Kin (20 page)

THE WOODSMAN

T
HE
WAITIN
G
ROOM
SEEMED
A
LITTL
E
SMALLER
NOW
.
Ruby hunched, still shivering even though she was in dry clothes and Thorne's jacket was draped over her shoulders. The chair was hard and uncomfortable, but she was dry, at least. There was no way one of Ell's bras would fit her, but there was a soft cashmere jumper and jeans that should have been a little snug, but weren't because Ruby was thinner.

When had that happened?

“Adam Tiercey.” Thorne was right next to her, perched on a chair just like hers. The fishtank burbled, and the nurses were giving them some odd looks.

Of course the rest of the waiting area was jammed with kin, Oncles and Tantes, and most of them looked angry. All of them were spotted with rain, and though the nurses probably couldn't smell the blood, something deep and atavistic might have been warning them.

Ruby stared at the carpet between her feet. She felt exhausted. Hollowed out.

Ell even had a pair of trainers that fit her, and dry socks. Her feet still felt damp, though. “Is that his name?”

“Yeah. Rootfamily. Conrad's twin, the younger one.” Thorne's hand twitched, as if he wanted to touch her. Between them was a tiny little table holding two ancient yellowed magazines, both with grinning housewives on the cover. “He turned out to be a little . . . unsteady.”

“I guess.” She blinked, exhaustion turning everything into a leaden, unsurprising soup. Cami had to go home, and Ell was probably at this moment being read the riot act for getting into another crazy-dangerous situation. “How did . . .”

“Clanmother suspected something off when he showed up without a sub to clean his boots. She and that detective—Haelan—”

That managed to rouse her. “I told him it wasn't you.”

“What?”

“I told him there was no way you would have done anything like that.” She didn't look up, but she could feel his gaze on her. He leaned over a little farther. If he kept going like that, he'd probably end up on the teensy table between them.

“Oh.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway, Haelan took me to the train station. Clanmother gave me a ticket to New Avalon. I went to go find out, she wanted it done quietly. And I think she wanted me out of the way.”

Maybe. Or she wanted you not to show up dead in the Park, too.
“You went all the way to New Avalon?”

“Just told you I did.” He let out a sharp breath, almost a sigh. “Found out Adam and Conrad boarded the train together. Nobody's heard from Conrad since. One of the conductors remembered a pair of guys at the Vairshall station, about halfway between here and New Avalon. Said one guy looked like he was drunk, and they went into the station house. Grimtree's Clanmother sent a few of their cousins up there, they got off in Vairshall and looked around. Funny thing was, Adam was collared to keep him stable, they also thought some of our kin might be able to help him, teach him how to control himself. Wonder how he got it off.” He paused. “You . . . you want some coffee? Something to eat? You're pretty pale.”

There are probably all sorts of ways to take a collar off.
On a train, there would be no place for the real Conrad to hide the key. Or if he was buzzy on liquor, or asleep, maybe he hadn't kept track of it as well as he could? Or maybe he'd been talked into taking the collar off for just a few minutes, because they were brothers, after all. . . .

She shook her head slightly. She'd probably never know. “You came back on the train. When?”

“Just got in, actually. Oncle Efraim met me at the station, told me Clanmother was sick, then it all made sense.”

“What did?”

“Well . . . they found Conrad. The real Conrad, I mean.”

Murmurs of conversation around them. Tante Alissa kept glancing over at Thorne, a line between her eyebrows. Had she believed him responsible for Hunter's . . . death?

Her throat was dry. “They . . . found him?”

“Yeah. He'd been stuffed in a dustbin about two blocks from the station, probably hadn't been opened since the Reeve. The lock was torn off. His body . . . well, he'd been poisoned.”

“Poisoned?” She dropped her head forward again, because Oncle Efraim was looking at her. His mouth was thin, turned down at the corners. He hadn't said a word the whole way here.

“Aconite.” Thorne's fingers twisted together.

But that's . . .
“Wolfsbane,” she heard herself say, and a laugh bubbled up in her throat. Died away on a tide of sourness. “We can't smell it as well.”
It'd be easy to slip in a drink. Or train food, it's supposed to be nasty. Then he could take the key and . . .
She shuddered.

“Yeah. Tox screens came back positive for it, so the Grimtree Clanmother started calling around down here. Adam had been calling as both of them, I guess he was pretty good at it. Mimicking his brother. According to them, everything was just fine, but then . . . silence. She finally got Oncle Zech on the wire, and things started to come together. So when I got back there was the good old detective waiting for me with Oncle Efraim, and a couple cousins too. They told me you'd disappeared.” He cleared his throat again, harshly. “I, uh, I went a little crazy.”

“Uh-huh.” She hunched her shoulders.

“I had to make sure you were safe. I couldn't believe they'd . . .” A deep breath. “So I called your friends, trying to find you. Nothing. I went to the Clanmother's looking for you, or for your trail, or anything. He was gone, but I found his ID in his wallet. And there was something under his bed. A hachet. Silver chasing on the . . . on the blade.”

Her gorge rose, briefly, pointlessly.
Oh, God.
“That's what he used on the . . .”
The girls. Mithrus. And Hunter, that was why the body was . . . scorched.

“Yeah.”

A long silence stretched between them. Everything made sense now. Finally, Ruby wet her dry lips, a quick nervous flutter of her tongue. “I'm sorry.”

“
You
didn't do anything.” He sounded baffled, and he leaned over a bit more. He was going to fall out of the chair if this kept up. “The reason I went to the Clanmother in the first place was because of . . . of Hunter.”

“Hunter,” she repeated, to keep him talking. Her arm muscles twitched a little, burnt out. Even though the cuts and clawmarks had healed, there was still a deep ache left behind everywhere the thing had managed to get her.

“Hunt swore up and down that it wasn't the real Conrad, that it was probably his twin. He said he remembered both of them, even that long ago, and Hunt just
knew
. He was absolutely certain, and I brushed it off. Told him he just didn't like competition. He . . . I think he went to meet this Adam guy in the Park and . . . Ruby.”

He slid off his seat and was on his knees in front of her. He had her hands, lying limp and discarded in her lap, and peered up into her face, her hair brushing his forehead and cheeks.

This close, she could see the circles under his eyes, and the piercing of his gaze had grown more intense, if that was possible. “It was my fault.” Low, and fierce. “I'm sorry. I'm so goddamn sorry. If I'd believed Hunt, none of this would have happened. He'd be alive, and you'd be safe, and . . . I just didn't . . . Ruby, I'm sorry. You're not ever gonna forgive me. I know that, I'm okay with it, I just . . . I wanted to say I'm sorry.”

The massive injustice of it stung her, giving her a small flush of energy. “It's not your fault.” Her hands came back to life, grabbed his, and
squeezed
. “Don't you
dare
blame yourself. I covered for Conra—for whoever he was. I thought Hunter was maybe waiting in the Park for me to sneak out. I kept my mouth shut every time Conr—
Adam
did anything. I should have seen everything before.”

“Don't—”

She squeezed his hands harder. “Then
you
don't, either. Okay?”

“I . . .” His face squinched up, as if he was eleven again. “I thought he made you happy, maybe. I would have challenged him in the open, if . . . but then I thought maybe you liked him, or . . . I just . . . I wanted you safe. And I was jealous too. I've always . . . Ruby, I just . . .”

“I know.” She leaned forward with a weary sigh, and her forehead bumped gently against his. His breath was a little sour, but so was hers, and her hair fell down, closing both of them in their own private world. “I thought Gran wanted me to pick him. I wanted to be what she wants, but I'm not.”

“Are you kidding? Every time she talks about you, it's that you're amazing. She's so proud of you, Rube. So proud.” His throat worked as he swallowed. His eyes were closed. “I am too. You just . . . you were there in the garden, all lit up and angry and . . . and beautiful.” She shook her head a little, but he pressed on. “Don't. You're everything anyone could ever want, Rube. If the Clanmother doesn't know it,
I'll
tell her so. I'll make her listen, too.”

No wonder Gran had collapsed. Aconite. Now that they knew, could they treat her?

Would she be okay?

She untangled herself from Thorne, gently. He stared up at her, and the naked hope and longing on his face was almost too much to stand.

Deep down, she'd known all along he was the one. What would happen now?

I don't know
.

“Miss de Varre?” A familiar voice. She'd guessed he would probably show up.

S
HE
SMOOTHED
HER
F
INGERS
OVER
T
HORNE
'
S
FORE
HEAD
. He leaned into the touch, and when she looked up, she was afraid the lump in her throat would stop her from speaking.

It didn't, though. “Detective Haelan.”

He was just as gray and rumpled and sad as ever. Still, the sharp intelligence in his eyes asked for—and gave—no quarter. “I think we should talk.”

“I do too.” She pulled, and Thorne rose. He also steadied her as she stood, her legs protesting wearily. “I told you he didn't do it.”

“I knew he didn't. Hell of an alibi. It was also too neat, the backpack showing up.” He sighed, and didn't seem to notice that the assembled kin had gone quiet, staring at him. “But this isn't about that. I've been doing some thinking.”

She almost swayed.
I'm so tired. Please let's not do this
. “Me too.”

“I think . . .” He glanced over his shoulder, at the crowd of kin. “I think you deserve to know about your mother.”

“I do.” She turned to Thorne, who didn't look any happier than she felt. “I . . . Thorne, will you stay? I mean, not here, you should probably go home and get some sleep, but I . . . I'd like you to, you know, hang around.”
Lame, Ruby. Real lame
. But like Ell said, you had to start somewhere. “With me.”

He nodded. Didn't say anything. Did he understand what she was saying? Maybe not.

She opened her mouth to try again, but he smiled. It was a sad, tired, lopsided smile, and the way he tilted his head told her he knew without her saying anything. The familiar irritation rasped again, but underneath it was deep comfort. She didn't know what to do, and that was okay. When she did, that smile said, he'd be waiting.

“Sure thing,” he said, finally. “I'm not leaving here, though. My mother's on her way. She's going to rip my ears off for disappearing, but I couldn't tell her.”

“When she finishes ripping your ears off, I'll do it too. Don't you
ever
do that to me again.”

His smile broadened, if that was possible. “Did you miss me?”

“You're irritating. Of
course
I missed you.” Ruby nodded, squared her shoulders, and turned back to Haelan.

“My mother.” She folded her arms, cupping her elbows in her hands. “Katrina. What . . . what did she do?”
Was it bad? Did she pass it down to me, do I make people taboo?

“I . . .” He glanced at the kin, and Oncle Efraim was bearing down on them, disapproving as ever.

The tall, gaunt Oncle stopped and drew himself up. “This is clan business,” he said, in his scratchy, authoritative voice. “You've been warned, Detective.”

Oh sure. You won't talk to me, but you'll talk to him. Because he's got a dongle. Mithrus Christ, I am so tired of that.
“Oncle Efraim.” Ruby didn't even look at him. “I've asked this man a question, and I'd like to hear his answer.”

What was surprising wasn't the immediate hot drift of anger and chalk-smelling dominance from Oncle Efraim. Anyone who talked to him that way, especially a kingirl, would have the same effect.

No, what was surprising was the way she sounded. Soft, polite, and completely unimpressed by his temper.

Just like Tante Rosa used to talk to him.

No, Ruby decided. She sounded like Gran.

“Your grandmother—” Efraim's voice rose, and if she didn't cut him off now, he'd become a nuisance.

“—is just down the hall, Oncle. Please keep your temper.”
Now
she looked at him, and felt that same stirring inside her, dominance flexing like a muscle. “And in case you've forgotten, I'm rootfamily, and if I ask a mere-human a question, I will have an answer without interference.”

The assembled kin, bright-eyed and nervous, took a collective breath.

“Now,” Ruby continued, softly, inflexibly, “I think you have a family to take care of and some cleanup to organize. Those murdered girls have families too, and those families will also need their funeral costs attended to and our sincerest condolences proffered. You and Tante Sasha will attend to that personally, and Tante Sasha will have the final say in whatever decisions are made. You'd best get started.”

The old man stared at her, his hands trembling. How thin was the line between him and the thing the kin had killed in Gran's garden? Control, and cruelty. Thinking you owned everything, and could do what you wanted.

Or maybe thinking you owned nothing, not even yourself, and fighting so hard to control
anything
that it made you taboo. Like a Twist, only instead of charm and badness wringing you into a corkscrew or a minotaur, you became . . . something else. Not mere-human, and not kin, either.

Oncle Efraim's trembling died down, and he nodded, slowly. The heat in his eyes faded, and his shoulders slumped. It could have been submission or relief, or both. Maybe the family gossip was wrong about what had happened in his house.

Maybe it wasn't. But for right now, he dropped his gaze. “The Moon speaks,” he murmured, the traditional reply for when a Clanmother had given her decree.

“Thorne.” Ruby didn't take her gaze off Efraim. “Can you organize a cleaning party to get over to the cottage? When Gran recovers, she won't want to come home to a shambles.”

“Yes ma'am.” With that slight sarcastic edge—he was still Thorne, after all—he headed for the kin in the other half of the waiting room. Which meant Oncle Efraim had to go too.

She finally looked up at the detective. He was pale, beads of sweat standing out on his forehead. “You sound just like her,” he said, very softly.

“Like Gran?”
Did you hear that too?

“Like Katy. She sometimes . . . well. She was amazing.”

“What happened?”
Please tell me
.

“She . . . Your Gran wanted her to marry, to settle down. She wanted . . . other things.”

“Like . . . ?”

“She was involved with someone else. Look, that part of the story isn't . . . maybe I'm wrong. Maybe you should just ask Edalie.”

“I'm asking you.” Where did that polite, weary but unyielding tone come from? It was just
there
.

He looked away, down the hall. When he spoke, it was just a reedy murmur. “We would talk. She'd steal away to visit me, and I knew she belonged somewhere else, but . . .” He swallowed, hard, as if the words pained him. “She came to see me. . . . It was midnight, you were sleeping. We were . . . I shouldn't be telling a little girl this.”

Too late.
“I have a right to know. She was
my
mother.”

Did he flinch? Just a little? He ran a hand over his rust-graying hair. “Well, anyway. She was crying, shaking. Said Edalie was right. That they'd had a fight, and Edalie had threatened to do something awful. Something so bad Katy couldn't tell me.”

Ruby's skin chilled.

I spoke in anger. . . . I burned it. Forgive me.

Yet Gran had, furious at Ruby's intransigence, done the same thing.
You should be collared, to save you from yourself.

Had Gran immediately regretted it? She'd gone white, shaking, and Ruby had screamed
I hate you!
and stamped away. Afterward, Gran wanted to talk, but Ruby turned away, redirected, wouldn't listen.

I fear you may do yourself harm.

“Then . . . Ruby. You were a year old.” His shoulders slumped. “She . . . Katy . . . your mother loved you. You have to know that. The last thing she said to me was that you were the only thing she never regretted. She . . . she hung herself on Courline Bridge.”

That's in the core.
And suicide. Another taboo, one of the biggest. No wonder the kin didn't speak her name. The Moon took those who killed themselves, kept them resting on the dark side instead of the silver face, sleeping until bit by bit, every fullmoon, a little of the madness that drove a kin to take their own life drained away. You didn't speak of them because it might disturb that quiet dreaming, and it would take longer for them to come back and try again.

Do you really believe that?
Con—
Adam
would sneer.

You had to believe something. At least her mother—Katy, Katrina—hadn't done something . . . else. Something like . . . Conrad.

Adam
.

Ruby swayed, straightened. “So that's what she did.”
I sound really calm
. “My . . . my father. Who . . . what did he do?”

“He couldn't live without her.” The detective looked very old now, and very pale. The reek of despair and alcohol on him intensified. “He was . . . weak.”

“Oh.”
Is he with the Moon too?
She nodded. The vast empty space inside her, a cavern of wondering, just turned out to be a tiny room.

Forgive me
, Gran had pleaded, in the grip of aconite hallucinations. How often had she been up at night, running the spinning wheel, thinking about her daughter? Maybe the grief choked her, the way it did Detective Haelan. He coughed, and rubbed at the welling in his eyes.

She reached out, tentatively, and touched his hand. Fragile mere-human flesh. She slipped her fingers through his. Held on for a moment, gently. “Thank you. I never knew.” The Tantes and Oncles wouldn't say anything, because it was Gran's place to speak to Ruby about it privately.

Maybe, just maybe, Gran wasn't as disappointed in her as Ruby thought.

Haelan nodded as if she'd said something profound. “I'm not sure I . . .” A deep shuddering breath. “Your father loved you too, Ruby. But he was a coward.”

“I guess that's where I get it from, then.” She let go, and he stared at her. “Being afraid . . . it's an awful thing. A really awful thing.”

That about finished things up. He kept staring, like she was a talking fish out of the feytales.

Finally, she just turned away and started walking.

He said nothing.

Halfway down the hall to Gran's room, a thought occurred to her. She spun around, but the waiting room was abuzz with kin making plans, organizing, given a direction now. Maybe they were more comfortable with letting someone else do all the ordering around, just like she was with Ellie. God, how did Gran decide what to do?

Maybe Gran just has to decide, even when she doesn't know. She does it anyway because someone has to.

And it beggared belief, but sometimes . . . sometimes even Gran might be wrong.

Forgive me
.

Your father was weak. He was a coward.

I guess that's where I get it from, then.

All she'd ever been told about her father was that he was outside the clan. Maybe . . .

He couldn't live without her
.

The detective was up and walking around. Still, if you thought about it, way back behind his eyes was an emptiness. Not scary like Co—
Adam's
. No, the detective just looked sad.

Lonely.

I wonder
. . . .

She shook her head. She could find him later and ask, even though she wanted to run through Trueheart Memorial's halls, catch up with him, maybe in the parking lot, maybe in a hall, and
make
him tell her something else.

Anything else.

There was something else she had to do.