Along Came a Spider (31 page)

Nicky snatched me up from the ground and flung me over his shoulder, then scrambled up the ladder, a deep groan rumbling in his chest. When he threw open the hatch, the late afternoon sunlight assaulted me, and I winced, sucking in the air through my teeth.

“Hang on, doll,” Nicky muttered, shrugging me off his shoulders and onto the ground inside one of the buildings that was still under construction. He slammed the trapdoor and glanced around frantically, then grabbed a heavy cinder block and set it on top of the door to slow down the agents.

It was only as Nicky hastily lifted me into his arms that I realized my jeans were soaked with blood and my thigh was raging with pain, threatening to send me careening toward unconsciousness. “Hold on, doll,” he murmured as he hurried toward a plastic sheet hanging over a doorway. He ducked under the sheet and rushed toward the doorway across the room, but stumbled, coming down on one knee, clenching his teeth over a sharp cry.

I glanced up at his face, alarmed to see it deathly pale. Then I noticed the blood that was dripping down his arm. “Oh, my God!” I wiggled out of his hold—which wasn’t difficult with him weakened from blood loss. Pain punched the breath from my lungs when I hit the ground, but I managed to push up to my knees as Nicky slumped into me. “Oh, no you don’t,” I grunted, somehow managing to get us both up and moving.

I pulled Nicky’s uninjured arm around my shoulders and gritted my teeth as I limped toward the door, dragging him with me. I pulled the door open just a crack and saw the parking lot; the building where we’d parked the Escalade was only a couple hundred feet from where we’d emerged.

“Come on, love,” I ground out, glancing around for any agents who might be coming for us. By the time we reached the Escalade, my breath was shredding my lungs, but the pain in my thigh had already started to subside. Not bothering to ponder the faster than usual healing time, I fished the keys out of Nicky’s pocket and managed to shove him into the passenger’s seat.

I was tearing out of the parking lot, tires squealing, when the Agency bastards emerged from the Piggs’ office, firing at us. I flinched with a startled cry when one of their bullets shattered the back window. “Son of a bitch!”

The tires clung desperately to the pavement as I whipped the car out of the parking lot and into the street, fishtailing the rear end when I gunned it. Nicky slammed into the door with a groan. “Hang on, Nicky,” I told him, my teeth beginning to chatter from the icy February air blowing in through the shattered window. “I’m taking you to the hospital.”

He mumbled something incoherent in response.

“What was that, baby?” I asked, glancing in the rearview mirror to check for a tail.

“Not dying,” he said a little louder. “Trust me. I know what that feels like.”

I spotted one of the Agency’s sedans zipping around the cars behind me, gaining quickly. “Yeah, well, I’m not willing to bet on that, okay?”

I jerked the steering wheel, bounding onto the median and bouncing into the oncoming traffic. Before the Agency could even figure out what had happened, I was racing past them in the opposite direction. But it wasn’t going to take them long to come after me. I just couldn’t figure out why the hell they wanted to. Why were Nicky and I suddenly on their hit list? Had they come at the Pigg brothers to get to Nicky and me, or were we just in the wrong place at the wrong time?

As expected, the Agency’s sedan was coming up behind me again. And this time it had a twin.

Shit.

I was in freaking suburbia in an area I didn’t know. Outrunning them or losing them was becoming increasingly unlikely. There was no way to call for Gideon without the little mist trick Lavender had taught me. And I’d left my cell phone in my coat pocket, which was back at the Piggs’.

I blew through a red light, drawing the furious honks of several cars, but the congestion managed to at least slow my pursuers for a few valuable seconds. I zigzagged between a cargo van and a sports car, then floored it again, taking the first interstate entrance ramp I saw, not even noting which interstate it happened to be.

As soon as I merged into traffic, I reached over and snatched Nicky’s cell phone from the case at his belt and punched in a number before thinking. When I heard the familiar baritone on the other end, my stomach twisted into knots. But pride was going to have to take a number.

“Hi, Al,” I said through chattering teeth. “I need your help.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

I smoothed Nicky’s hair away from his forehead as he slept, then bent and brushed a kiss to his lips. He was so doped up on fairy dust at the moment, he didn’t even flinch.

“The doctors say when he’ll wake up?” Al asked from where he sat in a wooden chair in the corner of the Tale hospital room.

I shook my head. “Not really. Maybe sometime tonight or tomorrow. His body was weakened by the blood loss and is struggling a little to heal itself.”

Even though I’d had no right to ask for his help the day before, Al had immediately sent out several Enforcers to come to our aid. And now with Red safely at home on bed rest, he’d transferred his vigil at the hospital to watching over Nicky and me. I wondered when the last time was that he’d had any sleep.

“Any word on the Pigg brothers?” I asked.

He shook his head. “No blood at the scene except yours and Nicky’s and whatever Agency assholes were shot. And I checked with Nate—no calls for a pickup. I’m guessing they’re holed up somewhere, waiting things out.”

I couldn’t help grinning a little. Odds were good the brothers had had more than one escape plan. Slippery bastards.

Al sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “What are you doing with this guy, Trish?” he demanded. “He’s going to end up getting you killed.”

“If not for Nicky, I’d already be dead.” I pegged Al with an angry glare, crossing my arms over my chest. “But you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?”

His brows came together in a frown. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“How long have you been in bed with the Agency?” I demanded. “How long have you just been bending over and taking it?”

“Is that what you think has been going on?” He shook his head and got to his feet with a muttered curse. “Who told you that? That criminal you’re screwing?”

I stormed toward him, jutting my chin up. “That criminal,” I seethed, jabbing a finger in Nicky’s direction, “is the best man I’ve ever known! I used to rank you pretty high on that list, too, Al. But I’m beginning to see that you’re nothing more than a bureaucrat out to protect his own ass. What the hell has happened to you?”

Al laughed bitterly. “I gave up everything for the FMA,” he reminded me. “My fortune, my wife . . . Do you seriously think after sacrificing all that to protect the Tales, I’d turn my back on all of you now just because of pressure from some government agency?”

My huffiness lost a little of its steam. No, I didn’t think that. It was incomprehensible to me. But, still . . . “So what’s the deal with you and the Agency, then?” I demanded. “What’s going on that would make people suspect you’re a mole?”

“Who suspects that?” he asked, clearly shocked by the news.

“People who have a lot of power,” I told him. “You need to come clean, Al. What the hell is going on?”

He dropped into the chair, looking deflated and exhausted, the gray that peppered his hair suddenly more noticeable. “I’m walking a tightrope here, Trish,” he sighed. “I’m not an idiot—I know they’re up to something. They’ve always pressured me, wanting to know more about us, wanting a chance to pick us apart, find out the secrets behind our healing abilities, determine what makes some of us have talents that others lack—and how those talents change after coming over.”

I shook my head. “We have the same abilities in the Here and Now that we had in Make Believe.”

Al gave me a rather apologetic look. “Not all of us.”

I eased down into the chair beside him. “What are you talking about?”

“You know as well as I do that some of us have . . . altered . . . since we arrived, based upon how our origin stories are perceived by popular culture,” he explained. “Not all of us, obviously, but there are certain Tales who have become something more.”

I blinked at him. “Do you mean Tales like Vlad Dracula?”

He slumped a little in his chair. “Yeah, I think he’s one of them. But there have been others. Most of them are now in the Asylum, undergoing rehabilitation. Over time, the changes they experience . . . it’s as if it tears apart their psyches, drives them mad. They become . . . fractured. No longer sure who or what they are.”

That would certainly fit what I’d witnessed with Dracula.

“So what does this have to do with the Agency?” I asked.

He shook his head. “I don’t know. The pressure from them picked up a couple of years ago, right around the time all the bullshit with Sebille Fenwick went down. I was dealing with all that and trying to keep Red from getting herself killed, and I had the Agency breathing down my neck, threatening to impose their oversight and take over the FMA. Then they suddenly backed off. Well, a little. It’s just . . . strange now.”

“We’ve got to stop letting them intimidate us,” I insisted. “I’ve never agreed with Sebille Fenwick’s or Vlad Dracula’s methods, but they had a point, Al.”

Al looked at me like I’d just shat monkeys.

“Don’t give me that look,” I admonished. “Think about it. We aren’t just a handful of helpless supernaturals like the Agency is used to dealing with. We’re an organized group. We have our own government, our own law enforcement, health system—all of it. We need to stand our ground, Al. If push came to shove, we’d be a formidable force.”

Al studied me for a moment, mulling over what I’d said—and probably thinking I was an irredeemable lunatic. But then he took a deep breath and let it out on a long exhale. “The Agency is very well connected. If I push back, it could get ugly.”

“It’s going to get ugly either way,” I told him. “Sebille’s network was far reaching. And who the hell knows what Dracula’s been up to? And there are others who aren’t allied with either one of them who are beginning to wonder if the FMA has outlived its usefulness.”

Al shook his head. “That’s bullshit. You know that.”

“It’s time to take a stand, Al,” I insisted. “It’s time to let the Ordinaries know we’re not cowering in fear of them. We deserve to live our lives and be happy in the Here and Now. The Agency is baiting us. They know a fight’s coming, and they’re trying to draw us into it on their terms.”

“What makes you say that?” Al asked with a frown.

“There’s some connection with Dracula I haven’t yet figured out. And they’re stealing fairy dust from the Seelies and distributing it to Ordinaries.” When he cursed under his breath and ran a hand down his face, I reached over without thinking and put my hand on his knee. “Al, talk to Lavender’s father. You don’t have to handle all this on your own. He could be a powerful ally if you have to go toe-to-toe with the Agency.”

“He’d never see me,” Al insisted.

“He remembers your kindness to Lavender after the initial migration. If he offers you his friendship in return, accept it.” I chuckled a little and glanced over my shoulder at Nicky, who still lay in a drug-induced sleep. “Trust me, I’ve learned a thing or two lately about the importance of friendship.”

“Even if I did decide to go up against the Agency, they have a tactical advantage.” When I gave him a blank look, he explained, “They know where we are, Trish. I have no idea where they’re headquartered, if they have field offices. . . . I’ve had intelligence officers trying to get a feel for the size of their operation, but they never meet in the same place. Their offices are temporary. They simply don’t exist anywhere.”

I mulled over what he was saying, my brows drawn together in a frown.

After a moment, Al’s hand covered mine, jolting me from my thoughts. “Trish, about earlier—”

I gently slipped my fingers from his grasp. “Please don’t,” I told him gently. “I’m in love with Nicky, Al. This isn’t just a fling.”

His shoulders sagged a little and the pain in his eyes tore at my heart, but then he gave a slight nod and donned that impassive, contemplative look that I was used to. “Well, he’d better take care of you, or he’ll have me to deal with. Believe it or not, I’ve been known to kick a few asses over the years.”

Oh, I believed it.

When he stood, I stood with him and impulsively slipped my arms around his waist, hugging him tightly. “Thanks, Al. For everything. For giving me a chance when I came over. For always being there when I needed a friend.”

I felt his ragged breath as his arms came around me and hugged me back. After a moment, he dropped a quick kiss to the top of my head and abruptly released me, then strode to the door. He started to pull it open but paused and turned back to offer me a smile. “Take some time off. Let that leg of yours heal completely. I’ll expect to see you back on the job in a couple of weeks.”

I frowned at him, not bothering to tell him my leg had miraculously healed within minutes of my injury. “Al—”