As Lie the Dead

the first time in four years he’d spoken to anyone of those events.

Being Kitsune, Snow was as likely to kill Wyatt on the spot as entertain any notion of apologies. Call wanting to meet him was very likely just an excuse to get him at Snow’s mercy. I didn’t quite know how to forgive Wyatt, but I couldn’t let him walk into that sort of blind trap.

Phin made a soft, strangled noise that earned our collective attention. He was staring at the ceiling as though it held some prophetic answer, his mouth open. I glanced up, wondering if I’d missed something.

“What is it?” I asked.

“What was Cole’s surname?”

“Um, Randall. Cole Randall.” From the corner of my eye, Wyatt nodded. Then the sudden change in his expression, from misery to shock, got my full attention. “What? What am I missing here?”

“Cole Randall,” Wyatt said. “Leonard Call. Son of a bitch, I didn’t even see it.”

“Or you didn’t want to see it,” Phin said.

“Goddammit!” I jumped to my feet, alarmed and annoyed.

“The name is an anagram,” Wyatt said. “We know Call is someone with a grudge against the Triads, don’t we? What if something went wrong with Cole’s memory spell? Phin’s description is vague, and brown hair and brown eyes describes three hundred thousand people in this city, but it also describes Cole.”

I should have been elated at our breakthrough, but something in Wyatt’s calm acceptance enraged me. I was across the room, had hauled him out of his chair, and shoved him against the wall before my brain caught up to my actions. He didn’t protest when I grabbed the front of his shirt, or leaned in until we were almost nose to nose. Our eyes met, and I saw something there I’d never seen brought on by my own hand—fear.

“You’ve had this information in your head the whole damned time,” I seethed. “The whole goddamn time, Wyatt!”

He didn’t try to defend himself. Just let me hold him there. “I never had a reason to doubt the memory spell, or think it would break down. Cole never occurred to me as a possibility until this moment.”

“Not even when we were talking about Neutralize orders or people with grudges? Not once?”

“No!” With the frustrated denial came a hint of annoyance. “How many times should I say it, Evy? Cole was gone, dead and buried along with dozens of other Hunters.”

“Not all of us stay dead.”

My statement was meant to wound. Instead, it seemed to anger him. “I’m done apologizing for that, Evy.”

“No one’s asking.”

“Then what do you want from me?”

I wanted time to be angry at him. Time to absorb all the things he’d told me in the last hour, from his parents to his brother to this. Time to sit and talk about things like normal adults. Most of all, I wanted time to figure us out. Only we had no time. We never did. Our lives were about the next step, planning for the next fight. Until the city was free of Dreg threat and I no longer had to stand watch as one of the city’s invisible sentinels, there would never be time for us.

“Nothing,” I said, surprised by the coldness of my tone. I released him and backpedaled to the middle of the room. He stayed by the wall, watching me warily. I turned away from him, toward Phin. “Looks like we’ll be able to solve the mystery of Leonard Call once you and Wyatt meet him. Make the phone call.”

“In a moment,” Phin said. He was difficult to read. The argument he’d just witnessed didn’t seem to bother him at all. Then again, as I’d seen, he was a great actor. He pulled a square of paper from his pocket and unfolded a photocopy. “This fell out of Snow’s pocket, and I don’t think he realized.”

I took the paper. It was dark, badly copied, but still legible. It was an invitation to the fund-raiser Kismet had mentioned earlier. “He’s going to a party?” Then I saw the location—Parker’s Grand Palace—and it dawned on me. Parker’s Palace. Park Place. Close together, but not the same location.

The rest of it detailed the exact function of the fund-raiser—money to repair the basement structure of the historic Parker Palace stage theater and bring the arts back to the old riverfront. Held in the lobby at seven sharp, tonight. A silent auction to raise money. Other donations welcome, with donors designated Patrons of the Arts.

“Holy fucking shit,” I said. “There really was something happening, only that idiot at the gym had the wrong day and place.”

“Or he had it right,” Wyatt said, somewhere close behind me, and his nearness made me flinch, “only we couldn’t see them going in and out last night.”

Phin’s head jerked to the side. “How is that—?”

“The tunnels,” I said. “Goblins stick to Mercy’s Lot because of the old sewer system and bootleggers’ tunnels that run beneath it.”

“But they shouldn’t have river access for at least six blocks,” Wyatt said. He stepped around to my left, completing our little conversational circle. “It’s why half of those buildings were abandoned after the river flooded fifty years ago. Water got into the tunnels and ruined the foundations. The tunnels were filled in and blocked up, but the damage was done. No one wanted to pay the extra expense of repairing them.”

I arched an eyebrow at him. “Until someone comes along who needs the access, so they take the time to dig it out.”

“That’s reaching, Evy, and it’s also giving Call a lot of planning credit.”

“He seems like the planning type—especially if this little revenge is four years in the making.” I found no satisfaction in his flinch. “Look, if there’s a tunnel that comes out beneath any of the four buildings on the corners of Park and Howard—”

“They could have met without our ever knowing,” Phin said. “They could still be there, waiting for orders.”

Over my shoulder, the digital clock read quarter past six. “We need a plan—and soon.”

Wyatt produced his cell phone and dialed, determination creasing his brow and pulling his mouth into a grim line. “Gina, it’s me. Check the basements of all the buildings on the Park-Howard corners. I think you’re going to find access to the underground.” Her muffled voice squawked back. “I know they were. Just trust me on this and check them out. Do you still have someone watching the theater where that fund-raiser is being held?”

More squawking. He frowned. “Well, get someone back there, because it’s a likely target tonight.” She talked some more; I shifted my weight from foot to foot. “Think about it, Gina. We killed three hundred of one of the oldest and most powerful Clans in the city. At least that many of the city’s richest and most influential people will be there pretending to care about the arts. It’s the perfect target, and if we’re right, one of those tunnels is going to lead under or close to the theater.”

Another long pause had me wanting to slap Wyatt for not putting it on speakerphone. He finally got another word in. “I have something else I need to do. Just watch your back and do what you can, okay?” He hung up.

“She didn’t sound convinced,” Phin said.

“She’s not, but they’re checking out the basements, and she’s diverting Baylor’s and Morgan’s teams to the fund-raiser. Half the other Triads are Uptown dealing with reported sightings of coyotes and cheetahs in the historic district.”

“Shit,” I said. They were miles away.

“Distraction?” Phin asked.

“Very definitely.”

I was torn between wanting to run down to Parker’s and help, and needing to stay close to Wyatt when he met Snow and Call. Something told me the meet wouldn’t be far from the party. No sense in planning carnage if you’re not around to enjoy it.

Phin produced his own phone, but before he could dial, I said, “I’m going with you two.”

“You can’t,” Phin said.

I bristled, ready to dig in my heels.

“Snow thinks you’re dead,” Wyatt said, adding logic to the dog pile. “Kismet thinks you’re dead. We need you to stick to the shadows, because regardless of who thinks what or why, you’re the only advantage we’ve got.”

He was right, and I hated it. So I stayed quiet, afraid if I opened my mouth, I’d start screaming frustrated profanities.

Phin took my silence as permission to continue and dialed. “I’m with him,” he said after it seemed no one