came out was a single, surprising word. He said, “Protection.”
“Try Trojans.”
He blinked. “What?”
“Never mind.” I placed my palms flat against the countertop, watching his body language for any hint of lying. “I don’t work for the Department anymore, Phin. If you want protection, ask the Triads. They’re better equipped.”
I said it too late to censor my words.
“And the other Clans?”
“We’ve been offered shelter by the Felia Pride, but shelter isn’t enough. The Clans are furious at the humans and Fey for what happened to my people, certainly; they just don’t want to help us. Assembly decisions always rule in the best interest of the Clans as a whole. We were not well liked by some of the more influential Elders. We chose peaceful coexistence and conformity over living as hunted rogues. The Cania and Kitsune don’t respect us. They don’t give a shit about our revenge.”
That was a one-eighty turn in the conversation. All of the proper nouns were making my head spin, and I had no idea which weres he was talking about. “Okay, I’m confused. Do you want me to protect you from something or help you enact some sort of vengeance plot?”
“The vengeance is already in motion. There are only three of us left who survived the slaughter. Three.”
“Weres exist elsewhere, in other states. Surely you aren’t—”
“We are the last of what you call Owlkins, those who remember how to live among humans. Any of the Clans that live beyond here are not my kin. We were different. The Cania run in packs with little time for one another outside of mating. The Felia are loyal to their Pride, though many wander and roam.” He shook his head, some of that thundercloud dissipating. Leaving him empty, sad. “No, I need someone further outside of this, someone who has as much at stake in the outcome as we do.”
Okay, things were starting to make a little more sense. Cania were were-dogs; the Felia, were-cats. Right; got it. “So … what? You picked me because I was friendly with Danika?”
“I picked you because they would be alive if you had let yourself be caught.”
My entire body went cold. His simple tone, devoid of accusation, tore at my heart more sharply than stinging jibes and venom. It hurt because he was right. I’d told myself as much in the hours following the initial slaughter, when I didn’t know in which direction to go next. I’d only known I couldn’t change it. Life didn’t work that way.
“I would die again if it meant bringing your people back,” I said.
“I believe you, but you can’t resurrect an entire species.”
No, I couldn’t. My stomach ached. I longed to lie down and rest. Yesterday’s problems seemed so far away, and yet they’d never really disappeared. I went to the Owlkins for protection; they died when my old colleagues came looking for me. The brass would never have given a destroy order if I hadn’t been there. I owed Phineas. I owed Danika.
“How long do you need me to protect you?” I asked.
“Three days, maybe four.”
“What happens in four days?”
He started to speak. Stopped. After a moment, he said, “I should show you.”
“Show me?”
Phin strode across the living room. I circled the counter, keeping him within my sights. He opened the front door and beckoned at someone on the other side. Mental alarms blared. I tensed. Scanned the countertop for available weapons—just a half-full coffee mug and a spatula. Damn.
The front door creaked. Phin stepped back. A man as old as mud tottered inside—tall and skinny and angular, with layers of wrinkled skin bunched around his eyes and jowls in a queer cross between bird and bulldog. Bright white hair was neatly combed and split down the middle. His clothes hung from his gaunt frame like grain sacks on a pole.
He walked faster than his age or build suggested possible, though with little balance. He came to an unsteady, teetering stop in the tiny foyer area and looked around, head turning with sharp jerks.
“It’s safe, Joseph,” Phin said.
Unconvinced, the old man continued his perusal of the apartment. Never looking directly at me, he seemed more concerned with the surroundings. My patience began to wear thin, especially when Joseph scowled.
“The door’s broken,” he said, his voice as thin as his body. Breezy and empty, like air through pipes.
“It’s temporary,” Phin said. “Just let Aurora come inside.”
Another one. He’d said three, but I was starting to resent the invasion of my personal space. Inviting them inside without asking me.
But Joseph just stepped to the side and revealed Aurora. She was barely there. Maybe five feet tall, and as narrow and delicate as bone china. Dark brown hair hung to her waist in thick spirals. Eyes as vividly blue as Phin’s, wide as pool balls, stared at me. I stared right back until my peripheral vision took note of something. My attention dropped to her waist.
Speechlessness was a rare condition for me. I stared until Phin said, “Now do you see, Evy? Leaving the city is too dangerous. We just need a few days.”
I met his gaze. Watched the way he closed the door and stood behind Aurora, hands on her shoulders like a sentry. Guarding her and the future she carried with her. The future of the surviving Owlkins. Because Aurora was very, very pregnant.
“Help us,” Aurora said. Lovely and sad, like a nightingale’s song. Just like Danika. Any chance of refusal died with her voice.
“Protection until the baby’s born?” I asked.
Phin nodded. “Your word?”
I glanced at the bathroom door; the water still ran steadily behind it. Back to Joseph and Aurora, and finally to Phineas. “You have my word.”
Phin crossed to me, hand extended. I shook it. Sealed the bargain.
Wyatt was going to kill me.
Chapter Three
8:09 A.M.
I stashed Aurora and Joseph in my room, put Phin on breakfast detail—he had a good laugh when I asked if he minded eating eggs, so I took it as a no—and then staked out the bathroom door the moment the water stopped. Waited. The door opened, and Wyatt leaned out, hair damp and a towel cinched around his waist. I grabbed his arm and yanked him out of his steam cloud.
“Evy, where …?” He let the question die when I pulled him into Alex’s room and shut the door. “What are you doing?”
“I didn’t want you to get angry in front of them,” I said.
“Get mad at what? And them who?” He crossed his arms over his bare chest, tightening toned muscles. Water dripped from his black hair to his shoulders and down his pecs in thin rivulets. I wanted to reach out and wipe them off.
He shifted his weight and I looked up, meeting his gaze. Curiosity burned there, along with something else— something that had nothing to do with my news and everything to do with my proximity to his nearly naked body. The towel was such a meager barrier now between the part of me that longed—
A single eyebrow arched. “And?”
I reported my conversation with Phin and our new houseguests, excluding only my reasons for accepting the proposal. I didn’t need to expound on them; Wyatt knew me well enough to know why I had said yes. He listened
