As Lie the Dead

“Not in the car,” he said.

I kept my eyes forward. It was his hesitation in replying, more than the answer, that unnerved me. I wasn’t asking for an arsenal. Just a knife or gun. Even a dog whistle would have made me feel better. Every Hunter carried extra weapons.

My overbearing tendency to question Wyatt’s orders had gotten us into many fights in the past. I latched on to that bullheaded curiosity—the impossibility of simply accepting an answer—and let it guide me. “How many were-cats attacked the hospital did you say?”

“Just the one.”

“And he attacked Wyatt first?”

“Yeah, he did.”

He. I watched the city fly by as Felix drove us west, back across the peninsula of Mercy’s Lot. Through quiet streets dotted with the occasional homeless wanderer or brave adventurer. Toward an unknown destination. I didn’t know what was waiting, but instinct told me it wasn’t Wyatt. “Not a very smart would-be assassin,” I said. “With Rufus recently shot and suffering from third-degree burns, the were-cat goes after the man who’s most likely to fight back and win?”

The leather on the steering wheel creaked. Felix had a white-knuckle grip, but his profile revealed nothing.

I laughed, pretending to be unbothered by my own comments. “His stupid mistake, right?”

Felix smiled and seemed to relax as he pulled to a full stop at a four-way intersection. “Yeah.”

“So how come you said earlier she was female?”

His reaction time was too slow. I ducked his flying elbow and threw my left arm up to block any further blows, while my right fist landed a kidney shot that took his breath away. His foot came off the brake, hit the gas, and we careened forward. I reached into his coat as we crashed.

My ribs slammed into the dashboard. I slid sideways toward the door, thumbing the safety off his gun. Felix glared at me, still holding his side, a little dazed from our sudden stop against a metal street-lamp.

“No one attacked the hospital, did they?” I asked. He didn’t reply; I chambered a round.

“No.”

“Where were we going, Felix?”

“An apartment across town.”

“Why?”

“Kismet wants to talk to you.”

“Bullshit. Why?”

He fixed me with a poisonous stare. “You don’t quit the Triads, Stone. You don’t get to run off and ignore your duty and make up the goddamn rules as you go along. You report all activities to your superiors.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” My hand trembled, but I kept the gun steady on him. “You lied about the hospital just to get me into a room so Kismet could lecture me about duty?”

“She doesn’t like being left in the dark. None of us do. You’re in the middle of something that affects all of us. You don’t get to keep it to yourself. We need to know what’s going on.”

“She could have asked.”

“Would you have told her the truth?” He snorted when I hesitated. “Didn’t think so.”

I bristled. “If I’d even considered letting her in on the full story of what’s going on right now, you can be damned sure that after this little performance, she’s getting nothing from me.”

“You’re a Hunter, and she’s your superior—”

“I was a Hunter. That woman died.”

“So what now? You’re going to go freelance and turn your back on the people who made you what you are?”

“They turned their backs first.”

“And this is your revenge.” It wasn’t a question, and Felix held my gaze intently, his dark eyes full of accusation and frustration.

I was struck dumb. This wasn’t about my getting revenge on the brass for ordering me neutralized. It was about the Owlkins. It was about finding out if someone up the food chain meant to slaughter the other bi-shifting Clans. It was about someone with power finally taking some fucking responsibility.

It wasn’t about my vengeance.

It’s not about me.

“Nothing personal, Felix,” I said, “but give Kismet a message for me.”

He quirked an eyebrow in silent question. I smashed the gun butt into his temple. His head dropped against the steering wheel, eliciting a brief honk from the horn. I rifled through his jacket until I produced a cell, slipped it into my pocket, and tucked the gun into the waistband of my jeans. With my bag on one shoulder, I climbed out of the car and bolted.

Back into my city. Alone.

It took time to get across town without a car. I’d managed fifteen blocks of ducking in and out of alleys, avoiding known Dreg hot spots, and generally melting into shadows—not terribly easy with a carry-on strapped to my back—before Felix’s cell rang. I ducked into the gloom of a gated storefront and fished the phone out of my pocket.

“You get my message?” I asked.

“What the hell are you trying to prove, Stone?” Kismet snapped.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

“Not until I have proof.”

“And you think you’re likely to find proof?”

“Give me until noon today.”

“I can’t do that.”

I stomped a foot on the ground. “Dammit, Kismet, trust me.”

“I did, Stone, but my trust goes only so far when you’re acting like the rogue you tried so hard to prove you weren’t. You need to come in.”

“Not happening.” I wanted to tell her about Phin, about Leonard Call, and our meeting with Black Hat’s crew. Not yet. It was too much to explain over the phone. “I’ll call you at noon.”

“Stone—”

I hung up and turned the phone off. No more interruptions. Kismet didn’t want to listen to reason, which meant Triad backup was off the table. Getting access to Rufus now would be beyond tricky—nearly impossible was a better assessment. My only real option was to go forward with Plan A and meet up with the gremlins. And hope they had my promised information.

With another dozen blocks to go before I made it to their factory, and the time inching ever closer to sunrise, I started jogging. The stab wound in my stomach was mostly healed—only the faintest ache remained. My back continued to itch and smart, punctuated by the occasional flash of real pain. I briefly considered a couple of teleports, anything to get me closer in a hurry, but chose to hoof it instead. I hadn’t tested my teleportation powers in such a manner; I didn’t know how far I could jump and with what consequences.

The sun was peeking rays of pink and gold over the skyline when I finally reached the factory. The weed- spotted parking lot was empty, the surrounding buildings quiet. I crouched by the perimeter fence, partially hidden behind a cluster of unkempt bushes. Thirty yards of open pavement to cross before I reached the safety of the entrance.

Wyatt and Phin were the only people who knew I was coming here. Neither had any reason to report my activities to one of the other Handlers. Still, better safe than sorry.

I closed my eyes and imagined the little room just inside the factory’s back entrance. The same foyer I’d entered twice before, right next to the stairwell. The Break sparked and spit. Loneliness was easy to find, and then I was moving with the familiar sensations of being smashed and twisted into nothingness. A sharp twinge between my eyes marked passage through the solid wall. I felt the floor beneath my feet and the cool dampness around me.