Buck waved his hand over the long, raw gouges in Spleen's abdomen. 'We both know what manner of beast did this,' he said. 'Now the question is, who?'
'I'm cold,' Spleen said. His voice was so weak, and my hand tightened on the rough jacket of the man beside me. Philip jerked, then holstered his weapon, took off his thousand-dollar suit jacket and laid it over Spleen's body, patting him gently.
'Medics are on the way,' Philip said. 'Who did this to-' Spleen reached up and grabbed Philip behind the ear, pulling his head down towards his ratlike face and yellowed eye. Philip just let him do it, listening as Spleen whispered something. Then Philip turned to me and motioned me down.
'Dakota,' he said quietly. 'He wants you.' The Good Samaritan helped me bend. I tried to kneel, but couldn't, so and sat awkwardly in the spreading pool of blood. A second coat-ruined.
'I'm here, Diego,' I said.
'Kotie,' Spleen said in a whisper. 'Nobody calls me that no mores.'
Suddenly his hand reached out and pulled my head close. 'Kotie, Kotie, you hearing me?' he said. His breath was foul, and I had a close up look of his great, yellowed eye. I'd always thought it was a bad glass fake; now I could see it was real, and diseased. What had happened to his eye? How long had I known Spleen and had never thought to ask?
'Yeah, I hear you,' I said. 'Who did this to you?'
'A wolf,' Spleen said, drawing a ragged breath. 'Werewolf. Big fucker-'
'No!' I said. 'Not Wulf-'
'Not Wulf,' Spleen said, wheezing. 'Don't think. Never caught up with him tonight. Wasn't supposed to pick him up for another half hour. Don't think it was Wulf-'
'You don't think,?' I said, my gut sinking. 'You mean, you don't know? How could you not know?'
'How the hell could I know, Kotie?' Spleen said. 'I never asked the bastard to change into a wolf for me. I just took his money.'
'But-'
'Don't matter. Whole thing's got too messy. Stay clear of him. Stay clear of this. Don't let them get you too,' Spleen said intensely-and then his grip slipped on the back of my neck, his left eye went as dull and expressionless as his right, and he sagged back into Lord Buckhead's arms-still breathing, but not much.
I looked up at Buck. He shook his head sadly and gently lowered Spleen to the pavement. Philip stood, holding his finger to his ear. 'How far away is that evac?'
I stared down at Spleen. How long had I known Diego Spillane, and learned nothing about him other than his nickname? How many times had he been there for me and how little had I been there for him? Had I been scared of him all this time just by a little halitosis and a bad eye? Then I saw the antlers of a stag shifting in the shadows, and looked up at Buck.
It had just been a trick of the light as he stood, a moment where the shadow of his statue form overlapped the shadow of his human one. He stood there, tall, proud, and sad. 'He is going. I am sorry,' he said. 'There's nothing more I can do here.'
'No, for starters you can tell us what happened,' Philip snapped. Sirens and ambulances were sounding in the distance. 'You can help us find who did this-'
'I found him like this in a place he should not have been, a place where you may not go,' Buckhead said, with folded arms. 'I brought him here for help. That is all.'
'That is not all,' Philip said. 'This is not a fucking joke, 'Lord Buckhead.''
'You are not ready to learn all of the secrets of the Edgeworld,' Buckhead said.
'I've seen things even you wouldn't believe,' Philip shot back.
'Guys,' I said. 'He's… he's going.'
A long, low sigh escaped Spleen's lips, and his head slowly slumped to the left.
I stared at him a long time, then looked up to find Philip, Buckhead and our Good Samaritan all standing at attention. Then Buckhead sighed. 'I am going,' he said. 'I am sorry. Lady Dakota, I will pass along anything I learn of this crime.'
Then he stepped round the statue of the Storyteller, or into it; because when Philip ran around the statue after him, he emerged from the other side alone.
'Holy fucking shit,' the Good Samaritan said.
'Damnit,' Philip said. 'Stupid Edgeworlders. No offense.'
'None taken,' I said, staring down at Spleen. 'I think both sides of the Edge see me as a citizen of the other.'
An ambulance screeched up next to Philip's Prius.
'Oh, Phil,' I said. 'This looks bad for Wulf-'
'Yeah,' he said, staring off into the distance. 'Spleen was about to meet our werewolf friend, who told us himself he had trouble with control. That gives him means, motive and opportunity-or maybe Wulf s supposed 'enemies' want us to think that. You heard Spleen- he didn't blame Wulf. A defense lawyer would make hay with that.'
'But he never saw him as a werewolf,' I said. 'So… it still could have been Wulf.'
'So Wulf is a leading suspect;' Philip said. 'I love that word: 'suspect'. I love its precision. Suspect. That's it, until we get more hard evidence, one way or the other.'
'But how are we going to do that?' I said. 'Spleen was his contact. We're never gonna know where Wulf was when-'
'Cell phone records. Irritated hospital staff. Rental car records or bus terminal cameras,' Philip said. 'We'll find out, one way or the other. Eventually, we'll find out-but right now, I have a question for you.'
'For me?' I asked.
'Did Spleen ever give any hint that Wulf was hostile to him?' Immediately he caught it in my eyes. 'What was it?'
'Before I was attacked, Wulf called Spleen, agitated, asking about his tattoo,' I said. 'Spleen called him 'a goddamn menace.' '
''Goddamn menace,' ' Philip repeated. 'Sure sounds like he was threatened by Wulf-'
'But he met Wulf that night,' I said. 'That's why Wulf was even there to save me-'
'I remember,' Philip said. 'But something's just not adding up. Spleen wasn't an idiot-he said stay clear of them. Plural them. But who was the 'them' he was talking about, his attacker and-who? Whoever took a potshot at you? Whoever was messing at Wulf? That vamp? Someone else? There's an awful lot of 'incidents' around you, Wulf and that tattoo.'
'You don't think,' I said, 'all of them are connected?' 'What I think,' Philip said quietly as the paramedics came up, 'is that we'd better find your 'friend,' Wulf-because if he didn't kill Spleen, he may be next.'29. WORKING IT OUT
I stomped towards Emory's Student Activity and Athletics Center on my crutches. In the back of my mind, I knew time was running out on Wulf s tattoo, but with Spleen gone the whole picture had changed. First, I now had no way of contacting Wulf; second, I now felt very unsafe in his presence-whether from him or from his enemies, I couldn't say. So it was time to visit the only person who seemed like he really wanted to help me kick ass: Darren Briggs.
You need to buy at least a fourteen-day pass to use the Athletics Center, but I had no intention of paying for that until I'd seen the goods. I'm no Philip; I can't pull his Jedi mind tricks to just make anyone do what I want. But I am a six-foot-two, attractive, largebreasted woman, and that-plus a little preparatory research on Google-usually turns the trick.
'Hello,' I said, friendly but firm, propping my crutches over the counter of the Center and leaning down on the tousle-haired college boy behind the counter. 'Where can I find Darren Briggs? He witnessed an assault on a police asset, and I need to ask him a few questions.'
I started to pull out my Stratton Police Department booster card, which my dad got for me years ago when we were still speaking. It's horribly out of date, but it has the Stratton police shield, my Mohawked picture on it and no expiration date, so it can pass as some kind of official ID as long as I'm showing it off to a complete idiot. But this time it didn't turn out to be necessary; the kid got up immediately and walked around the counter.
'No problem, I'll escort you,' he said, a bit too eagerly, while glancing at his counter mate. 'Wendy, can
