Die and Stay Dead (16 page)

I’d seen enough. I aimed my gun at the Fetch. Before I could squeeze the trigger, a long, gray tentacle shot out from the mass in its mouth and struck the gun, knocking it out of my hand. The tentacle retracted into its mouth. My gun skittered across the alley floor away from me. I pulled my hand back quickly and dropped down behind the garbage cans again, my heart lurching against my ribs.

“It has a face tentacle?” I demanded. “You didn’t say anything about face tentacles!”

Bethany shrugged apologetically at me. “What are we going to do?”

I risked a glance at the Fetch again. It stayed rooted where it was, waiting for us to make another move. How were we supposed to get away without it touching us? Especially with the long reach of its tentacle? I looked at the metal garbage cans in front of us and had an idea.

“We need a distraction,” I said. “I’ll keep it busy while you and Gabrielle get out of here.”

Bethany stared at me. “Didn’t you hear what I just said? You can’t risk it touching you.”

“It’s the only way,” I said. “That thing’s not going to let us just walk out of here.”

“Forget it, it’s too dangerous,” Bethany said.

“You’re out of your mind,” Gabrielle added.

“Probably,” I said. “But when has that ever stopped me?”

I grabbed the closest metal garbage can lid by its top handle, jumped up, and started toward the Fetch. The tentacle lashed out of its mouth again. I held up the lid like a shield. The tentacle struck it, banging heavily against the thin metal. The force of the blow nearly knocked it out of my hand, but the makeshift shield held. I gripped the handle tighter and braced my feet.

Before the tentacle retracted, another shot out of the Fetch’s vertical mouth. With my other hand I grabbed the lid off another garbage can and held it up as a shield. The second tentacle banged into it.

As the two tentacles began to retract, a third rocketed toward me between them, straight down the middle.

Shit. I pivoted and brought the first lid up again to block it. All three tentacles retracted into the Fetch’s vertical maw. We regarded each other a moment, waiting to see what the other would do.

And then the Fetch’s mouth exploded with tentacles.

One after another they lashed out at me, six tentacles in all. I backed away, swinging both garbage can lids again and again, blocking the tentacles as they came. It happened again, what always happened when I was in the thick of a fight. It was as though something took control of my body, some forgotten instinct that knew how to fight like I’d been doing it all my life. The Fetch’s tentacles lashed at me harder and faster, nearly knocking the lids out of my hands.

“Go! Get out of here!” I shouted at Bethany and Gabrielle. I glanced their way and saw with some relief that they were already gone.

I’d only looked away for a moment, but that was all the time the Fetch needed. One tentacle wrapped itself around the lid in my right hand and yanked it out of my grip. The Fetch tossed the lid away, sending it sailing down the alley. I reached for another garbage can lid near me, but a second tentacle knocked it out of my reach. I only had one makeshift shield left against six lashing tentacles that I couldn’t let touch me. It wouldn’t be enough.

I backed away from the Fetch. “Look, pal, you don’t want my power. Trust me, it comes with a lot of baggage. It’s a real downer.”

The Fetch didn’t care. All six of its tentacles came flying at me. I raised the garbage can lid.

Something hit the Fetch from behind with a metallic clang. It stumbled forward from the impact, its tentacles missing me and retracting instantly. Gabrielle stood behind the Fetch, holding an empty metal garbage can with a big, new dent in its side. Before the creature could right itself, Bethany came leaping out with a cinder block held over her head. She brought it down on the back of the Fetch’s head. It fell to the ground at her feet. Bethany lifted the cinder block again, then dropped it as hard as she could on the Fetch’s skull, smashing it into a puddle of gooey black ichor and bone. The Fetch’s body melted into a thick black smoke that drifted harmlessly across the alley floor and eventually dissipated. All that was left of the Fetch was a dark stain where its crushed head had been.

“Thanks, but I had it under control,” I said, catching my breath.

“Of course you did,” Bethany said. “Garbage can lids, was it?
Great
idea.”

“You suck at sarcasm,” I said. I dropped the lid I was still holding.

Gabrielle put down the dented garbage can. “This was my fault,” she said. “I should have known better than to follow Reve Azrael into an alley, but I didn’t listen to my instincts. I was too angry. So I led us right into a trap. God, I’m such a fool. Reve Azrael is just going to keep using Thornton against me until I slip up even worse and someone gets killed.”

“Anyone would have done the same thing in your position,” Bethany pointed out. “There’s no point blaming yourself.”

Gabrielle glared at her. “No. She knew she could play me like that. And she was right.” She shook her head. “I’m not ready for this. It’s too soon. Or maybe I’m just not cut out for this anymore.” She sank down against the wall until she was sitting on the alley floor with her knees up against her chest. “She’s using Thornton against me. Against all of us. I just … I just want him back. I want everything to go back to the way it was.”

I stood there, watching her. I didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t very good with words.

Bethany knelt down beside Gabrielle and spoke softly to her, doing a much better job of comforting and reassuring her than I could have. It made me wonder how many other times Bethany had had to do this. Back before my time they hadn’t been the Five-Pointed Star, just a loose team of freelancers in Isaac’s employ. Individuals he paid to locate and secure artifacts. I hadn’t thought of it before, but given how dangerous this line of work was, it struck me as inevitable that Thornton wasn’t the only one who’d died.

“There’s something I never told you,” Gabrielle said, wiping tears from her eyes. “After Thornton and I got engaged, I wanted to tell him not to take that last job for Isaac. I didn’t want him to do it. I knew it would be dangerous. I also knew if I asked him not to do it, he would turn Isaac down. But I could see how proud Thornton was, how much he wanted the money so we could have a big wedding. I didn’t need a big wedding to be happy. All I needed was him. But I didn’t tell him that. I could have stopped him from going on that mission, but I didn’t, and he died.” Her breath hitched in her throat. New tears formed in her eyes. “Even when I had the chance, I couldn’t save him. He died because of me.”

Bethany shook her head. “You’re wrong. The only one to blame is the gargoyle who killed him, and it’s dead now. Thornton has been avenged.”

“I don’t want him avenged,” Gabrielle said. “I want him back.”

My cell phone went off. I pulled it out and saw Isaac’s name on the caller ID. I got up and walked away from them, moving toward the mouth of the alley as I answered the call.

“I’ve got Bethany and Gabrielle, but there was a situation,” I told Isaac. “Reve Azrael has finally crawled out of her hole. But the weird thing is, she didn’t make a move herself. She sent some kind of creature after us instead. A Fetch.”

“She must still want something from you,” Isaac said.

“Yeah, revenge,” I said. “She wanted to turn New York into her own personal city of the dead, remember? Just her and ten million revenants bowing to her will. She blames me for stopping it.”

“But if she wanted to hurt you, why send a Fetch?” Isaac asked. “There are far more lethal creatures she could have sent, including her own revenants.”

“Maybe she’s shorthanded?”

“If only. There’s no shortage of fresh corpses in New York City,” Isaac pointed out.

I didn’t like not knowing what Reve Azrael was up to. She’d been laying low for a month, and now this? She had something up her sleeve. I was sure of it.

“We found Clarence Bergeron’s address,” Isaac continued. “I’m sending it to your phone now. He’s got a house up in Bronxville, about half an hour outside the city.”

“A billionaire living in Westchester,” I said. “Shocking.”

“We also found out where the Ghost Market auction took place,” he said. “It was a warehouse on the Brooklyn waterfront.”

“Sounds a little seedy for a Bronxville type,” I said.

“It’s the black market, they don’t go to Sotheby’s,” Isaac said. “I’m going to check out the warehouse now. I’m sending Philip to you.”

I started to protest, but he stopped me.

“If Reve Azrael is gunning for you again, I want you to take Philip with you to Bronxville for protection. She’s not just going to try once. She’s going to
keep
trying.”

A strong, sudden wind blew past me. I ignored it. “That’s not necessary, Isaac. I can take care of myself. I don’t need Philip.”

I heard Philip’s voice say, “Careful, you’re gonna hurt my feelings.” I turned around. He was standing behind me draped in the dark cloak and gloves that protected him from the sun. The gust of wind. I shook my head. Damn, Philip was fast when he wanted to be.

“Never mind,” I said into the phone, “he’s already here.”

“Good luck,” Isaac said. “And watch your back.”

“You, too.” I ended the call and turned to Philip. “Are you going to behave yourself, or do I need to bring bail money?”

He grinned, showing me his fangs. “Don’t I always behave myself?”

I sighed and went back to the others. “A man named Clarence Bergeron bought the Thracian Gauntlet at the Ghost Market. Isaac just gave me his address. We should get moving. Oh, and Philip’s here to help, in case we run into trouble.”

“I don’t run into trouble,” Philip said. “Trouble runs into me.”

I rolled my eyes.

Bethany helped Gabrielle to her feet. “We can drop you off at home first, if you want, Gabrielle.”

“I’m sorry. I’m not ready. I’m just not ready for this,” Gabrielle said. She looked up at Philip. “It was Reve Azrael. She was in Thornton’s body again.”

Philip grunted disdainfully. “If you walk away now, all you’ll do is show her how weak you are.”

“Philip, that’s enough,” I said.

“What’s wrong with you? Why would you say that to her?” Bethany demanded.

Philip ignored us. “If you think Reve Azrael won’t exploit that weakness, you’re a fool. If you want to send her a message that you’re not to be fucked with, you keep fighting. You take the fight to her. You don’t stop until she’s dead. Unless you really are as weak and foolish as she thinks. In which case, yeah, go home. You’ll only slow us down.”

Philip turned around and walked out of the alley, pulling the cloak’s protective hood over his head. Gabrielle stared after him in silent shock.

Thirteen

Isaac had said Clarence Bergeron owned a house in Bronxville, but
house
was an understatement. Mansion would be a better word. Or estate. I watched Bergeron’s sprawling, three-story brick residence through the high-definition binoculars. In daylight, the special lenses that boosted light transmission for nighttime use gave everything a crisp vividness. The view was clear enough that I felt like I was standing right in front of the mansion, rather than lying on my belly in a grove of trees on a nearby hill. But at least here I could remain hidden from the house, the main road, and the great curving driveway in front. A marble fountain surrounded by meticulous hedges and spiraling topiaries stood at the center of the drive.

Bergeron had serious money. Casing the house of a wealthy man felt all too familiar to me. Like comfort food, in a way. I didn’t like what that said about me.

In the back of my mind, a small but insistent voice kept reminding me that I didn’t want to be here. I wanted to be with Jordana. I couldn’t stop thinking about her and everything she’d told me. I felt alive, energized, and desperate to get back to her. Having to wait was unbearable.

Lucas West.

Lucas West.

The name had the rhythm of a drumbeat, one that wouldn’t stop playing in my head. Calliope, the Thracian Gauntlet, Reve Azrael’s latest ploy for my attention—they were the furthest things from my mind right now.

I pulled myself together and swept the binoculars along the mansion’s front windows. There was no movement inside the house. Nothing moved in the enormous, columned portico that shaded the front door, either. I put down the binoculars and picked up my phone. I texted Philip:
I don’t think he’s home.

Philip and Bethany had gone around to the back of the house to look for signs of life and find a way inside. Gabrielle wasn’t with us. We’d dropped her off at her apartment before driving to Bronxville. She’d spent the whole car ride sitting in silence with her arms crossed, staring out the window. She was furious—at Reve Azrael, at Philip, at the world. I couldn’t blame her. She had every right to be.

Philip texted back immediately. I could imagine his fingers moving lightning fast over the touch screen of his smartphone.
Agreed. Not seeing any body heat inside. Makes no sense. There should be staff in a house this big. Bethany says we have to remain cautious. Thousandth time she’s said it. Thinking about tying her up in the trunk of the car just so I don’t have to hear it again.

I wasn’t sure if Philip was joking, because you could never be sure when Philip was joking. I wrote back:
Please don’t.
Then another message came through.

This is Bethany. I’ve taken the phone from Philip, who clearly doesn’t deserve to have it. Have to be quick before phone fries. Meet us in back. There’s a storm cellar entrance. Bergeron won’t notice signs of forced entry here.

On my way
. I put the phone in my pocket.

Something tapped me on the shoulder. Someone cleared his throat behind me. Damn. Like a fool, I’d been too caught up in my own thoughts about Jordana to hear him approach. I turned my head slowly and saw a man in his seventies standing behind me. He wore a pinstriped three-piece suit, complete with a watch chain looping from the vest. A horseshoe of short, white hair ringed his otherwise bald, age-spotted head. In his right hand he held an ivory-handled, wooden cane, which he used to poke my shoulder again.