The door was closed, but I could see the outline of a tall, feminine form, facing an even taller, storkish, masculine outline.
The time stamp said it was barely two hours before.
So.
Lara had been trying to do me a favor, after all. She had protected Justine behind a layer of generalities. And I had dithered around cutting hair and indulging my Hunger and my suspicions, while the Stygian Sisterhood had suckered my brother into a ploy to bring back one of their monstrous matrons.
Justine had never been stupid. Even when she'd been deep in my influence, before, she'd walked into it with her eyes open. "He's in trouble, isn't he?"
"And he doesn't even know it yet," I said quietly.
She pursed her lips in thought. "And you can't tell him why, can you? Any more than you could tell me."
I looked up at her helplessly.
"What are you going to do?" she asked.
I rose and reclaimed my knife and gun. "He's my brother," I said. "I'm going to cover his back."
"How are you going to explain it to him?" she asked.
I tugged on a pair of leather gloves and went to her, so I could take her hands in mine, squeezing gently, before I turned to go.
"If he thinks he's helping her, and you interfere, he's not going to understand," she said. "How are you going to explain it to him, Thomas?"
It sucks to be a Venator.
"I'm not," I said quietly.
Then I and my demon went out to continue an ages-old silent war and help my brother.
I just hoped the two activities wouldn't be mutually exclusive.