Wrong Side Of Dead (39 page)

We created a wall of sorts, momentarily blocking the grand surprise from view.

“It’s a party,” he said. “What’s the occasion? Letting me go?”

Phin laughed.

“It is a celebration, actually,” I said. “And we even brought party favors.”

“Oh? Paper hats and plastic whistles?” Thackery asked. “Even better. Proof of life.”

His expression shifted from bland interest to confusion. I stepped to the side, angling so Aurora could come forward, Ava tucked close beneath her chin. She glared at Thackery with murder in her eyes. His mouth fell open; his face went blank. The others moved in and circled around us, each person a testament to his failure.

“No,” he said.

“You lose,” Aurora said, her voice sharp as a blade.

“Anne. Oh my God, Anne.”

His late wife—the woman who’d been six months pregnant when she was infected by a Halfie. The woman for whom Thackery had sold his life’s work and cashed out his savings in order to save. The woman who’d ultimately been put down by a Triad because Thackery hadn’t been able to help her or to find his precious cure.

I’d seen a photo of Anne Thackery. She didn’t look much like Aurora, but I could see how Thackery could mistake them—he’d lost blood, been injected with massive
doses of drugs, and endured a lot of pain in the last few hours.

Smart cookie that she was, Aurora played along. “Oh Walter, what have you done?” she asked in her soft, songbird voice.

“I did it for you,” he said. “For you and our son. All for you.”

“No, not for us. We’re dead. You did this for you, not for us.”

“I can find a cure, Anne. I just need more time.”

Aurora took half a step closer. “How many more people will you hurt in my name? How many will die in William’s name? How can you make this our legacy?”

His face crumpled, and in that moment I almost felt sorry for the son of a bitch. When faced with all of his mistakes and all of the lives he’d ruined for the sake of research, he finally understood. The zealot who believed wholly in the need to eradicate the vampires from the Earth was gone, replaced by a grieving husband and father who’d lost everything to a single, tragic bite.

“I’m so sorry, Anne,” he said.

“It’s too late.”

“No, it’s not. Please. I love you. You and William, you’re my life.”

She shook her head, and I saw the tears in her eyes. “The half-Blood infected us, Walter, but you—you chose to become a monster. You
chose
that.”

“Anne …”

Aurora turned and slipped back into the group, over to where Joseph waited to wrap her into a hug. Thackery pulled against his restraints, eyes glistening with tears, breathing hard.

“Anne, please,” he said. “I’m sorry, please. I did it for you … I’m so sorry …” He was lost in his grief and memories, finally understanding how wrong his path had been. “Oh God, my boys … my boys …”

He was worried about the remaining Lupa teens. Once he was gone, they’d have no one. It was a card we could play. I glanced at Astrid, who mouthed “Wyatt” at me. I nodded, glad she was on the same page. Wyatt seemed to be with us, too, because when he looked at me, he’d pulled enough of the wolf to the surface to once again color his eyes and elongate his canines.

I squeezed his wrist. He held my gaze a moment, then stepped forward without prompting. He stopped an arm’s reach from Thackery’s chair, so tense I thought he’d spontaneously sprain something. My angle gave me only a quarter of Wyatt’s profile, but I had a good view of Thackery’s face when he finally looked up and saw the man invading his personal space.

Confusion came first—with the puckered eyebrows and pursed lips—followed quickly by a horrified understanding. “I should know you,” Thackery said, “but I can’t seem to recall your name.”

“You don’t need my name,” Wyatt said. “Just take a good look. You say everything you’ve done is to preserve humanity, but look at the scorecard. You lost yours, and you stole mine.”

“You were bitten.”

“Yes, and not by a vampire. By one of your boys, who are now out there, unsupervised, free to infect more humans. Free to create more … whatever it is I am now. Is that how you preserve humanity? By destroying its protectors and by protecting its destroyers?”

“They’re just children.”

“Angry, abandoned children, raised by you to hate. Without help, they’ll continue to destroy until they’ve been hunted and killed.” The anger and regret in Wyatt’s voice stunned me. And I realized he wasn’t speaking just for the wolf inside him; he was speaking for himself and the furious teenager he’d been when his own family was ripped away. His emotional weakness had been exploited
by the Fey, and he had become a perfect tool for them for ten years.

Wyatt didn’t want to kill the Lupa. He wanted to save them.

“They were just pups when Edwina brought me to them,” Thackery said, distant, reliving as he recalled it. “She told me what they were, how special and rare. She said they needed a father. All I wanted was their blood. Until the first time Charlie looked at me and said Da-da.” He swallowed hard, Adam’s apple bobbing, and real tears tracked down his cheeks. “They killed Charlie this morning.”

“You exploited them for your experiments, and you dare be upset that they’re dead?”

“You don’t have children. You can’t possibly understand.”

Wyatt growled, low and deep. “I don’t have children, but I know what it’s like to lose someone you love. I’ve felt that glacial emptiness inside, when you’re certain your heart will never beat again. You’ll never feel warm and you’ll never look at the world with anything except contempt. I’ve lived it, too, more than once, so stop using your grief as a fucking excuse.”

Thackery jerked as if slapped. He looked past Wyatt, right at me, and in his haunted eyes I saw something surprising—regret. Exactly what he regretted I don’t know, and in that moment I didn’t care. There was no forgiveness in my heart for Walter Thackery. Just pity.

So much intelligence and so much potential, lost to madness and vengeance.

His gaze wandered around the room, taking in the faces of those condemning him, until his attention returned to Wyatt. “Their names are John, Mark, and Peter. They look like their brothers did. I don’t know where they’re hiding until seven o’clock. I told them not to tell me.”

“Where were you supposed to meet them?” Wyatt asked.

“Grove Park.”

The place I’d gone to meet Thackery, only to be whisked away on the back of a Lupa. It was in Mercy’s Lot, about eight blocks east of Brutus’s tea shop. At a sudden rustle of movement, I glanced behind me. Astrid had moved away from the group, cell phone at her ear, presumably getting a squad over to Grove Park, ASAP. As soon as the Lupa realized the Coni prisoners had been compromised, they were unlikely to go to the park, but we had to follow every lead.

“Please don’t kill them,” Thackery added.

“I can’t promise that. But I’ll do my best.”

Astrid grunted.

“If you were intelligent enough to save my laptop from the ferry,” Thackery said, “the keyword is ‘height.’ Do what you can with the research.”

“Thank you,” Wyatt said.

“I did have the best intentions, you know.”

What was that saying? The road to hell …

Wyatt returned to my side, and I slipped my hand into his. He squeezed tight. I held on.

Elder Dane stepped forward, hands clasped loosely in front of him, back straight. “Walter Thackery, you have been condemned to death for the crimes of kidnapping, conspiracy, and murder. There is no plea, and there is no clemency. There is only justice. Are you prepared to meet your god?”

“No just god will welcome me into his heaven,” Thackery said.

“Very well.”

Dane stepped back into the circle of witnesses. Phin took his place. He’d stripped off his shirt and revealed his majestic wings. The Coni blade glinted in his right hand, an ancient symbol of an old order in which an
entire race of people had been mercilessly hunted at the whim of another.

Phin paused. He turned far enough to look at me, an unasked question in his eyes. A few months ago, I’d have relished the idea of executing someone like Thackery—a man who’d caused me untold heartache and who’d hurt people I loved. Thackery deserved punishment, and I would not grieve his death. But I didn’t want to be his executioner.

I wasn’t that person anymore. I shook my head.

With a slight, acknowledging nod, Phin turned to face Thackery. Thackery looked up and didn’t blink. For a brief moment in time, only those two men existed. United by very different kinds of grief and hatred, two players in this final act of justice.

And then Thackery closed his eyes. Phin struck fast and true, driving the double blade deep into Thackery’s heart. He twisted once, hard to the left, and Thackery’s head fell forward. He was dead.

It was over.

Kind of.

Something warm and damp gusting across my face woke me from a deep, dreamless nap, and I blinked my eyes open. Twin blue orbs gazed back at me, so close I went a little cross-eyed trying to look at them. The owner crawled away with a sharp giggle and climbed onto the opposite bunk, where her mother sat, dressed in clothes that fit, watching us sleep.

At my back on the narrow cot, Wyatt didn’t stir. We’d returned to my quarters to rest after hours of waiting (the Lupa didn’t show up at either Grove Park or Old World Teas) and then grilling, courtesy of several members of the Assembly. Together and then privately, I’d paced the floor in front of Operations while Wyatt was questioned, not settling until he exited—with more confidence than I’d seen in him for weeks.

The Assembly had agreed to let Wyatt try to capture the three remaining Lupa as long as we found no evidence that they’d infected anyone else. He’d bargained for their lives and won. It was a small victory, but it had helped calm the wolf still raging inside of him.

“I’m sorry she woke you,” Aurora said.

“I’m not,” I said, sitting up and bracing on my elbow. “How is she?”

“Time will tell how the early shift has affected her. But she seems joyful again.”

“I wish it hadn’t happened.”

“I wish many things had not happened. But you saved her, Evangeline, and I don’t have the words to thank you.”

“You don’t have to.” I looked around and realized that my little room didn’t have a clock. “What time is it?”

“A bit after midnight.”

Damn, it had been a fucking eventful twenty-four hours.

“Phineas is taking us back to his condo for now,” she said. “Until the Lupa are found, our country home isn’t safe. I thought you’d like to see Ava before we left.”

“Thank you.” Ava didn’t really know me yet, but seeing her again now, awake, aware and smiling, lifted a heavy weight from my chest. “As long as I’m able, I’ll always protect her.”

“Thank you,” Aurora said, beaming a grin at me that made me smile in kind.

I eased off the bunk and hugged her. She collected Ava, who tolerated a forehead kiss from me, then headed out into the maze of corridors that made up the sleeping quarters. I was often surprised that I could find my way back to this room each time.

The eerie sense of being watched tickled the back of my neck, and I turned around. Wyatt blinked at me from the bed, looking relaxed for the first time since he’d woken up in the infirmary.

“Hey, sorry,” I said.

“I’ve been awake for a while,” he said. “I just didn’t want to scare them.”

“They’ll get used to your new look. We’re a package deal, you and me.”

His mouth quirked. “You aren’t pissed at me for wanting to save the Lupa instead of killing them?”

“No.” Might as well be honest. “I don’t know if I agree with your decision, but I do understand it, and I’ll help you.”

“Thank you.”

“Phin, on the other hand, is pretty pissed about the Assembly’s allowances.”

“The allowance on my life, or on the three Lupa children?”

“The Lupa, dumbass.”

He smiled. “Jackass?”

“That, too.” I stretched my arms over my head, a little stiff from our impromptu nap. “I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry.” His smile got so broad that I couldn’t help asking, “What?”

“Just glad to see your appetite back.”

“Me, too. Buy you lunch?”

“It’s the middle of the night.”

“Good, the cafeteria won’t be crowded.”

He joined me in the doorway, hair sleep-tousled and chin badly in need of a shave. Except for the telltale ring of silver around his eyes, he looked like my old Wyatt. The man I’d fallen in love with, pushed away, and yanked back harder than ever. And this time, I wasn’t letting him go.

I wrapped my arms around his waist and leaned close, feeling the heat of his skin and the thrum of his heartbeat. He clasped my hips in a gentle grip and sought out my mouth. Our lips brushed—a quiet kiss that lingered awhile, until I wanted more. I licked inside his mouth, needing everything he had to give, and he returned in kind. Possessive, wanting, taking—I wanted more, but we needed a much bigger bed and more privacy than these sheetrock walls and doorless cubicles provided. My lips tingled—that same faint sensation that Dr. Vansis hadn’t been able to account for.

His tests had determined that Wyatt’s saliva didn’t
carry enough of the Lupa virus to infect another human through a bite. His blood, however, could potentially infect someone if enough came into contact with an open wound. It made fieldwork more dangerous, but it was a risk I could live with.

A faint commotion caught my attention, and our lips parted reluctantly. I strained to hear, unsure what was happening or where.

“Come on,” Wyatt said.

He grabbed my hand and we jogged through the maze of quarters, toward the exit. At least a dozen people had gathered just outside, in the main corridor. Wyatt and I eased through to the front, and I gaped at what was happening.

Two large white trucks, similar to what movers use for furniture, were parked in the middle of the corridor, angled slightly so their back ends faced the entrance to the vampires’ quarters. Vampire pairs dressed in familiar black warrior gear, their white hair pulled back or braided up, took turns carrying unconscious vampires up the ramps and into the trucks. After I watched the third vampire being taken up, arms dangling, head lolling, I realized that it wasn’t just the sick ones who were being carted off.