Lasting Fury (Hexing House Book 2) (15 page)

“There are only a couple,” said Flannery.

Gordon nodded. “They’ll have to wear name badges, I apologize for that. But we need to make sure all the humans on the campus today are authorized. We’ve also cleared a room for you in the gym wing to get ready in.”

“Great. Thanks for everything.” Flannery glanced at Thea as Gordon walked away and mumbled, “You too.”

Aunt Bridget cleared her throat, and Flannery rolled her eyes. But her voice was louder and clearer when she spoke again. “I know you were just trying to look out for us.”

“I’m happy for you, Flannery,” Thea said. “I really am.”

“I know.”

An hour later, they were ready to start. Cora and Nero’s parents had both passed away—there were so few old furies, it seemed, a concern Thea would have to consider another time—so Aunt Bridget walked down the aisle side-by-side with Nana, who was more-or-less everyone’s Nana. Then it was Cora’s turn, with another friend of Nero’s, before Elon and Thea would follow as best man and maid of honor.

“I think you’ve got an admirer,” Elon whispered to Thea as they waited for the music to give them their cue. He nodded at Pete, sitting a few rows up, staring openly at her.

Thea smiled at Pete, who didn’t seem embarrassed to be caught looking. He grinned back at her and gave her a thumbs up.

“We’ve known each other since we were kids,” she said.

“Don’t give me some
like a brother to me
crap,” said Elon. “That is not a brotherly stare. Believe me, I know.”

“Believe me, I know you know. You and your bachelor ways are pretty much all I hear about from Cora these days.”

“Well, maybe not so much after today.”

Thea raised an eyebrow at him, but Elon was saved by the swell of music. He grinned down at her as they started walking, and said nothing.

The ceremony, much to Thea’s relief, went off without a hitch. Nero’s obvious delight in his bride was contagious. Even Cora looked happy. And looking at her radiant cousin, Thea momentarily forgot everything else. The vision, the danger. Their fight the night before, and all the fights that had come before that. Every rotten thing Flannery had ever done, pretty much, had been driven by insecurity. Now she looked downright serene. Maybe she really had changed for good.

I’ve changed for good, too. But have I changed for the better?

Thea pushed the question aside as Flannery and Nero, now pronounced man and wife, walked back down the aisle hand in hand, nodding at their well-wishing guests. It was a lovely moment. And it was marred by nothing.

Maybe it’ll all be fine.

The lunch served in the dining hall was accompanied by recorded music; there was no live orchestra, corpse or otherwise. There was no dancing, either. And Gordon’s team was clearly visible, without being overly obtrusive.

Maybe it really will.

Thea stood near the bar with Aunt Bridget and Pete, pretending to chat while really watching the crowd as closely as the guys from Security were. So she saw Graves coming long before he arrived.

Working his way through the crowd, Graves looked almost like his old self in one of his bespoke suits. He moved from group to group with his charming smile, every bit as if he still had wings on his back. He seemed to be in a great mood.

Thea didn’t like it.

When he finally made his way to her, Graves stood slightly apart, just out of earshot of Aunt Bridget and Pete, and gestured for Thea to come to him. Curious, she did as he asked.

“I’m surprised to see you here,” Thea said.

“Tradition has it that life event celebrations are open to the whole colony,” Graves said. There was no trace of alcohol this time, either in his voice or on his breath. “And they can’t exactly turn away the wingless when one of the happy couple is human, can they?”

“I didn’t say I was surprised you were invited,” Thea said. “I’m surprised you came.”

Graves chuckled, as though he thought she was joking. “I heard you had a vision about this wedding.”

“Where did you hear that?”

He gestured around the dining hall. “Oh, over there. And there. And again on the left side.” He smiled at her. “The story has gotten around.”

“Lovely.”

“You know,” Graves said, “visions tend to be the province of the women in my family. I’ve had maybe two my whole life. But I had one last night, too. Isn’t that an interesting coincidence?”

“It’s an interesting
story
,” Thea said.

He laughed outright at that. “I wouldn’t blame you for thinking I was playing you, given our history. But Hexing House—the whole fury way of life, really—is at a crossroads, Thea. This is a crucial time. Even my feeble old psyche picked up on that, I guess.”

“And what did your feeble old psyche see, exactly?” Thea asked.

“You,” said Graves. “Standing at that crossroads. Directing traffic.”

Now it was Thea’s turn to laugh. What kind of trick was he trying to pull out of his hat, exactly? And why did he imagine she would fall for whatever it was? “Was I wearing an orange vest?” she asked.

Graves smiled again, and there was nothing smarmy about it. He looked almost kind. “I don’t think what you saw was really about this wedding.”

“No?”

“I think it was couched as this wedding because that was what you were disposed to see, but also because of what it represents.”

“Which is what?” Thea asked.

“The relationship between humans and furies,” said Graves. “I think you were being warned. Given notice.”

“Notice of what?”

The charm left Graves’s face then. His eyes were flat and serious as he said, “The decision will be in your hands. Not Alecto’s or Megaira’s. Yours.” He shook his head, as if he was finding his words as hard to believe as she was. “The human transformation, deciding the fate of the furies.”

“Graves, I haven’t got the slightest idea what your game is, but do you honestly expect me to bel—”

Thea was interrupted by the sound—always annoying, and most especially at weddings—of a butter knife clinking against a glass. She looked up to see Elon, standing on a table.

Pete came over to her. “Time for the best man toast, then? Do you do one after?”

Thea gasped. “Shit, I hope not. Nobody mentioned it.”

Pete laughed as Elon started talking.

“This is where I’m supposed to talk about Nero,” Elon said. “And what a great friend he’s been. What an inspiration and a role model. But because he
is
such a great friend, he’s given me permission not to talk about him.” His eyes found Cora, and he grinned at her. Cora frowned back at him, confused.

“He’s given me permission to talk about his sister instead,” Elon went on.

Now Cora’s eyes were wide. Thea wished she was standing beside her friend, so she could squeeze her hand.

“She has many of the same wonderful qualities as her brother,” Elon said. “And one that he doesn’t: patience.” He looked around the room and raised his wine glass. “It is a virtue, is it not?”

There was a general murmur of agreement, and many glasses were raised in return.

“But like all virtues, patience has its limits,” Elon said. “So first, I’d like to thank Cora for allowing me to exceed the limits of hers so often, and for so long.” He waited for the chuckles to die down, then said, “That ends today. I have indeed been inspired by my friend and role model, Nero.”

He raised the glass again, this time to Nero, who returned the gesture and grinned. Then Elon looked back at Cora, and Thea grinned too, relishing the moment.

“Will you marry me?” Elon asked. It was the most serious Thea had ever heard him sound.

By then, Cora was crying too hard to do anything but nod.

Elon hopped off the table, and Nero took his place. The crowd was silent while Elon got on one knee and slipped a ring onto Cora’s finger. Then Nero clinked a knife against his own glass.

“Just want to set the record straight before you all start complaining about them stealing our thunder,” he said, to general laughter. “Elon asked both Flan and I if we minded his doing this today. Naturally we said we’d be delighted. And we are. I couldn’t ask for a better husband for my sister.”

Thea hid a laugh behind her hand. She remembered Nero making snide remarks on more than one occasion about Cora not being able to trust Elon, and about their relationship in general. But now that Elon was ready to commit, Thea guessed it was time for a little revisionist history.

“Excuse me,” Thea whispered to Pete (and, she supposed, Graves, who was still standing on the other side of her). She began to make her way toward Cora and Elon, as Nero continued his congratulations.

“And now that we’ve passed the torch on to a new couple for you to talk about,” Nero said, “I think it’s time I spirited my bride away.”

Thea hugged Cora quickly, then hearing Nero’s words, hurried to do the same to Flannery.

“Enjoy your honeymoon,” Thea whispered to her cousin. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you. And see?” Flannery laughed. “I told you it would all be fine.”

She kissed Thea on the cheek, then Aunt Bridget, before turning to join Nero, who was already at the dining hall door.

It wouldn’t open.

“That door doesn’t lock.” Alecto—the bandages gone from her eyes now—flew up onto a table. “Can we get people from Security and Facilities both over to that door?” She gestured at the side exit, which opened up to the auditorium. “Someone else try that one.”

That one wouldn’t open either.

Alecto flew to the side door herself, and pushed the handle hard. Thea heard a metallic sound that brought to mind, very unpleasantly, a chain.

There was a buzz of growing panic as word spread through the crowd.

“We’re trapped!”

“What’s happening?”

And then, before Alecto or anyone else could respond, there was an ear-splitting blast. Followed by two more.

what

Something sharp dug at Thea’s side. Her eyes stung. Some kind of liquid was in them. She could barely see.

what the

And she couldn’t hear at all, except for a shrill ringing in both ears.

what the fuck

She wiped a hand across her face. It came away bloody, but she could see now.

what the fuck just happened

She was staring into Nana’s wide, unseeing eyes.

That shook Thea out of her stupor. Or at least, partly so. She still felt dazed, but now most of her confusion was caused not by whatever blow to the head she’d taken, but by an overwhelming, aching rage that made it difficult to think.

Only two coherent words made it through that cloud of wrath, but they were a constant refrain, as Thea tried to collect herself:
Go. Chase.

Nana was lying in a pile of rubble, barely two feet away. Her hand was close enough for Thea to reach out and touch. And she was dead.

Thea sat up quickly—too quickly, and nearly passed out—and looked around. She still couldn’t hear, but she could see open mouths, shouting, screaming.

Several people were hurt. A couple of others might have been dead. Dust and plaster hung in the air. A wall and part of the ceiling behind her had collapsed.

But only that wall.

As she got her bearings, searching for the faces of her loved ones and trying to make herself focus, that was what struck Thea the most: the dining hall, while a mess, seemed to be mostly intact. And although the wedding guests were shaken, battered, and bleeding, most of them were on their feet.

There had been three explosions. Three.

This wasn’t nearly as bad as it could have been. Why not?

And then those words again.

Go.
Chase.

Thea was shivering. When had it gotten so cold? Stumbling to her feet, she looked around until she found Pete, hugging Aunt Bridget and trying to calm her down, while his eyes searched the room. Whether he was looking for Thea or an exit, Thea couldn’t guess. She couldn’t see Cora or Flannery anywhere, but at least Aunt Bridget looked okay.

Go.

Chase.

Thea knew she was off-balance. She should stay. She should find her family and friends, help evacuate the building and care for the wounded, come together with her colony.

But she was helpless against the urgency, the near-panic, that had overtaken her.

Avenge.

With one last look down at Nana’s body—the old fury looked so small, in death—Thea found a gap in the ceiling wide enough to squeeze through, and flew upward.

Both the crowd and the confusion in the air outside were just as thick as they had been in the dining hall. Alecto, members of her board, and guys from Security all flew around, shouting things Thea, whose ears were still ringing, couldn’t understand.

Ignoring them all, single-minded in her wrath, Thea flew around the building. She counted five bombs in all, at various points around the Colony Center. As far as she could tell, only three had gone off, and one of those looked like it had malfunctioned. The bomb itself and the door it was chained to were the only things near it that looked damaged.

Whoever did this sucked at it.

That was all Thea needed to see.

She could accuse Megaira and Fury Unlimited of a lot of things, but incompetence was not one of them. Thea was pretty sure that if their rival colony had set out to bomb Hexing House, the bombs would have worked.

Which left only one enemy: the Concerned Citizens For A Fury-Free County. And that meant that whoever had done this was human.

Security had been all over the place all day. Thea herself had gone outside just after the ceremony, and flown a quick lap around the building before going into the dining hall. She’d seen nothing by the doors, and no humans around.

Those bombs hadn’t been set up and left sitting for hours. They’d been set up recently. By someone who couldn’t just fly off afterward.

The culprits were out there right now, driving away.

And Thea meant to find them.

As she soared higher into the air, Thea thought again of Nana’s empty, staring eyes. Yes, it was a lot less damage than it could have been. But it was more than enough that somebody had to pay.

“Thea! Go back.” It was Damon from Security. He flew toward her and shouted, “The campus is on lockdown. And everyone’s been requested to stay on the ground.”

“You’re locking down now? Really?” Thea laughed at him—and her laugh sounded insane, even to her own ears. “If you had any sense, you’d be doing what I’m doing. You’re sure as hell not going to stop me.”

“Stop you from what?” Damon asked.

“He’s out there,” Thea said simply. “And I’m going to get him.”

Go. Chase.

Avenge.

She had no patience for Damon. She would attack him in a second, to get him out of her way.

But that didn’t prove necessary. Damon considered her. Then, whether because he agreed with her, or because he was overwhelmed and had enough to deal with, or simply because he could tell she was dancing on the edge of madness, he shrugged.

“I warned you, that’s my job done,” he said. “Dig your own grave if you want.”

“It’s not my own grave I’ll be digging!” Thea called over her shoulder as she flew away.

She was still shaking, as much with cold as with anger, despite the fact that it was a sunny, warm day. Thea wondered if that meant she was in shock. Obviously there was something wrong with her.

She decided it didn’t much matter.

There were no cars on Spencer Road. Thea kept her eyes trained on the shoulders as well, and the tree line beyond, on the chance that someone was fleeing Hexing House on foot. But there was no sign of anyone.

Route 47 had a bit more traffic. Thea flew north, then south for a few miles, staying off to the side but not especially concerned about being seen. How much harm would another picture of her do, at this point?

She wasn’t sure what she was looking for until she found it: an old pickup truck, dented in places, one side door a different color from the rest. That was not in itself unusual for the area. Nor was the smattering of religious bumper stickers. But the combination distinctly suggested Mr. Fanatic to her.

Thea flew closer. The driver was wearing a cap pulled down low, and she couldn’t make out his face, but she saw his head turn toward her, then back to face the road.

He sped up. A lot.

Of course, that might have been anyone’s natural reaction to having a monster fly up alongside them. This truck might not have anything to do with Mr. Fanatic or the bombing. But Thea had a hunch it did.

Gotcha
.

There were no passengers that Thea could see. The truck swerved around an eighteen-wheeler, then cut off a minivan, nearly causing an accident, before turning sharply left, too close across the traffic.

Well, that was stupid. Did you think that turn would lose me somehow? I’m not in a fucking car. And Cullings Road is a lot less busy, you idiot.

Thea veered left to follow the truck
.
She wasn’t cold anymore. In fact, her face was so hot she felt feverish. Feverish and oddly excited. Happy, even. Like a kid waking up on her birthday, anticipating all the fun to come.

There was no time to analyze either her feelings or her abilities. She didn’t stop to consider whether what she did next was possible for her, or even why she was doing it. Thea simply flicked her wrist as she came up behind the truck.

It flipped over and skidded on its roof, into the ditch on the side of the road.

She did have a moment of panic then.

Thea, you fucking monster. You didn’t even confirm it was him first. What if it isn’t him? Who’s the idiot now?

But it was him.

Thea cut Mr. Fanatic’s seatbelt with her claws, and dragged him out the driver’s side window. His old truck didn’t have airbags, and he’d banged his head against the steering wheel. He looked dazed as blood flowed into his eye—not unlike the blood that had flowed into Thea’s own eyes, not half an hour ago.

Do I have a head injury? Is that why I’m acting like this?

It was the last touch of human hesitation—the last rational thought—she had before the smell hit her. Stale beer and sweat. The truck reeked of both. Thea had no bad association with that particular combination of odors, as far as she recalled, no childhood trauma it brought back from the shadows of her subconscious. She would never understand why it enraged her so.

But before she knew it, Thea was shaking again, barely able to control the urge to not only claw at Mr. Fanatic, but to
bite
him too. Bite right into his face, and taste his blood while enjoying his screams.

She lifted him up and flew into the woods, where they wouldn’t be seen, then threw him to the ground. She was seconds away from tearing him to pieces.

But Thea stopped when she saw his face.

He was still a little out of it—maybe from the blow to his head, maybe just because he was Mr. Fanatic—but he seemed to understand he was about to die. He didn’t look afraid. He looked calm, resigned.

And proud.

No doubt it was her imagination, but in that moment, as she leaned over him, wings spread, claws out, Thea thought she saw her reflection in Mr. Fanatic’s eye.

He’s proud because he’s fighting a monster. He’s the good guy.

She swallowed the burning bile that had risen in her throat, and stared at Mr. Fanatic, suddenly unsure what she wanted to do with him.

“Did you think I would let Susan’s death pass?” he croaked, his first words since she’d pulled him out of the truck. Thea noticed for the first time that his arm hung limp; his shoulder was dislocated. Had the crash done that, or had she?

What difference does that make? You made the crash.

“Did you think I would just meekly succumb to the will of the demons?” Mr. Fanatic went on. “Like a lamb to the slaughter?” He made no attempt to stand or get away. Had he broken any other bones? (Did it matter?)

Thea didn’t want to argue with him. She had to get him back to Hexing House during this window—she feared it might be brief—of self-control. “You’ll have to come with me, Mr. Agnew,” she said.

Mr. Fanatic laughed. “What, so they can kill me?”

He was right. They would almost certainly kill him. But what other options were there even to consider? Call Holgersen, tell him to arrest this man for an act of terrorism against a place his boss refused to even acknowledge the existence of?

“You’ll have to face fury justice,” Thea said with a shrug.

“
Justice
.” Mr. Fanatic practically spat the word. “Do you really kid yourself that’s what you deal in, harlot?
Justice
?”

“Don’t you get self-righteous with me!” Thea said. “You just killed… I don’t even know how many people. You killed an old woman. A good woman. She was dear to me.”

Mr. Fanatic gestured widely with his good arm. “Vengeance is Mine,” he said. “And retribution. In due time their foot will slip; for the day of their calamity is near. And the impending things are hastening upon them.”

Thea smiled sadly. “Think you’re clever, cautioning a fury against vengeance? Or maybe you’re always quoting scripture because you think it’ll burn me, like garlic burns a vampire.”

In a way, maybe it had done just that. Thea was tired suddenly. So tired. She pushed aside an insane urge to lie down in the dirt beside him. “But I know Deuteronomy as well as you do, you—”

She stopped suddenly. Something was wrong. Mr. Fanatic’s arm had been spread against the ground, but now it was underneath him.

He’d been distracting her.

It was the work of a second, after that. Two at the most. His hand came out from behind his back. Thea leapt at him. Her wing batted the gun out of his hand, at the same moment her claws raked across his throat. She felt them cutting deep, ripping open everything in their path.

And Mr. Fanatic bled out onto the forest floor.