Cain's office smelled like dried herbs and something darker underneath. Something chemical and faint that I couldn't name but didn't like.

He was already seated when I arrived, hands folded on his desk, a small ceramic pot of tea sitting between us like this was a casual visit between colleagues.

"Val." He gestured to the chair across from him. "Sit. Please."

I sat. I kept my bag on my lap.

"Tea?"

"No thank you."

"Of course." He poured a cup for himself, unhurried, and studied me over the ...