dacien would want a focus for his ire, and I didn’t want that to be Farron.

“I didn’t have just one. It varied,” Farron said. Virelle stirred, like the answer didn’t satisfy her, and he went on in a rush. “My handler was Turner.”

That must’ve sucked. Having Turner there, every day, watching him.

There was one more question I needed the answer to. I gritted my teeth. “Why did you do it?”

“I have a daughter … she lives in Boston … they sent me pictures …”

I held up a hand, having heard enough, sick to my stomach. I turned to Dacien. “You’ve got what you need from him. You have a target now, and Farron’s no longer necessary.”

He held my gaze for a long moment, then shrugged his indifference. “Fine, he’s yours.”

“Farron, I’ll keep my word and you’ll walk out of here. But I need your oath that you’ll tell no one of what you’ve heard tonight. No mention of Virelle, Dacien, House Val’Sheran, or Aetherborns.”

“No future raids,” Dacien added.

“Yes … anything …”

“Your oath.” I nodded to Virelle and she stepped forward, ready to use her binding aether. “Do I need to clasp arms with him?”

“No,” she said. “It’s a one-way oath. He can make it himself.” Her magic wrapped around him like black mist. “Speak, elf.”

“I swear to say nothing of tonight,” Farron said, his words tremulous. “No mention of any here, or anything I’ve seen. I swear to ignore all information the Moreau Corporation passes me.” He looked up. “Will that do?”

Once again, Virelle’s shadows glowed gold and faded away.

“Satisfied?” I asked Dacien.

He gave me a curt nod.

“What happens if he breaks that oath?”

“He can’t,” Virelle said. “It’s not an ‘if he does he dies’ situation, he just literally can’t.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Powerful magic.”

She shrugged. “Well, it only works when the subject is … willing .”

Given the state of Farron, that word had a very broad definition.

“Let him go,” I told them, and Dacien gave me a reluctant nod. I addressed Farron. “I strongly recommend you find your daughter and run. I will cleanse your record in SPAR, and if you want, I’ll transfer you under a different name to another city.”

He nodded gratefully, hope in his eyes. “Thank you … thank you.”

It was what he should’ve done in the first place, but there was no point telling him that. Blackmail was always more insidious and complicated than it first appeared. I should know.

“We’re done here,” I said, pulling out my phone to check the time: 1:53 AM. “We have eighteen hours to stop a bomb.”

“ You have eighteen hours to stop a bomb,” Dacien said coldly. “Nothing compels our help.”

“Father!” Kara protested.

He shrugged, indifferent. “What do I care if some get blown up as casualties of war?”

“Because it’s Moreau?” I said, trying to appeal to his sense of revenge. “Because he’s been trying to screw you over?”

Dacien’s expression hardened. “I’ll deal with that separately,” he said, though there was a hint of hesitation. It seemed the power of the Moreau Corporation was daunting, even for House Val’Sheran.

I shot him a look full of disdain and walked away.

We needed to find Turner. Every hour counted.