Three Days to Dead

We watched the grisly scene from the roof of the building across the street. Tenants were evacuated into the street, many in nightclothes. Some clutched small children wrapped in blankets. Fire trucks arrived and poured water on the spreading flames. Police put up barricades, herded reporters, and tried to keep order amid chaos.

Wyatt and I stood side by side as the last of our allies were taken from us. I wanted to cry for Rufus and the brave spirit he had been, only I had no tears left. Wyatt was not so lucky. Unshed, they pooled in his eyes, creating a glassy, faraway look.

“Ten years,” he said quietly. “I worked with him for ten years, and now …”

I tried to think of something sympathetic to say, but it all felt hollow. Trite. “Could it have been those grenades?” I asked instead.

“Doubt it. I don’t buy this as an accident, Evy. The timing was too perfect.”

“Do you think Nadia was right? Are we walking right into another of Tovin’s traps by going to the preserve?”

“I don’t think we have a choice anymore.”

“As if we had one before.”

He grunted.

“We still stick to the plan,” I said. “We recon the preserve and get our bearings, and then we retreat to formulate our attack plan and hope the other Triads don’t blame this on us and really do show.”

“If they don’t show? Without any help, it’s suicide.”

He seemed to miss the irony in his words. “Wyatt, we don’t have a choice, even if there’s no one left to help us.”

“I would not say that,” said a lilting, female voice. It came as though carried on the wind, and might as well have been a phantom, since we hadn’t heard anyone approach.

We pivoted in tandem. Wyatt reached for one of his guns, while I crouched and wrapped one hand around the handle of a knife. Twenty feet away, in the middle of a gravel roof she’d made no noise walking across, stood Isleen. Alive. She held out empty palms. Her calm expression never changed.

“I am no threat to you,” she said.

“Holy shit, I thought you were dead,” I said, standing. I quashed the very real urge to race across the roof and throw my arms around her neck. Never in my life had I been so happy to see a Blood.

“Even half-breeds know better than to kill one of their royalty, Evangeline.”

Royalty? No shit. I’d have to ask her about that. Later. “How did you escape?”

“I was never taken, only drugged and tied up in one of the empty mall storage rooms. It took my Family time to locate me, and it took me almost as long to locate you.”

“And how did you find us?”

A soft sigh escaped, as though the litany of necessary questions bored her. “I was following your friend. I spotted him earlier today on the street. The change was easy to recognize. I trailed him to the hospital, and then here when the humans took him. I was correct to do so.”

Her story made sense, even though the foundation lay on her happening upon Alex in the street. I hated coincidence, but didn’t necessarily discount her explanation because of it. She’d always showed a keen interest in discovering the truth. That didn’t appear to have changed.

“You’ve been watching the building the whole time?”

“No, an hour ago, I spotted an osprey on the roof of the building. It flew away, and I attempted to track it. I failed. When I returned, the fire had already begun.”

“I wasn’t accusing you—”

“You said an osprey?” Wyatt asked.

Isleen nodded. Dummy me finally caught on. “The only osprey in this city are weres,” I said. “It was a surviving Owlkin?”

“I believe so,” she replied, “so I attempted to follow it. We are not friendly with shape-shifters of any ilk, but we know what your Triads did to them.”

I flinched.

“Do you think the survivors blame Rufus’s team?” Wyatt asked. “That they’re targeting them?”

“The Owlkins were always peaceful,” I said. “I can’t imagine them burning down an entire apartment building out of spite.”

“Watching his people being slaughtered by supposed allies can change a man’s perspective on vengeance, Evy.”

Good point, and we finally knew Owlkin survivors existed. But it didn’t help us in our impending fight, not even a little bit. If Wyatt was right, the Owlkins may have just cut us off from our only backup. Unless …

“Can you help us, Isleen?” I asked.

“That depends on the information you share. Why did the half-breeds take you, and how did you escape?”

We fed Isleen the highlights of our captivity and escape and time in First Break. Its existence seemed to surprise her, if the quirk of one slim eyebrow was any indication. I left out details of its location and our exit through the tunnels. The Fair Ones had trusted us enough to let us leave; I wouldn’t betray their trust by giving them up. I also left out the discovery of my Gift; some information I just won’t give to a Blood.

“You are certain Tovin is at this nature preserve?” she asked after a long pause.

“No,” I said, “which is why we’re on our way there now. We had hoped for some Triad backup, but I get the feeling that’s on the rocks once this gets around.”

Her attention flickered to the fire behind us. I turned and felt the heat of it on my face. So much destruction, so much loss.

“Until they get it out and get the fire marshal in,” Wyatt said, “there’s no way to know how or where it started. I just know that we could have walked out sixty seconds later than we did.”

“You two were either very lucky, or you were intentionally spared,” Isleen said.

“I’m banking on luck,” I said.

“I thought you didn’t believe in luck,” Wyatt said.

“I also said I don’t believe in fate, but look at me now. I feel like a character in a fucking Greek tragedy, where all the gods are sitting back and having a good laugh at my expense.”

“Not gods,” Isleen said. “Mortal creatures with a thirst for power. The Fey have waged a silent war against my people for centuries. If Tovin succeeds in his plan, this Tainted One will help him destroy us.” She stepped closer, a spark of anger in her violet eyes. “My people will not act on suspicion. You know this as well as I, but the half-breeds are abominations, and assistance will come if I say I have seen a nest in this place. Tell me there is a nest, and I will take you at your word.”

The improbability of that statement struck me momentarily speechless. Wyatt squeezed my arm, silent encouragement, and I said, “There’s a nest of Halfies there.”

“Good enough. Where is this location?”

I told her about the preserve and the gas station, all the while observing her for signs of deception, some hint she would pass this along to the wrong person. I found none. “Three o’clock,” I said. “We’ll meet you there.”

“Agreed. I will bring all of the help I can. Good luck to you both.”

“We’ll see you in a few hours.”

Her willowy frame bolted to the side of the roof, and she vaulted to the next building. She moved like a shadow, disappearing the instant she landed. I had always envied the Bloods’ ability to move like water—smooth and silent, or fast and furious, but always with intent.

“What do you think?” I asked.

Wyatt pulled me against his chest, arms wrapping around my waist. I leaned back, content in the warmth of his body for as long as I could have it.

“She’s lying,” he said.

“You think so?”

“Not her intention to help us, but her reasons. She isn’t in this to stop Tovin; he’s just an excuse. A way to justify it to her kin and get them to help her in her real goal.”

That much I could have guessed. Vampire royalty put on airs, much worse than any Fey, and thought humans beneath them. Pure bloodlines, they said, kept them strong—another reason the half-Bloods were so hated by the