There she was, there in the corner. His haunter. His lover. His inevitable death. Isis. She paid little attention to him, or at least made it seem that way. And she hadn’t disguised herself. Odd. Taking this as an invitation he moved to her table, coffee in hand.
“I was wondering when you would figure it out,” she said boldly.
“Why? What did you want to talk to me for?”
They were talking in English, a dead language that had been replaced worldwide by Common. Not many people understood English well, but it was close enough that it didn’t stand out from the sea of the common human tongue, making it the perfect language to talk private matters.
“I missed you,” she proclaimed shyly.
Volpe paused. “No you didn’t. Why did you want me here, really? What’s going to happen?”
Isis frowned. “Volpe… it’s your client. I’ve run a background check on her. She’s had dealings with the DP and Johnny Boy. Volpe… she’s going to turn you in…”
Volpe didn’t need to examine her for this. He knew Isis wouldn’t lie over something of this… magnitude. Granted, she needed him dead. But neither of them needed him to be taken in by the dreaded “Dark Police” of the Guard Islands.
Politely he took her hand, kissing it gently. “Thank you.”
She smiled. “My pleasure”
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