Seeing Red

by Lyra Evans

  He had been smelling Uri on Niko, from the last time they’d interacted. The slightest brush or touch left traces a Werewolf could identify. And Preston clearly had.

  “This is weird,” Coral said.

  “I find it mildly reassuring,” Cobalt muttered, and Niko’s heart sank slightly.

  “Niki, you’re dripping on the floor,” Starla said, and Niko was brought back to reality. He ran back outside to collect a towel and his clothing, placing his gun back in his bag on the way, and dried and dressed himself quickly as he stumbled back into the house.

  When he returned, the others had already gathered back in the living room, Starla having wiped up the drops Niko left on the floor. He caught her eye and made a gesture to thank her, but she waved him off. Niko sat himself down on the sofa near the others and turned to Preston.

  “What happened with the police?”

  Preston sighed. “I managed to convince them I was there alone the whole time. Wasn’t hard when they realized it was me. Insisted on a search anyway, and I let them, watching haughtily over their shoulders the whole time. Told them it was pretty humiliating for them to not only have been tricked by a fake tip, but to be tricked into searching me, one of your well-established victims,” Niko snorted at that, “on that fake tip. It was quite the ridiculous scenario. They apologized and went on their way. I think it distracted them enough to allow you to make it here, anyway. Whether Phoebe thinks twice about it, though, is another story. Have you found anything on her?”

  They all shared a look between them. Niko scrutinized Preston’s face a moment.

  “Phoebe had a half-sister named Esther Cottonwood,” Niko said. “I’m guessing Ambert assaulted her, kidnapping her in the process, and when Phoebe realized, she had her killed or something. But we have the DNA. We compared it. She’s not purely of the Old Trees. She’s half Cottonwood, not Redwood.” He paused, and at the spark in Preston’s eyes, he added, “But I’m guessing you knew all that already.”

  “I only had suspicions,” he admitted. “No way to confirm anything at all. No names to put to it either.” He thought it all over. “I can’t imagine what terror she felt when she realized Ambert’s newest unwilling plaything was her half-sister.” He pursed his lips, then added, “On second thought, I can picture it. It’s very satisfying.”

  “Not for Esther Cottonwood,” Starla shot.

  Preston conceded in a nod. “No. But no time for that now. What do you plan to do with this information now you have it?”

  The plan that had struck him like lightning in the pool came back to Niko. He offered the others a very calm look. “I’m going to give it to her.”

  Coral and Starla both looked jarred, heads jutting out as though they hadn’t heard him correctly. Uri, sitting at the other side of the couch, seemed almost angry, though he kept eyeing Preston with an air of puzzlement. Cobalt, sitting nearest Uri, was unsurprised, but Niko found his expression inscrutable. And the vise around Niko’s throat tightened again.

  “I’m sorry, what?” Preston asked.

  “I’m going to give her the DNA evidence,” Niko repeated.

  Eyes narrowed, Preston said, “I know you have little experience in this kind of subterfuge, but I think you may be missing the point.”

  Niko shook his head. “Not at all.”

  Cobalt nodded at nothing. “This will never go to Court,” he said firmly; Niko had already come to the same conclusion. “No matter what evidence we have, Phoebe Linden will always find a way out of it. She has too many friends, too many allies, too many people she can control. The only way to beat her is to change the circumstances of the game entirely.”

  Niko gestured his agreement, unable to be too pleased with the wavelength he shared with Cobalt. The Selkie would not look him in the eye just yet, and Niko tried not to let himself think about it. He tried not to worry that he’d fucked up the best feeling he’d ever experienced. But fucking up relationships was Niko’s specialty, he supposed.

  “So you plan to hand her the only leverage we have?” Uri asked, squinting. He kept biting on the inside of his lip. Niko recognized the behaviour. He was stressed and confused, and Niko suspected Preston had a lot to do with that.

  “I plan on telling her that’s what I’m going to do,” Niko said. “I need her to meet with me. I need to talk to her in person. And most importantly, I need her to meet me alone.”

  Preston considered. “Telling her you know her secret is likely the only chance you’ve got of that,” he admitted thoughtfully. “Of course, she’s just as likely to murder you herself as to speak with you. But as you’ve already got the entire police force hunting you down, I suppose that’s a fair risk.” He smirked. “You’re going to lure her with bait the same way she lured you. Something she cannot afford to reject.”

  Niko wanted to smile, but the situation was too fraught, too serious. “She can’t afford for this to get out. If she wants control of Maeve’s Court, she has to shut down this information before the Council is summoned.”

  “That means you have to meet her tonight,” Starla said. “That’s not a lot of time.”

  “No,” Niko said. “But the same is true for her. Harder to set up multiple backups and traps if she’s got little notice.”

  “She’ll suspect you,” Preston said. “If you offer to give her what she wants, she’ll know you mean to trap her.”

  “Which is why I’m going to demand something in return,” Niko said. “I’m going to demand my name be cleared of all wrong-doing, my job reinstated, and that of all my friends.” He looked around. “I’ll give her what she wants as long as I get to have my job back.”

  Shaking his head, Preston said, “She won’t buy it. She knows you can’t be bought. I told her myself.”

  “Everyone has a price,” Niko said. “She only has to believe there’s a possibility I mean to hold up my end. Enough to actually show up. I fully expect her to try and kill me upon meeting, but as long as she shows up, I can get what I need from her.”

  “And what’s that?” Coral asked.

  “A confession.” Niko picked up one of the laptops on the coffee table.

  “Won’t mean anything,” Preston said. “You just agreed if this goes to trial, it doesn’t matter what evidence you have—”

  “It’s not going to trial,” Niko said, opening a new tab in the browser and creating a simple throwaway email account. “Not at Court, anyway. She’s going to be tried by the same means she’s convicted me.”

  “You don’t have the connections for that,” Preston said. “Not to work fast enough, anyway. And anyone you turn to for help is likely already somehow connected to her, or else too small to make the impact you need. How do you plan on—”

  “This part I’ve got covered,” Niko said, typing up an email. There was one person he knew would still give him a chance. “But I need you to help me figure out location and details. I need somewhere Phoebe will feel comfortable enough to think she’s already a step ahead. Not to mention, we need a plan to stop Noor Juniper assassinating the Birches and Keilani Palm.”

  Mouth pursed, Preston tapped his foot impatiently on the floor. “Yes, about that.” He sucked on his inner cheek. “The Birches have apparently received some news from Connor’s Court. Something desperately urgent they needed to leave for. The three of them have absconded away to the Werewolf Court and will not be returning until after the gathering of the Council, much to Elior’s chagrin.”

  Expression flat, Cobalt asked, “Oh? And what could have been so urgent as to force a Courtier to abdicate their duty to protecting their own Court from tyranny?”

  Preston shrugged innocently. “Could be someone managed to get word to them their lives were in danger and they should feign ignorance but escape to somewhere safe. There might have been implication this would be ideal to unearth the culprit and bring them to justice.”

  “How very convenient for us,” Cobalt said. “Of course this is nothing to do with you.”

 
; Preston shook his head solemnly. “Not at all. I don’t get involved in these things.”

  Uri was looking at Preston now with a kind of tentative fascination. Niko adjusted his email accordingly.

  “Right, so that takes care of the Birches,” he said. “Won’t Noor be suspicious of their sudden vanishing? Would she try to follow them?”

  “No, she’s already been reassigned to Keilani Palm,” Preston said. “She wasn’t too happy about it, either, given the annoyed message she sent me. But what Phoebe wants, Phoebe gets.”

  “So how can we protect Palm?” Niko asked.

  “That I don’t know,” the Werewolf said. “She frankly wouldn’t need protecting if she would just stay at home. Her house is more of a fortress than Noor’s. And any subversion of her home protections would be suspicious. That Selkies supposedly attacked Cedar’s family was within the range of what the public would believe. But with all the Courtiers on high alert, an attack on someone as well-guarded as Palm would pique suspicion. So Phoebe had a better plan. A plan that would cement the threat against the whole Court while taking care of her little Palm problem. She invited Palm out to the theatre.”

  Niko’s stomach sank, already putting together what that meant. But some of the others didn’t quite see it as quickly.

  “She’s going to bore Palm to death?” Coral asked, frowning.

  “She’s going to make herself a victim,” Niko said. “And cover the assassination with a public attack.” He wanted to throw up. “She’s planned a mass shooting.”

  Starla stammered, “W-what?”

  “It would cement her hold on power,” Cobalt said, eyes reading invisible lines in front of him. “If she framed it as an attempt on her life, with Palm’s death only collateral damage, she would have a strong platform to present herself as dangerous to those who want to harm the Court. That villains will stop at nothing to take her out. It creates some kind of amorphous enemy for which she is the only solution.”

  “Planned many coups, have you, Sincloud?” Preston asked, studying him. Then, with a heavy exhale, he agreed. “But that is the gist of it, yes. Noor is to serve as the shooter, but in the aftermath, I’m sure she’ll have some non-Fae caught running from the scene or something.”

  “And I thought the Courtiers in Azure’s Court were fucked,” Coral said, crossing her arms. “That’s some next-level evil.”

  “Then I’ll offer to meet her at the theatre,” Niko said. “I’ll say I got wind she had tickets for tonight. We’ll meet backstage, just before the performance. That way, I can argue safety in the public space with many innocents nearby, and she can think she’s got me caught in the trap she was already setting.”

  “That is remarkably risky,” Cobalt said quietly. “Juniper will likely already be in position before the start of the show. She could easily take you out before you and Linden even have a chance to meet.”

  “He’s right,” Preston said. “Noor will already be there. And she won’t hesitate if she sees you.”

  “I’m not a total moron,” Niko said. “I don’t plan on leaving Juniper to her own devices during this. It’s going to have to be a coordinated effort.”

  “And what about Palm? She’ll need to be warned. And all the innocents going to the theatre, and the cast and crew, they all need to be warned. I should just call in an anonymous threat to the theatre and get them to cancel the show,” Uri added, clearly stressed. He tugged on his chartreuse hair, his face cast with an ill shadow.

  “Absolutely not,” Preston said. “Any change to the details of the show would alert both Noor and Phoebe. They cannot know anyone is onto their plan. If they do, who knows what they’ll do.”

  “I cannot sit by and leave innocent people in danger,” Uri said sharply. “It’s my d—”

  “Duty as an officer of the Maeve’s Court Police Department,” Niko finished for him. He nodded. “I know, Uri. I don’t like it either. But if everything goes to plan, it won’t matter.”

  “You still haven’t fully explained your plan,” Starla said, reading Niko’s email as he was typing it over his shoulder. “And you cannot send that as is.”

  “Why not?” Niko asked, leaning back to study his own words.

  Starla rolled her eyes. “She’ll have it traced back here, you idiot. You need to reroute the IP—oh forget it, just give it here.” She snatched the computer from Niko’s lap and began typing away.

  Niko made a gesture of surrender to Starla and turned his attention back to the greater issue. “Like I said, it’ll be a coordinated effort. I’ll need each of you to do your part.” He paused, swallowing down the guilt in his throat. “I’m sorry to put you all in this position—”

  “Phoebe Linden put us in this position,” Cobalt said, cutting him off.

  “She’s the one to blame, not you, Nik,” Uri agreed. “And it was a pretty stupid move on her part.”

  Niko frowned. “What do you mean?”

  Starla sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes. “If she did her research, she should have known coming after you meant coming after all of us, too.”

  “It’s been a long time since Phoebe put any weight on the value of friends,” Preston admitted. “She views them only as liabilities.”

  Throat tight, Niko choked out, “Her mistake. Hopefully the one that’ll end this.”

  Starla made a noise of assent, then held the laptop out to show Preston. “Is this impactful enough to get through to her?”

  Preston scanned the email, a smirk spreading on his mouth. “Oh, I think so. Addressing her as Ms. Cottonwood is a nice touch. Bound to rile her. But you might want to add a photo of this,” he said, reaching into the bag he’d brought. He pulled out the history of the Old Trees he’d had at his cabin. Flipping it open, he showed them the page with the Yew family tree—the page featuring Phoebe’s mother. Beneath Greta Yew’s name were two branches. One for Ambert, connected to the Redwood line, and the other was for Phoebe, unconnected to any other parent. Instead, beneath her name, a small, italicized script read mixed blood.

  “You had evidence this entire time?” Niko snapped.

  Preston was unmoved. “I tried suggesting you read this book, if you recall. You declined. And the deal between Phoebe and I prevented me from revealing her secrets to anyone. Now that you know the truth, I can speak more freely.”

  Starla snapped a picture of the page and uploaded it to her computer to attach to the email. “That certainly hits hard. Mixed blood. Oooh, I bet that stings her proudly ‘pure’ ego.”

  “Can we not simply print this page in the papers? Or post it to the internet?” Cobalt asked.

  Preston shook his head. “This is the first edition of the book,” he said. “Phoebe’s parents came across this section very soon after publication and had the book changed so Phoebe presented as a Redwood. No ‘mixed blood’ detail. Then they bought up as many of these books as they could get their hands on and burned them. This is the last remaining copy of it, and every book published since has Phoebe as a Redwood.” He closed the book in his hands carefully. “Too easy to dismiss this as a simple mistake. Or even a malicious smear perpetrated by the author and publisher. The point is, to take Phoebe down, there can be no doubt in people’s minds.”

  “Well, here goes,” Starla said, clicking send. “No turning back.”

  Niko nodded. “So when will Juniper start shooting?”

  It was strange to ask something so stark so blandly. Niko thought it was the effect of this case, that nothing seemed too far-fetched, too horrible, too unrealistic anymore. The evil of the Woods and everyone in it was far more extensive than Niko had ever considered. A part of him wondered if there was any chance Esther Cottonwood was still alive, but he knew better than that. Phoebe wouldn’t allow the only existing evidence of her true bloodline to remain alive. As long as Esther lived, she could undo all of Phoebe’s work.

  “She’ll wait until everyone is seated,” Preston said, thinking it over. “And she’ll make sure Phoebe and
Palm are both together in their private box. If Phoebe isn’t in there, she can’t pretend as though it was a hit targeted at her.”

  “If the goal is to incite panic as well, then shooting too early would waste their chance,” Cobalt added. “Seems the optimal time would be in the first act.”

  “Yes. Definitely before intermission,” he said. “I’d guess within the first half hour to an hour.”

  Niko ran his tongue over his teeth, back and forth as he thought. “What performance is it?”

  With a bored drawl, Preston said, “A Strike of Moonlight. It’s the classic retelling of Queen Aoibhill’s rise to power that manages to exclude all the bloodshed, abuse, and oppression of other races. You know, traditional Old Trees kind of fodder.”

  Niko’s lip curled without his consent. “They assigned that in school, didn’t they?” he asked.

  “Was it that bad?” Starla asked. She had never really attended school.

  Niko shrugged. “Never read it. Too busy training for the police academy.”

  “That certainly explains a few things,” Cobalt said, and the others laughed. Niko caught the Selkie’s eye and found that incalculable expression there again. He felt a stinging at the back of his throat.

  “Does it have a lot of moving parts? Sets? Props? How many actors?” Niko asked.

  Thinking it over, Preston said, “Traditionally, the backdrop remains the same the whole time. And set pieces and props are minimal, given the magic involved in production. The cast is usually about eight people. One actor for Aoibhill and her lover each, and the other six play all the other parts in rotation.”

  “Do they move through the crossover backstage?” Niko asked, laying out a map of the theatre in his mind.

  Preston frowned. “I’m not certain. But I think all the entrances and exits occur from one side, so there should be no need,” he said. “Plus, the crossover behind the curtain is normally packed with different parts of the rigging system, counterweights, etc. I know they’ve tried to upgrade to more magical means, but I’m afraid it’s a slow process. I do know the perimeter around backstage is warded with soundproofing.”