“I know.”
“You have a lovely home,” said Istas amiably.
That seemed like a good place to end things. We walked out the door, which closed behind us, blending seamlessly back into the stone wall. Istas spun her parasol.
“I think that went quite well, despite the lack of carnage,” she said.
“I hope so.” I started walking. “There are a lot of dragons. They can cover a lot of ground. I just hope none of them get hurt.”
“If they do, we will avenge them,” said Istas.
Once again, that seemed like a good place to end things. I didn’t say anything for the rest of our trip back through the sewer to the manhole where we’d made our descent. It was still uncovered—probably because Istas had thrown the lid too far away for anyone with normal human strength to drag it back into position. I made a note to ask her to put it back where it belonged just as soon as we were aboveground, and started up the ladder.
I was almost to the top when a figure loomed above the opening and a hand was thrust down into the darkness, grabbing my forearm. I squeaked, and was about to scream, when the static kicked on and I realized who had hold of me.
Fighting wasn’t going to help. I let myself be pulled the rest of the way up into the light.
Dominic released me as soon as I was on solid ground. We both stepped back to let Istas out of the hole. She looked at Dominic, sniffed the air, and frowned.
“You are unwell,” she informed him. “I will end you if you have harmed Verity.”
“I know,” said Dominic quietly.
Even I could tell that he wasn’t looking good. His hair was uncombed, and there were dark circles around his eyes. He looked like a man who’d just realized he was in the middle of fighting a war.
“Dominic?” I said.
He turned to me. “Sarah.” He sounded relieved. “I need your help.”
“Is Verity alive?” I didn’t know what I was going to ask until the question was out, and then there was nothing else I could have asked him. Nothing else in the world.
“Yes.” He nodded. “But I don’t know how long she will be. We need to move.”
“You know I can’t trust you.”
“Yes, you can.” He held out his arm in silent invitation.
I didn’t say anything. Dominic knew what he was offering me, and how much stronger I would be if I were touching him. Before either of us could change our minds, I reached out and grabbed his wrist, diving into his psyche as hard and deep as I could without pausing to make the process easy on either one of us. This wasn’t the time to be gentle. Dominic gritted his teeth, and he didn’t pull away.
Telepathy—cuckoo telepathy, anyway—is usually a passive thing, polite and noninvasive. Sure, I may learn a person’s deepest, darkest secrets, but it doesn’t hurt them, and it doesn’t hurt me. This . . . wasn’t like that. This was a home invasion of the soul, and it made me feel dirty even as I was doing it.
Dominic’s mind was filled with cluttered rooms packed with thoughts and memories even he wasn’t fully aware of anymore. He didn’t think he remembered what his mother looked like. He did; he just had the memory walled off by so many other things that it only came to the surface when he slept or, oddly, when he ate German chocolate. He was in love with Verity. He hated the smell of violets in the rain; that was connected to his mother’s death, and was part of the wall between him and the memory of her face. He wasn’t a part of the plan that captured Verity; the rest of the Covenant agents in town hadn’t even told him they suspected she existed. He thought they suspected him of being a traitor. He didn’t care. After we got Verity back, he was done with the Covenant of St. George.
Dominic de Luca was finally picking a side, and it wasn’t theirs.
I let go of his wrist, breaking the telepathic contact at the same time. He gasped, and I realized just how pale he’d gotten. Sorry, I said mentally. I know that can be rough.
“It’s all right,” he said. Then he paused. “You . . . didn’t speak.”
I smiled a little. “I didn’t have to. After that kind of excavation, we’re attuned. Welcome to the family. Now let’s go and get my cousin back from your ex-allies.”
Eighteen
“The trouble with the Covenant of St. George is that it encourages loyalty through ignorance, zealotry, and fear. I wonder sometimes . . . what would they have accomplished if they’d tried doing it all with love?”
—Enid Healy
A converted slaughterhouse in the Meatpacking District
ISTAS WALKED into the warehouse ahead of us, her parasol resting against her shoulder. She looked utterly relaxed, which may be the only reason no one attacked Dominic on sight. They were too busy staring at the muck-encrusted waheela. “Dominic is not responsible for Verity’s disappearance, and is no longer affiliated with the Covenant of St. George,” she announced. “The telepathic girl without a proper circulatory system says so, and as she has no reason to lie, I am choosing to believe the story which presents the highest odds of future carnage.”
“That’s my girl,” said Ryan—but his voice was several octaves lower than normal, and he seemed taller as he got up from his seat. Uncle Mike didn’t bother standing. He just produced a gun from somewhere inside his jacket and raised it to shoulder level, the muzzle trained on Dominic’s throat.
“I admire the efficiency, but can you at least try not to get arterial spray in my hair?” I asked.
“Hello, sir,” said Dominic. “I assume you’re Verity’s father. I wish we were meeting under better circumstances.”
Uncle Mike blinked, looking nonplussed. “Excuse me?”
“Dominic, this is our uncle, Mike Gucciard.” Telling him Uncle Mike’s last name was a warning that the choice Dominic was making was irrevocable: if Dominic so much as twitched in the direction of the Covenant after this, he’d find himself stuffed into a dumpster somewhere in midtown. There are things we don’t screw around with, and that includes the covers of our friends and allies. “Uncle Mike, this is Verity’s boyfriend, Dominic De Luca. He’s here to tell us how to get her back, and to discuss the many fabulous advantages to defecting to the side with the sense of humor.”
“The sense of humor, and the many, many unmarked body disposal sites,” said Uncle Mike. I’d never heard his voice that devoid of warmth.
“Please go easy on him,” I said quietly. “He’s our best shot at finding Verity.”
“Or he’s lying to you,” Uncle Mike shot back. “Did you consider that?”
I sighed heavily. “Okay, so is it time to have the talk about lying to the telepath again? I say ‘don’t lie to the telepath, it never works,’ and you all say you won’t. And then I point out that the corollary to this is that when the telepath says someone isn’t lying, she’s probably right. That’s when you look sheepish and say you’re sorry and hey, look, I just shortcut about ten minutes of awkward conversation, go me. Now can we get on with saving Verity from the Covenant, or do I have to get annoyed?”
There was a moment of silence before Istas said, “I was unaware the telepathic girl possessed a temper. This is pleasing. Temperamental people are more likely to participate in carnage.”
“Sweetie, what have we talked about?” asked Ryan.
Now it was Istas’ turn to sigh. “Humans are discomforted by excessive discussion of their squishy interiors.”
“Which means . . . ?”
“No referencing carnage more than once in a single conversation.”
“As the dominant human in the room, that rule is hereby suspended until we get my niece back,” announced Uncle Mike. Now he stood, stalking toward Dominic with the calm, predatory assurance of a man who knew damn well that he was armed to the teeth and ready to kill anything standing in his way. I knew I wasn’t in danger. I still took a step away from Dominic, just in case. Uncle Mike kept walking until the two of them were almost nose-to-nose, lowering his gun at the last minute as he looked the younger man square in the eye.
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To Dominic’s credit, he stood his ground. Then again, maybe that was a sign that he was too stupid to live.
“Sarah’s vouching for you, and that would normally be good enough for me, but my niece’s life is on the line,” said Uncle Mike. His tone was absolutely level. That was another warning sign, and I took another step away from them. “If you’re lying to us—if I find out you’re using some Covenant trick to lie to us—I won’t just kill you, I’ll hurt you. I’ll make you sorry that you ever came to America, and then I’ll make you even sorrier to have tangled with my family. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, sir,” said Dominic. “And if I may be blunt, sir, I’m already sorry to have encountered your family.”
Uncle Mike’s eyebrows shot up. Then they lowered again, coming together as he scowled. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Before I met your niece, I was content to be ignorant of the true nature of this war, and my place in it. Without her influence, I might have been able to spend my entire life believing ‘monster’ was the word for cryptid, and ‘traitor’ was the word for Price. I would have been unaware of how incomplete my understanding was. I would have continued to think that I was happy.” Dominic gave a small shake of his head. “I want to find Verity more than anything else. I want to bring her home, and never let her go. I want to learn everything there is to know about this maddened mirror image of the world where I grew up. But here and now, I am frightened, and she is missing, and part of me is sorry I ever got involved.”
“He’s telling the truth,” I said. “In case anyone cares.”
Once again, every head turned toward me. Uncle Mike radiated disapproval. “I didn’t expect you to take his side, Sarah. Do I need to remind you of what his kind does to yours?”
“Uncle Mike, I love you, and I know what you’re trying to say, but I’m a cuckoo. Killing cuckoos isn’t a sign of evil, it’s a sign of sanity. Killing other sapient cryptids is another matter—and that’s something I’ve never seen Dominic do. Plus he’s in love with Verity. That sort of puts him in my good graces.”
“I am in love with her, and would prefer she remain among the living,” said Dominic. “Please. I don’t know what I can possibly do to prove myself to you, and I doubt that we have time for anything that you might name. Verity is alive, but that doesn’t mean she’s not in danger. Time is short. I need your help.”
“Goddamn kids,” muttered Uncle Mike. Then he stepped away from Dominic, moving out of the other man’s personal space. “Okay, Covenant boy. Tell us what you know.”
* * *
“Margaret Healy loves her duty and hates your branch of the family in equal measure,” said Dominic, apparently counting both myself and Uncle Mike as official members of the Price-Healy clan for purposes of this debriefing. It made sense. Even if we weren’t related by blood, we were tainted by the ideology that led her actual relatives astray. “I was honestly surprised to see her with the review team. The last time we spoke, she was still barred from activities in North America.”
“Why?” asked Ryan.
“Margaret never believed that the Michigan incident had truly eliminated all survivors of the family on this continent. She wanted to investigate in person. Our superiors felt this was a personal vendetta with no immediate benefit to the Covenant.”
“You mean they were worried she might be right, and that she might set off a war,” said Uncle Mike.
Dominic nodded. “I think that was a factor in their decision, yes. If she was wrong, she would be wasting her time and the Covenant’s resources on a wild goose chase. If she was right, and she was unable to eliminate or capture all hostiles in her first attack, she could very easily have caused the remaining members of the family to turn their efforts against the Covenant.”
“But there are like, eight of them,” said Ryan. His thoughts were confused, chasing each other around his head like puppies chasing their tails. “I don’t know how many, since Very was always pretty cagey about that, but I know they all live in the same house when they’re at home.”
“If there’s one thing you should know about the Prices, it’s that odds rarely work the way they should once the family decides to get involved.” Dominic smiled. “The Covenant had them outnumbered ten to one in Buckley, and they survived. Margaret could easily have triggered a chain reaction no one was prepared for.”
“Maybe she just did that anyway,” said Uncle Mike. “Verity dies, I can guarantee you that the Covenant of St. George isn’t going to like what comes next.”
“Sir, while I respect the destructive power of your family more than you may believe, I can guarantee you in turn that if Verity dies, the Covenant will regret their actions long before any of her relations can get here.”
“We get it,” I said. “If Verity dies, everybody’s sorry. You know who’s probably going to be sorriest? Verity. If this Margaret person wasn’t allowed to be in North America, why is she here now?”
“I was told that it was a test for her, to see whether she could focus on the mission at the exclusion of her personal vendettas,” said Dominic. A sudden wave of regret, blame, and self-loathing rushed off him like it was trying to fill the entire room. It took everything I had to stay where I was. None of the others were telepathic, but they shouldn’t have needed to be. He was practically screaming his pain. “Please forgive me. I believed them.”
“There was no reason for you not to,” said Uncle Mike. From his tone, I could tell that he’d picked up on the same emotional weather I had. I relaxed a little. “Whatever lies the Covenant may have told you about the cryptids, they raised you. They trained you. Did they ever lie to you about anything but dogma before?”
“I don’t know,” said Dominic.
“I hate the Covenant as much as anybody, but I’m willing to bet they didn’t, because truth is the best way to guarantee obedience. The more lies you’re told, the harder it gets to keep the stories straight. When your bosses told you Margaret was here to test her obedience, you had absolutely no reason to think that they were lying to you. You got me? You warned Verity as soon as you had the chance. You did everything you could.”
“I didn’t do enough.”
Istas yawned more widely than a strictly human jaw would have been able to support. There was an audible cracking noise as the bones shifted to accommodate the gesture. Dominic went very still, and I had the brief impression from his thoughts that he had managed, temporarily, to forget that humans were the minority in this room.
“This is dull,” Istas announced. “Are we going to stand here and debate blame while Verity is slaughtered? Vengeance carnage is often satisfying, but it takes longer to perform properly than the kind which does not require a death to begin.”
“That’s my girl,” said Ryan. “A delicate flower.”
Istas snorted.
Dominic took a breath, seeming to center himself. “Margaret Healy hates Verity’s bloodline for daring to leave the Covenant,” he said, returning to his original conversational thread. Smart boy. “She didn’t accompany the investigative team because they thought her hatred might have dimmed.”
“They sent her here because somebody suspected you’d been compromised, didn’t they?” asked Uncle Mike. He sounded almost gentle. Dominic’s obvious distress was getting to him. It was definitely getting to me; it was rolling off him in waves, making the air seem thick and heavy. Some emotions are harder to handle than others.
“Yes.” Dominic looked from me to Uncle Mike. “I don’t know how. I don’t know what I did, or didn’t do, or said, or didn’t say. I was so careful . . .”
“Kiddo, they’ve got charms and telepathy barriers on these people. They’re loaded for metaphysical bear. For all we know, they’ve got a witch or something back at headquarters who did some remote viewing on you when you didn’t even realize you were being watched. That would explain why they were able to drop Margaret at Sarah’s hotel. But just because they got suspicious, that doesn’t mean yo
u did anything wrong.” Beyond joining their goddamn cult in the first place.
I try not to eavesdrop on other people’s minds most of the time; it makes me feel a little sleazy, like I’m living down to their expectations of my species. Still, that thought was loud enough that there was no way I could miss it. “Uncle Mike, he didn’t join,” I said. “He was born into the Covenant, the same way all of us were born into our lives. Please don’t take that out on him. Not right now.”
Uncle Mike flinched a little, glancing in my direction. There was a brief flicker of apology in his emotional state. Then he focused back on Dominic, and said, “What matters now is that you’re here with us, not there with them, and you’re going to help us get her back. As far as I’m concerned, if you’re on the up and up, we’re cool, you and me.”
A small throat was cleared from the center of the folding table, audible only because it was timed to come at the exact end of Uncle Mike’s statement. I turned to see one of the Aeslin mice standing there, waiting to be noticed. It was the one Verity referred to as the Head Priest. He was wearing a sequin-spangled cape that used to be part of one of her dance costumes, and his whiskers were as white as if they’d been baby powdered. They hadn’t been. This was a very old mouse. Two other mice, younger, wearing unspangled capes, crouched a foot away from him. They must have been sent to assist him on what would be, to a mouse, a very dangerous journey.
“I come to speak the Will of the Colony,” announced the mouse priest.
“Hello, mouse,” said Istas calmly, looking entirely unsurprised by the sudden intrusion of talking rodents on the conversation.
“Hello, carnivore,” said the mouse priest. He turned and bowed to Uncle Mike and Dominic. “Hail to the High Priest of Goddammit Eat Something Already, and to the God of Hard Choices in Dark Places.”
Ryan blinked. “What?”
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