Public Enemies (25 page)

“Just let the thing work on you,” Buzzkill said with visible impatience. “You think you're the first idiotic catalyst to run afoul of the opposition? That's what this is for. It's not like
I
need a health-care plan, genius.”

“Oh.” Now I
did
feel pretty stupid. If I'd known, I could've come here after the Harbinger's party, but nobody had given me a membership packet.

Sheepish, I climbed onto the exam chair and stayed quiet while the medical robot did things to me. This was way better than the hospital because the bot had no questions about how I'd come to be so injured. Which made sense. The fewer facts on file, the better it had to be for those involved in the immortal game.
In fact …

“Is that why Dwyer pulled us into that pocket space?”

Buzzkill gave me a half-frown, half-puzzled look. “What are you yammering about now? Never had
any
body talk to me this much before.”

“Pocket space, I'm trying to figure out why Dwyer fought there. It cost him in terms of energy expenditure, which meant he didn't have as much to hit us with. So I need to know why.”

“Oh.” Realization gave the clown a puckish air. “What makes you think I know?”

“Well, you can guess better than I can.”

“Fine, since you're buttering me up. Two reasons. One, he doesn't want human interference. If fireballs and lightning storms explode in the middle of Boston, people will notice and try to help. Two, if he's already got you isolated, all he has to do is incapacitate you.”

“We made that tougher than he expected.”

Buzzkill smirked. “That we did. Not bad for a little girl and Internet meme.”

“Come over here and say that.” The bot shot something into my arm that made me feel more than a little loopy.

It had been giving me shots and then it whipped out what looked like a laser but I was too happy to care. I didn't feel whatever it did to my stomach but the meds were wearing off a little when it fastened my right hand to the chair. A sharp pinch stung my arm; Edward Needlehands was drawing blood, but I had no idea why. Dazed, I watched the red flow up a tube and into the machine, and it made centrifugal noises.

“What the hell,” I mumbled.

The droid spoke for the first time. “Procedure about to begin. Please do not move.”

My hand pinned in place, the med-bot shot my palm with a fleshy wad that crawled into the wound. I screamed, thinking I had to be tripping from the pain meds, but Buzzkill came over to watch with a fascinated expression. That told me this horrible treatment was happening.

“Is this where I grow a chest burster five days later?” The words came out more like a whimper instead of the bravado I wanted.

“You're funny, kid. No, it's a more advanced version of the skin gun. Combination of stem cells, sea squirt DNA, and keratinocyte cell-spray.”

That sounded like actual science, but … “It
moved
.”

“Yeah, that's the sea squirt DNA. It's engineered to feed on your dead cells while your own stem cells heal the burn.”

Less risk, using the patient's own tissue. “Will the feeling come back?”

He shrugged. “They only
called
me Doctor Smiles.”

“Okay. How long before we can go?”

“Please rest for twelve minutes and allow the bonding process to complete.” That came from the bot, politer than most ER doctors.

Later, as I climbed out of the chair, my phone buzzed. I nearly dropped it trying to read the message from Raoul.

Get back here. Kian needs you.

 

CUE THE ROAD TRIP MUSIC

Right about now, I wished I had one of those fancy watches that let me port around. Of course that would also mean that I was working for Wedderburn so maybe it was better to take the subway with a killer clown. My hand still didn't have any sensation in it, and the bot had wrapped it in a bandage before I took off.

It was late enough that we'd missed the commuter rush; my knee jogged up and down on the way back to Kian's place. I hoped like hell that Raoul's message meant he was awake and asking for me, but the knot in my stomach hinted otherwise. Guilt chained itself to my ankles.
I shouldn't have left him.
But the wound on my hand and the damage to my stomach was serious, so it wasn't like I went out for ice cream. I studied the blue bead necklace he'd wrapped around my wrist not long ago. The azure and aquamarine stones contrasted beautifully against my skin, but they also shadowed it, echoing the blood showing in my veins.

Buzzkill sat across from me, looking like a businessman on the way home from the office. He waited a few seconds after I got up to disembark, and as soon as I could, I was running. My heart thundered in my ears, and I sprinted like I could outpace the fear and grief. A few minutes later, I burst into Kian's apartment without a word to the clown. He knew not to come in, which solved any question about what to do with him.

Raoul glanced up. From what I could tell, he hadn't moved much. He was still on the floor beside Kian, though he also had a bowl of ice water and various other remedies scattered around. The apartment smelled of herbal infusion and Kian seemed to be breathing better, but he was sweaty as hell and thrashing around. After taking my jacket off, I tossed it over the nearby armchair, then I paused by the sofa.

“Did he wake up?”

“Sort of. He's delirious and he thought he was supposed to be watching you. I had to hold him to keep him from leaving. I was hoping if he heard your voice, he'd settle down.”

Bending down, I kissed Kian's hot cheek. “Are you causing trouble? Well, you can relax, I'm here now.” To Raoul, I added, “I'll take over, if you want to get some rest.”

He hesitated. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Use Kian's room.”

The older man didn't argue with me, which meant he must be pretty tired. Once Raoul went to bed, I tidied up the living room and then I settled with Kian on the couch, substituting myself for the sweat-drenched pillow. I checked his temperature, which was 101. High, but not scary enough to rush him to the hospital. With some coaxing, I got him to drink a glass of water and take a little pain medicine. The bites were definitely looking better, though I had no idea which of the artifacts had soaked up enough human belief to be efficacious. I tried picking each of them up, but nothing set off the tinnitus.

“You have to get better,” I told Kian softly.

I whispered to him until my throat went hoarse, brushing damp, silky hair away from his brow. Tending Kian, I tried to plan my next move. There
had
to be a way to capitalize on stealing Dwyer's heart. If I didn't act fast, the sun god would strike again, and this time, he'd be really pissed, plus there'd be no offer of amnesty. Wedderburn would know how to best make use of it, but he'd also take it from me and use it against his old enemy.

No way. I stole the damn thing. It's mine.

Sleep claimed me before I had an answer. When I woke up, it was dawn and Kian was staring up at me, dazed but lucid. Relief shot through me as I touched his cheek.

“How you feeling?”

“Like I got run over by a feathered serpent. How am I still alive?”

“Raoul,” I said, showing him the arcane supplies.

“Wow. I kind of thought this was it. I had the
weirdest
dreams. But waking up with you makes it all worth it.”

I smiled down at him and leaned close to kiss his nose. “He saved you, not me. I just kept watch on the night shift.”

“You've been saving me for years,” he whispered. “Before you even knew I existed.”

“Saying stuff like that when you're too weak to make out with me is just cruel.”

“Who said I can't?” He tried to lever up, but I had to help him sit. When I raised my brows in quiet challenge, Kian sighed. “Okay, maybe not right this minute. It's going on my to-do list.”

“Kissing me?”

“You, period.”

“
I'm
your to-do list?” I grinned, wondering if he meant it to sound so dirty.

Color washed his cheeks but his grin widened, and then it hit me like an ocean wave, knocking me down hard, water in my lungs until my eyes stung.
Aaron. I have to tell Kian and Raoul. They're going to be so mad … I let Wedderburn's people deal with him like he was a bag of garbage to be hauled away.
Maybe there hadn't been a better option at the time but I didn't like myself much for making the expedient choice. Each time I opted to save my own ass, it felt like I lost part of myself.

But the alternative is dying.

“Edie? What's wrong?”

“We lost Aaron.”

He frowned at me in obvious confusion. “Yeah, I remember that much. He ran away from the diner.”

“He was hiding in the alley somewhere. Dwyer pulled him in with us and he … Aaron got caught in the crossfire. He didn't make it. I'm so sorry.”

His lashes fluttered, then his gaze dropped away from mine, like he didn't want to show me what he was feeling. “Damn. I really wanted to save him. I'm a shitty hero, huh?”

“Most heroes are idiots,” I said. “Pretty much every move they make is devoid of all common sense, and it only works out because they have stunt doubles.”

“You really don't mind that I'm useless?” The softness of his tone hid nothing of the sorrow over Aaron's loss.

“How can you say that? Without you, I'd probably give up. I'd decide there's no way for me to save my dad or to get out of the game. But you've been telling me I'm something special since the first day we met. You're the reason I keep on, even when things seem hopeless. I was afraid you'd be furious. Aaron died because of me.”

Collateral damage.

“
Dwyer
killed him, not you. It's not your fault, Edie.”

Kian wrapped his arms around me, leaning against me more than he usually did. The fever had sapped his strength, but his head felt good on my shoulder. I didn't even know I was crying until he touched my wet cheeks. Opening my eyes, I saw that his eyes were bright with tears too. We wept together for Aaron, the poor, helpless kid we couldn't save.

Raoul came out as I got up to wash my face. The mirror told me I looked every bit as hideous as I felt, now that the pain meds were wearing off. My hair was burned in a bizarre pattern, so I got the nail scissors from beneath the sink and cut it as best I could. That left me decidedly ragged, especially on the left side. With a faint shrug, I hacked that hank all the way off, close to my scalp. Punk rock chic was the best I could do, so I brushed my teeth with my fingers and yielded the facilities.

After I came out, Raoul helped Kian to the bathroom. When we'd all cleaned up a little, we had breakfast. It was a weird-ass morning, but I didn't have the leisure to grieve. Once all this was over, I'd try to find Aaron's original family, though I doubted I knew enough about him to track people down from 1922. Still, I owed him something. If we couldn't locate his descendants, then we'd put up a memorial at a columbarium.

“You decided to stay with us, huh?” Though his tone was offhand, I could tell by the shadows beneath Raoul's eyes that things had been scarier than he let on while I was out.

“I've got a little time yet. I intend to make the most of it.” Kian's hands were still shaky, however, when he spooned up his cereal.

“Speaking of … I have something special here.” I went to my jacket and pulled out the box, cracking it open just enough to show them the glowing ember inside.

The heat was staggering, enough to singe my fingertips before I snapped the box shut. Weirdly Buzzkill's impenetrable container gave no sign of the fire contained within.
Why the hell was he carrying this around?
Then again, he usually had surgical tools on him so maybe Wedderburn often ordered him to cut something out of another immortal and the desired body part might be the supernatural equivalent to radioactive. Assignments like that would be right up the clown's alley.

Raoul dropped his coffee cup with a clatter, slopping amber liquid all over the counter. “Is that what I think it is?”

“If you think it's a sun god's heart, then yes.”

“Edie, we can't sit around the apartment. We have to move.”

Talk about stating the obvious. “I
know
that. I've been thinking all night, and the only solution is to turn this into a weapon. Unfortunately, I don't know any legendary blacksmiths.”

The older man smiled. “Fortunately, I do. Time for a road trip.”

*   *   *

Three hours later, we were in Vermont, and my marks didn't seem to mind. Unlike the trip I'd taken to New Hampshire, which was unrelated to the game, my brands seemed to realize that this jaunt was game related. Which made me wonder how in the hell
that
worked, but I was way past admitting that science couldn't explain all things. Certain aspects of this bizarre competition definitely qualified as magic, reluctant as I was to use that word.

St. Albans Town was a picturesque village on the edges of Lake Champlain. Normally I'd hesitate to call an American town that but the term applied. Charming Cape-style houses mingled with cute bungalows and the faded elegance of ramshackle Victorians. Even in winter, it was pretty here, though it was a black-and-white Ansel Adams beauty. Raoul drove down VT 36 to Samson Road, which seemed a little on the nose. Maybe that was why the god of the forge was living here.

God, I hope I'm right about him having a sense of humor.
But stories never mentioned that trait. Usually he was characterized as grumpy with a giant chip on his shoulder.
No, that's mostly Greek and Roman. You don't know anything about Norse or Celtic smith stories.
But I knew there were Javanese and Hindu legends as well.
How does that work anyway? Do they swell to incorporate all versions of similar gods?
That sounded … uncomfortable, to say the least.