said someone Calliope couldn’t see. Above her, Vikous scowled in the direction of her feet. “You’ve been trying to do your job while staying away from me, because you know what will happen if you don’t.” Walker slid into view above Calliope, his gun still leaking a thin line of smoke that somehow reminded Calliope of Vikous’s cigar. “You know what you owe me.” Vikous’s face twisted. “I don’t owe you anything.” Walker made a dismissive gesture with his empty hand. “Fine. You know your oath, sworn to me for services . . .”—he smiled, his face stretching—“rendered.” Vikous looked away, but Walker continued, “You know its conditions, and you knew what I would ask of you should we cross paths.” Walker’s expression was bitter. “I’m tired of this game. I want it to end.” “Then you want everything to end.” Vikous’s voice was a growl. “Stagnate and rot.” “Yes.” Walker’s voice snapped at the air. “If that’s the only way to break this cycle, I want it dead on the vine.
