The Night Before Dead

by Kelly Meding

  He hiked my right leg higher, deepening his angle on each stroke. I raked my nails down his back, and he rewarded me by sucking on the hollow spot beneath my collarbone. I cried out something nonsensical. He worked a hand between us and rubbed circles over my clit, and everything went momentarily white. My entire body tightened, then relaxed, as pure pleasure washed over me. My thighs trembled from it, and I couldn't stop shaking. Not even when Wyatt plunged deeply twice more and groaned through his own orgasm. He held us together, our bodies joined by sweat and ecstasy, both of us breathing hard.

  He pressed his face into my shoulder and exhaled long, deep breaths. I stroked his back with gentle fingers, enjoying the fine tremors that ran down his spine. The lovely aftershocks of his release. I kissed his temple, reveling in the fleeting perfection of the moment.

  "I love you," I said.

  "Love you too." He kissed my cheeks, my nose, then my lips. "So much, Evy. I love you so much and for so long."

  He dumped the condom, and then pulled me back into his arms. We existed like that for a while, the real world held at bay for a bit longer.

  "Are you thinking about the meeting?" I asked.

  "Can't stop. You?"

  "Trying hard not to think about it."

  "Ignoring it won't make it go away this time."

  "It never does."

  I wasn't the "ignore a problem and hope it goes away" kind of girl. I'm the "kick it in the face or kill it to make it go away" kind of fighter, and I always have been. But kicking and killing wouldn't solve the problem staring us in the face, nor would it do much good at today's scheduled meeting. All I could do was wait and see what everyone else involved had to say.

  "What do you think the Assembly will decide?" I asked.

  "It's hard to guess at this point. They're still fighting over what Vale tried to do to the Dane family."

  Tried to do meaning a coup. Each of the thirteen shifter Clans had an Elder representative on the Assembly, which met and made decisions on behalf of all of the Clans. The Felia (aka the cat shifters) Pride had come under attack by some of their own, a family of Bengals led by a man named Vale, intent on overthrowing Elder Marcellus Dane and replacing him on the Assembly. The entire thing had backfired, the bad guy was dead, and Elder Dane had officially stepped down due to health reasons. An Assembly vote a few days ago placed Astrid and Marcus's cousin Riley into Marcellus’s position of Elder.

  Vale's accomplices had been punished by the Assembly, but rumor was a few of the Elders had actually sided with Vale. No one was admitting to it—that I knew about—so it was difficult to determine which Clans were still Watchtower allies.

  Of course, the issue went far beyond the Watchtower. If Amalie chose to go to war with the rest of the world, she wouldn't pick and choose her enemies. Every single human, Therian, vampire, and whoever else she hated at that moment would be targeted by her minions.

  I had no idea how fairies and sprites went to war, and I had no desire whatsoever to find out.

  "We should get up," I said. "The meeting is in three hours."

  Wyatt grumbled, but released me from his iron grip.

  We were in some of the newest housing in the Watchtower. Most of the single members lived in dormitory style housing built in an old store front. A larger store across the corridor had been turned into something more like multi-room apartments. We had one with two bedrooms that shared a living room type space, but without the traditional kitchen area. We did have a bathroom space to share with all five of us.

  Yeah, three teenage boys shared one room.

  I'd already declared I was never cleaning that room. Ever.

  I'm a warrior, not a maid.

  The boys were gone by the time we were showered, dressed, and deemed ourselves presentable to the rest of the our coworkers. Wyatt wore his familiar uniform of black jeans and a black t-shirt. With his black hair, scruff and olive skin, the picture was drool-worthy, and he was all mine. I stuck to jeans and a long-sleeve tee, with a corduroy jacket, now that the fall weather was inching into winter.

  The meeting would happen at ten a.m. in the War room, so we had time to hit the cafeteria. My stomach was tight and squirrely with nerves, and it didn't settle at the crowd already filling the spacious eating area. Even those who patrolled at night and slept during the day were up, the air full of anxiety and curiosity.

  I grabbed a plain bagel and bottle of water, while Wyatt piled his plate high with food of all kinds. His half-Lupa nature had practically doubled his metabolism, which meant he was hungry almost all of the time. I wasn't complaining about the way his arms and abs were cut to perfection, but the frequent eating made me jealous.

  Wyatt nudged my hip, then angled his head. I followed his general direction to a table near the back, farther away from the bulk of the crowd. Gina Kismet, Marcus Dane, and Milo Gant sat there alone, the three of them as serious as I'd ever seen them. Seeing Milo eating in the cafeteria made my heart kick in a happy way.

  Not quite two weeks ago, Milo had been nearly beaten to death by Vale in an attempt to make Marcus give up important security information. Milo had held on, never letting Vale break him, but he'd been left with serious injuries to his back and legs—swelling that had taken days to go down, bruises that still painted his skin, and pain that would be a long time fading. Tybalt and Milo had been brothers to me, and I couldn't have stood losing them both. I was barely handling Tybalt's death.

  The walker Milo used for long-distance hobbling stood nearby, and he looked up with a bright smile when he saw me and Wyatt heading in his direction. "Hey, guys."

  I plunked down across from him. "What's shaking, gimpy?"

  "Fuck you," Milo said with a grin.

  "Milo's progress has increased tremendously in the last few days," Marcus said. He tended to take my teasing a bit too seriously, but the big werecat was also seriously overprotective of Milo. I still wasn't sure if the pair was technically a couple, but they gave off serious "I want you" vibes when they were together.

  Things probably would have progressed a lot faster if Vale hadn't decided to make Milo a human punching bag. I bristled briefly at the memories of Milo's torture, then shoved them down deep where they wouldn't bother me today. No regrets, no past issues. Today was about taking back our future, no matter what.

  "I don't have to stay in the infirmary anymore," Milo said. "I can go back to the dorms tonight."

  Marcus's expression was difficult to decipher. Something between pleasure and a silent reassurance that he wouldn't be alone, no matter what dorm he went back to. I liked knowing Marcus was around to take care of Milo. They both needed someone.

  "That's fabulous news, pal." I reached over the table to ruffle his hair, because it would bother him. He stuck his tongue out, and I laughed.

  "Wish I could be at the meeting with you guys today," Milo added.

  "It's a pretty tight guest list."

  "And for good reason," Marcus added. "Many Elders will be present, as well as other leaders. Security will extra important given the nature of the meeting."

  "And they don't need a useless guard hanging around."

  "You are far from useless."

  "He's always good for a sarcastic comment," I said.

  Milo flipped me off.

  Wyatt ate in silence, as he often did around any of the Felia. Lupa and Felia were mortal enemies, ingrained in their DNA or something like that. From the moment he was infected and became aware of his surroundings again, Wyatt had snarled and snapped at Marcus specifically. To the other Felia to a lesser degree. Wyatt was learning to control himself, but he too frequently struggled to maintain his humanity.

  Some days I wondered if the Lupa blood in his system was going to take away what was left of the man.

  I hope not. I love him too much to let him go.

  "Gina says the obstacle course will be back on schedule soon," Milo said. "I can't wait to run it and kick your ass."

  I snickered. "Dream on, Gant."
r />   "Hey, I told you I'd kick your and Tybalt's asses." His smile faltered, fractured by grief. Tybalt had been Milo's best friend and part of his Triad for almost two years, and the wound was still fresh. He'd lost a brother, too.

  "We all miss him," Marcus said.

  Milo shrugged and picked at the remnants of his breakfast.

  One day we'd be able to talk about our lost friends without feeling such a thick, blanket of grief. I hoped.

  My phone chimed with a text. Ops. 911.

  Great. Emergency first thing in the morning. No one else at the table had gotten the message, but that didn't stop Wyatt from grabbing a handful of sausage links and following me.

  The entire mall was in the shape of a big, square-ish U. The cafeteria sat at one corner of the top of the U, with Operations near the center of the top. It was a short walk down the corridor, which was thick with Watchtower members. Rumors about today's big meet-up had spread, and everyone wanted to see who'd show.

  I entered Operations, which was the heart and soul of our organization. Besides the War Room, it also housed a bank of computers and large screens that projected pretty much anything we needed to see. Rufus oversaw most of Ops, because he had the most computer skills among the senior staff. Milo could probably give him a run for his figurative money, but Milo preferred staying in the field to being stuck behind a desk.

  Given his wheelchair, Rufus didn't have much choice in the matter.

  Rufus looked up from his computer terminal, his expectant look melting into a frown. "Who invited you?"

  Wyatt growled. "I invited myself."

  "Obviously."

  I shrugged. "I tried a leash, but he keeps breaking loose."

  "You really don't need to shadow her everywhere, Wyatt," Rufus said.

  "I know that," Wyatt replied.

  "Right." He turned his attention back to me, the one he had summoned. "It's about the Frosts."

  "What did they do now?" Lori and Stephen Frost were the biological parents of the body in which I was currently residing. While I'd absorbed some of Chalice's memories and sensory perceptions, I didn't know them as my parents. My parents were an unknown deadbeat and a drunken whore.

  For a while, they'd sat by while Chalice didn't contact them for more than six months. Last week they'd finally gone on the news trying to find their missing daughter, and a private detective tricked me into meeting with them. We'd brought them back to the Watchtower for their own good, and neither one of them had taken the news about my true nature well—or the fact that shapeshifters, gremlins, and other assorted creatures actually did exist.

  Not well at all.

  Astrid had ordered them kept here until further notice, and I'd refused to visit them for the last week. I had too much to do and no patience to deal with them.

  "Astrid doesn't want them locked up indefinitely, and I agree that it's cruel," Rufus said. "Their daughter is dead, and they deserve a chance to grieve for her."

  I crossed my arms. "And what the hell am I supposed to do about it?"

  "Talk to them again."

  "And say what? Stephen thinks I'm possessed or something. They want me in therapy."

  "I could talk to them," Wyatt said.

  "No way," I replied. "You're about as subtle as a two-by-four to the head."

  "You're no diplomat yourself, Evy."

  Okay, so he had me there. "If I honestly thought anything I had to say would make a difference, I'd go talk to them. I'm not their daughter. All they see when they look at me is Chalice. I'm never going to make them believe I'm Evy Stone."

  "We've been holding them prisoner for over a week," Rufus said. "We can't keep them here forever. They have lives to go back to. Sooner or later someone is going to start missing them."

  "How do you know they haven't already?"

  He pointed to his computer. "I've been sending emails on their behalf to coworkers and other relatives, so no one calls in another missing persons report."

  "Oh." That was pretty fucking smart of him.

  "Yeah, oh."

  "Stone!" Astrid's voice boomed across Ops.

  "I didn't do it," I said as I turned.

  She faltered, then understood the joke. "I need a quick errand."

  "How quick? The meeting starts in two hours."

  "Your errand should take you less than an hour."

  "To do what?"

  "Pick up something that will help your parents forget they ever saw you."

  Okey dokey.

  Chapter Two

  22:25

  Turns out the little thing that Astrid needed me to run out and grab was less of a grabby thing and more like a threatening thing. She gave me the address of a mage named Adolpho, who ran a small antiques store on the southwestern side of the city. And when I say small, you'd drive right past it if you didn't know to look for it, nestled among a dozen boarded up store fronts in a little used part of the neighborhood.

  Wyatt being Wyatt insisted on coming with me to do my errand. Since I didn't technically have a drivers license, nor had I ever been taught to drive properly, he took Alpha joy in driving us to the mage's shop. Few other cars passed us on the street, and no one was parked in front of the papered over front doors with the tiny "Collectibles" sign in the window.

  He scented the air as we stepped out of the Jeep, as was his new habit. The Lupa infection had heightened his senses of smell, hearing and taste, and he was still learning how to use those to his advantage. The smell thing was super useful, considering goblins stank like stale sea water, and he once described a half-Blood as "ass and congealed blood."

  Gross as hell, but such was our life.

  Despite the drizzling rain, the street still smelled like old urine and gasoline, and the combination turned my stomach. The shop had a Closed sign hanging in it. I banged my first on the glass plates anyway, uncertain if Adolpho lived near, above, or in his supposed collectible shop. Wyatt tilted his head.

  "Footsteps," he whispered.

  "Oh joy."

  Plastic blinds parted and a bright green eye appeared, the rest of his face obscured by the door. The eye shifted to take us both in, then the blinds dropped. Nothing.

  "Astrid Dane sent me," I said, hoping that would work in the vein of "Open sesame."

  I'll be damned if the door lock didn't turn. He opened it with the chain still attached. "For what purpose?" the man asked.

  "You tell me. She said I had to come here and fetch something."

  He squinted. "She said she would send someone she trusted."

  Okay, One-Eyed-Mage was getting on my nerves. "She does trust me. I trust her, too, which is why I didn't ask what I was picking up. As long as it isn't poisonous or explodable, I don't really give a flying fuck."

  "I don't know…"

  Wyatt growled. "You remember Brutus?"

  Adolpho's eye widened. "Yes. Sorry." The door shut, the chain slid, and then it was open again. Wider this time. Adolpho was a big, barrel of a man with no hair, a scraggly gray beard, and only one eye. The left socket was puckered and empty. "My apologies, come inside."

  The shop reeked of herbs that blended together into one indistinguishable odor, mixed with the musty smell of a closed-in space. The first few shelves nearest the door were filled with rusty trinkets and cloudy pieces of glassware. Beyond it was a wall, and through a thick panel of beaded curtains was a setup very much like an ancient apothecary shop. A wall of wooden drawers, many no wider than a credit card, some as big as a shoe box, each labeled in a language that I couldn't read.

  It reminded me of Old World Teas and its owner Brutus, the last mage we'd ousted for working with the sprites. Adolpho seemed much more high-strung, less likely to be pulling the whole double-agent thing that Brutus had pulled with Wyatt for years.

  I wiped rainwater off my arms and face. Wyatt didn't seem to notice the droplets trickling down his cheeks from his hair.

  Adolpho lifted a ring of ancient-looking keys out from beneath his baggy shirt. He fitted
one into a drawer and slid it open. He removed a brown leather pouch with a drawstring. "This is what Astrid asked for," he said, dangling the pouch from two fingers. "Steep it in two cups of boiled water for at least five minutes, and then make them each drink half."

  I snagged the pouch and received a waft of something not unlike peppermint. "What's it do?"

  "It does as Astrid required."

  That told me exactly nothing. "Which is what?"

  He shook his head. "You'll have to inquire with her. I've done as she asked."

  Wyatt took a step forward, allowing silver to rise up and fill his eyes. He growled softly, an intense sound that made Adolpho back into a cabinet with a yelp. "Don't play word games, mage."

  Adolpho gulped hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. "She required a potion that muddled human memories and she needs enough for two."

  The Frosts. "How does it muddle memories?" I asked.

  "They will be confused about the events of the last month or so, as though coming around from a blackout drunk."

  Astrid had ordered magic used on the Frosts to make them forget they'd ever found me, or that I'd told them who I really was.

  Shit, fuck and hell.

  While removing their memories was a much better solution than keeping them locked up forever, I didn't like that Astrid had gone behind my back. I didn't like that she was using a mage to create an herbal spell that would make them fuzzy on "a month or so" of time. What if it was longer? What if it didn't work? What if Lori Frost woke up and she'd turned into a frog?

  Stranger things have happened in this fucking city.

  "If the herbs aren't applied properly, what could happen?" I asked.

  "Full memory loss."

  "Are the memories recoverable if that happens?"

  "No, so apply wisely, child."

  I hated being called child. "Okay, thanks for this."

  Adolpho nodded. "Tell Astrid my debt is repaid."

  "Yeah, sure."

  The light rain had become a steady downpour by the time we got back to the car. My t-shirt clung to my skin. I turned on the heater to try and dry us both out a little bit.