“An attack of any sort still might,” Wyatt said. “Even if every Triad in the city had shown up at Olsmill the other night, we wouldn’t have won without help from the Bloods. We always kept the Dregs in line through fear and intimidation. That’s obviously not working anymore.”
“Obviously,” Phin drawled.
I pondered Isleen’s other comment about a larger threat looming, one ten years in the making. I’d thought to ask Rufus about it, to get some skinny on the earliest days of the Triads. “Who decided that?” I asked before I could censor myself.
“Decided what?” Wyatt asked.
No stopping now. “Fear and intimidation, Wyatt. Isleen got me thinking…. She said things really started to hit the fan around the time the Triads were first organized. You were there.”
He bristled like a threatened dog and stalked across the room before I could stop him. “She said this was all our fault?”
“No, that’s not what I said.” I struggled to sit up again, the movements less painful now. “What changed ten years ago that made the Triads necessary when they hadn’t existed before?”
He glared at me, the flush in his neck rising to his cheeks. “Your mother was murdered by vampires eleven years ago, Evy, and you’re asking me why?”
A chill spread through my chest. Her body had been found drained of blood, two weeks dead, so the possibility of her being killed by vampires had always existed. It just hadn’t been verified and never would be since her body had been cremated. No one had voiced it so bluntly since my days in Boot Camp, when the information was used to goad me into action. It had always worked.
I threw back the blanket covering me, noting—but not caring—that I was wearing only my bra and panties. Both legs were wrapped tightly in gauze bandages and medical tape, but I swung them off the bed anyway.
Angry fingers of pain tore up and down my legs, and I barked out a terse “Fuck you, Truman,” as I tried to stand up. “My mother was a fucking heroin addict who slept around and got herself killed.” My weak legs wobbled. My left knee screeched as weight was added, and I flopped back onto the bed, panting. “Why ten years ago?”
His face was a thundercloud. “Because that’s when the shit started hitting the fan. Halfies seemed to come out of nowhere, and they were attacking anyone they could. The goblins began oozing out of the sewers and old bootleggers’ tunnels and attacking in the open. They all got bolder, which attracted the wrong sort.”
“Wrong sort of what?”
“Of freelance bounty hunters, mostly. Dregs are drawn to this valley, mostly through the power of First Break”—which we knew courtesy of our brief visit to Amalie’s hidden home—“but vampires travel the world and sometimes leave Halfies in their wake. Those early hunters had no code or organization. They did what they wanted to make their kill, and consequences be damned.”
The fire blazing in his eyes spoke volumes for the things he’d witnessed those nameless hunters doing. Isleen had verified that vampires left the city for long periods of time but always returned to the source of energy that fed them. Home to the Break.
I was chilly sitting there in my underwear. I drew the blanket up and around my shoulders, still puzzling out his story. “So which straw broke the camel’s back? Who organized?” I thought I knew the answer but wanted to hear him say it.
“The Fey Council,” he replied. “The last straw happened downtown, ten and a half years ago. Five Halfies went into a Greek restaurant about thirty minutes before closing. The owner, his wife, their daughter, and four customers were there. The owner and two of the male patrons were bled right away. Two vampire hunters tracked them down, but not before the Halfies … entertained themselves with some of the women.”
I felt sick.
Wyatt grimaced. “The hunters decided they couldn’t risk the survivors spreading rumors of vampires existing. That it was better to keep it a secret; that they’d be better off dead than living with the trauma. So they killed everyone who was still alive, turned on the gas main, and burned down the evidence.”
My head spun, and I clutched the edges of the blanket, finding it very hard to breathe. “They murdered innocents,” I whispered, trembling.
“The restaurant owners had two teenage sons who were left orphans. Everyone said it was a tragic accident.”
I dropped my head into my hands, unable to fathom such an action. Slaughtering the Halfies, sure, in the most painful manner possible. But not the murder of four innocent women simply to keep a secret. What sort of person did that? A hand touched the top of my head. I looked up. Wyatt had crouched in front of me, his entire face alive with emotion—fury, regret, grief.
“Sorry you asked?”
I shook my head. “Just surprised.”
“It was a different time, Evy. We didn’t know much about the Dregs, just lots of rumors. Without the Fey Council, we’d have been lost. They found us, trained us, taught us. It was almost three years before the Triads, as we know them today, truly formed.”
“You and Rufus were there from the beginning?”
“Pretty much. We didn’t start this battle, Evy. We just reacted to it. We had to do something to protect ourselves from them.”
“So something else triggered this.” I blew through my teeth, frustrated. “Vampires start infecting humans, and those Halfies go out and multiply their numbers. That gets the goblins to sit up and notice, so they start crawling out of the sewers and tunnels, getting bolder in their attacks, too. That tells the other Dregs it’s okay to act up, and suddenly we’re overrun with them.”
“Point of fact,” Phin said. I’d forgotten he was there, and the harsh lines of his face screamed out his anger. “Therians have always been among your people. We didn’t crawl out of anything, and most of us live our lives as peacefully as we can.”
“Peaceful?” Wyatt repeated, standing and pivoting to face him. “That’s what you call recruiting others to kill us off? Peaceful?”
“I have no desire to see your people killed off. I like humans very much.” His blue eyes flickered briefly to me. “However, as recent events showcase, your judgment and policing skills leave a lot to be desired.”
“We didn’t—”
“I don’t care about who gave what orders anymore.” Phin’s voice was furious enough to make even me flinch, but his outward appearance remained still. Almost preternaturally calm. “My greatest concern is that it
He took several steps forward. Wyatt tensed, but Phin ignored him. His fierce gaze bore into mine.
Phin continued. “Yes, I wanted vengeance for the loss of my Clan—wanted it so badly I could taste human blood on my tongue. Coming to you for help in protecting Joseph and Aurora was like castrating myself, admitting to weakness that, as their Clan Elder, I couldn’t entertain. The morning we met? I almost landed on that car while you were still in it, and I would have enjoyed it. Humans were evil, they had slaughtered my people, and I no longer wanted anything to do with any of you.”
I squirmed under his glare and the weight of his words. Seeing the real Phineas el Chimal for the first time, in all his temperamental glory. Ruled by his emotions. Admitting to his grief and rage. Damn, but that had to feel good.
“What stopped you from killing us?” I asked.
“Something Danika told me one day, when I asked her why she was so friendly with a human,” he said. “She said, ‘Evy has a good heart. She’s just had it broken a lot.’”
My eyes stung. “I think the goodness of my heart is still open for debate.”
“No.” Phin shook his head, sharp snaps side to side. “No, it’s not. You were willing to turn your back on your friends and coworkers in order to do what you thought was right. Few make the honorable choice when it means losing everything.”
I flashed to Kismet, so torn in her decision to trust me or silence me. She hadn’t been able to make the tough call and go on faith. She was a soldier who thrived on following orders. I had challenged everything she believed in, threatened the status quo. I didn’t begrudge her trying to kill me.
Didn’t mean I’d turn my back on her again, though.