Free Pyromancist by Charmaine Pauls

was a statement, not a question, so Clelia
remained quiet.
    “If you answer a few questions, we’ll
consider letting you go. Understand?”
    Clelia regarded the woman who seemed cold and
distant.
    “Where’s Erwan?” Maya said, walking to stand
in front of Clelia, her hands on her hips.
    Clelia looked at Maya and recognized the
determination in the other woman’s eyes. She would do anything to
get her answers, and Clelia knew she wasn’t going to go anywhere
until Maya had those answers. She bit her lip, but didn’t say
anything.
    Maya narrowed her eyes. “He’s not even your
real grandfather, so why protect him?”
    “Who are you? What do you want from us?”
    “I’ll ask the questions. Now, where were we
before you so rudely derailed my train of thought? Ah, yes. I’ll
repeat it for you.” She brought her face closer. “Where is he?”
    “He’s innocent,” Clelia whispered. “He didn’t
do anything.”
    “His DNA is all over every crime scene.”
    “He visited each of the burnt houses. Plenty
of people did. That doesn’t mean anything.”
    “If he were innocent, he wouldn’t have run. I
won’t ask you again. Where is he?”
    Clelia stared at Maya. No matter what they
did to her, she’d never betray Erwan. He loved and protected her
when everyone else would have cast her out. How could they think
for even a second she’d give him up? She saw Maya’s face become
rigid, her expression tight, and before she could contemplate the
move, Maya’s arm lifted and the back of her hand came down hard
over Clelia’s face.
    Maya’s bulky ring connected with Clelia’s
mouth, the sharp edge of the gemstone cutting her lip. The blow
sent Clelia’s head flying backward, and only the wall at her back
prevented her chair from toppling over. Clelia tasted the blood in
her mouth. She could feel her lip pulse as if it had a life of its
own.
    Unmoved by the damage she’d caused, Maya
grabbed Clelia’s arm and jerked her and the chair upright. “I asked
you a question and I expect an answer.”
    “Maya,” Lann said softly from the counter,
“gently.”
    At that moment, the backdoor opened,
momentarily blinding Clelia. It was Josselin’s tall figure that
blocked out the light. He stood very still for a second, taking in
the scene in front of him, and then he took a deadly step forward
and slammed the door, causing the wall to shake.
    “Let go of her, Maya,” he said. His voice
carried a threat.
    Maya looked at him in surprise. “I’m
questioning a suspect.”
    He closed the distance between them and
stopped in front of Maya. “I won’t tell you again.”
    When Maya released her grip on Clelia’s arm,
Josselin said, “If you ever lay as much as a finger on her, ever
again, I’ll cut if off.”
    Maya’s eyes widened, and she retreated as if
from an invisible push. She all but spat fire, while Lann sipped
his tea and appeared indifferent, as if watching a boring
spectacle.
    With Maya at a safer distance, Josselin
turned his eyes on Clelia, his gaze fixed on her bleeding lip. His
finger traced the line of her lip, wiping away the blood, and
slowly, as if a scene were replaying from her past, he brought it
to his mouth and licked it clean.
    “Why is she bleeding?” he said, his voice
calm but his cloudy eyes wild.
    “My ring caught her lip,” Maya said.
    “What was your ring doing in her face?” he
said, without looking away from Clelia’s mouth.
    “It’s not the first time that we’ve used ...
firmer methods ... to extract information from our suspects. What’s
your problem, Joss?”
    “Maya,” Lann said, “this is Joss’
territory.”
    “So now you’re suddenly territorial?” she
said with a sneer. “Maybe you should go around and piss on every
tree.”
    Clelia could see Josselin’s body tense. He
flexed his fingers and inhaled slowly. “Back off, Maya. Or find
yourself another team.”
    “I don’t see–”
    “I said, back off.” Josselin didn’t look at
Maya. “I’m your