As Lie The Dead (17 page)

Instead of shrieking, I managed some smidge of control and spoke barely above a whisper. “What. The fuck. Do you want. From me?”

The hard edges of his face seemed to soften, and
his lips parted. Forthcoming words died in his mouth as a ruckus broke out on the other side of the diner. I half stood, hand braced on the table, trying to peer past the heads of other folks who’d just started to stand. Phin shifted around in the booth, as curious as me.

“Get that talk on out of here,” Belle shouted, her voice ringing loudly over the buzz of hushed conversation and crackle of the flattop. “No one’s interested.”

“That why they’ve been hanging on my every word?” a male voice asked. Husky and thick. Couldn’t see him. “Because they’re not interested?”

“If they want to listen, let them listen outside,” Belle replied.

Someone moved and I finally spotted Belle, poised next to the counter, both hands on her hips. The target of her ire was still out of my sight, but the upturned angle of her head told me he was taller than her. And not intimidated by the were-cat waitress, if her shifting posture was any indicator.

“You going to kick out one of your own?” the dissenter asked.

Belle nodded. “And enjoy it, too.”

A squat man in a baseball cap got up from his table, leaving behind a woman and two small children and four ice cream sundaes. He turned the cap around backward and sidled up next to Belle, further obscuring my view of the drama. “Trouble here, Belle?” Ball Cap asked.

“We’re just talking,” the problem person said. “When did that become a crime in this city? Do we persecute our own now for supposed crimes? Isn’t that what the Triads are for?”

I bristled. Phin’s hand closed around my left
wrist—the only thing that kept me from entering the fray. I focused on the warmth of his skin, the dual strength and softness in his touch, and kept myself grounded. Less likely to fly at someone—him included.

Conversation around the diner all but stopped as heads turned and previously oblivious patrons took notice. Someone nearby growled. The two Bloods at the far end of the counter were the only people ignoring the main event, uninterested in the were—no,
Therian
—standoff.

“Look,” Belle said, “I don’t care what you’re selling. This is a business, not a speech platform. Go stump on the sidewalk.”

“I believe I will, now that you’ve assisted me in a restaurant-wide announcement. Anyone who wants to hear more is free to meet me around the corner, by the green bench.”

Folks shifted and stepped aside. A man wearing a black fedora strolled through the path and out the front door, his exit punctuated by the door’s bell. Two teenage boys dropped money on the counter and darted after him, new followers eager to learn from a twisted leader.

I had no love for the Triads, considering how fickle they’d been with me over the last week—putting a kill order out on me without proof of wrongdoing and then suddenly welcoming me with open arms once I proved my innocence. At the end of the day, though, they existed to protect humanity. Right or wrong, they were coming under a coordinated attack. I had to know what Black Hat was up to.

Front door exit was too conspicuous, even though
most diners had returned to their meals. Phin released my wrist. I sank back down into the booth, mind whirling. I had to get outside. “How far around the place does this glamour extend?” I asked.

“I’m not sure,” Phin replied. “Maybe a foot from the walls. Why?”

Because it meant Black Hat would be giving his sales pitch out in the open, visible to the general public. Any public who happened to walk by. Like me. “I’ll be right back.” I slid to the end of the booth and stood.

“Where are you going?”

“Little girls’ room.”

The look I got said he didn’t believe me. He started to stand as I walked away. Stopped when I did, in fact, head toward the bathroom. I’d caught sight of the “Restroom” sign as we were led to our table, halfway back to the front counter, set down a short corridor. I pushed open the door marked
GALS,
took note that the other door said
GENTS,
and slipped inside.

Two stalls, single porcelain sink, paper towels, and pink hand soap. Simple and functional. Now to suck it up and teleport my ass back outside to Phin’s car. Not an easy feat. I couldn’t see if someone was near the car or standing on my intended destination. My stomach clenched at the idea of teleporting into another person.

The bathroom door swung open. I stepped sideways to avoid getting hit. Phin slipped in and pushed the door shut. He leaned against it.

“What the hell, Phin?” I squawked. “You going to watch me pee?”

“No, but I thought I’d go with you.”

“If you have to go, the men’s room is next door.”

“I mean when you go outside and pretend to be an eager acolyte. No offense, Evy, but if the man running the show is Therian or worse, he’s going to smell you as human before you get a word in.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “Thanks for your faith in me.”

“It has nothing to do with you. I don’t want you to underestimate the man who was in here recruiting.”

“Underestimating a Dreg is what got me killed the first time. I don’t plan on making that mistake again.” My purposeful use of “Dreg” seemed to roll right off him this time, so focused was he on not letting me go. Like I needed his permission. “Why? Do you have some sort of plan?”

“My people know the name Evy Stone, but they don’t know your new face yet,” Phin said. “Can you play Chalice for a little while?”

I nodded. “Who are you going to play?”

“The wronged Clan Elder who thinks the Triads will do anything to get out of actually turning over one of their own for his proper punishment.”

He said it without a trace of irony. So earnest that, for a brief moment, I just stared at him. And then he smiled, wide enough to light up his eyes, and I relaxed. A little.

“Let me guess,” I said. “I’m the doting girlfriend who will do anything for her amazing Coni lover?”

“Works for me. Let’s go.”

He turned and reached for the handle. I put my palm flat against the door and pressed. He frowned.

“Front door’s too obvious,” I said. “We don’t need to arouse more suspicion by running off before our food’s done.”

“You think Belle won’t notice that we didn’t return from the bathroom?”

“Don’t care.”

“Then what do you suggest? I fly us through the ceiling?”

“Time for you to trust me.”

“Does this have anything to do with your little jump from room to room this morning?”

I’d forgotten that Phin had seen me teleport once, by accident. What was the harm in doing it again? “Yep.”

He tilted his head, nodded. I held out my hands, palms down. He took them loosely. Tightened his grip when I tightened mine.

“This is going to feel weird,” I said.

I closed my eyes. I had no idea if he mimicked me or not. The gentle hum of the Break rose to the surface quickly, leaping to the forefront almost without thought. I grasped at those tendrils of power and then dug deep for familiar feelings of loneliness—my emotional tap into the Break. Thought of almost losing Wyatt (again) that morning, of how he wasn’t fighting by my side as he should be. Of working against the Triads while pretending to be with them—the closest thing I’d ever had to family.

My world buzzed and snapped. Everything seemed to melt away in a phosphorescent cloud, and we floated. The strength of Phin’s hands held tight. Sharp pain speared my abdomen, rushed through my guts, down my spine to my toes. Back up to my head, throbbing
and pulsing, as we teleported through solid objects. I wanted to shriek but had no voice.

Through the pain, I pushed. Focused on the car and the sidewalk. Felt my feet once again on a solid surface. Blood leaked from my nose, down to my upper lip. Everything tilted. Strong arms wrapped around my waist, and I fell against Phin’s chest. Heard his heart thundering. My head ached; I panted for air.

“You’re right,” Phin said quietly. “That felt really weird.”

I snorted, earning another sharp stab behind my eyes. “Told you.”

“Do you need to sit?”

“I’m fine.” To prove it, I opened my eyes and pushed away from his chest. My aching head spun a little. I wiped the back of my hand over my lip, brushing away the blood. My body felt like a live wire, ready to fly apart at any moment.

He made that disbelieving face. “Ready to play this?”

“I’d probably be more convincing in high heels and a sexy skirt, but I can manage.”

“I think jeans and sneakers are plenty sexy.”

The off-the-cuff comment sent small flares of heat to my cheeks, and I was helpless to stop them. What the holy hell was I blushing for? One little flirtatious comment? I rolled my eyes skyward, too late to salvage my dignity. “Whatever. Are you ready to do this?”

“Almost. And please don’t hit me for this.”

“What—?” His mouth covered mine before I could finish and took my breath away. My hands flew to his chest, palms flat, but I didn’t push him. His lips
were soft and his kiss firm, even as his heart jack hammered beneath my hand. My mouth was full of the taste of him. Sweet and strong and wild, like a mountain river—everything a bird of prey should be.

One arm circled my waist and pulled me against him, practically on my tiptoes. I should have been angry at the invasion of my personal space. Should have pulled away. Punched him for it, even though he’d asked me not to. I should have done a lot of things I didn’t do, because I was enthralled by the kiss. A kiss that had no sexual baggage attached to it. At all.

Phin let me go. I stumbled back, panting. Face flushed and wide-eyed.

“Don’t tell me that was for luck,” I said, my voice barely managing to rise above a whisper.

He shook his head, eyelashes lowered, a little embarrassed. “Not exactly. Therians have a developed sense of smell, and no one would have believed us as a couple if we didn’t, um, smell like each other.”

I blinked. “Well, that’s both logical and kind of disgusting.”

His mouth twitched. “The kiss or the concept?”

Instinct created a sardonic retort meant solely to wound and prevent his thinking I’d enjoyed the kiss—which I wasn’t about to admit—but somehow honesty won. “The concept.”

He smiled, and his blue eyes sparkled. The warmth and affection were meant for me, and as quickly as that knowledge swelled my heart, it also chilled me to the bone. No way in hell was I letting this happen. Phin was a job, a promise to fulfill, and even more important, he was a Dreg. Not the worst;
certainly among the best I knew. Nonetheless, he wasn’t human.

Nonhumans are the enemy and not to be trusted, period. Basic thinking from Boot Camp, drilled into us over and over, day and night, during those first few weeks. It was part of our Triad mantra, driven home by video footage now shown on the first and last day as a trainee—video footage of a Hunter who had let his guard down with a Dreg and the violent price he’d paid for it. A scene I had witnessed firsthand my second week on the job.

“Evy?”

I snapped back into the present with a jerk of my head. Phin stared with a mixture of concern and wariness, lips slightly parted.

“Sorry, I’m fine,” I said.

“Okay, just one last—”

“If you kiss me again, I’ll deck you.”

He shook his head. “Not that. But please, Evy, no matter what happens or what they say, I need you to trust me to protect you.”

Phin had no idea what he was asking, because we had no idea how this little meet ’n’ greet would turn out. If we’d be accepted or attacked, or how much playacting we’d have to do in order to convince them we were sincere. He would be taking point on this one—a concept I had a lot of trouble with, since I preferred calling the shots.

I just didn’t have a choice. “I promise.” With more conviction in my voice than in my heart, I fixed a sunny smile and ran both hands through my hair. Too damned long. “Come on, before they move the meeting and all this is for nothing.”

*   *   *

We approached the meet on the same side of the street, working for the dual appearance of purposeful and casual. I had plastered myself up against Phin’s side, both arms looped around his narrow waist and cinched together possessively over his stomach. He draped his right arm across my shoulders, fingertips tickling my bare arm. Our strides matched perfectly, and we bobbed along like a set of mismatched conjoined twins.

Five people stood beside the rusty iron bench, four of them in a half circle around the man with the black hat. He was taller than the others, his actual build hidden beneath a bulky trench coat. The well-worn cliché that was his wardrobe made me want to roll my eyes. I abstained, settling for a silent snicker.

Two of the people in attendance were the teenage boys who had fled the diner. Maybe seventeen, they had similar brown-haired, pointy-chinned, round-eyed appearances. Probably siblings, or if they were Therian, at least of the same Clan.

The other two seemed to be a couple, midtwenties. She was the alpha in the relationship, standing straight-backed, shoulders sharp as clothes hangers, arms stiff at her sides. Her ankle-length blue skirt was free of wrinkles and belted over an equally pressed-flat blouse, several shades of blue lighter than the skirt. A pale blue knitted cap covered her hair and designer sunglasses hid her eyes, but nothing could disguise her ghostly complexion and rail-thin figure. Everything about her screamed vampire.

Except for standing on the sidewalk, late afternoon, in full sunlight. Just like Isleen two days prior, this female Blood was out in the open. One more thing I hadn’t looked into yet.

The young man with her wasn’t a Blood, but not necessarily human, either. He stood next to her, bouncing his weight from foot to foot like an eager child waiting for a bit of attention. He wore long sleeves despite the heat, hiding any potential bite marks. Only humans are susceptible to infection by a Blood’s bite; other species are free meals if they can be caught and kept. Unless she fed via syringe.

The conversation waned as we approached, and stopped altogether when we didn’t continue past. The black hat–wearing man on the bench regarded us coldly, his shadowed eyes giving off no light beneath the hat’s brim. No sign of life. He wasn’t Blood or Halfie, definitely not goblin or gargoyle. Had to be Therian.