Requiem for the Dead (21 page)

"Maybe once this challenge business is over with tomorrow, you'll be able to sit down and talk with them."

"Maybe."

"Don't you think you should? Chalice was their daughter. They deserve some sort of closure." Grief flickered in Wyatt's eyes. He took family issues to heart, because his had been taken away so violently when he was still a teenager. His parents and sister were murdered by Halfies, and his twin brother died a few years later in a tragic accident.

On the other hand, I was an only child with no father in the picture. My mother died when I was ten. I probably loved her as much as a kid could love someone who ignored them most days and yelled at them whenever they were actually noticed. She had been more concerned with getting drunk, getting high, and having sex with anything with a penis. I had no frame of reference for loving parents who actually gave a shit about their kids, or a family unit that protected each other. All I ever had was Wyatt and my Triad.

"You're right," I said. "I'll make the effort to talk to the Frosts, I promise."

"Thank you."

"No problem. Listen, I'll catch up with you later tonight, okay?"

"Sure." His eyebrows furrowed. "Where are you headed?"

I swallowed and worked up a smile—if whatever plan I made up on the way went to hell, I might never see him again.
I love you, Wyatt, so much.
As much as I wanted to say it, the words would sound too much like good-bye. Instead, I simply said, "I'm going to go visit my goddaughter."

I made one stop in Mercy's Lot before heading south. The Dane compound was on the outskirts of the city, in an area south of uptown, full of fancy homes and gated communities. Not quite a mansion, but too huge to be just a house, three stories spread out over a good quarter acre of the five acre, fenced lot. The grounds were free of trees to preserve line of sight, decorated instead with fancily-shaped shrubs and bushes. A large barn in the back was where, according to Marcus, the family could shift and run around without chance of a neighbor spying them in their true form.

A man with black hair and sunglasses hiding what were probably copper eyes was guarding the gate. I identified myself, and he let me inside without question.

So far so good.

A stone driveway led up to the front doors, and I parked off to the side behind two other vehicles. As I climbed out of the car, my nerves hummed. So much was riding on me getting this right. I wasn't wired and wore no weapons, which left me feeling totally naked despite my clothes. Naked, exposed, and ready to jump out of my skin.

The front door opened before I could ring the bell. Aurora's delighted smile curbed some of my guilt over this errand. She threw thin arms around my shoulders in an unexpected hug. Her thick, corkscrew-curled hair was pulled back in a big messy bun, and her clothes looked thrown on without thought to matching. But she was happy, and more than anything, it made me smile.

"I didn't expect you today," Aurora said as she pulled back. "With so much going on in the city, I thought you'd be terribly busy."

"We're doing everything we can," I replied. I followed her into the house's giant foyer, careful to disguise my slight limp. "I was injured last night, so I'm taking it easy today. Don't faint."

She laughed. "You never take it easy."

"Exactly. I figured distracting myself with a visit would be therapeutic."

"And you can check up on the Danes?"

I shrugged. "Maybe. This all revolves around them."

"Too true." She linked her arm through mine and led me into the west side of the house. The hardwood floors gleamed with a fresh coat of polish, and the scent of roasting meat teased my nose. The Dane house always had a homey, lived-in feeling to it, and I'd never regretted my decision to move the Coni survivors here.

"Tell me Ava isn't napping," I said. Even though it wasn't my mission, I wanted to see my goddaughter. To hug her and experience the innocence of a child, if only for a few minutes.

"She's quite awake. Joseph is with her in the playroom."

We went upstairs on a grand, winding staircase. The playroom was the stuff of every small child's dreams: a jungle gym, dozens of toys, even a plastic ball pit, all crammed into a bedroom the size of two Cottage Place apartments. Joseph waved from his perch on one of the swings, his body swaying gently. He was one of the oldest living Therians I knew, and every moment of his life was etched into the wrinkles and lines on his face. His eyes remained sharp, though, and he'd die to protect the two ladies in his care.

A delighted squeal rose up from the ball pit, followed by an explosion of red, yellow, and blue orbs. Ava scrambled out of the pit and across the floor toward me, screeching my name. She hurtled herself at my legs, and I dropped to my knees so I could grab her in a proper hug. Ava had been born in May, putting her at three and a half months old. Due to her Therian physiology, she was the size of a sixteen-month old, steady on her feet and blurting out her first words. She was bigger every time I saw her, and I regretted not being a larger part of her life.

How often does a human get to be godmother to a Coni child?

"Evy, Evy," Ava said, over and over in her pipsqueak voice.

"Hey, cutie." I ruffled her thick curls, the same shiny auburn as her mother's. "I've missed you."

Ava smiled shyly, then raced back over to the ball pit. Had it only been a few months ago that I'd held her and she'd been a day old? It didn't seem possible.

"Hi, Joseph," I said.

"Greetings, Evangeline," he replied. His reedy voice was tighter, rougher than usual. "Have you word?"

It took me a moment to realize he meant word from Phineas. I wasn't the only one he'd left behind. "No, nothing, I'm sorry. This is purely a social call."

He nodded, then returned his attention to Ava and her antics in the pit.

"Phineas is missed," Aurora whispered when I stood.

"By all of us," I replied. "I wish he would send word."

"As do I. He's missing so much."

Ava was Phin's goddaughter, and he wasn't around to see her growing up—or to protect her, like he'd promised. He'd left me to do it for both of us, and a small part of me resented him for that. They were his people, his family, and he'd left them to chase the smallest hope of finding more Coni alive somewhere in the world.

Aurora took my hand and led me to one side of the playroom, out of earshot of the others. "What's troubling you, Evangeline?"

"That's a pretty long list." I wasn't about to unload the drama of the last few days on her narrow, overburdened shoulders, so I settled on a vague version of the truth. "Some friends are in pain, and I don't know how to help them."

"Do you blame yourself for their pain?"

"Don't I always?"

"Is it your blame to carry?"

"Some of it's mine. Some if it belongs to others."

"Then carry what's yours and leave the rest behind."

Easier said than done.

We watched Ava play for a few minutes in silence before Aurora said, "I hope he returns soon."

"Phin?"

"Yes. Joseph's dying."

Something in my chest squeezed. "He is?"

She blinked hard. "He's lived a long life. He'll pass soon, I think. My hope is that Phineas returns so that they may say good-bye."

"Weeks?"

"Days." She turned wide, tear-filled eyes to me. "I don't know if I can be here without Joseph. The Danes have been kind to us, but they're Felia. We're not natural allies."

"They scare you?"

"Very much. It's a silly instinct, but it's difficult to fight."

"If Phin is able, he'll come home."

"I know." She let out a long, shuddering breath. "It's the thought that he might be unable that terrifies me."

"Me, too." I hugged her, unsure what else to do. "Me, too."

I visited a while longer, until leaving was inevitable. I had a primary reason for coming to the Dane house today, and putting it off wouldn't make it go away. I hugged Ava extra fiercely before I excused myself from the playroom, careful to tell Aurora I could walk myself to the front door.

My heart hammered in my chest hard enough to hurt. Adrenaline made my fingertips shake. My skin crawled with awareness of what I was about to do. This plan could go to shit so easily if I wasn't fast enough. It was going to hurt a lot of people for a little while. Wyatt's face flashed in my mind's eye and I shoved him away. I couldn't think about him right now. I had to concentrate.

Marcellus's office was four doors down from the playroom, and I walked in that direction, each step sending a spike of fear through my gut. If this didn't work, I was royally fucked and the Frosts were dead.

I stopped outside the closed office door and listened—no voices inside. I checked for my tether to the Break out of habit, in case I needed to teleport out of a bad situation in a hurry—not that I had anywhere to run to, if this did go south. The Break was a comfort, and I let its power wash over me for a moment before I knocked. Two sharp bangs of my knuckles.

"Yes?" came a deep, growly voice.

I pushed the door open, glanced around to be sure no one else was in there, then shut it behind me. Marcellus Dane sat behind his desk, his aged face lined with worry and fatigue, the very image of an older, more mature Marcus. The left wall was decorated with four Japanese swords, placed at different heights. Easy to grab. Probably sharp.

"Ms. Stone," Marcellus said. "I don't recall us having an appointment."

"We don't, Elder," I said.

His copper eyes narrowed. "Then what can I do for you?"

I took a breath that did nothing to calm my racing heart and wished for a weapon of some sort in my hands. "A simple favor."

"From me?"

"Yes, Elder."

He leaned forward and propped his elbows on the wide expanse of his desk—the only thing between us. "And what favor do you require this day?"

I mirrored his stance, placing my palms flat on the desk's smooth surface. "I need you to die."

He moved first, but I was faster.

Evening

The sucky thing about dying is that you miss everything that happens while you're out of commission. I know this well.

To be fair, I didn't actually die this time around, but a few people helped me fake it so convincingly that everyone believed I had—and that's exactly what I needed. Vale had to believe Marcellus was dead. He also had to believe I was dead. But I'm getting a little ahead of myself.

Unconsciousness is never fun, and it's even less fun when you wake up with a stabbing headache, feeling like you're entire body has been crumpled up and left to dry like that. My abdomen was on fire. I struggled through a haze of fog and achiness, toward awareness, and blinked my eyes open in a totally unfamiliar room. It looked like an office of some kind, with a desk and chairs shoved against a wall to make room for the cot I was on. The place was impersonal, though, and it reeked of an indescribable odor—something scorched and old.

The vomit-inducing smell didn't clue me in until Tybalt walked in the door with a metal urn in his hands, and the pieces fell into place—the Therian-owned crematorium. My supposed final resting place. Because of their short life spans, Therians didn't do elaborate burials or funerals, and they didn't preserve bodies for viewing. Once someone was dead, they got cremated—which meant our deaths had been believable enough to get our "bodies" sent here.

Didn't explain Tybalt's presence, though. No one in the Watchtower except Kismet was supposed to be in on this.

Tybalt sat on the edge of the cot and handed me a glass of water. I sipped at it, glad to sooth my parched lips, but my stomach sloshed with nausea and pain. I didn't dare drink more.

"You?" I said, the first word I could manage.

"I know when Gina's lying," he replied. "We've known each other too long. Plus she was on the other side of town from the Dane mansion, and someone needed to help Demetrius get you two here."

Us two. "He's here?"

"In another room, resting comfortably."

"Thank God."

"You should be thanking God. I can't believe this worked."

"Me, too. My plans usually don't."

"You took a huge risk, Evy. Marcellus could have killed you outright."

"I know."

The look on Marcellus Dane's face when I stood in his office and said "I need you to die" would go down in history as one of the most shocked expressions ever. The shock had lasted only an instant, though, and I'd almost been too slow to knock his phone from his grasp before he could call for security. And then I'd talked faster than I had ever talked in my life, pleading from a child to a parent. He'd needed the entire story before he'd decided that I wasn't a lunatic and put me out of my misery.

Thankfully, he'd understood and agreed to help me.

"Is the Elder awake?" I asked.

"He is, indeed," Marcellus said from the office doorway. He'd changed clothes—which made sense, since the suit he'd been wearing a few hours ago was covered in blood—and seemed oddly relaxed, considering.

I sat up with Tybalt's help. The cot creaked dangerously, and I half-expected it to fold me in half as some sort of sick cosmic joke. My head still throbbed and my stomach felt woozy, but those things would fade quickly. The burning ache from my belly to my breastbone would take longer. The bandages beneath my baggy t-shirt itched where the tape pulled. "Thank you for trusting me, Elder Dane," I said.

He inclined his head in what looked like a nod. "My grandchildren trust you, Ms. Stone, and while we don't always see eye to eye, I trust their judgment."

Wow. Probably the only time I'd ever heard him praise Astrid and Marcus. God, this must be killing them right now, mourning a grandfather who wasn't actually dead, killed by a supposed friend.

"I was also impressed by your courage," Marcellus continued. "It takes a strong heart to risk what you did, not knowing my answer to your proposal."

"They're my parents." The words slipped out without conscious thought, surprising me as much as they surprised Tybalt. "I couldn't let Vale murder them."