As Lie The Dead (30 page)

Jenner easily navigated the underdeveloped, ghostly section of town not far from the skeleton of the Capital City Mall. We were less than ten blocks from the area where the hound attacked. Ten blocks from the place where I’d shot an innocent man. A
pang of guilt settled in my stomach, sour as lemon juice. An unlucky shot from my gun had nearly killed a man on a bicycle who knew nothing of the secret battles we waged on a daily basis.

But that secrecy and his ignorance were the things I was fighting for.
Weren’t they?

The city thinned out as we continued east, into a lower-class residential area. Block after block of crumbling row homes materialized, with cement front yards the size of postage stamps and bars on all the windows. It was a land of cracked sidewalks, cars missing tires, and the faces of people too bored to care why a fancy car was suddenly driving through their neighborhood—or they simply assumed we were on our way to sell something illegal.

After several more turns that wound us around a few times (I couldn’t tell if he was lost or just avoiding potential tails), Jenner pulled into a half-empty parking lot shared by a furniture store advertising “Best Seconds,” a linen outlet, and a few other similar businesses.

I stretched as I got out, my legs stiff from the thirty-minute drive from one side of the city to the next. It was like traveling between worlds. The odor of car exhaust was a far cry from the fresh-cut-grass scent of Jenner’s neighborhood. Shoppers went about their business, paying us little mind. I felt as self-conscious as a cat in a dog pound.

Jenner led us across the parking lot. I followed behind Wyatt, keeping him in front of me at all times and my attention constantly circulating. We weren’t equipped for an ambush from anyone—be it the Triads, Call’s people, or an old-fashioned mugging.

We entered a rug and flooring megamart. The sharp scent of new carpet made my nose itch the moment we stepped into the lobby. A long sample room was on our right, and a two-story, seemingly endless warehouse of carpet and linoleum rolls, flats of wood flooring, and shelves of remnants was on the left. Jenner went that way.

“Strange place for a meeting,” Wyatt said quietly.

Jenner glanced over his shoulder. “You were expecting some clandestine location, no doubt?”

“More clandestine than a carpet store?” I asked. “Where—?”

“Just follow me.”

He navigated a path through the maze of shag, pile, and Berber in dozens of colors and patterns, deeper into the cavernous warehouse, until I was sure we were lost. In the recesses, far from the lingering voices of salespeople giving their canned pitches, Jenner pushed through large swinging doors marked
EMPLOYEES ONLY.
I kept close to Wyatt, every sense on high alert. Watching. Listening.

Jenner bypassed a row of parked forklifts and turned down a dimly lit corridor. We passed a break room that reeked of cigarette smoke and greasy food, three office doors, and two restrooms. At the end of the corridor was another door marked
PRIVATE.
It was heavy and gray like a fire door, but without the crash bar. Just a simple knob and lock, for which Jenner produced a key.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Truman, but you must remain here,” he said.

Wyatt scowled.

I squeezed his wrist. “It’s fine,” I said. “I don’t
plan on making an inaugural address, so this should be over pretty fast.”

Wyatt twisted his wrist so his hand caught mine. “Good luck.”

“Piece of cake.”

Jenner inserted the key, turned the knob, and held open the door. I released Wyatt, annoyed at having to leave him behind, and slipped into dimness. The door closed, adding to the near-dark. I felt Jenner shift, then move around in front of me. The air was danker, like a basement, but smelled clean.

“Stay here.” Fabric rustled, then Jenner was gone.

I stood frozen in place, listening to the varied sounds of people breathing. Footsteps. A chair scraped. My eyes began adjusting to the dim light. I could make out vague shapes and got an idea of the size of the room. Not large—maybe as long as a school bus and a few feet wider.

Sudden light glared at me from three directions, all high and from above. I winced and shielded my eyes, tensed for attack. Beyond the beams I could still see those shapes, but they didn’t move toward me. Jenner had to be among them, but I couldn’t distinguish him from the others. I felt suddenly like a criminal being sweated by the police. The light drilled in my head, setting me on edge and keeping me there.

“You may speak,” a male voice boomed. The acoustics prevented me from pinpointing the source.

“Thank you for seeing me,” I said. Seemed like a good way to start. “You know why I’m here, so I won’t bore you with repetitive details. I’m sure you also know who I am and my history as a Triad Hunter, and that I’m no longer under their employ.”

A murmur rippled through my hidden audience. Okay, so maybe they didn’t know the last part. I backpedaled a bit, remembering what Jenner had said about speaking with passion. “For four years, I lived with the unwavering belief that what the Triads did was right. I followed orders, no matter what they were, and I slept soundly believing I’d done what was necessary to protect humankind. I began losing that faith almost two weeks ago, when my own people turned against me without proof and without cause. I lost it completely yesterday when I threatened the foundation of
their
faith, and they nearly killed me. To my knowledge, the Triads believe me dead.” With a small smile, I added, “Again.”

“Your situation is unfortunate,” a woman said. Her voice was soft, almost singsong in its cadence. “But why should we reveal to you one of our most protected secrets? Such information in the wrong hands would be devastating to the Therians in this city.”

“I know,” I replied. “Your only guarantee that I will protect this information lies in the fact that Phineas el Chimal trusts me implicitly. I don’t condone mass murder, and I can’t excuse what the Triads did to the Coni and Stri Clans, but I also can’t put the weight of that responsibility on the shoulders of one man. Not when someone else is ultimately responsible.”

I struggled for the words—the best way to put my thoughts out there for them to understand. “I may not be able to produce those responsible as I promised Phineas I would. And I tend to think with my heart rather than my brain, so it’s also entirely possible I’m seeing conspiracies where none exist. But even if you
choose to not reveal the other bi-shifting Clans to me tonight, I leave you with a simple plea. Protect them. Because if there is the tiniest chance I’m right, then they’re in grave danger. Perhaps not from the Triads but from someone out there with the power to see that you’re destroyed piece by piece.”

“You speak with conviction, Evangeline Stone.” The same woman, louder. “It is true that we know your history, as well as the history of the Triads’ dealings with our people. We learned long ago not to underestimate the human need to control their environment, and their fanatical need to maintain power once it is gained. It’s why we choose not to draw attention to ourselves and prefer to keep matters internal.”

“And how’s that working out for you so far?” I could feel Jenner’s glare, but curbing my sarcasm wasn’t top priority.

“You have brought us no proof that the other Clans are in danger.” It was the first man who’d spoken, annoyance dripping off every word.

I curled my fingers into tight fists, frustrated. “I never promised you proof, just my theories and my experience.” Once again, I was drawn back to my conversation with Isleen. “There’s something larger at work here. Why can no one else see that? Maybe the Triads, for all their good intentions, were a bad idea ten years ago, but what were we humans supposed to do? What kind of help did the Therians offer us when Halfies and goblins started attacking in the streets?”

Another murmur of conversation broke out. Had I hit a nerve? Or just overstepped my bounds?

“We cannot undo the choices of the past.” A new
male voice, deeper than the first, like he was speaking through a tuba. “We must look to the future for our people and make choices for our continued survival.”

I nodded. “We aren’t much different, then.”

“We are, though,” Deep Throat said. “Because faced with the choice between the most innocent Therian and the evilest human, you will always choose the human.”

“You can’t assign that moral judgment to me.” It took every ounce of self-control to not fly at them. “You don’t know me.”

“We know Triad Hunters. We’ve seen them make their judgments for a decade now. You say you’re different, because you’ve been hunted by your own people. But those are words, Evangeline. Only words.”

“Fine. So what was the fucking point of this if you’d already decided I’m just another untrustworthy human?”

“The Assembly has decided nothing,” Breathy Female said. “You should know as well as we that speaking with a person tells much more about them than you can learn secondhand by speaking to someone else. You have several supporters among our kind, and we were curious to see the woman in whom that trust has been placed.”

I swept my arms out to my sides. “So what do you think? Faith misplaced?”

“On the contrary,” Deep Throat said. “You’ve shown you’re not blind to the errors of your people, even though you continue protecting one of their worst.” More fist clenching kept me still; I bit my tongue hard to hold back a sharp retort over all the good Rufus St. James had also accomplished. Worst,
my ass. “It’s time for the Assembly to discuss your request.”

“Do you have anything else to add?” Jenner asked. He was somewhere on my right, hidden in the shadows. The tone of his voice hinted that I should say no and excuse myself.

It hovered on the tip of my tongue, but something else came out instead. “What do you know about a Kitsune named Snow, who’s been helping to recruit a militia intent on wiping out the Triads?” I asked.

No murmur this time—full-on conversation broke out, too loud and chaotic to pick out anything specific. Just familiar words flung around: “she,” “Snow,” “they,” “Triads.” I’d hit a very specific nerve and had them arguing among themselves. Less than a minute passed, and then someone shouted a word that sounded like “pizza” but couldn’t be. Because it shut them all up.

“Snow’s actions are not endorsed by this Assembly,” Deep Throat said. “If you want more answers than that, investigate his connections to the Triads. The skeletons you find will not please you.”

“Nothing about this investigation so far has pleased me,” I said. “Least of all everyone’s inability to give me a straight fucking answer. Anyone in particular I should ask about Snow’s skeletons?”

“The killer you protect.”

Well, that was something. I just needed access to Rufus again. Not easy when he was still in the hospital, guarded by Triads who thought me dead, and still potentially a day away from being turned over to the Assembly for punishment. Was it a coincidence that
Rufus was connected to both the Sunset Terrace massacre and Snow? All the possible implications made my head hurt.

“One final question,” Jenner said. “Where do your loyalties lie?”

It was both straightforward and a trick question. I wanted to believe I’d always pick the right side, no matter who stood there, but I knew I was deluding myself. It was impossible to undo twenty-two years of being human and four years of being trained to distrust, hunt, and kill Dregs. I was starting to change—this last week was proof enough—but it would take time.

“Right now?” I said. “My loyalty is to myself.”

“Please wait outside.”

The trio of glaring spotlights turned off, flooding the room in blackness. Strange spots of dark noncolor danced in my vision. I backed up until I felt the door, turned the knob, and slipped out into the dim hallway. Wyatt was by my side instantly, but I ignored him for the moment, rubbing my eyes until their normal focus returned.

“Well?” he asked.

“They said to wait while they sacrificed a goat and divined an answer from its entrails,” I said grumpily.

He blanched. “Huh?”

“They said to wait.”

“Did they say anything more helpful than that?”

I shrugged and leaned against the wall, keeping my voice low in the enclosed corridor. “They want to believe they’re morally superior, because they don’t go around hunting other species, but they’ve also spent the last decade as passive observers while others do
their dirty work and now they have the nerve to be annoyed at the current state of things.”

The corners of his mouth twitched. “You got all that from a ten-minute audience?”

“No, I went in there thinking that, but the audience confirmed it. They also seem to think that all Hunters are bloodthirsty murderers who will always choose the worst human over the best Dreg, and they keep using Rufus as their prime example.” My anger at their insistence on referring to him as “the murderer” returned, hot and encompassing.

“Rufus is hardly an example of the worst of us,” Wyatt said, disgust in his voice.

“Not to mention the fact that he’s a Handler.”

He scowled. “So?”

“So he gives the orders; he doesn’t actually pull the damned trigger.” I cocked my head sideways, studying Wyatt’s furrowed eyebrows and pursed lips. “What?”

“Handlers live and die with the orders they give to their Hunters, Evy. Do you know how hard it is to be the one who says it’s time for a person to die? To give the Neutralize order on someone I’ve never met and who’s never personally done me any harm? Putting people I’ve come to care about in harm’s way day after day?”

His voice had risen incrementally during the mini-rant. I put my hand on his arm and shushed him. He continued to glare, but not at me. At himself, maybe, or at his role in life.

“All I meant,” I said, “is that it seems unfair to call Rufus a murderer when he wasn’t the one who
went in with guns blazing and set the apartments on fire.”

“No, but it
is
his job to take responsibility for his people, just like any good captain would. Maybe it doesn’t make him a murderer, but it does make him responsible. Just like it makes me responsible for everything you and the other Hunters under my command have done.”