Wrong Side Of Dead (9 page)

“Phin—”

“Please, Evy.” He takes my hand and squeezes it tight. “The other Elders saw a human Hunter trade herself for a Dreg whom she called a friend. Astrid was assigned to look for you. Wyatt was out of touch these past few days because he was in the mountains with her and Marcus, following a scent trail. Wyatt may have let you go, but he never gave up hope of punishing Thackery for taking you away.”

A bubble of emotion settles in my throat and makes it difficult to breathe.
He may have let you go
. I can’t argue the truth in Phin’s statement. It’s too late to fix what Thackery helped us break. Wyatt and I both changed
dramatically, and I doubt for the better. All we can do—all of us, I realize, as I glance at the activity beyond the tent—is to start over.

“It feels like such a small thing to say thank you,” Phin adds. “You saved many lives that day, Evy, but you saved mine as well. Again.”

I put down the bottle of water and cover our clasped hands with my other, holding tight. His touch is cotton and steel—something so unique to him and comfortingly familiar. “I don’t have many friends, Phin, but I’ll always fight for the ones I have.”

“As will I.” His eyes burn with a fierce truth.

“Just stop getting kidnapped, okay?”

He smiles. “I’ll do my best.”

“Good.”

Movement outside the tent catches my attention. A young man, probably a trainee, is standing in a patch of sunlight. His gray sweats are stained red and black, and his face is pale beneath a mop of thick brown hair. His wide eyes look around without seeming to really see. He’s scared, if his trembling hands are any indication, and more than a little lost. I don’t know him, but I can guess his story—this was his last chance to make a life, to matter. And he’s watching it burn to the ground.

My heart aches for him, and for the dozen or so others like him who have nowhere to go. And more than that, my chest burns with anger.

For the first time since waking up in Chalice Frost’s body and realizing I had a second chance at this life thing, I feel like I have a choice. A choice about my next step and where I want to go from here.

“I want to speak with Astrid,” I say.

Phin blinks. “I’m sure I can find her for you.”

“Not right this minute. I want an official meeting with the head of your Assembly task force.”

“Are you applying for a job?”

“Maybe. Does she book appointments for that?”

“There’s a first time for everything. I’ll speak with her and let you know.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. And I meant what I said, Evy, about you having a place to go, even if only for a few days. You’re more than welcome in the condo I share with Rufus.”

I nod, acknowledging without committing. Phin and Wyatt haven’t been there in several days; however, they may both return tonight, and I don’t have the strength for another fight with Wyatt. “So, any word on our evacuation progress?”

“Several large trucks are en route to assist in removing all salvageable equipment,” he replies. “I don’t think a decision has been made on the structures.”

The main building, which housed Research and Development, is a smoldering mess. The dormitory in the rear of the grounds and the entire gymnasium complex are in various states of disaster, but neither has serious structural problems. Still, if we’re really evacuating for good, everything needs to be leveled.

“Some well-placed explosives will take care of the problem, I’d think,” I say, only half-serious.

“It’s being considered.”

“Problem is, it’s too damned noisy,” Kismet says from somewhere behind us.

I twist my head to look at her, as sweaty and blood-smeared as the rest of us. “Fire?”

“Harder to control. We don’t want the whole mountain to go. Normally, we’d ask the Fey for help, but—”

A little hard to do with the brass dead, the entire Council ignoring us, and very little left in the way of magical allies. “Right,” I say. “Any news on Bastian’s condition?”

Kismet takes a few steps forward. She’s short enough
to not have to stoop beneath the low tent. “Morgan’s taking him and two others to the hospital. Their injuries are serious and we can’t treat them here.”

It’s a risky move. Without our contacts in the police department, those medical records will be hard to hide. Operating as Triads depended upon secrecy and the ability to move around without being bothered by the real police. It’s an advantage we’ve lost in a most spectacular manner.

“We’ll take the other injured out of here in waves,” she continues, speaking to me like an equal. It’s unsettling. “Some of the rooms in this motel will be for our little MASH unit, and the others for living in until we come up with something more permanent. The equipment can be stored in the trucks for now.”

Good plan, all around. “What kind of help is Astrid offering?” I ask.

“Assistance with transportation and any medical personnel we require.”

When she doesn’t continue, I say, “And?”

“That’s it.”

I glance at Phin, whose expression is blank. Our hands are still entwined, and I’m sure Kismet’s noticed, but I don’t give a shit. “Gee, that’s generous.”

Kismet shrugs. “She didn’t have to help us at all, Stone. Her team showing up today helped immensely. A lot more people could have been hurt or killed.”

“True.” Annoying, but true.

“And she wants to meet with us. Officially meet.”

“Meet, huh?” Looking up at Kismet is starting to hurt my neck, so I let go of Phin and carefully stand. The tarp brushes the top of my head. No dizziness, no vertigo. Score one for me. “Who’s us?”

“Me, Adrian Baylor, and you.”

I hear Phin stand up behind me, tenting the tarp upward. “Why me?” I ask. “I’m not in charge of anything.”

“Wyatt wants you included in this.”

So Wyatt spoke to Astrid about me. I can’t help wondering if it’s because of our little fight, or in spite of it. Or which makes me less crazy. “Now?”

“Tonight, after we’ve moved out and settled in.”

“I guess you and Baylor are in charge now, huh?”

A haze of grief steals briefly across her face, chased just as quickly by uncertainty. “Looks that way,” she says. “Which means you’re welcome to come with us, Stone.” Her gaze flickers over my shoulder. “Unless you have a better offer?”

“Depends on your definition.” I can’t explain why I’m leery of returning to Phin’s shared condo. Especially if Wyatt shows up.

I can’t tell her the secret that Rufus confessed to me about his involvement in the death of Wyatt’s family ten years ago, and if I’m put in the same room with both of them, I won’t be able to keep my mouth shut. Maybe that’s what Rufus wants, and maybe the chance to unload his guilt is what he hoped for when he told me, because I don’t like lying to Wyatt.

God, I don’t want to be responsible for this secret.

“This works out, though,” I say, my way of redirecting the conversation. “I wanted to speak with Astrid anyway. Right now, the Assembly is our best chance.”

Kismet nods, understanding without further clarification. The future of the Triads and the safety of the city are foremost in her mind, as well. “The vampires, too. They’ve helped us in the past. They don’t want to see the goblins or Halfies overrun the city any more than we do. Your contacts would be useful.”

“Contacts?” I snort. Can’t help it. “Isleen and I didn’t exactly exchange phone numbers. She just has this odd habit of showing up.”

Kismet arches a slim eyebrow at me.

“Okay, fine,” I say. “You call her, I’ll kiss her ass.”

Behind me, Phin chokes to hide laughter. “It’s very likely a vampire representative will be at your audience with Astrid,” he says.

I pivot on my heel, hands going to my hips. “Why’s that?”

He smiles, the enigmatic bastard. “A lot’s happened in the past three weeks, Evy.”

A series of sarcastic barbs die on my tongue as I comprehend the hidden meaning in his words. “Like unexpected alliances?” His expression remains neutral. “I’ll take that as a yes. Awesome.” I spin to face Kismet again, whose mouth is open in an O. “Looks like we’ll get to talk to the vampires tonight, too.”

Her expression shifts from surprise to annoyance. “Secret alliances between the Assembly and the Families? When were we going to hear about this?”

Phin steps around me, closer to Kismet. “When the Assembly chose to disclose it. We work with your Triads, not for them. We no longer answer to you.” It’s not quite a threat, but it’s close enough.

And I don’t know how I feel about it.

Someone had the good sense to empty out Boot Camp’s stash of sweats and spare clothes and distribute them to the motel rooms housing the refugees. Changing into clean sweat-shorts and a T-shirt makes my shower so much sweeter, and I’m almost energized as I exit the bathroom.

The four female trainees assigned to the room clam up the moment I step out. They’re a little intimidated by me, and I hate it. Okay, so I came back from the dead, have nearly died enough times to make any cat cash in its nine lives, and I can be pretty scary when I yell. Which I did ten minutes ago to gain access to their shower.

“Thanks,” I say as I glide through the small room,
straight to the door. Summer humidity hits like a soggy blanket the moment I step outside onto a cracked sidewalk, facing a weed-pocked parking lot and the side of a mountain. Many of the room doors are open, creating a beehive effect of people going in and out at random, passing messages or delivering supplies. Three hours here and things are running smoothly, thanks to Baylor and Kismet.

The Green Acres Lodge office has become our modified command center, so I head around to the front. The motel is L shaped, the inside of the L facing the mountains, and the office on the short end, along with an old diner. I’m on the long end, so it’s a hefty walk. My poor stomach is tied up in unhappy knots, an awful combination of nerves and lack of food.

I still have no idea where I stand in all this. My brain wants to help the remaining Triads in whatever way I can. My heart wants to find Wyatt, haul him into the nearest empty room, and demand to know what he’s thinking. What he’s feeling. To have him tell me everything that happened while I was missing.

But I don’t even know if he’s still here, or if he left with his new playmates.

A familiar Cadillac is parked in front of the office, next to a red sports car with heavily tinted windows. Looks like I’m the last one to the party, so I pick up my pace. Instead of the office, I find them assembled in the diner, chairs clustered around a few pushed-together tables. The entire place is spotless, and the retro chrome gleams under fresh lightbulbs in overhead fixtures. It reminds me a little of the diner where Phineas and I almost had lunch one day.

All of the usual suspects are here: Kismet, Baylor, Phineas, Astrid, Marcus, and Wyatt. The three less-expected faces offer pleased smiles at my entrance. Michael Jenner, despite the heat, is wearing one of his
customary suits. As representative of the Assembly, he always shows up to speak for the best interests of the fourteen were-Clans. For a lawyer, he’s not half-bad.

I don’t know why I’m surprised to see Isleen and Eleri, but I am. Isleen has been an ally and a tentative friend since my resurrection—as much a friend as any vampire can be to a human. She stands and walks to me, extending her hand for a firm shake.

“It pleases me that you are alive, yet again,” she says, her voice a familiar, lilting cadence that most vampires possess.

“I’m pretty pleased about it, too,” I reply. My smile is forced. I’m too damned tired for witty banter. I just want to know what’s happening. I shake Jenner’s hand, too, then pull a chair into the circle between him and Baylor. Wyatt is directly across from me, staring intently.

“I was just expressing the Assembly’s sincere condolences,” Jenner says, “on the loss of so many of your people today.”

“I’d think the Assembly would be doing backflips over it,” I say, unable to censor myself.

Astrid makes a startled noise, but Jenner just chuckles. “I admit, there are a few Elders who expressed a sense of justice over the news. However, they’re also intelligent enough to see how this can be a devastating blow to lasting peace. The Triads were far from perfect, but they were effective in their efforts to quell the larger uprisings of the darker races.”

“Effective until now,” Astrid says.

“We might still surprise you,” Kismet retorts.

Astrid folds her hands in her lap, copper eyes flashing. “Your forces are at half strength, the Fey Council is ignoring you, and your protection within the Police Department has apparently committed group suicide. You’d be lucky to manage surprising a house cat.”

Wow. All eyes are on Kismet, who’s in her seat only
because Baylor’s hand is on her shoulder. Color rises high in her cheeks. Marcus nudges Astrid in the ribs, and she shifts her glare to him.

“This bickering is unproductive,” Isleen says. She stands, drawing up to her full, lean height. Long white hair cascades down her back, a familiar and stark contrast to her black clothes. Lavender eyes take their turn sending silent messages to various people in our circle. “And if there are no objections, I will begin.”

No one objects.

“After the events at Parker’s Palace, Mr. Jenner approached the royal Fathers of the ruling Families with an offer from the Assembly. Although neither the Assembly nor the Fathers condoned the actions of the man named Leonard Call, we could also not ignore the implications of their organization and their ability to attract members of both our races. We also could not continue ignoring the host of internal problems that have been plaguing the Triads for months.”

Baylor grunts—the only sound in an otherwise silent room. I glance at Wyatt, who’s giving Isleen his full attention. I have no doubt he’s heard all this before; he just doesn’t want to make eye contact with those of us who haven’t.

No one else is asking, so I do. “What was the offer?”

Isleen tilts her head in my direction without actually looking at me. “An alliance between our peoples.”

This time it’s Kismet who makes a noise. “Really? Since when have the vampires and the Clans ever gotten along?”