Lasting Fury (Hexing House Book 2) (16 page)

Nana was buried in the cemetery on the south side of the campus, with nobody but Alecto and Graves to witness the burial. What those two would say to each other at a time like that, nobody could imagine.

But the old fury’s memorial fete, as they called it, was not a private matter. The Colony Center was closed for rebuilding, so it was held picnic-style on the same open green where her son had lost his wings.

The whole colony turned out. As with Nero and Flannery’s wedding, the only ones who didn’t join in the celebration of Nana’s life were the members of the Security department. But unlike the wedding, they made no attempt to be unobtrusive here. They patrolled in pairs, heavily armed.

Dr. Forrester and Julius were even in attendance. In their attempt to recreate the preventative for the Ninth Disorder, Langdon and the doctor had managed to create something even better: a drug of sorts that, as long as it was taken at regular intervals three times daily, kept the symptoms of the disorder at bay, and prevented the Forresters from being overwhelmed by their vices. It wasn’t a cure, but they hoped that wasn’t far behind.

Of course, Langdon had scowled Thea out of his office when she’d asked about testing the drug. Not only was he still convinced that she didn’t have the Ninth Disorder, or anything like it, but he assured her that the medication in its current state was formulated only for humans, and might even be dangerous for a fury to take.

Now, watching Julius play kickball with a few young furies, Thea thought of another little boy: Talbott Lexington, who’d lost his whole family at Hemlock Heights. Maybe if Fury Unlimited had been able to recruit somebody of Langdon’s medical abilities, the Ninth Disorder never would have gotten far enough out of hand for them to feel they had to put such a brutal stop to it. For all of Megaira’s supposed genius, it seemed she had a talent only for killing, not curing.

As the afternoon wore on and sweet tea gave over to wine, Nana took on a legendary quality. She had been more-or-less a recluse for years, but it seemed like almost everybody had some fond childhood memory of her. Those who didn't pretended they did, and those who were children themselves were forced to listen patiently as their parents and grandparents recounted their stories.

Thea, meanwhile, had taken on a sort of mystique of her own. She’d been greeted with deafening cheers the day of the bombing, when she threw Mr. Fanatic’s lifeless body down on the steps of the Colony Center.

She couldn’t have said what possessed her to fly away with that body in her arms. Maybe she just wanted to show them all that justice had been done. Telling them so allowed her to tell herself the same thing. Allowed her to call it justice.

Vengeance is Mine.

Or maybe it was for more practical reasons. Holgersen had shown up on campus the next day, after Mr. Fanatic’s wrecked truck had been found nearby, with no sign of the man himself except an awful lot of blood in the woods. When Holgersen saw that the Colony Center had been bombed, he put two and two together easily enough.

But by then they’d buried the body, and without that, the detective couldn’t prove a thing. Especially given how dicey it was for him to pursue any case involving furies.

He hadn’t left a happy man. In fact, Thea could have sworn she’d heard the phrase
close this whole fucking place down
being muttered.

And the impending things are hastening upon them
.

Thea couldn’t worry about that. Hell, she wasn’t even sure closing this whole fucking place down was such a bad idea.

Besides Nana, two other people had been killed in the attack. Several others were injured, including Cora, who had broken a wing while sheltering an elderly guest from flying debris.

But Thea’s initial assessment was correct: it wasn’t nearly as bad as it could have been. The bride and groom themselves had escaped with only minor cuts and bruises. Pete and Aunt Bridget were unhurt.

Despite the horror surrounding Thea’s return from her pursuit of Mr. Fanatic, Aunt Bridget had hugged her niece and cried. She’d been unable to find Thea after the explosion, and feared the worst.

Pete, on the other hand, had looked a little sickened by his childhood friend. He’d taken Aunt Bridget home not long afterward.

And now the furies of Hexing House were rebuilding. Burying their dead.

And cheering for the murder of their attacker.

Murder was what it really was, of course. Thea didn’t try to kid herself that it was self-defense. She’d disarmed him easily enough. There was no need to cut his throat.

But it happened so fast. He had a gun, I was threatened. I reacted. That’s all.

Yes
, an inner voice that sounded an awful lot like her mother’s agreed
. But you liked it.

You didn’t bring that body back to prove anything to them, or even to yourself. You brought it back to
show it off
. Your trophy
.

Standing at the edge of the field, watching Nana’s funeral turn into a party, Thea thought she’d never hated herself more. Not even during those two years with Baird.

“You look like the only one here as disgusted by these people as I am.”

It was Graves. Despite his not being able to fly, Thea hadn’t even noticed his approach. He looked completely lost, and up close, Thea was almost alarmed by his sunken eyes, ringed in gray and bloodshot with purple, his sagging posture, the way his clothes seemed to hang off him. He looked like he was suffering from a terminal disease.

“I’m sorry about your mother,” Thea said.

He gave her a skeptical look, then shrugged. “I suppose you are. Everyone loved her.” He sneered at the crowd. “Doesn’t stop them from having a grand old time, though.”

Thea sighed. “That’s always the way of it with funerals though, isn’t it? People have to find some light to cling to, even if it’s a false one.”

Graves laughed at her, and not kindly. Thea inched closer, trying to smell whether he’d been drinking again.

“Aren’t you the wise one today?” he said. And yes, there was a definite whiff of something—rum?—on his breath.

Well, she could hardly blame the man. His mother was dead, and they hadn’t been on the best of terms.

But was that all there was to it? Thea eyed Graves speculatively, wondering.

How did they know?

It wasn’t like Flannery had sent out wedding invitations to the Concerned Citizens For A Fury-Free County. So how did they know the whole colony would be gathered that day? How did they know how to bypass all the security? How did they get on campus in the first place?

The same way they’d put that dead bat in her room. If the dead bat was their doing, and Thea had a feeling it was. They had to have someone on the inside.

Was it Graves?

It wasn’t the first time Thea had wondered whether he might be in league with the humans. He had plenty of cause to resent Hexing House. And working for Facilities, he had the means to help outsiders without raising suspicion.

“Graves,” Thea said. “Why didn’t you tell me about the Ninth Disorder, when I asked you about Hemlock Heights?”

He looked startled, but recovered quickly. “Well, I pointed you in the right direction.”

Thea scoffed at that. “A few cryptic words does not count as help. You said you didn’t want to help either of us, Fury Unlimited or Hexing House. You were angry at both colonies. At all furies, really.”

“So what?” Graves said. “You wouldn’t be angry, if people gathered around like it was a party, to watch you be held down and have your wings cut off?” He snarled at her. “You’d think a girl like you would understand. With your history.”

Thea returned his glare. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Graves leaned forward and said, too loudly, “It was a gang rape.”

Several nearby furies turned to stare.

“Keep your voice down,” Thea said.

But he was still talking. “—figured a whore like you would understand, that’s all. Baird never shared you with his friends? I’ll bet he did. But then, maybe it wasn’t the same for you. Maybe you didn’t feel humiliated, violated, helpless. Maybe you liked it. Maybe you
loved
it.”

It was almost that easy for him to provoke her. But Thea swallowed back her anger. She couldn’t let herself lose control. Not again.

She’d passed a point of no return, out in the woods with Mr. Fanatic. And now, watching how ugly Graves’s face became in his rage, Thea realized something. Or maybe she’d realized it the second Mr. Fanatic’s body had flopped onto the steps of the Colony Center, a lifeless sack of meat and bone. Maybe she was only facing it now.

Langdon was right.

She didn’t have the Ninth Disorder. If she did, she would be manifesting sins in general. The superhex had always brought up cowardice the most, during Dr. Forrester’s experiments.

But it was wrath that kept overtaking Thea now. Only wrath.

Heartlessness.

She wasn’t diseased. She was a monster.

And that was fine. It was, after all, what she’d signed up to become. But Langdon had told her that she would never master that monstrousness until she found some balance.

So Thea steeled herself, and stared at Graves calmly, willing him to do his worst. She even smiled a little.

Maybe it was too little, too late. Finding balance now wouldn’t bring back Mr. Fanatic. (Or Philip’s balls, for that matter. Thea had wondered, once or twice, how he’d fared after their encounter, and whether she’d done any permanent damage.)

But Mr. Fanatic had been doomed the second he’d set off those bombs. Thea would take responsibility for her part in his death, but she could only mourn him so much.

Graves fell into a sullen silence when he got no rise out of Thea. She waited a second or two, to be sure he was finished, then nodded at him. “So, you have something in common.”

He frowned, confused by the change in subject. “With who?”

“With the Concerned Citizens For A Fury-Free County. You both hate Hexing House.”

He got that offended look peculiar to drunks, as if she’d just told him he was in no shape to drive. “What are you suggesting?”

Thea shrugged. “Any chance you told someone about the wedding, Graves? Someone outside the colony?”

He lunged at her, and just like that, Thea’s newfound control snapped as his claws raked her arm.

They fought for a few seconds, but were pulled apart by a couple of guards before they could do any real damage. Thea’s arm was a little shredded. Graves bled from four long gashes down one cheek.

He also looked like he might throw up. Was that just the rum, or had she hit him in the stomach? It had all happened so fast, Thea couldn’t be sure.

Both Alecto and Cora rushed over at the same time. Others followed, drawn by the commotion.

“What is going on here?” Alecto demanded. “How dare you behave this way at my Nana’s funeral?”

“My
mother’s
funeral!” Graves shouted. “I just buried my mother, and she wants to accuse me of fraternizing with humans!”

Alecto glared at Thea. “What is this about?”

“It’s him you should be giving that look to,” Thea said. “Ask him how they knew.”

“Thea—”

But Thea was in no mood to be interrupted. “They knew the whole colony would be gathered. They knew where and when. And they got onto the campus somehow.”

“Thea—” Alecto tried again.

Thea tossed her chin at Graves. “Ask him how!”

“Thea!” Alecto said for a third time. “We know how.”

“He— what?”

“I said, we know how,” Alecto said. “Gordon took Faye into custody this morning.”

“No!” said Cora. “Faye?”

There were a few similar murmurs among the onlookers.

Thea blinked at Cora, then Alecto. “Who the hell is Faye?”

“I believe you actually met her once, during your testing,” Alecto said. “Old, bitter, and nursing grudges for decades. But—” She stopped and made an impatient noise. “It doesn’t matter. That’s not the point.”

Thea looked around and shook her head, feeling dazed all of a sudden. She’d crossed that line again, just seconds after resolving that she wouldn’t.