Another Kind of Dead Page 14

  As my adrenaline rush cut off and my body settled in to heal itself, I’d curled up on one corner of the sofa with a mug of instant soup and tried to be useful in the discussion. Mostly I listened to Wyatt and Phin bat around ideas on how to find Thackery, ways to use Axon against him, the merits of letting Axon help us versus locking him up good and tight, and who we should include in the current problem.

  The latter interested me the most. Kismet hadn’t reported me as alive, so her original report on the factory fire and my demise stood on record. Her Hunters were sworn to secrecy. If we needed backup muscle, her team was the only real recourse. Willemy’s murder was unsolved. For now. The theory that a powerful Fey was helping Thackery created a good argument against involving Amalie yet—if we could even reach her to do so.

  The only thing we knew for certain was that Thackery wanted my blood, and he was going through a hell of a lot of trouble not to kill me for it.

  “The Assembly will assist if you ask them,” Phin said, nearest me on the sofa. “They have great respect for Evangeline, and I can curry much support from the Clans.”

  “It wouldn’t hurt to have more than just humans on the lookout for him,” I said. “But I don’t want to see more innocents dragged into this, and he’s been off the grid for this long. I can’t see him slipping up and getting randomly spotted on the street.”

  “And when Axon doesn’t return on time with your blood, Thackery will send someone else to find you. Perhaps we should use that to our advantage and try trapping him?”

  “The trouble with sitting around and waiting is that the enisi dies. If he’s just as irritating as his grandson, I can’t say I care much in the long run, but I’m not fond of letting hostages get killed.”

  “Which gives us about three hours to devise an alternate solution.”

  I glanced at the only clock in the room—an old cast-iron skillet modified with clockworks and numbers—and verified Phin’s time frame. Axon had been told to return to a specific phone booth at three o’clock today in order to verify he had my blood and receive further instructions. We’d already shot down David’s suggestion to use Axon as bait and coax Thackery out of hiding. Axon was intellectually incapable of participating in subterfuge on the level required to pull that off.

  Fucking literalism.

  “I just can’t believe Kismet hasn’t turned anything up,” I said, more to myself than the others, since we’d already covered the topic forty minutes ago. “How has Thackery managed these experiments for years without leaving a paper trail for us to follow?”

  Phin shook his head. David huffed from his spot on the far end of the sofa.

  Wyatt had settled in one of the chairs, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles, hands folded in his lap. His eyebrows were scrunched, and he worried his lower lip with his teeth. Thinking hard about something. Our only direct conversation outside of the current topic had been me thanking him for preparing the mug of instant soup. Not a word about the elephant in the room.

  “If you’ve got money, you can buy secrecy,” David said, “but someone always slips up. We just haven’t found the crack yet.”

  My gaze slid past Phin to David, who I’d guess to be around twenty. Young, but not without experience. Yet he also seemed nervous enough to jump out of his own skin. This mysterious, conspiracy-minded side of things wasn’t within his comfort zone, yet he was doing his best to contribute.

  “You’ve been looking for cracks for over a week,” I said. “If there was a trail to be followed, you’d—”

  “Token,” Wyatt said, jackknifing up from the chair. He almost tumbled right out, eyebrows arching into his hairline.

  “Did you just sneeze?” Phin asked, confused.

  Wyatt shook his head. “Token is the human-goblin hybrid who killed Jaron last week. He was taken to Boot Camp with the other science projects until we could figure out what to do with him.”

  “I thought Token gave up everything,” I said.

  “Not everything.” Determination blazed in his eyes. “Thackery created Token, and when he was questioned, Token couldn’t tell us where. He didn’t understand. All we got were vague descriptions of gray walls, metal, and wind.”

  “Wind?”

  “Wind in the walls is how he described where he lived. He was taken from there blindfolded, driven for a little while, then released to hunt in Grove Park, about a mile from Jaron’s avatar’s apartment.”

  I tilted my head to the side and frowned, not following his train of thought on this. “But if he was blindfolded—”

  “What’s a goblin’s most heightened sense?”

  “Smell.”

  “And how do their tiny, illogical minds find their way back to their queen’s nest?”

  It clicked. “Token would have left his scent behind wherever he was made and kept. He could theoretically still follow his own scent trail back to that source, like a warrior returning to its nest.”

  “Exactly.” His smile was guarded but genuine, and I found myself returning it.

  “How do you know you can trust this creature?” Phin asked.

  “We don’t,” I replied. “But he was human before he became a monster, and it may be our best option. Plan B consists of us sitting on our asses until Thackery sends another blood collector after me. And this time, he might not be so generous about letting me live.”

  If my answer didn’t please Phin, he kept it to himself. “To avoid detection, I can track him from the sky. You can then track me with whatever electronic means you have at your disposal.”

  “Okay, good. That’s doable. Next problem is gaining access to Token and getting him out of Boot Camp.” To Wyatt, I asked, “You think Kismet will pull some strings for this?”

  Wyatt’s mouth twisted. “I’ll ask, but considering the fight Erickson put up about handing over those two vials, it may take more than the two of us to get Token released.”

  “Like what? It’s not as if we can just break into Boot Camp and spring him. Security’s too good.”

  “Only if we try walking through the front door.”

  “What—?” Oh. Oh! “You want me to teleport in and out.”

  “I don’t want, but I am asking.”

  All eyes were on me. I shifted, uncomfortable teleporting before my wrist was fully healed but unable to offer an alternate solution. “If you can get me on the grounds again and provide an extremely detailed visual of the interior so I don’t land in a wall or desk or something, I’ll do it.”

  Wyatt smiled, a hint of pride in the turn of his lips. Meant just for me. Any other day, that would have warmed me and gotten a smile in return. But still stinging from his earlier reaction in the bedroom, I just stared. His smile dimmed.

  “Driving back in will be hard,” he said. “I can’t go in, park for five minutes, and then drive out again without someone getting suspicious. Especially when I’ve been off the radar for a week.”

  “You mentioned ground security measures,” Phin said. “Do they watch the sky for attack as well?”

  “There are four watchtowers around the perimeter that monitor the surrounding forest and mountains. If someone came in low enough to the treetops, they might not be noticed right away.”

  I looked from one man to the other, then stopped on Wyatt. “So you’re saying Phin should fly me as close to the perimeter as possible so I can attempt transport into a building I’ve never been inside of before. Then after I locate Token and convince him to come with me without biting or slashing, transport back out to … where? Is teleporting into midair and hoping Phin catches me your escape plan?”

  “Of course not,” Wyatt replied tartly. “We’re discussing options, Evy.”

  “Teleporting with a broken wrist will be painful enough, and doing it again while carrying someone’s going to really hurt. I might be able to get us outside the wall, but don’t count on any farther than that.”

  “Query,” Phin said. “If I did fly Evangeline in close, would I be teleport
ed inside as well due to proximity?”

  I opened my mouth to reply, but my mind was blank. Not a clue. I’d once teleported out from beneath Wyatt without taking him with me. That was also before I’d fully come into my Gift. Minutes after that fateful moment, I’d teleported myself and two others fifty yards through a magical force field and into a building. Axon had been kneeling over me when I got out from under him—not quite as close contact as I’d be with Phin. We needed to know for sure.

  “Stand up,” I said. Phin did as asked, and so did I, turning around and crossing my arms over my breasts. His long arms snaked around my waist, and I was again struck by the strange dichotomy of his touch—at once muscular and soft, hollow power. I caught a flash of the two-inch scars on the interior of both wrists—faint reminders of what had happened the last time he volunteered to help me. He pressed his hands flat against my belly; I shivered, and he tensed.

  “Are you sure you want to try this?” he asked, breath feathering across my ear.

  “If I don’t, we’ll never know.”

  “It will hurt?”

  “Only me. Now shut up so I can concentrate.”

  It took great effort to close my eyes without looking at Wyatt. I could guess what I’d see—apprehension at what I was doing, jealousy at Phin’s proximity, maybe a scowl tossed in for good measure.

  My tap into the Break tickled the edge of my senses. I used the memory of Wyatt walking away from me in the bedroom to draw on enough loneliness to pour power through me. Snapping and crackling, I focused on the bedroom and on taking only myself there, ignoring the warm body pressed to my back. Imagined us separated, two individual bodies rather than one locked in an embrace.

  Now or never.

  I slipped in and my wrist shrieked, needles racing up and down my arm as I moved through a solid wall. The hateful throbbing continued even after I materialized in the bedroom. Very much not alone.

  “Well, hell,” I said. Phin loosened his arms and I spun to face him, cradling my wrist to my chest. “I suppose you could always drop me at the very last second.”

  His nostrils flared. “Never.”

  The bedroom door swung open. “Now what?” Wyatt asked.

  I exhaled hard. “I guess my workload just doubled. Phin will have to come in with me.”

  Phin looked ill. “I can’t wait.”

  The rare bit of sarcasm from him made me smile. “Hey, I’m the one doing all the heavy lifting. If you volunteered to fly me and Wyatt together when we first met, you shouldn’t have trouble with me and someone half his size.”

  “I admit,” he said, seeming mollified, “I have always wanted to see your Boot Camp up close.”

  “Well, now’s your chance.”

  A throat cleared. David lingered in the doorway, just behind Wyatt’s shoulder. He was looking at us like we’d all grown extra heads. “Um, maybe this is a stupid question, but he’s a were-osprey, right? How’s he going to fly you anywhere?”

  Hell, I’d forgotten that David didn’t know Phin’s secret. Bi-shifting was something only the oldest, most protected Clans could manage, and Phin was one of the last survivors of his people. He was able to sprout wings with a span of twice his own height while the rest of him remained human. The ability was carefully guarded by the Clan Assembly, and Wyatt and I were privileged to know about it.

  Behind me, Phin chuckled. Fabric rustled, followed by a faint breeze. Then twin shadows fell across the floor, cast from the lamp behind him. David’s face went slack. I didn’t have to turn around but did anyway. A gibbering, terrified half-Blood had seen Phin like that once and asked if Phin was an angel. And standing with hands on hips, bare chest rippling with corded muscle, handsome face smiling benevolently, mottled brown-and-white wings expanded as far as they could go, he looked just like one.

  “Whoa,” David said.

  “Your word you tell no one of this ability,” Phin said, tone sharp as a blade. “Swear.”

  “Thank you.” His wings retracted as quickly as they’d appeared, and his shirt was back on by the time we reassembled in the living room.

  “So what do we do with him?” David asked, jacking his thumb at Axon’s quiet shape, still tucked in the far corner by the kitchen.

  “Put him on ice for now,” I said. “It will take Phin, Wyatt, and me at least an hour to get to Boot Camp—”

  Phin interrupted. “It’ll be faster if I fly us.”

  I shook my head. “We can’t risk it in broad daylight. David, I need you to stay here. After an hour, call Kismet and tell her everything except what we’re planning with Token.”

  “I can’t lie to her,” David said, eyes narrowing. “I may not be officially assigned, but she’s my temporary Handler.”

  “You’re telling me you never lied to Willemy about anything?”

  “Not Triad-related. You make it a habit of lying to your Handler?”

  “Not a habit, no.”

  Wyatt made a soft noise. I wanted to roll my eyes and didn’t. Sure, I’d embellished and obfuscated and stretched the truth when necessary to get the damned job done. It shouldn’t seem so strange.

  “We could render him unconscious,” Phin said. “That will solve the—”

  “Okay, fine.” David glared at me. “I’ll do it, all right? If she reams me a new asshole when she finds out I lied—”

  “Tell her to put it on my tab,” I said. “In the meantime, get rid of those syringes and keep Axon secure until Kismet can get here and pick him up. Don’t talk to him, don’t go near him. Understand?”

  “Yeah, I got it.” Got it and wasn’t happy about it, from the look on his face.

  I took a few minutes in front of the bathroom mirror to get my looks in order. The cuts and bruises had healed. With a rough washcloth and aloe-scented soap, I finished washing my face and neck, removing the last remnants of my and Axon’s blood. I picked at the dried bits in my hair and wished for a rubber band to pull the thick waves back from my face, not for the first time considering just taking a pair of scissors to it.

  Wyatt was already behind the wheel of a black two-door clunker with Phin tucked uncomfortably in the small backseat. I slid into the front and got my first good look at the cabin as we drove down a potholed dirt track that masqueraded as a driveway. The cabin’s exterior was constructed of hewn logs, cut to fit at the corners and chinked with clay. It looked ancient tucked among tall oaks and loblolly pines, like the woodsman’s cabin in a bleak fairy tale. Two other cars were parked outside. I recognized Phin’s but not the second one.

  The tire trail dumped into a dirt road, and Wyatt made a right. After a few more miles of winding down from the mountains, he made another right onto a two-lane paved road, heading south toward the city. We really had been in the middle of nowhere.

  “Did you leave earlier to meet up with Phin?” I asked after we’d passed the first twenty minutes of the trip in complete silence.

  “I hadn’t intended to,” Wyatt said. He spoke to the road in front of him. “He called my cell while I was in the city. I said you were up and around. I met him, and he followed me back.”

  “Oh.” I skated my fingertip across the dash, leaving a dark trail behind on the dusty molded plastic. Gross. “You left to run an errand.”

  The steering wheel cracked under his hands. “Yep.”

  “Which was what?”

  “Are you interrogating me now, Evy?”

  “You left and he came, Wyatt. I think I’m entitled to ask where you went.”

  His profile looked pained, then angry. I expected to see a cartoon thundercloud hovering above his head. “There’s a bag under your seat.” Clipped. “That’s what I went out for.”

  I bent and retrieved a paper sack. The top of the bag was rolled closed, its bulky shape awkward. “Easterbrook Pharmacy” was printed on the side in blue letters. I opened it without ceremony and peered inside.

  And almost burst into tears.

  A toothbrush, ladies deodorant, a hairbrush, cherry-va
nilla body wash and a mesh sponge, a pack of pink disposable razors, aloe-infused shaving lotion, and vanilla lip gloss were jumbled together in the bag. I stared at them, struck dumb. He’d gone out for a bag of female items that had probably embarrassed the hell out of him to purchase. The gesture was so sweet, so simple, it made my heart soar.

  “I … This is … Thank you.”

  He nodded, never looking away from the road, but his expression had softened. “You’re welcome. It seems kind of dumb now.”

  The only dumbness about it was my questioning him. I tucked the bag back under my seat for safekeeping. Once we reached the highway bypass and crossed the northern branch of the Anjean River, going south by way of East Side, Wyatt started talking. He described each of the three upper floors of R&D in detail—hallways and rooms and blind corners. The first sublevel was as far down as he’d ever gone. It was all laboratories and storage lockers and closets. Those closets would be my best bet for a landing zone. I pictured it all in my head without much trouble, since the details he remembered were amazing—as long as they proved accurate. He wouldn’t guess, though; guessing only meant we could transport into a wall or, worse, a person.

  Soon we’d left the city behind and, minutes later, the bypass. Two miles past the road that wound its way to Boot Camp, Wyatt turned down a badly paved access road marked with a faded sign. “Reservoir” was the only word still legible. Half a mile down, the road opened into a small gravel lot, bordered on one side by a metal shack the size of a trailer and on the other by water.

  “I didn’t know this was here,” I said, climbing out after we parked. A thick, musty odor mingled with the scents of earth and pine and made me want to sneeze.

  “It’s not used anymore as a water source,” Wyatt said. “It was contaminated about fifteen years ago, so they cut off the pipes and forgot about it.” He pointed opposite us, near the start of the tree line. “Kids come up here sometimes and have bonfires, but mostly they’re smart enough not to swim.”