The Night Before Dead Page 12

  “Good point.”

  Somehow I missed the return of the pups, because Peter said, “I can drive.”

  “No way,” I said.

  “Please.” Peter went down to one knee like someone about to propose—or someone about to plead to his Alpha. “Let us help your people. It’s the least we can do for all you’ve done for us.”

  I frowned. “If you get hurt, Wyatt’s going to kill me. Not literally, but just…don’t get hurt.”

  “We won’t.”

  All of the vehicles had keys in them for easy access. Peter and Mark chose one of our utility vans, while Rufus moved his chair out of the way. Peter drove them out in the roar of a gunning engine and the sour smell of exhaust. He aimed for what looked like the far wall, then executed a perfect turn that ended in a tire-squealing stop by our three wounded.

  I couldn’t see for the van blocking the view, but I counted to less than ten before the van headed back our way. Peter drove right past us and down the corridor, hand-delivering them to the infirmary.

  Wyatt would have been so fucking proud.

  Will be.

  The pups were out on their third run, van barreling back toward us, when I realized our mistake all along. Too late, Nessa dropped onto the roof of the van an instant before it crossed the glamour. She launched herself at me, and the impact had us both rolling across the cement floor.

  We slammed into the side of a car. Before I could orient myself, Nessa shoved me onto my back and arched down with that corkscrew knife. I blocked with my right arm but not fast enough. The blade pierced my vest and sank into the skin beneath. Right over my heart. I used my screaming left for support as she bore down. My arms burned with the effort of keeping her at bay. Preventing her from plunging that awful, twisted knife into my heart. She wasn’t bigger than me, but my mangled left hand and too many teleports gave her the advantage.

  “Be careful, Milo.”

  “I can’t get a clean shot.”

  “Shoot her anyway!” I yelled, because in about five seconds that curly knife was going into my chest. It dug in another centimeter, blossoming blood and more pain from the wound.

  A shadow moved behind her. Nessa slashed out with one hand, releasing some pressure from the blade. Milo screamed, and something thudded. I tried to roll, but Nessa still had me pinned. She hurled her weight at me and the knife, and it went deeper.

  I couldn’t heal from a direct stabbing of the heart.

  Wyatt. I’m sorry.

  A flash of a furry gray coat was my only warning before strong jaws clamped down on the back of Nessa’s neck and shook her. Nessa screeched. Her mission to impale me was forgotten by her sudden need to slash at the canine that was hauling her away. I yanked the blade out of my chest and sat up.

  One of the Lupa pups slammed Nessa’s face into the concrete. Bone cracked. She went limp enough for the pup to sit down on her body, jaws still firmly clamped around her neck. Behind them, Milo was holding a bleeding arm close to his chest.

  “Stone?” Rufus.

  “We’re alive,” I said. I’d rolled behind a row of cars, and if he’d stayed to play sniper, he had no idea. “Nessa’s in a choke hold. Milo?”

  He winced. “I’ll live. You?”

  “Same.” I really didn’t want to think about how close a shave that had been. I scooted closer to the pup who had to be Mark. I’d only seen the three in their true forms once, and Mark and John were nearly identical. Mark must have jumped from the van and raced back to help. “You want to do some heavy lifting?”

  The pup blinked hard, so I took that as a yes.

  I somehow got back on my feet. Milo waved me off helping him, so I limped back to the entrance. The pup followed, dragging Nessa along with him, leaving a streak of fuchsia in their wake. She wasn’t dead, but she also wasn’t struggling when one sharp turn could snap her neck.

  At the end of the U, the battle seemed to be turning in our favor. We took Nessa halfway.

  “Raise her up so they can see her face,” I said.

  He did, using his strong true form to practically hold her upright. She hissed at me, blood streaking her face from her crushed nose. I gripped the twisted knife in my hand and pressed the tip to the soft flesh beneath her chin.

  “Nessa is beaten!” I shouted. My voice bounced off the walls, gaining the attention of both goblins and my people. And instead of rushing me, the goblins stopped moving completely. As if unable to compute the sight of their queen at the mercy of a human female. When enough goblin eyeballs were on me, I shoved the blade into Nessa’s neck.

  She gurgled as she died.

  Mournful wails rose up, and our side took complete advantage. More goblins were cut down, but that part of the fight was no longer my problem. I released the knife handle.

  “Let her go,” I said.

  The pup did, and her body splatted to the ground. He moved to my side and licked my right hand. I stroked the soft fur around his muzzle. “Thank you.”

  I swear he smiled.

  “Holy shit, dude.” Mark’s voice behind me startled me into turning around.

  Mark and Peter were staring at us both, open-mouthed, not even hiding their disbelief. Or their pride. I glanced down at the Lupa by my side, shock turning into respect for his bravery.

  John had saved my life.

  “You did good, kiddo,” I said.

  He wagged his big tail.

  “So did you two,” I said to Mark and Peter. “Thank you for helping with the wounded.”

  “You’re welcome,” Peter said. “They attacked our home. We needed to do something.”

  “You did. All three of you did.”

  I looked at Nessa’s corpse, and then past her to the rising pile of goblin remains. Sirens wailed in the distance. The fight was over, and the cleanup would be horrendous, but the police wouldn’t be able to see anything. Our troops were exhausted and ragged, and many were wounded, and tonight was only the first battle.

  In only a few more hours we’d throw down the gauntlet in the final war to be waged with the Fey.

  I just hoped we were ready.

  Chapter Ten

  01:20

  Distant conversations made excellent background noise for my attempts to Zen out and ignore the constant itch-ache in my left hand as it healed. After allowing Dr. Vansis to poke a few things into place, he wrapped the hand, and I retreated to the recreation room to wait for my gnome gift to kick in. Now that it had, it was driving me nuts. Even with my eyes closed, I couldn’t focus on anything else.

  Apparently I’d come pretty close to permanent, not-healable ligament damage.

  Yay me.

  The heap of goblin corpses were being disposed of by our able-bodied personnel, as well as extra help sent in by several of the Clan Elders. Rufus had called them for assistance the moment he realized how many goblins we were facing, and the opposing forces coming in from the outside had helped create a boxed canyon of our own for the goblins. Made them a lot easier to kill.

  Somehow our side had come through with no fatalities. A few series injuries, both human and Therian, and a ton of flesh wounds. I think one vampire mussed their hair.

  Itch-throb-ache. Itch-throb-ache.

  The hand would heal in a day or two, but goddamn the ability was annoying sometimes. Especially with serious wounds. If we didn’t have a Fey war looming at dawn, I’d have asked Dr. Vansis for some nice drugs to ease me through it.

  All around me, clusters of less-than-able-bodied people were talking, moving around, probably wondering about our next step. One pair of shuffling footsteps stopped near my couch. I slitted an eyelid to take a peek.

  Kismet stared down at me, a bandage on her right shoulder the only immediately sign of damage. “Looks like we finally solved your goblin problem.”

  “I hope so.” The last thing I needed was yet another goblin queen deciding to exact revenge for Kelsa and Nessa.

  “Wyatt’s going to be pissed when he finds out the Lupa helped.”r />
  “Tell me something I don’t know.” I fully opened both eyes. Kismet glanced at the couch. I raised my knees so she could sit near my feet, but I stayed flat on my back. “On the plus side, none of them were injured.”

  “True.” She grunted. “I could kill Milo for being anywhere near that fight in his state.”

  “It’s instinct to do something to help. At least he stayed inside.”

  “Marcus is going to shit himself when he sees those claw marks, though.”

  I couldn’t help a small gust of laughter. “Is Phineas going to shit himself when he sees your claw marks?”

  “What?”

  Her what had been way too careful. I dragged my tired ass up into a sitting position and tucked one knee under me. She stared at me with practiced confusion. “Oh come on, Gina. How long have you and Phin been”—I made air quotes with one hand—“seeing each other?”

  “We’re not seeing each other.”

  “So you’re just fucking?”

  She glared. Answer enough.

  “How long?” I asked, genuinely curious. And not in an I’m-jealous way, because I’d never felt that for Phineas, and God knew Kismet deserved someone amazing like him. “Since he came back with Brevin? Before he left?”

  “Look, we’re both adults with needs, and we have good sex. Can you drop it now?”

  “If it’s just casual sex, then how come Phin was so closed-lip when I asked him earlier?”

  Her glare softened. “Maybe he likes his privacy, too.”

  “Look at us, you and me and Milo finally getting personal lives, and we all fall for big Alpha types who have to go risk their lives to save the world.”

  Kismet groaned. “I liked you better when I was trying to kill you.”

  I blew her a kiss.

  “Seriously, though,” she said. “The goblin fight was a nice distraction, but all of this waiting around for sunrise is driving me crazy.”

  “I know what you mean. Being so far away from the epicenter of the fight is not what I’m used to.”

  “You’re used to being smack in the middle of it.”

  “Exactly.” I scratched at a patch of skin above my elbow that wasn’t covered in bandages, desperate to get at the part of my arm that really fucking itched. “I also really hate not knowing what to anticipate from Amalie. Goblins attack a threat. Halfies attack a threat. The Fey? They send others in to fight, or try to swoop in sideways via manipulation.”

  Kismet nodded. “We’ve never battled the Fey, so we have no way to anticipate their move once the Tainted are summoned.”

  “Bingo. I mean, yeah, if Brevin’s plan works, we’ll have three super soldiers on our side to help wipe the mat with them, but where? And when?”

  “The fact that time moves differently for the Fey is both a blessing and a curse.”

  Therein lay the heart of our problem with anticipating and planning. We were counting on Amalie’s inattention so we could get the Tainted into our hosts. But that same inattention might mean hours or even days before they reacted. And the longer our loved ones held the Tainted, the smaller their chances of survival became.

  “Did Wyatt ever tell you that the first time we laid eyes on each other was in a cemetery?” Kismet said.

  Talk about apropos of nothing.

  “No, he didn’t.” I sat a little straighter, intrigued by the random tidbit of personal information. “Wyatt doesn’t like talking about the past. A cemetery seems fitting, though.”

  She smiled. “It was my first day back in the city after my dishonorable Army discharge.”

  “Dishonorable? When do I get that story?”

  “Maybe after the apocalypse is over. Anyway, I came back the day of a good friend’s funeral, and afterward, as I was walking away, I spotted him standing by a pair of headstones.”

  “His parents and brother?”

  “Yes. It was only a few days after Nicandro died, and I was struck by his sadness. He looked up at me, and our eyes met. Somehow I knew deep down that I’d see him again, even though we didn’t say a word to each other.”

  “When did you find out what Wyatt did for a living?”

  “About a year later. I got wasted at a nightclub and went into the back alley to have sex with the guy I was with. Turns out he was a Halfie looking for a snack. Wyatt saved my life. Not long after, he recruited me into the earliest version of what became the Triads.”

  An early version that included Rufus. The secret he’d told me—the huge thing I’d kept from Wyatt for months now—tickled my brain. “Gina, back then did Wyatt ever talk about the bounty hunters who killed his family?”

  “Not much. I know he still wants to find the one that got away, but I think he’s accepted he probably never will. Not after so much time.” Never one to miss a detail, Kismet’s eyebrows dipped. “Why?”

  I really, really wanted to get this thing off my chest, and Kismet hadn’t betrayed me in months—not since we both realized we made better allies than enemies. “I know who the bounty hunter is.”

  Her entire body jerked. “You what? Who? How have you not told him yet?”

  “Because it’s someone Wyatt knows and trusts, and even though they didn’t swear me to not tell, I…I don’t know. We’ve all lost so much these last six months. I didn’t want Wyatt to lose another friend.”

  “Friend.” She blinked several times as understanding settled in. “Holy shit, it’s one of us. Someone who was folded into the Watchtower from the Triads?”

  I nodded, unable to speak against the lump in my throat.

  “You’re protecting them because you know Wyatt’s temper,” Kismet said.

  “I don’t want to be the one who blows apart their friendship. Not after everything they’ve been through.”

  “Fuck me.” Her face went slack. “Rufus?”

  I looked at my lap, which was all the confirmation she needed.

  “I’ll be damned,” she said, a little breathless. “Well, that explains why Rufus was such an asshole to Wyatt at the start of things.”

  “Yeah.” I glanced around but no one seemed to be paying attention. I lowered my voice anyhow, because Therian ears were in the room. “Rufus told me once he felt sick about what happened at the diner. That he was working with an older bounty hunter and basically did as told. He joined the early Triads as a way to pay for what he’d done, and that he didn’t want to be Wyatt’s friend because of what he’d taken from him.”

  “But they ended up friends anyway.”

  “Yeah, they did. And I know Wyatt. He swore a long time ago that he’d find and punish both men who killed his family.”

  “You’re afraid if you tell him, he’ll try to kill Rufus.”

  “I know he will. He’ll try, others will step in to stop it, and it will be a huge mess. And then he’ll be super-pissed at me for keeping the secret in the first place, even though it’s technically not my secret to tell.”

  “Then don’t tell it.” Kismet’s sharp statement got my complete attention. “Maybe Rufus was trying to clear his conscience by telling you, I don’t know, but he shouldn’t have. He should not have burdened you with this, even if he’d hoped you would save him the trouble of confessing by telling Wyatt yourself. This is his problem to fix, not yours. If Rufus wants atonement, he has to ask for it.”

  I turned her words over in my mind, finding a lot of sense in them. Rufus had confessed during a dark time in his life—wounded, no prospects for the future, before the Watchtower was created and he accepted an offer to work here. Maybe he’d wanted me to tell Wyatt so Wyatt would put Rufus out of his misery.

  But I hadn’t wanted that. Rufus was a friend and a vital part of Operations. Kismet was right. If he wanted to be absolved, he needed to fess up on his own.

  “Thanks,” I said. “For putting some perspective on that.”

  “No problem.”

  “How much longer until sunrise?”

  She checked her phone. “A little over an hour.”

&nb
sp; My tether to the Break sputtered and sparkled. Magic was happening somewhere, and in strong doses. Were the elves starting the procedure early, or was something else going down?

  “Stone?”

  I shook out my entire body. “Break hiccup. I’m not sure what that was about.” And I knew, way deep down in my bones, it was only a matter of time before I found out.

  Whatever’s happening out there, Wyatt, please take care of yourself.

  Come back to me.

  Chapter Eleven

  00:16

  My plan to spend the next half hour or so stalking Ops for news on what was happening in the mountains was put on hold by a strange text from Milo: My room. NOW.

  I shot back that I was on my way—texting with only my right hand was definitely being added to my least favorite methods of communicating—then started hoofing it. I ignored curious looks from folks who probably expected me to be heading in the exact opposite direction. The dorms were mostly empty, except for the wounded who required sleep.

  Milo’s door was half-open. He was sitting on the floor facing his bed, which had a laptop open on it, ear buds in. I clapped my hands to get his attention. He yanked the earbuds out as he half-closed the laptop.

  “If you called me here to watch a cat video on YouTube,” I said, “I’m going to strangle you.”

  “Can you keep a secret?” he asked.

  Interesting.

  “Remember who you’re talking to?” I plunked down next to him. “Is this you sharing your addiction to online porn?”

  He snorted, some of the stress easing from his face. “Be serious for a sec, okay?”

  “Really? The men we love are about to become the outer wrapping of a demon burrito, and you want me to stop being sarcastic? You do realize that would mean running around screaming at people in fear and frustration, right?”

  All I got for that was a long, slow blink.

  “Okay, fine,” I said. “What’s up?”

  “Marcus went in bugged.”

  For the briefest moment, I thought that was some kind of innuendo. And then it struck me. “Into the cave? He’s wired?”

  “Yes.” Milo lifted the laptop screen. The image made my heart flutter.