The Trouble with Fate (19 page)

My eyelids suddenly felt heavy.

“You know what you should do when a whole pack of Weres are after you?” he asked,
startling me out of a near-doze. “Run. Just keep chewing up the miles until you’re
out of their territory.” He glanced in the rearview mirror an instant before maneuvering
out and around a slower-moving vehicle. “Do you have any friends? Friends from out
of town? Casual ones, ones that you haven’t mentioned to anyone around here?”

“Why?”

“They’re going to be searching for people who know you and places you frequent. They’re
probably at your apartment right now, going through everything you own. They’ll look
at every piece of paper, smell every sweater, interrogate neighbors, run down people
you worked with. They’ll search until they find you or you’re out of their territory.
Their Alpha is strong and motivated, and he’s got a lot of foot soldiers.” A muscle
moved in his cheek. “He’s got some excellent trackers.” He glanced at me, quickly,
his eyes a flash of that crazy bright blue under a fringe of black, before returning
his gaze back to the road.

“But he won’t go beyond his territory,” he continued. “Not now. It’s too hot out there
for him. So, this is what you need to do. You need to give him what he wants, and
make tracks. FedEx your amulet to Creemore. Then get out of the province. Or even
better, out of the country.”

They’ll interrogate your neighbors.
Bob.
I fumbled for Scawens’s cell phone.

“What are you doing?”

“I have to warn Bob,” I said, fitting the battery back inside the phone. “I have to
tell him to not go back to the store.”

“Put the phone away. They’ve likely already found him,” he said. “You have to think
of yourself as a Rogue now. Just cut the ties. If your friend’s still alive, calling
him may put him in more jeopardy.” His musk was an invisible pungent cloud around
us that sharpened and grew hotter with every word he spoke. “If you care about him,
the kindest thing you can do is head in the other direction and never look back.”

I ignored him and started punching in the store’s number. His hand whipped out, and
crushed mine on the phone. “Turn it off,” he said, “and take the battery out of it.
They can track you through the GPS.”

I gaped at him, momentarily speechless. Then I took the cell apart, shaking my head
as I did so. “This is beyond paranoid.”

“You want to call the guy? Fine. I’ll find you a pay phone, but don’t you use that
phone until you’re miles away from me.” He glanced over his shoulder, cut into the
slow lane, and took the next exit off the highway. To the right was the suburban sprawl
of Mississauga: miles of curling residential streets all sucking you into a labyrinth
of more curling streets. To the left was the industrial park, low flat buildings squatting
in the dark.

He turned left.

Chapter Ten

He had a nose, all right. He’d driven us, tight-lipped and brooding, through the dark
streets of the industrial park and found me a phone.

“A strip club?” I eyed the sign mounted over the doorway of what could have been a
mom and pop restaurant except for the fact that there were no visible windows. The
blue and pink sign flickered and the words “girls, girls, girls” were replaced by
three images. What bright bulb had thought up three strippers posing in a martini
glass?

“It’s a gift,” Trowbridge said, pulling the car into a parking spot. “It doesn’t matter
where I am, I can always find a drink when I need one. It’s not the Ritz, but my options
are limited.” He pulled his shirt away from his body and inspected it. The sleeve
had a hole in it, and a long darkened patch where the blood had stained his gray shirt
dark maroon. “I’ve got an hour before closing time, and I need a drink,” he said,
ripping the sleeve off. He wadded it up and scrubbed the dried blood off his bicep.
His skin had healed. There was just a suggestion of pink where the bullet had torn
his flesh.

“I’m not going in there.”

“I didn’t invite you.” He tore the other sleeve off and frowned at the result. He
wound a finger around some of the threads and broke them off. “There’s your pay phone.”
He jerked his thumb at the curb. “And this is as good a place as any to part company.”

The Taurus subsided with a grateful rattle. During the silence that followed, I counted
the beats of the song playing inside the club. There were no discernible lyrics. Just
thumping bass.

“Are you going to kill the scentless wolf?”

His voice was hard as whip. “Kid, a platoon of Rogues wouldn’t stand a chance getting
close enough to kill him.”

“Then I’ll kill him. Tell me his name.”

“You listen to me.” He looked at the blue and pink neon sign blinking over the door.
“You don’t need to know his name. You forget all about him. You don’t stand a chance
of pulling it off. Do you understand? You’d be dead three seconds after thinking it.”
He released his breath, slow and controlled. “Forget about revenge. Right now, you
have other problems. The Alpha of southern Ontario wants that amulet. He’s a powerful
man, and he’s a stone-cold murderer. Don’t ever mistake him for anything else.” He
darted a glance at me. “You’re such a kid.” He scowled at his hand on the wheel. “For
once, don’t be a stubborn little girl.”

“I’m not a little girl.”

“Then behave like an adult.” He was all sharp cheekbones and forced calm. “Think it
through. Find a box, put your amulet in it, and send it express to the Scawens family
in Creemore. It will find its way to the Alpha after that.”

The club’s blinking neon sign painted a wash of color across his knuckles. It kept
changing, now hot pink, now electric blue. Would I ever understand this man? “Don’t
you want to avenge your family?”

Trowbridge slowly tilted his head toward me—ear up, head hanging to one side. A strand
of his black hair swept over his brow to shadow his eyes but within them I saw a spark
of blue fire. The flare was gone as fast as it appeared, and then his eyes were dark,
and perhaps a little sad that I was still so young and dumb that I needed to pose
such a question.

“Will it bring them back?” he asked quietly.

Maybe it was that all-knowing superiority that pissed me off, maybe it was his patent
indifference. I searched for a pointed stick and poked him with it. “What about Candy?”

Suddenly all the oxygen went out of the car, as if he’d inhaled it all, and processed
it through his hot lungs, and thrown it back to me, except now the air was stinking
of fury and some sort of sodden, mixed-up emotional mess that I couldn’t understand
other than its added weight made the air somehow heavier, and it hurt my ribs to suck
it in.

“You don’t speak her name,” he said, through clenched teeth. There was a pause. A
pit opened between us, and things fell into it. Things I wouldn’t put a name to, but
recognized so well. “You don’t ever mention her name again.”

He shoved the door open with his foot. Clean air spilled into the car. “I need my
amulet now.”

Merry was listening. Her temperature changed from cool to lukewarm. She was tired,
I realized, touching her. Tired and hurting and something else. I closed my eyes,
shutting Trowbridge out for a moment, and tried to search for it. Still desperate.

“I can’t do that,” I said, staring ahead. I wanted to remember him as he was in my
mind. Buttoning up his shirt. Looking at me with lust in his eyes, and caution in
his heart. I could remember that. Treasure it. Pull it out when the humans overwhelmed
me. Examine it in the years that stretched in front of me … if I was lucky enough
to live through the next few hours.

“Can’t or won’t?”

I stared sightlessly at the glove compartment. “Both.”

“I can take it off your neck right now.”

“Yes. You could try.” The air inside the Taurus suddenly felt heavy, charged like
the atmosphere before a thunderstorm. “But I don’t think the two amulets will come
apart.”

“Try it anyhow.”

“I didn’t put them together. It happened when I put your amulet around my neck. This—”
I went to touch Merry, but drew back my hand at the last second. “This is something
I don’t understand. I didn’t glue them together.” The heavy air was moving; I could
feel it, prickles on my skin.

“Try.”

“No,” I said softly. Inside the car, the air got hotter, more layered with Were. It
smelled like a wild, unmapped forest, before the crackle of the storm. Trowbridge
gave an exasperated huff, and reached out for them. He flipped the pendant over, found
a piece of the dead amulet sticking out and tried to tug it free.

Merry sent a lightning bolt of pain up the chain that circled my throat. My feet shot
straight out and my head snapped back. The long thin trail of my cry ended in a whimper.
The air still swirled. It wrapped around me, and felt almost soothing to my hurt.

Blue light flared in the car, and then subsided.

“Explain that,” he said, when my breathing had returned to normal. His hand hovered
near me, as if he wanted to touch me, but was afraid to hurt me further.

“She’s Fae. She was just protecting herself.” I cupped a trembling hand over Merry
and company. “You’re a Were, you can understand the need to protect what you have.
She’s incapable of beginning a fight, okay? She’s not a threat, she’s not prey. You
wouldn’t blame a rabbit for snapping its teeth at you as you bit down, would you?”

My eyes started to burn. “She’ll die without me,” I said, my voice getting high. “If
you take her away, she’ll fade away just like your amulet did. I feed her and take
care of her. In return, she heals me after I’ve used my gift.”

The air kept moving, but now it was stroking me, confusing me with each soft brush.

His voice was low. “You need healing after you use your magic?”

“Mmm-hhm,” I said, looking down at my hand.

I heard his hair brush his collar as he cocked his head toward me. “You know I can
tell when you’re lying. I can hear when your heart changes. So I’m going to ask you
some questions and you’re going to try very hard to tell me the truth. How much Fae
magic do you have?”

“Not much,” I said.
Except that I keep receiving my aunt’s dreams, and it’s beginning to look like I’d
pass any mystwalker exam with flying colors.
His eyes penetrated mine. I willed my heart to slow. “Almost nothing,” I lied. “If
you’re talking in terms of a real Fae. I’m limited to moving things. I’ve tried to
do other stuff—mind magic and climate stuff—but I’ve never been able to do anything
else. I think the Were blood in me keeps me from doing anything really great.” I knew
my smile was bitter.

He didn’t smile. He didn’t blink. He kept staring at me.

Ah, a loophole. Trowbridge can sense a lie, but not an omission.

“You saw me move the washing machine,” I continued. “That’s it. I can move a washing
machine. It’s the biggest thing I’ve ever moved. I couldn’t even move the couch back
at the apartment when Scawens attacked me. I had to use the television to stop him.”
The little line in between his eyebrows turned into a furrow. “I used my magic to
make it fly through the air. Smacked him in the head with it. Down he went.” And then,
when that didn’t satisfy him, I said in a little voice, “What?”

“Scawens attacked you in your home?”

I nodded.

“What did he want?”

“An amulet. He thought Merry was yours.” I took my hand away and looked at the heavy
knot of Fae gold resting on my heart. “I told him no Fae amulet will ever work for
a Were. Do you think that was enough?”

“Maybe it will work for a Fae girl who works for a Were,” he said slowly.

“I’ll never work for a Were, Trowbridge. Not one of them lifted a finger as my father
fought for his life.” I kept my gaze fixed on the chain-link fence ahead. Damned if
he’d see the hurt in my eyes. “And I told you. I’m not really skilled. I’m pretty
limited. Until today, I’ve never used it for any serious harm. You don’t want to screw
up your Karma.”

“Karma concerns from a Fae.”

“It’s all around you, Trowbridge. You’ve got to pay attention to it.”

“That’s all you can do, then? Move things?”

I nodded again, feeling the heat in my cheeks.

“How about my amulet?” he asked. “Can you use its magic?”

“It doesn’t have any. I don’t know how you stood wearing it around your neck all these
years. Even when it brushes my skin, I can feel its—” I tried not to shudder, but
the acid was in my mouth again. “Deadness.”

The air changed again. Hot, but not in a good way. It lifted his scent and spread
it on every surface in a thick, hot layer. I rubbed my hand against my leg and still
felt the clinging tingle of it.

“I can’t separate the amulets. If you take yours back, you’ll take Merry with it.”

“You call it Merry.”

“I call
her
Merry.”

He must have heard the words not said—the sisterhood; the unbreakable twining plait
of dependency, love, and friendship I held for Merry. The windshield wipers kept swiping
at the rain, never catching that spot in the middle. “Fuck it,” he said to himself,
staring ahead as if he saw something there that I couldn’t. He bit the inside of his
cheek. Once. Just a brief, meditative snack before action. “It doesn’t matter,” he
said in a hard voice. “They’re all dead. Keep the amulet. It never did much for me.
Consider it a gift from a Were Rogue to a new Fae Rogue. If you can figure out a way
to separate them, then you can use it instead of”—he glanced down at her—“
Merry.
Listen to me carefully,” he went on. “You have the car. Drive it until there’s no
gas, and then ditch it somewhere no one can find it. The gun I took off Scawens is
under the seat. Make sure you turn the safety off before you point it at anyone. If
you do have to aim it at someone, pull the trigger. Don’t squeeze the trigger until
they’re close enough that you can’t miss.”

“I’ve never held a gun.”