slider—double security on these doors.
As we exited the elevator, my nose was assaulted by the rank odors of urine, blood, sweat, wet dog, and something I couldn’t identify. Sweet like honey, but with an undercurrent of tang. The strength of the smells made my eyes water. Even Baylor looked queasy.
Bastian strolled down the corridor, past a dozen doors, and turned right at the T junction. More doors, these a bit closer together. He stopped at the first on our left and pulled back the slot guard. He moved to the next and repeated it with six doors, not even bothering to look inside, so confident the hounds were there.
I glanced at Baylor, who quirked an eyebrow. “Your show, Stone,” he seemed to say.
The slot window was protected by thick (and hopefully shatterproof) glass. I peered through, into a room roughly six-by-six feet, dimly lit by an overhead, inset light source. A hulking shadow crouched in the corner of the room, its dark brown pelt glimmering, back to me. But I knew that shape—long limbs and human torso, roped with deadly muscles, hands that sported razor claws. My stomach knotted fiercely.
“One down,” I said, then moved to the next door. Each presented a repeat of the last—a hound huddled in one of the corners, facing away, subdued and very much not dead. All six hounds present and accounted for. “Hell.”
“You genuinely suspected someone here released those monsters?” Bastian asked.
“No reason not to, since someone here tipped off Thackery about Token’s removal.”
Bastian’s face drew in on itself, like the man had just sucked on a lemon. “That’s a serious charge.”
“You didn’t deny it.”
“No, I didn’t.”
A chill spread through my chest. Behind me, Baylor drew to his full height, tense, watching. I instinctively felt for my tap to the Break and grasped the fine edges of power with my mind. Just in case I needed to get us out in a hurry.
“I don’t speak for the scientists who work here,” Bastian said. “So I don’t dare speak for or against their possible actions regarding this man Thackery. You came to see the hounds, and as you can see, they’re tucked in nice and secure.”
“The hounds are here, fine,” I snapped, “but that doesn’t mean someone in R&D isn’t responsible for the other hounds being turned loose, or for getting Phineas el Chimal, a member of the Assembly of Clan Elders, fucking kidnapped.”
Bastian cocked his head to the side. “Is he the same Elder who demanded the execution of one of our Handlers less than two weeks ago?”
“So? Phin pardoned Rufus and rescinded his demand of execution. You know that.”
“Yes, but how do
I had not for a single second thought Bastian a fool. There was no sense in bothering with the charade. “I know because I was the one who protected the last three—four if you count the infant—living members of the Coni Clan. I caught Snow, one of the perpetrators of the Parker’s Palace massacre, and I’m the one who actually put Leonard Call into a coma by jumping out a window with him.”
Annoyance and awe warred on Bastian’s face, skewing his mouth into an uneven line and creasing his forehead. “So,” he said slowly, “we meet again, Evangeline. It’s been quite a few years, and—”
“Oh my, how I’ve changed? Save it. I’ve heard it before.”
“I can imagine. It’s not every Hunter who has two death certificates in her file.”
“Can we pretend the one at the factory stuck?”
“I’m still working off the premise that the one at the train station stuck. It’s difficult to accept the notion that someone was actually raised from the dead and put into another person’s body.”
“Tell me about it.”
Baylor cleared his throat. “Do we really have time for this?” he asked.
“Explain to me again why you believe someone at R&D betrayed you,” Bastian asked. I did, and he nodded along, either accepting or simply absorbing. No idea which until he spoke. “It’s a logical assumption, based on evidence presented.”
“But?” I asked.
“But no one will admit to it, Evangeline. And given your deadline, you don’t have time to sift through telephone records and individually question everyone who works in this building.”
“The only people I need to question are the ones who were on duty yesterday when Token went missing. Where do I find that roster of names?”
“I can get it from my office upstairs. Everyone who comes and goes uses an individual key code to enter and exit the building.”
“Good. Were you here?”
His eyebrows slanted in a deep V. “Yes. As I said, my office is upstairs. Are you going to accuse me of being the traitor now?”
“Depends.”
“On?”
I swallowed, my heart beating just a little faster. “Did you call Thackery to tell him that Token was missing?”
“No.”
“I didn’t call Thackery,” Bastian said wearily, “because he called me first.”
Sound roared in my ears. I didn’t register Baylor pulling his gun, only him stepping around in front of me, pistol leveled on Bastian’s throat. I couldn’t seem to pick my jaw up off the floor. Had Bastian seriously just confessed his compliance with the Bad Guy?
He seemed unconcerned that Baylor was holding a cocked gun on him, his eyes never wavering from my face. He didn’t even look upset, like what he’d just said had absolutely nothing to do with our current problem. It was … strange.
“Why?” I asked, my voice shaky. “Why did Thackery call you?”
“Not while there’s a gun in my face,” Bastian said calmly.
Baylor took two steps back but didn’t change his aim. “Gun’s out of your face,” Baylor growled. “Now talk.” God bless big men and their guns.
“I’ve known Walter Thackery for twelve years,” Bastian said. “I met him at the university when I was an undergrad on a student visa and he was working on his doctoral thesis in molecular biology. He was a brilliant man, with his theories on interspecies breeding. Mostly plants back then, of course. He didn’t learn of the existence of Dregs until his wife was turned into one.”
“Five years ago,” I said. Memory circled back to my apartment right after the earthquake. “His wife was bitten by a vampire, and six months later a Triad team neutralized her.”
Bastian nodded, not a trace of emotion leaking through. “Thackery was broken when he lost Anne, but he was shattered the following year when he lost his son.”
“Son?”
“Anne was four months pregnant when she was infected. Thackery cashed in his life insurance, his stocks, sold everything he owned to find a way to cure her. Somehow the baby was born, and, at first, he didn’t seem infected. Anne escaped and was later killed. But the baby—” Bastian’s voice cracked. “The baby wasn’t normal.”
I wanted to tell him to stop, that I didn’t give a flying fuck about any of this. The gory details of Walter Thackery’s life didn’t excuse his actions, and Bastian should just shut his mouth. Instead, I asked, “He tried to cure his son?”
“Tried and failed. After that, he became obsessed with the eradication of the vampire race. He wanted to study them, to discover a vaccine against their salivary parasite, anything to stop the spread of their infection and halt the creation of half-Bloods.”
Little worms wriggled up the backs of my legs. “What about the other things in his lab at Olsmill? What about the hounds and Token and all the other half-breeds he created?”
“I don’t know.”
