Instead, I pulled back to find an electronic motel room key and a business card for the All-Nite Inn. I stared at them, then at Jenner. “What’s this for?”
“In case you need a place to rest,” he said. “I keep a room there for business meetings, or nights when I just don’t feel like making the drive home. You may use it for the week.”
“Thank you, Mr. Jenner. That’s very generous.” It was a canned response, but it was genuine. A car and a place to stay. For a lawyer, I was really starting to like the guy.
“I wish I could do more. For what it’s worth, I think they’re fools for voting against you, and time will prove that.”
Part of me hoped he was wrong. “You know, I never did ask which Clan you’re from. You are Therian, right?”
He smiled. “You’re right, you never asked. And yes, I am.” With that nonanswer, he strode back to his Cadillac and climbed in.
Wyatt and I stood next to our dusky blue rental until Jenner had driven off, leaving us alone in a mostly empty parking lot. “Well, you got any bright ideas?” I asked.
“You still want to hear what Gina has to say about that Neutralize order she got five weeks ago?”
I nodded. “If we’re lucky, it has something to do with Snow and why he’s so pissed at us. It’ll waste time until Phin calls, right?”
“Right.”
I unlocked the rental and climbed into the driver’s seat. Wyatt slid in next to me. The engine shuddered and grumbled when I first started it, then smoothed out. I pulled out into a quiet side street and began looking for signs to take us back west.
“Where are you going?” he asked, cell phone out and open.
“That motel. It’s not too far from here. I can leave the bag somewhere safer than this car, and besides, I have to pee.” Something I hadn’t quite realized until I said it. All that broth I’d sipped down for lunch was ready to vacate the premises.
He put the phone on speaker without my having to ask—nothing more frustrating than a one-sided conversation you wanted in on. On the fourth ring, Kismet picked up with a terse “Joe’s Pizza.”
“It’s Truman.”
“Is there a reason the phone you’re calling from is blocked?”
“Yes.” He didn’t elaborate; I smiled, turning us back toward the Axelrod Bridge and Uptown. “Any movement at Park Place?”
“Nothing so far. We’re keeping our distance, but I have to tell you, it’s starting to feel like a huge long shot. Not to mention a waste of resources.” Her side of the line crackled. She spoke to someone, words muffled. “Sorry. Nothing new on Call, either. We’re trying everything we’ve got, but with no luck.”
“Yeah, look,” Wyatt said, his tone as rude as I’ve ever heard him, “I may have another lead, but I need to ask you about something from last month.”
She hesitated. “Okay.”
“Second week of April, you got a Neutralize order. Who was the target?”
“You know we aren’t supposed—”
“Fuck what we’re supposed to do, Gina. You owe me.”
I wasn’t sure if he meant she owed him for my “death” or something else. Didn’t matter much, because while I navigated bridge traffic, she answered him. “The target was a vampire named Orlan, from the Emai Family. Mid- rank member, not royalty. The charge was willfully infecting humans.”
“Anything else?” Her tone said there had better not be.
“No, thanks.”
“Wyatt, where are you?”
“Around.”
“Look, I know you’re angry, and I know you’re hurting, but we need you. We’ve got rookies who need field training and—”
“No.” His entire face hardened into a scary mask of anger. I was glad I was driving and not being crushed under the weight of that look.
“Six other Hunters died at Olsmill, Wyatt. You aren’t the only one suffering.”
I hazarded a peek at his face. Fury melted into shame in the space of a heartbeat. We were outside of the loop now, beyond the internal problems the Triads were facing, but we could still feel their impact. Mounting odds and dwindling numbers, and their two most experienced Handlers were out of the field. Kismet was trying to keep a dam together with gum and duct tape.
“You still there?” she asked.
“Yeah,” Wyatt said, tone softer. “Look, we’re waiting on some information. When I get it, I’ll pass it along, okay? I just can’t come back in right now.”
“We?”
“Okay?”
“Yeah … okay.”
He hung up without further discussion and pocketed the phone. I let out a breath, glad she wasn’t pursuing the tongue slip. Not that Wyatt couldn’t have handled it. White lies were easy. I made a left one block past the bridge, the motel looming in the distance.
“Something tells me,” Wyatt said, “the Blood kill didn’t set this off.”
“I’d believe it if he were higher up in the Family,” I said. “But not mid-level, and not with the guy orchestrating all of this being human himself. Plus, I have no reason to doubt Isleen’s word that the Bloods are pretty well satisfied with the status quo.”
“So much for that lead.”
The All-Nite Inn was a few steps up from the last couple of motels I’d stayed in—clean parking lot, no graffiti on the walls or bars on the windows, modern paint choices. It was two levels, with a single balcony connecting all of the rooms, accessible at intervals by internal stairwells. It wasn’t a by-the-hour kind of place, but it was still a far cry from the Hilton.
Jenner’s room was number 224. I parked as close to our stairwell as I could, backing in just in case we had to make a quick getaway. With no luggage except my canvas tote of belongings, we probably looked like a couple sneaking in for an illicit rendezvous.
I put my bag on the floor near the bed and spun in a slow circle. It had a single king-sized bed and sensibly colored linens, polished fake walnut furniture, an acceptably understated painting on the wall, and modern electronics. Nothing kitschy or outdated. The mini-fridge looked new, and the tiny bottles of shampoo and lotion were from a decent retail chain. Not a bad place for a hideout.
Or whatever Jenner really used it for.
The bathroom was the type with the counter and mirror inside. I did my business, then checked my appearance. More color had come back to my cheeks, but even tied up, my hair looked like a dead animal had been glued to my head. Definitely needed a good shampoo. Or a fast chop with sharp scissors.
When I emerged, Wyatt was perched on the far corner of the bed, staring at the wall and seeming lost in thought.
“This is probably a terrible idea,” I said.
He snapped his head toward me, eyebrows arched. “Why?”
“Lately, motels seem to herald my imminent demise.”
For several seconds, he just stared dumbly. Then the joke sank in, and he cracked a smile. “That’s really not funny, Evy.”
“Then why are you trying hard to not laugh?”
His smile widened, and amusement made his eyes sparkle. “I remember something more pleasant than imminent death from our last motel stay.”
My stomach flipped. I remembered that night, too—slightly out of focus and fuzzy from the distance of death and time. Our only time together before my death. The way he’d held me. The brush of his mouth on my skin. I had craved sensation that night—one last electrifying moment before it was all ripped away, as though I’d known I was
