Tithes

by Claire Farrell

  “Why would you worry? It’s nothing.”

  She raised her eyebrows.

  “Really, it’s not. I haven’t slept with him. He’s not my boyfriend. It’s just… I like him. Actually, I’m kind of mad at him right now, but most of the time, I like him. It doesn’t have to be a big deal.”

  “Isn’t it weird that you knew his wife?” She gave a little shudder. “I remember an old woman. It’s odd to me to think they were married.”

  “I try not to think about it,” I admitted. “I should head on. Will you be okay here for a while? If you have work, then I can—”

  “No,” she said, but she sounded disappointed. “Work has dried up lately.”

  “Again?” I shoved my hands in my pockets. “How does this keep happening? It doesn’t make sense. You do great work. Everyone knows it. How is the work not coming to you? Didn’t you sign up to the Senate’s program?”

  “We did.” She sat the baby up to wind her. “They haven’t given us anything. We know they’re giving out missions… just none to us. Peter thinks it’s Phoenix’s influence.”

  “That doesn’t sound like Phoenix.” Then again, I wouldn’t have guessed Phoenix would lie about Wes, either. I tried to think back. Had he ever actually claimed to have taken Wes’s memories?

  “It does sometimes feel as though we’ve been blacklisted,” Val said, vigorously rubbing the child’s back. The baby let out an enormous belch. “Ah, there’s a good girl.”

  I smothered my amusement. “You look like you have everything in hand. I’ll try to find out if Phoenix is blocking you. Don’t worry about that.”

  She nodded, more concerned with the baby than anything else. Val was the queen of single-minded focus.

  I left her and headed straight for Phoenix’s place. The buildings were empty, so I sat on the doorstep and waited, thinking of Folsom, the previous owner of the converted garage. The garage was just a cover for the sanctuary beneath, a well-protected hiding place that Phoenix had created before his memories were stolen. The idea that the man who had helped so many vulnerable people could be petty enough to take work from Peter was ridiculous—but maybe Phoenix had changed during his long life.

  I was starting to feel chilled by the time Phoenix returned. I got out of his way so he could open the front door. But when he invited me in, I hesitated, unable to even look him in the eye. I had trusted him. When everyone—even his own son—said not to, I had trusted him.

  “Has something happened?” he asked when he realised I wasn’t going to follow him inside.

  “Yes.” I couldn’t find the words, though. “Have you blacklisted Peter and Val?” I met his confused gaze. “Have you stopped them from getting work from the Senate?”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “That’s not an answer.”

  His lips thinned, and his gaze grew cold. “I haven’t done anything to either of them.”

  I wanted to cry, and I wasn’t even sure why. “Am I supposed to believe you?”

  He folded his arms, retreating behind a wall of ice. “Why wouldn’t you believe me, Ava?”

  I held my hands behind my back to hide the trembling. I felt let down in a way that scared me. Maybe I liked him more than I’d thought. “You lied to me before.”

  “What is this?” he asked, sounding exasperated. “What exactly are you accusing me of now?”

  “Wes turned up today,” I said in a low voice. “And he remembered me, remembered everything. Said you were decent enough to let him keep his memories.”

  He stilled. “Is that all he said?”

  “Is there more?”

  He looked away, a strained expression on his face. “What do you want from me, Ava?”

  “The truth might be nice! You said you would take his memories. You said you’d do that.”

  “And he asked me not to. I know what it’s like to have missing pieces, to feel as though there’s nowhere you belong because you don’t fully understand everything anymore. There’s no going back from that, Ava. You knew this. You knew my struggle, and yet you still asked me the unthinkable. The unforgivable. Yes, I gave him the chance to keep his memories, and I don’t regret it.”

  I shook my head in disbelief. “You had no right to—”

  “No! You had no right.”

  Then he slammed the door in my face. I stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do, before I walked away. Everything I touched was falling apart.

  4

  I got back to the cul-de-sac in time to witness the tail end of an argument between Dita and Emmett.

  “I’ll never forgive you,” she said right before she slammed the door in his face.

  Obviously dejected, he trudged across the road to his house. I felt his pain. Slamming doors was catching.

  “Doesn’t feel good, does it?” I said as he crossed in front of me.

  He shoved his hands in his pockets. “What do you care?”

  “I care about you.”

  He turned to look at me, his gaze somehow fiercer because of the bruise around his eye. A tiny cut marred the bridge of his nose. “Funny way of showing it.”

  “I was trying to do a good thing. You know I would never purposely hurt you. I’m so sorry you got hurt.”

  “Dita’s the one who got hurt. She was just trying to stop it, and he hurt her face.”

  “I think that was an accident,” I said softly, just grateful he was talking to me. “He panicked, couldn’t control the shift.”

  “Then they should lock him back up in that cage,” he said viciously. “Never let him out.”

  I took a step toward him. “You can’t mean that, Emmett. You know what it’s like.”

  He narrowed his eyes at me. “All I know is that you picked Phoenix over my dad, and now you like his werewolf kids better than me.”

  “That’s so not true!”

  But he was already gone into his garden. I stood by the gate and called his name. He opened the door then turned to look at me one last time, his face wan. “I hate you!” was his final rejoinder before slamming the door after him.

  Shaken, I made my way to my own house. Emmett had the power to truly hurt me, and he had used it well. I had never meant for him to feel as though I had chosen someone else before him. Maybe I’d been selfish to think I could have anything for myself with so many people relying on me for one thing or another. I had thought that my connection with Emmett was unbreakable, but I had been the one to screw it up without even realising.

  Miserable, I let myself into my house, having half-forgotten about Val and the baby. The hellhound was asleep on the sofa, the baby resting on her chest. I picked up the infant, and Val gripped my arm before realising it was me.

  “Sorry,” she said, releasing me. “Habit.”

  “No worries. Nothing unusual while I was gone then?”

  “Nothing.” She sat up and rubbed her eyes. “Did you speak to Phoenix about the baby?”

  “No,” I said. “I don’t want anyone to know about her yet. Not until I learn more.”

  “You can’t take care of her and search for her mother at the same time.” Val yawned. “How did it go, in any case? Did you find what you were looking for?”

  “Not really.” I sat down with the baby. “I asked him about blacklisting your business. He said he didn’t, but can we trust him?”

  She arched a brow. “You suddenly don’t trust Phoenix?”

  “As it turns out… he hasn’t always been so honest with me.”

  “Are you all right?”

  I shrugged, concentrating on the baby in my arms rather than the look in Val’s eyes. “I asked him to take Wes’s memories away once. Same as my grandmother. I thought he did. Turns out, not so much. Wes is having trouble with some kind of protection racket, so he came to me for help, but he’s pissed off with me. So he should be.”

  “How odd,” she murmured. “Would you like me to look into his problem?”

  “If he contacts me again, I’ll let you know. No
t sure he wants me digging into his affairs now that he’s seen my face again and realised he hates my guts. I’m not the most popular person in the world right now.”

  “It’ll pass,” she said. “I’ll head on. I want to walk Leah home from work. We’ve had no more trouble from the shifters, but I don’t want them to think I’ve stopped watching.”

  I smiled. “Go on then. And thanks for today.”

  “Anytime.” She hesitated at the doorway. “I think I can speak for Leah on this. If we can help you stop whoever branded that baby, we will.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  She left, and I snuggled the baby to feel a little less alone. The child slept, as she had most of the time since her arrival on my doorstep. I wished I could safely take her to a doctor to make sure she was healthy, but I wasn’t sure if somebody was waiting to steal her back.

  I switched on the television and watched the evening news. More protests were happening outside the Senate’s public meeting place. The nuts were multiplying on a weekly basis, growing in arrogance and stature with every news report on them. The group had taken to calling themselves Humans First and were even muttering about starting an official political party—the interests of humans being their only priority. Their slogans ran more along the lines of “Death to anyone who doesn’t agree with me” than “Equal rights for humans.” People were only paying attention to them because certain reputations had been destroyed over the last few months, what with shifters kidnapping each other and the wendigos killing innocents on behalf of a higher power.

  A middle-aged woman stared into the camera, a smug smile on her face as she rattled off the usual grievances her group had against supernaturals and anyone who didn’t hate us. I vaguely recognised her as one of the regulars who not only thought the sudden appearance of supernatural creatures were a sign of end times—conveniently forgetting that we had always existed, just not as openly—but also that children with human and supernatural parents were abominations who shouldn’t have been born. Someone had written up a piece about the woman recently, mentioning that she used to campaign as a pro-lifer. Hypocrisy at its finest. I was pretty sure the professional protester just liked how her face looked on her television.

  The next report was more positive. James, a human representative on the Senate, was pictured shaking the hand of a local businessman, Declan Egan, who had just financed yet another project with the Senate. The good vibes were all over the report, and I assumed the Senate were clocking up bonus points by the boatload. They definitely needed good publicity.

  I narrowed my eyes at Declan Egan. His obvious comb-over was annoyingly unstable in the wind in the well-timed shot the media were using. I wondered what he’d gotten from his association with the Senate. God, being so suspicious all of the time was getting tiring.

  I switched off the television and relaxed with the baby, wondering what my life would have been like if I’d been human or if I’d stuck things out with Peter. Maybe I wouldn’t have felt as lonely. Maybe everything would be different.

  “Maybe it would be worse,” a small voice whispered. But that seemed almost impossible.

  I settled the baby into her basket—the brand on the back of her neck was a symbol of my obvious failures—wishing I could go over to Anka and resolve things. But maybe I had been naive to think my friends were the family I needed. Friends could turn their backs on one another—just like anyone else.

  * * *

  Val agreed to babysit again the next day. “You could always ask Anka,” she remarked when she arrived.

  “That would involve her actually talking to me again,” I said. “Besides, I can’t let the first thing I say to her be, ‘Oh, by the way, I need a favour.’”

  “Just talk to her. Anka doesn’t hold grudges. You know this.”

  “I’m a wimp,” I said. “Leave me be.”

  She frowned. “This isn’t like you.”

  “It’s just…” I sighed. “I seem to keep making everything worse. My judgement is way off lately. Maybe it’s for the best if I stay alone for a while.”

  “It’s not.” She sat on a chair and shook her head. “You know it’s not.”

  “Yeah, well, it’ll sort itself out in the end.”

  “Promise me you’ll try.”

  I looked at her in surprise. “Since when do you care?”

  “I know Anka. She needs to see you make reparations. She needs you to know how she feels and to be remorseful.”

  I wondered if that was why she’d stayed with Dita’s father for so long—because he had managed to act remorseful. I didn’t like the comparison.

  “Okay,” I said. “I’ll try. Let me know if anything weird happens around here while I’m gone. I keep waiting for someone to come for the baby, but it’s been suspiciously quiet out there.”

  Val shrugged. “I have nothing better to do than babysit, and nobody is going to get past me. The silver lining to this, perhaps.”

  “Sorry about the business. It sucks, but maybe it’s a bad time of year or something. Anyway, I’ll be back as soon as I can.” I left, confident the infant would be safe while I was gone.

  Outside, I spotted Anka and Dita heading into their house. I waved, and although Anka urged Dita to go inside, the child refused and stubbornly waited at the front gate for me.

  “Hey,” she said. “Look at my stitches. I’m going to have the most epic scar.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I said. “I never meant for you to get hurt.”

  “I know that,” she said, sounding surprised. “Neither did Nick. He just gets scared easily.”

  Anka snorted. “Scared? A werewolf?”

  Dita turned to face her mother, her hands on her hips. “Yes, scared. He got shot by a human, he’s been trapped in a cage for most of his life, and he’s terrified. That’s why he shifts, to feel safer. And everyone at school knows it, so they pick on him and pick on him and wait for him to freak out. I won’t have anyone bullying him. Not even Emmett.”

  I stepped back, impressed.

  Anka pressed her lips together in a thin line before nodding. “I’m glad you know how to treat people then.”

  “Didn’t I learn it from you?” Dita asked faux innocently.

  The corners of Anka’s mouth twitched. “Careful now.”

  I decided to step in before Dita managed to ruin her heroic speech with a smart remark. “Dita, Val’s in my house, minding a… surprise. You should pop in and see what it is.”

  She rubbed her hands together with glee, immediately distracted. “Is it a puppy?”

  I laughed. “Not this time. Only one way to find out for sure, though, right?”

  “Put your things away first,” Anka said sternly before Dita could run off.

  Dita sprinted inside without another word. Anka stood there for a moment, studying me. She lit up a cigarette and inhaled deeply while I gave her what I hoped was a pleading look.

  “I made cookies,” she said. “If you want to come in.”

  “Later?” I said hopefully.

  She shrugged and took another drag of the cigarette. “I know you’re sorry, but that doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to be angry. I want to pull the hair out of your head for the scar on my daughter’s face.” She licked her lower lip. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t know you feel guilty enough for both of us.”

  “I would never hurt Dita on purpose,” I said. “I made a mistake, and I’m sorry for it, but I don’t want you to hate me forever.”

  Dita came running out of the house. “Come on, Mama. Let’s go see.”

  Anka stubbed out the cigarette and shook her head. “It had better be good.”

  “I think you’ll be surprised,” I said. “I know I was.”

  They headed to my house while I left the cul-de-sac, feeling a little better since Anka had spoken to me. I knew she would forgive me. At least one relationship would go back to normal. I wished the Brannigans were as forgiving. If I mentioned the baby, Peter might direct his anger els
ewhere—then again, the news could also fuel his thirst for revenge.

  I had spent most of the night thinking about loose ends and what I might have missed. I knew a couple of people who could answer a few of my questions, but I was starting with nothing. Nobody had come for the child, and that was telling enough.

  I headed across town to Dave’s garage. I knew Nate was still working there because I had been keeping tabs. He was one of many hybrids augmented by magical tattoos who’d once worked for Fionnuala. If anyone knew about her surviving cronies, it was him.

  The garage was quiet. I made for the office to find Dave.

  He groaned when he saw me. “Take it you’re looking for Nate,” he said resignedly.

  “Where is he?”

  “In the back, having his lunch. Not exactly busy around here lately.”

  “Sounds like that’s been making the rounds all over the place.”

  “Not for my competitors. Somebody set those bloody religious nuts on me, and my customers abandoned ship. Can’t give my services away for free, even though those protesters got bored and moved on two weeks ago.”

  “Ah, sorry.”

  He shrugged. “Yeah, well, shit happens. Listen, go easy on Nate. He gets stressed after these little chats of yours. If, by some miracle, I do find myself some customers, I’d like him to be useful.”

  I bared my teeth. “I’ll try my best.” I left the office and found the back door. Stepping outside, I spotted Nate sitting on an old junker, eating a breakfast roll.

  He watched me approach, his expression completely blank. “Can I at least finish this first?” he asked. For an assassin, he was pretty meek most of the time, but I refused to let that fool me.

  “You can eat and talk at the same time.” I sat on a crate. “Tell me everything you know about the slave trade in Ireland.”

  That made him sit up straight. “You ended it with Fionnuala,” he said slowly. “Right?”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. Hypothetical situation. Imagine somebody found a newborn baby with a slave brand, fresh, still seeping. Where would they go to find the mother?” I scowled. “Or the owner.”