She strode into the crowd. Okane and the others followed close behind.
“How?” he asked.
“Get the police involved. I don’t know if I want the regular police, since she’s already got them to accept her side of the story, but Byron—”
Someone stepped in front of her so fast, she almost ran straight into him. She stopped and scowled.
“Who—Oh! Byron!”
It was indeed Byron. He raised a brow, severely unimpressed. “What was that about me, Miss Kramer?”
“You’re exactly who I wanted to see,” said Laura.
“Of course.” His gaze flicked up to their companions—Cherry glowered, a hand under her coat and presumably on a weapon, while Mateo seemed glued to Okane’s left elbow. “And who are these people?”
“Escorts,” Cherry said shortly. “To make sure nothing happens to them.”
“Don’t worry, this is the investigator I told you about,” said Laura. “I trust him.” Cherry didn’t back down, but she didn’t make any move to intimidate him, either. Laura turned back to Byron and said seriously, “We need your help with Juliana MacDanel.”
“Yes, the woman you supposedly attacked. Just because her suit hasn’t come to court doesn’t mean—”
“She’s a danger to Amicae.”
For a long time Byron didn’t say anything. He sighed, stepped out of their path, and flopped onto the nearest bench.
“Byron?” Laura ventured. “You saw the letters, didn’t you? You know she and Lester—”
“Juliana MacDanel has appeared in almost every newspaper, looking like the lost maiden of a satellite raid. At this point she’s won more pity than a kicked dog and more hearts than Barnaby Gilda, and at every turn she’s saying it’s because these ungrateful Sweepers wanted to retake their title,” said Byron.
“We aren’t even the ones that hurt her,” said Okane. “She attacked us and we retaliated, yes, but that cut on her leg was self-inflicted.”
Byron rubbed at his eyes. “I figured as much, but we’ve got some very biased witnesses involved. You’ve got to understand, fleeing the scene is a very clear sign of guilt to most people. Without solid leads beyond Juliana’s story and the Dead Ringer screaming your support, the public had a very clear side. Almost everyone I know has aligned with Juliana.” He shot them an annoyed look. “Where did you even go? The last information I received said you were headed to Avis, but—”
“Rex,” said Laura.
“Please be serious.”
“I am being serious.”
He glared at them longer, but when neither of them spoke and their companions remained straight-faced, he paled. He turned to look after the coffins, whipped back to face them. “Then that—”
“Sinclairs and Gin,” said Laura. “Incidentally, all of them sold to Rex by Juliana.”
“I can serve as a witness to that,” said Cherry. “I found them as they were escaping that city.”
Byron lurched to his feet. “We need to get you all out of here. I’m getting you straight to the chief to figure this out, and there’s no way in hell I’m letting MacDanel’s supporters get you first.”
“Mr. Rhodes!”
Laura looked up at the shout. Annabelle wove through the crowd toward them, notepad held so tight it started to crumple. She stumbled to a stop.
“I—Mr. Rhodes, you have to get them—”
“What’s wrong?” said Byron.
Annabelle had to gasp for air before saying, “They know! Kramer and Sinclair’s return was leaked!”
“What? To whom?”
“All the papers! Boss said I had to run fast if I wanted to catch them! Dead Ringer had the news, too! Said if I didn’t run, the Mad Dogs would have them!”
Byron swore. “Did you see anyone else?”
“Sir, it’s a miracle they’re not already breathing down our necks,” said Annabelle. “Some were already outside, waiting for you to come out. I came in to warn you, but they’ll think I’m stealing the scoop and come in after me. If nothing else, my photographer—”
Another shout caught Laura’s attention. The usual crowd stalled around the main doors as a wave of people entered. The newcomers held notepads and recording devices, cameras borne aloft with flashbulbs gleaming. They looked ready to descend on a film star.
“It makes me wish Sweepers never became newsworthy,” said Annabelle.
“If they’re coming from the front, the side exits are our best bet. We’ll follow the mourners,” said Byron. “We’ll avoid the crowd, and avoid pictures from most—”
“No,” said Laura. “If fleeing the scene makes me automatically guilty, I’m staying right here.”
“Can you hear yourself?” Byron snapped.
“It’s not a good idea,” said Annabelle. “Even if you say everything right, opinions have already been made. You won’t win anyone over unless you uproot the problem entirely.”
“Agreed.” Cherry looked increasingly uneasy as the reporters closed in. “I’m all for taking stands, but this one seems pretty pointless.”
“Isn’t this the best way to uproot the problem?” said Laura. “I said I’d get the truth out, and this seems like the easiest way to go about it. This way no one can interrupt me, and they’ll have to read through my side of the story.”
“And what happens when the Dead Ringer gets here?” said Byron. “If the Mad Dogs make a scene—”
“Then I’ll tell them they can stay behind me, but I need to make a point that Amicae won’t believe if they’re the ones who print it.”
“And if the Silver Kings show up too?”
“As far as I can tell, I’m the closest thing to balance there is right now.”
“You know that, but they don’t,” said Byron. “These people shoot first and ask later. Worse, if they pick out Mad Dogs in the middle of this mess—”
“I’m staying,” Laura said firmly. “You and Cherry take Okane somewhere safe.”
“If - - -’re staying, I’m staying,” said Okane.
“You’re both ridiculous,” said Byron, but didn’t protest further; the reporters were upon them.
Mateo sped to the front of their group, but he couldn’t block the three consecutive camera flashes. Laura winced and squinted at the pressing crowd, the deafening shouts. Now that she faced these people, all she wanted to do was crawl in a hole. She forced her shoulders back, head up, and concentrated. She tried to channel Clae’s old coolness, but not just that; Clae had presence but Juliana had poise. She’d emulate them both.
“Please calm yourselves,” said Mateo, his arms spread. “These people have been through much tribulation recently, and should have peace. I—Please stop taking pictures, ra!”
“Excuse me,” Laura called, hopefully both loud and polite. “Could you all back up a step or two? I’ll be happy to answer your questions, but I’ll need some breathing room to do so.”
Mateo looked back at her, uncertain. “Is this wise?”
“Probably not,” she murmured. “I want to give it a try anyway.”
He stepped aside. The reporters shuffled. They only gave her an additional inch and a half, but it was something. Laura turned to Annabelle.
“You were the first one in here. You’re with the Sun, right? What questions did you have?”
Annabelle looked like she’d swallowed a lemon. Laura felt bad for putting her on the spot when they’d switched gears so suddenly—conspirator to journalist—but if she was going to bolster anyone’s career with a big scoop, she’d rather it be her. Luckily Annabelle recovered fast.
“Is it true that you attacked Juliana MacDanel on January seventh?”
Ouch. Before Laura could answer, others jumped in.
“Where did you go afterward?”
“Did you intend to kill her?”
“Were the mobs involved, as implied by the resurgence of circles?”
“For what reason did you attack Miss MacDanel?”
“It doesn’t matter,
” said another voice. At once Laura froze and the cameras switched targets. “What’s done is done.”
Juliana. Byron hadn’t exaggerated. She looked like a poor woman in the aftermath of a Rexian raid: pale and sad, a crutch under one arm, and clothes carefully disordered. She was perfectly presented, all the way down to the wearily hopeful expression. A policeman flanked her on either side, but behind them were more people that Laura dreaded. To Juliana’s left came the Silver King who’d chased Laura off a bridge. On her right walked Haru and the Mad Dog from the shooting range. The mobsters were aware of each other, but their expressions showed only snide amusement and they held cameras of their own. Willing to stay under cover, then. Hopefully they’d stay that way.
Where Laura focused on the mobsters, no one else did. The reporters clamored at Juliana now. She raised a hand; the talk stopped, and reporters listened intently. Juliana looked at Laura with sickening sadness and said, “I forgive you for what you’ve done to me.”
From the corner of her eye Laura saw Okane’s hackles rise. She held out a hand to stall him.
“Thank you,” she said, smoothly as she could manage. “But I don’t think I’m the one who needs to apologize.”
Juliana shook her head. “You never did accept me taking your title. I tried being kind to you two, but if that doesn’t change your loyalty, I don’t know what could.”
Laura first instinct was to rage over how much kindness there was in holding people at gunpoint, but reeled that in. She wouldn’t be tempted into destroying her image so easily with all these people around.
“But while I can forgive you for myself,” said Juliana, “I can’t ignore what you could do to any future Sweepers. I’m sorry, Laura, but we can’t allow you to remain unchecked. Officers, please arrest her.”
The officers didn’t look particularly happy about this, but they must’ve believed the story. They moved toward her. The mobsters moved too. The Mad Dog stepped forward, grinning, hand slipping inside his coat. Haru dropped back, but the Silver King beelined to intercept.
“It’s strange,” Laura said quickly. “You haven’t asked us anything about your brother.”
For a moment Juliana’s face went blank.
“Lester,” she murmured. “Please, insult me all you want, but leave his memory in peace.”
“I suppose you’ve told everyone that he was eaten by an infestation?” said Laura.
Annabelle chimed in: “The story is that you planted it as a distraction, so you could steal the Sweeper magic supply.”
Laura scoffed. “And I suppose the Mad Dogs are supposed to have given it to me?”
“Are you implying that the Mad Dogs acted independently?” said another reporter.
“I’m implying that there wasn’t an infestation to begin with,” said Laura. “Lester didn’t die in Amicae and you know it.”
Juliana turned to one of the officers and loudly whispered, “I’m so sorry. I knew she spun stories, but I never thought—”
“Why should we damage a building we had all access to?” Okane snapped. “What would even be the point of a distraction?”
“So you’re saying you didn’t steal the magic,” said Annabelle.
“No, but we sure as hell got it back,” said Laura. “Which is incidentally where we met Lester.”
“So you accuse Lester MacDanel of the theft,” said Annabelle.
Juliana covered her face with her hands. “Lester,” she moaned. “What kind of terrible situation did he get into? I knew I should’ve called for help when the Mad Dogs approached him! They backed off then, but with their claws already in one Sweeper—”
“Oh, please,” said Laura. “The Mad Dogs didn’t order Lester to attack Joan. You all recognize the name, don’t you?” Laura looked around at them all. “The woman hand-selected by Puer’s head Sweeper for us? The woman who should be where Juliana is now?”
The name indeed struck a bell. Even the mobsters faltered. The Silver King’s brow furrowed, and Laura could swear the Mad Dog mouthed, Told you so, at his rival.
“Joan had a terrible accident,” said Juliana. “For you to trivialize her pain—”
“Oh, no, I think it’s very serious.” Laura raised her hands, wrists pressed together. “You can arrest me if you’d like. I’d be thrilled to speak with Chief Albright. I can fill her in on both Joan and Eliza.”
Juliana’s fingers twitched. When they drew down, her eyes burned with hate but her tone stayed in the same whimper.
“You can talk to her as long as you want. Joan would tell you, I had nothing to do with her accident, and Eliza … My poor friend Eliza’s been dead for two years now.”
“An infestation ate her, didn’t it?” said Laura.
Juliana nodded and dabbed at her eyes, apparently overcome with grief.
“What a handy excuse,” Laura seethed. “So, no body to examine? No way to prove foul play in Puer?”
Juliana gasped. “You don’t mean to say Lester had a hand in that? I can’t believe that. I won’t.”
“- - - witnessed it!” said Okane.
“I did no such—”
“You wrote the report,” said Laura. She had no idea if that was true, but the Juliana of today thrived on paperwork; if only she and Lester had been present at the end of that infestation, and if Lester was anywhere near as torn up then as he was at his confession, the only other witness had to complete it. A perfect opportunity to embellish her accomplishments. “You were there during the infestation. You saw everything. You were the only one who knew Lester shot her. You—”
“Shut up!” Juliana shrieked.
She shook, breath hissing through her teeth. Her calm was shattered, but she could still play it as being distraught. Laura knew better. She’d shown the same jitters right before attacking Okane. The mask was breaking.
“Maybe my brother did wrong, but he’s just died! Please let me at least process that before making accusations!”
“That was your first big job, wasn’t it?” Laura pressed. “You were so impressive and everyone thought you were so brave, but you didn’t do anything. Eliza did all of the work, and you stole credit for it! You couldn’t even leave her that!”
“I finished off that monster!” said Juliana. “She was long dead by then!”
“So - - - did see her die,” said Okane.
“Stay out of this, Rexian!” she spat.
Okane bristled, but he wasn’t the one to reply.
“Oh?” the Mad Dog drawled. “That’s not a Rexian. His looks and personality are all wrong. Look, he hasn’t even got numbers on his face.”
“Confirmed,” said the Silver King. “He doesn’t match any of the Rexians we’ve seen in the past few years.”
Only now did the officers and reporters notice them; the discomfort surrounding this shouting match descended straight into anxiety, but no one dared leave.
“Juliana would know a Rexian when she saw one,” said Okane, glaring at her. “She’s the one who made deals with them to sell all our magic.”
“That’s a lie,” said Juliana.
“Then the number-faced man staying at your apartment since Underyear, he was just a coincidence?” said the Mad Dog.
Juliana rounded on him. “You’re from that trashy Dead Ringer, aren’t you? All you publish are lies and bias!”
The Mad Dog laughed in her face.
“Miss MacDanel,” one of the police offers said urgently. “If you could please—”
She shrugged off his hand and leaned closer to the Mad Dog, snarling, “I’m not afraid of you or your mobs! All you exist to do is scare people for your own benefit, and I’m not afraid of you!”
“God, is she trying to get shot?” Byron grumbled, still eyeing the side doors.
“You’re not even a good Sweeper!” said Laura. Luckily this redirected Juliana’s wrath; more bloodshed hopefully averted. “All those times you came out on top, you had Lester sabotage everyone else! You’ve never actually done any of this yo
urself!”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” said Juliana. “How long have you been a Sweeper? A year?”
“And I’m still better than you,” said Laura. “You’re not interested in real leadership or improving your work. You just want your name in the headlines, and you won’t let anyone take your glory. If a yearling Sweeper like me can upstage you, what happens to any apprentices of yours? Will you keep them weak so they fall to infestations?”
“My apprentices will thrive, because they won’t be egomaniacal copies of Clae Sinclair!” Juliana retorted.
“When will it end, Juliana? How many Sweepers have to die to feed your ego? Lester, Eliza—”
“Eliza, Eliza,” Juliana spat. “You never knew her! You don’t even know anything about who she was, let alone how she died. What makes you think you have any right to argue with her name?”
Because Laura’s name could easily have been part of Lester’s confession. It could’ve been Laura. It could’ve been Okane. Eliza was only the beginning.
Laura sucked in a steadying breath and said, “You didn’t kill Eliza, but you covered it up. I can’t trust someone like you with Amicae’s future. This city is everything to me, and I won’t let you destroy it for nothing but your own ego.”
For a moment there was silence; then Juliana threw her head back. Her laughter echoed around them, magnified by the lack of everything else. Even outside their uncomfortable reporter bubble, the depot workers and travelers stopped moving, stopped talking, to observe the uproar. Travelers and reporters exchanged wary looks.
“I’m sorry,” Juliana giggled at last, wiping tears from her eyes. The mask had returned, impeccable. “I shouldn’t have laughed so hard. It’s all been getting to me, what with the stress and the injury. I started thinking about this seriously, when it shouldn’t be taken as such.”
“Excuse me?” said Laura.
“Let’s think of this in terms of fact, rather than hearsay,” said Juliana. “What can be observed and proven is this: Amicae’s Council was pleased with my interview and offered me the position of head Sweeper. I brought my brother with me as a Sweeper. I tried to lead you in Puer’s training, but you didn’t believe in it, and you resented being fired from the position I took. On the same day Amicae’s magic was stolen, you left me bleeding in the road and ran instead of obeying the officers present. You left Amicae with no explanation. Lester disappeared even before you did. You’ve returned with an elaborate story, but there’s no proof to back any of it up. How are we to know if you really spoke to Lester? How are we to know if anything he supposedly said is true? I’ll give you credit for your acting, but that’s the only thing we can weigh. The rest is hot air.”
The Monstrous Citadel Page 37