As Lie The Dead (18 page)

“I saw you enter the Apple,” Black Hat said. His attention flitted from Phin to me, lingering on my face. I batted my eyelashes and drew my tongue across my upper lip, all the while pressing just a bit closer to Phin. Hoping my sign flashed: “Available for a Price.”

“I overheard you speaking to Belle,” Phin replied. “I was intrigued.”

“By which part?”

“Do you know who I am?”

“I know,” the pale female said. Her voice and the steep incline of her head sealed my impression that she was a Blood. A feather of white hair peeked out from beneath her hat. “Strange, then, to see you consorting with a human.”

The teenage boys growled low in their throats, shoulders hunching back and heads dropping. Positions of attack. It took every ounce of training to keep my body relaxed and to force out an effervescent laugh aimed at their posturing.

“Lucky for my little Chalice,” Phin said, “we met many weeks ago, before the humans became responsible for the slaughter of my people.” He winked in the direction of Black Hat. “She also has a very talented mouth.”

Mental note: Get him for that later.

“No doubt,” the Blood said.

I gazed at her from beneath lowered lashes, offering my best sultry half smile. “Want to test me?”

She bared her fangs. I giggled. God, this was embarrassing.

“You smell of blood,” she said to Phin.

Crap. He hadn’t changed his pants since the gym. Phin gave her a leisurely smile and said, “She got a bit frisky this morning. My Chal doesn’t have fangs like yours, but she knows how to use the teeth she’s got.”

Okay, that was sort of gross.

“My sympathies on the loss of your Clan,” Black Hat said. “However, the rumor mill has placed you among the humans several times over the last few days. Specifically with the Triads, so I ask you—”

“Why should you trust me?”

A nod.

“Because I know the Triads have been tipped off to your meeting at Park Place.”

I would have snapped his neck like a twig if not for the five other mixed enemies I wasn’t sure I could
take alone. He’d just given up our only ace in the hole. Stupid, stupid, stupid son of a bitch.

Black Hat grunted. “And how do you know that?”

I tilted my head, giving Phin a sly look that said I was in on his little secret, even though I wanted to beat him to a bloody pulp. He had to be enjoying my necessary silence.

“Two Hunters rousted Mike’s Gym this morning,” Phin said. “Killed about a dozen half-breeds. One of them talked before it died. Mentioned the meeting place and who was welcome. It piqued my interest, as you can see.”

“Do the Triads know you’re playing both sides?”

“You give them too much credit. They think they’ve pacified me with their meager attempt at compensation, but how is one man’s life fair when hundreds were lost? When a species is nearly obliterated?”

A dark smile spread across Black Hat’s face, exposing perfectly pointed teeth. “You want to balance the scales.”

“I want a life for every life taken.”

The fury and bloodlust in Phin’s voice startled me. My heart thundered in my chest. He was a born actor, able to take any lie and make it the truth. Clinging to his side like a lovesick poodle, I believed his words, just as I’d believed him that morning in my apartment. I didn’t know which Phineas was the real him.

“You promised we wouldn’t talk about this today,” I said, affecting a proper whine. I traced my fingers down his chest and played with his belt buckle, poking out my lower lip in a pout. “You said we’d try out position number fifty-two after lunch.”

The Therian twins perked up. The Blood snorted, probably rolled her eyes, only I couldn’t see past those damned sunglasses.

Phin nuzzled my cheek with his nose, warm lips leaving damp kisses all the way to my ear. I expected a whispered admonishment; I received a playful nip on my earlobe. “We’ll play later, I promise,” he said, loud enough for everyone to hear.

“You keep promising,” I said with a weary sigh.

“But does he keep those promises?” Black Hat said. “That’s what I want to know.”

I put one hand on my cocked hip and stood up just a little straighter. “Well, one time he promised me three orgasms, and I only had two.”

My deadpan delivery made him smile more broadly, revealing more of those horrible yellow teeth. The guy needed an introduction to a dentist, for sure. “So the Triads know about our little meeting,” he said to Phin. “Have they discussed their plan with you?”

“Surveillance of the area,” Phin said. “They’ll have teams in place for a coordinated attack on anyone who assembles there.”

“So the location changes?” Blood Lady asked.

Black Hat didn’t reply. He continued to study Phin, ignoring me now as he might an acknowledged physical deformity. “How can I be certain you’re telling me the truth? How can I trust you?”

“That’s up to you, I suppose,” Phin said. “You know who I am, and you know what I’ve lost. I owe humans nothing and have no qualms about killing them.”

“Would you kill her?”

I stared at the black-gloved finger pointing right at me and worked to keep my pulse from racing.

Phin shrugged. “If I had to, but she truly does have an extraordinary mouth.”

Black Hat reached inside his trench coat and withdrew a switchblade. He flipped it open with practiced ease, the steel glinting in the sunlight. Phin caught it in one hand and tested the weight. I eyed it, trapped between self-preservation and the ridiculous promise I’d made to trust that Phin could pull this off. That he wasn’t going to betray me.

The vampire female licked her lips, white skin glowing. “So prove it, Phineas el Chimal, if you be with us or with them.”

Trust him!
Half my brain screamed it, while the other half shrieked,
Run, fucking idiot!

Phin met my gaze, and for the first time since our introduction, I couldn’t read him. Had no idea what he was thinking or planning. He’d gone blank. I shuffled sideways. He grabbed my left wrist, his grip iron-tight. I yanked, tried to shake free.

“Sorry, honey,” he said.

“Phin, don’t.” I didn’t have to fake my fear.

He tugged; I stumbled toward him, raising my knee to deliver a firm kick to the crotch. He spun me so fast I lost my balance. Fell with my back to his chest, one arm pinned behind me. I clawed at his arm with my free hand, sufficiently alarmed when his slid upward and pressed to my throat. Not quite hard enough to choke. I felt the cold blade at the top of my breasts, flat against my breastbone.

He kissed my ear again. Whispered, “Trust me,” in a leaf rustle of volume.

Trust—a tall order when he was holding me like that.

The vampire chick leered at me, fangs exposed, practically drooling for the sight of my blood. The Therian teens gaped at the drama playing out for them like their very own home video. Black Hat showed no interest. The alley was quiet, too quiet. No one to see us, no one to interfere.

“Phin?” I croaked.
I trust you
.

He spun me again, this time to face him. I thought he meant to try another kiss, a nod or shake to communicate our plan of attack. Instead, he stabbed me in the stomach.

Four Years Ago

“Stay behind me, goddammit.”

The ferocity of Ash’s whisper stops my forward movement, and I pause at the bottom step of the dank stairwell. It’s blazing hot in here—just another low-rent apartment building without air conditioning to stave off the stifling summer heat. The cement and metal stairwell reeks of sweat—and not just what’s rolling down my back.

Ash slips around in front of me and stands on the next step up. She’s almost at eye level now. I’ve worked with her for only two weeks, so can’t say I know her facial tics yet, but I do know this one—anger. Great; she’s pissed at me again. So what else is new? She’s disliked me since the moment I was assigned. I get that a friend of hers died to make room for me on the Triad, but seriously? I didn’t kill him. And the massive stick up her ass is getting to be a major pain in mine.

“Disobey me again and I will knock you into next week,” she growls.

I bristle, knowing full well she can and will carry out such a threat—holy God, I can only hope to ever be as good a martial artist as she is—only I don’t suffer threats well. Never have, never will. “You didn’t order me back,” I reply.

Her dark eyes flash. “You’re the rookie, Blondie. You know you take rear.”

I open my mouth to snap off a few choice—and really stupid—comments. Jesse nudges his way between us, his massive build a solid wall of muscle and annoyance. “Not now,” he says, always the peacemaker. His double-blade ax rests against his left shoulder. It’s his favorite weapon, and he wields it like a Mexican lumberjack. The sheer heft of it would drive me crazy. I prefer my knives.

Jesse has at least given me a chance, so I back off.

Ash turns and sprints up the stairs. Jesse follows. I hesitate, then go. Our destination is the third floor, apartment G. The assignment came in thirty minutes ago, with very few details and a terse “Be ready for anything” from our absentee Handler. Jesse said Wyatt had rushed to the hospital to help with some emergency. An emergency in someone else’s Triad.

Nice leader we have.

The third-floor hallway is quiet—unusual for a place with paper-thin walls and hundreds of residents. I hear no television sets blaring, no music blasting, not even the familiar ruckus of verbal arguments. The faux-wood floor is scuffed and cracked, plaster walls in severe need of new paint. I’ve seen worse. So where is everyone? Do they know?

People in this city have developed an uncanny
sense of when to ignore something. Maybe because Dregs have been around for so long that strange activity is becoming commonplace. It’s easier to disregard the unusual than to try to make sense of it. Those of us who know the truth don’t sleep any easier than those who do not.

The silence raises my hackles. Each soft touch of my boot to the floor sounds gunshot-loud. My stomach twists. Whatever’s in apartment G is bad.

Ash stops in front of our target. The door is unremarkable—cheap wood, easy to shatter open with a well-placed kick. No need. The cops who responded to a neighbor’s nine-one-one call were ordered to leave the place unlocked. I imagine they were more than eager to turn the crime scene over to someone else. City cops don’t know about the Triads—not exactly.

Handlers carry badges identifying them as Special Cases officers—supposedly a deep-cover unit of the Metro Police Department that was harder to get into than a nun’s underpants. It gives Handlers the authority to take over Dreg-related crime scenes so we Hunters can go in and play, no questions asked. Kind of like on television shows, when FBI guys go in and take over from the local cops—it’s a jurisdiction thing, I think.

After all, cleaning up after Dregs is
our
job.

Ash turns the knob and pauses, sniffing the air. I can smell the blood as well. Thick and metallic, so pungent beyond the closed door I almost don’t want to see what awaits us. I’ve got a strong stomach, though, and curiosity won’t let me stay in the hall. She
opens the door, and a wall of hot, blood-soaked air slams into us.

Ash gags. Jesse pales. I breathe through my mouth, waiting for my senior teammates to enter first.

I go over our sketchy info. The apartment belongs to a nursing student named Rebecca Trainor, who hasn’t attended classes in almost two weeks. One neighbor reported seeing her with a young man, probably a boyfriend, on and off for the last six months. No name for him, just a vague description. Same neighbor—a font of information, this one—also heard a lot of arguing and screaming the last two weeks, mostly Rebecca’s voice. It was the sound of a man screaming in terror that finally got someone to call the cops.

Adding all of that together with our being summoned equals a Dreg attack. Quite likely this Rebecca got bitten and infected, and her steadfast boyfriend didn’t know what to make of his Halfie girlfriend. Not until tonight, when she finally turned him into Boyfriend Tartare.

The interior of the apartment supports my theory, I realize, as we finally go inside. I shut the door from prying eyes, then turn and peer into hell.

Blood splatters every available surface—floors, walls, tables, chairs, curtains, even the light fixture over the dining space. Some splatters are thick crimson blobs; others are light sprays. More than the blood, though, is the gore. A foot and ankle stick out of a potted plant. Bits of skin are arranged on a cardboard chessboard like playing pieces. Shredded remains of internal organs litter the kitchen floor like
macabre confetti. An arm and hand dangle over the back of the sofa, attached to nothing except torn muscle and ligaments.

I try to categorize it all, but my mind is shutting down. Forcing me to look away, at the floor, at anything except the remains of this person. Only I look in the wrong direction—at a candy dish on the kitchen counter. Nestled among whips of red licorice is something that makes dinner surge into my mouth—the dead man’s severed testicles.

“Holy fuck,” Jesse says. He’s seen it. He backs up and steps on my foot. I yelp.

Something snuffles behind a closed door. We three tense, as instinctively as squinting against sunshine. We aren’t alone.

Using hand signals, Ash directs us. Knife in each hand, I dart around the mess and crouch on the left of the target. Ash does the same, coming around on the right, armed with her favorite katana—she named the damned thing Hex. Ax back and ready to swing, Jesse goes up the middle, straight at the door.

Sweat trickles down my jaw. Adrenaline surges and sets my heart pounding. We’re all ready to kill the monster who did this to a human being.

Jesse kicks open the door. Ash surges in, and he follows. I start forward, only to hit a barrier. He’s stopped just inside the room, as has Ash. Annoyed, I slip around to get a look at what has given them pause.

A woman sits in the middle of a blood-soaked bed, clutching a hollowed male torso in her arms. It has one arm and one leg attached, a bloody hole
where his privates had once been, and very little holding his head on to his shoulders. The neck is chewed away, gaping in places, oozing in others. His mouth is open in a death shriek, eyes wide and unseeing.