“You are a crazy man,” I muttered aloud as I ran to the back of the van and opened the doors. “You know that, right? If they don’t kill you, she will.”
The self-lecture failed to stop me from picking up the bleeding, unconscious wolf, who weighed a lot more than the girl had looked like she would, and stowing her in the van. I covered her with a spare stretcher sheet, closed the doors from the inside, and climbed into the driver’s seat. Praying I still had a few minutes before the SWAT team arrived, I started the engine and reversed fast onto the path.
Somehow I made the first turn and got out of sight before anyone else could try to shoot me.
Where the hell was I supposed to take a critically injured werewolf?
There, I’d said it—or at least thought it. I had a werewolf in the back of my van. Moonlight and silver bullets, the whole nine yards. Or maybe not. The full moon wasn’t for another week, but she’d still changed. I wasn’t even going to pretend I understood anything about this.
Anyway, that thing was a werewolf. And I couldn’t exactly bring her to the hospital, or to Abe. He would not take it well. I’d have to ease him into the news, although I had no idea how to casually mention that werewolves were real.
For now, I was stuck with her.
I decided to head back to the parking garage. I still had the jump pack and some supplies from my days as an EMT. The garage was never more than half full, so I’d park on a mostly deserted floor and at least get the bullets out of her, try to clean her up some. If she was still alive.
It didn’t take long to find a quiet spot. Traffic and parking around here were murder until around six, when most of the Manhattan crowds had fled for their Brooklyn houses or Queens apartments. Now, at almost eleven, the entire third floor was empty. I drove to the furthest corner from the main ramps and parked in shadows.
Whatever was going to happen, I didn’t want anyone else involved.
I killed the engine and flipped the interior light on, then took a deep breath. Ready or not, I thought, and climbed over the seat to the back.
She hadn’t moved. The sheet still covered her completely. Three distinct patches of blood had soaked into the white cotton, wet and ominous in the stark light. I couldn’t tell if she was breathing. Kneeling beside the fabric-draped form, hoping this hadn’t become her shroud, I gripped the top of the sheet and lifted it carefully.
She was person-shaped again. And extremely naked.
I dropped the sheet fast. It landed just below her face, and she stirred slightly. At least she wasn’t dead. But even the brief glimpse I’d gotten of her injuries reinforced the impossible. If she was human, those shots would’ve killed her.
With a heavy sigh, I shuffled up to the cabinet behind the passenger seat for the supplies I had left. I had no idea if this was going to help—I hadn’t exactly studied werewolf anatomy in college. But I had to try something.
I was still looking for the surgical tweezers when a sharp point pressed into my side, and a female voice rasped near my ear, “Where is it, you stupid bastard?”
Oh, good. She was awake.
I raised my hands slowly. “Love to tell you, but I don’t know what it is,” I said. “You’re welcome, by the way.”
“For what? All you did was get in my way.” The sharp point pressed harder. “Where...is it?”
I glanced down. She was threatening me with my own knife.
Werewolf or not, that wasn’t going to fly.
I reached back, grabbed her wrist and twisted hard. Her fingers went lax and I half-turned, snatching the knife from her. She gave a startled blink and scuttled back, holding the bloodied sheet she’d bunched in front of her.
Her gaze darted to the back door, and she tensed to spring.
“Whoa,” I said, making a deliberate show of lowering the knife. She had a lot of energy for someone who’d been shot full of holes an hour ago. It was disconcerting. “Listen. I’m trying to help you, all right?”
“Fine. Then tell me where it is.”
“I will, if you tell me what the hell you’re talking about!”
Some of the antagonistic anger eased from her features. “Sorry,” she said. “I’m talking about my luna-ball.”
“Yeah, still don’t know what you’re saying,” I said. “Do you mean that snow globe thing you had at the park?”
She frowned. “Snow globe?”
“Little glass ball on a pedestal. Nothing in it. About this big.” I made a circle with my hand to demonstrate.
“It’s a luna-ball.” She cocked her head slightly. “Haven’t you seen one before?”
“Uh, no. You’re my first werewolf.”
“Your first...” Her eyes widened suddenly. “Jesus. You’re human.”
I couldn’t manage to respond to that.
Apparently, she wasn’t expecting a response. She lunged at me—damned fast, before I realized what she was doing. In an instant she had the knife again and was backing away, sure-footed despite her awkward, crouching posture. “Take your clothes off,” she snapped.
I gaped at her. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“I mean it! Strip, now. Or I’ll go wolf and tear your throat out.”
All at once, I understood what she wanted to see. “I don’t have one of those tattoos,” I said. “Those men you killed...I’m not one of them.”
“Show me.” This time I recognized the quake in her voice for what it was. Not anger, but fear. “They’re not taking me back,” she rasped. “Show me. Right now.”
I held up a hand and spoke slowly. “Tell you what. You put down the knife, I’ll take off my shirt.” I wasn’t worried about her stabbing me—despite her tough act, she was weaker than she let on. And I had a feeling the go-wolf thing was a bluff. She’d used the snow globe thing for that, somehow. But I figured she’d feel better if she thought I was threatened.
It was a strange feeling, not being afraid of a werewolf. But I’d learned to trust my instincts. She wasn’t a threat to me.
She shook her head. “You take off your shirt, I’ll put the knife down.”
“Fine,” I grumbled. “But you’ll have to trust me that I don’t have one on my ass, because I’m not taking my pants off.”
“We’ll see.”
I snorted, eased out of my jacket and tugged my shirt over my head.
She stared at me for a long time. Not that I was surprised—me shirtless was quite the picture. I did have tattoos, lots of them. But none were creepy-looking ankhs with swords at the end. Mine were Celtic, tribal patterns with overlapping crescents, like the moon.
I also had just as many scars as tattoos.
The silence was getting uncomfortable. “See, no crosses,” I said. “Can I put my shirt on now?”
She flinched as if I’d interrupted something. Probably her horrified staring. With a strange expression, she put the knife down almost absently and reached toward me. “Where did you get that necklace?” she half-whispered.
I frowned and curled a protective hand around the clear crystal pendant. I’d almost forgotten about it—mostly because I never took it off. Not once since it was given to me years ago...by a man I’d never met before, and never saw again. “I’ve had it a long time,” I said. “Why?”
“You have no idea what it is, do you?”
“I know exactly what it is,” I said. “Mine.”
“All right.” She smirked and shook her head. “You sure you’re human?”
“Last I checked.”
“Well, maybe you should check again.”
I didn’t like where this conversation was going. With a scowl, I yanked my shirt into place, making sure the pendant stayed beneath it. “All right. We’re done talking about me,” I said. “You know I’m not one of them, whoever they are. So let’s talk about you. You need—”
“Food,” she said abruptly. “Got anything to eat?”
My eyes tried to bulge out of their sockets. “You’ve been shot. Repeatedly,” I said. “You
’re bleeding all over. There are bullets in your body right now. And you want food?”
“Yes, I do,” she said. “The change takes a lot out of me. I’m starving.”
“Well, I don’t have anything here,” I told her. “In case you haven’t noticed, we’re in my van. I don’t stock food in the same place I carry corpses.”
Her eyes narrowed, and she went for the knife again.
“Stop! It’s not like that.” I heaved a breath. “It’s my job. I’m a body mover.”
“You’re a what?”
“Long story. Basically, I bring dead people to morgues and funeral homes. Legally dead people, after the cops look at them. Okay?”
“Your job is driving dead people around,” she said skeptically.
“Well, somebody has to do it.”
“Huh. In that case, I don’t want to eat in your van either. So let’s go someplace with food.”
“Lady,” I said. “You’re bleeding. You’re naked. And I don’t even know your name.”
She gave a slight frown. “I’m Sadie,” she said. “You know, you’re taking this werewolf thing awfully well for a human.”
“I’m screaming on the inside.” Smirking, I half-stood and moved toward the folded bed. “My name’s Gideon. And if you’ll let me take the bullets out and bandage you up, I promise I’ll get you something to eat.”
“Yeah, right. How do you plan to do that?”
“It’s what I was doing when you flipped out and tried to stab me,” I said, gesturing at the cabinet. “I used to be an EMT. I’ve got a few supplies left. Should be able to manage.”
She hesitated for a long moment, and finally said, “Why are you helping me?”
“Because you saved my life.” I tried for a reassuring smile, but I wasn’t sure it took. “That cop at the park would’ve killed me. I still don’t understand why, but...if you hadn’t taken him down, I’d be dead. So thanks.”
Something flashed in her eyes, and she looked away fast. “You’re welcome,” she muttered. “All right. I guess you can take the bullets out.”
“Lucky me.”
She didn’t respond to that, and I figured it must not’ve been as funny as I thought. For now I’d just worry about getting her patched up. I did want to help her—but I also had a lot of questions about these guys with the tattoos, what they wanted with her...and what they might do to me now that I’d gotten myself involved.
Unfortunately, I had a feeling I wouldn’t like the answers.
CHAPTER 6
We were the only customers at the Ninth Street Diner, which was actually on Sixth Avenue between Ninety-Fifth and Ninety-Sixth. I’d gotten coffee and sourdough toast, and Sadie—now dressed in one of my t-shirts and drawstring pants that I used for the gym—had ordered a lumberjack breakfast with an extra side of everything. The lone waitress in the place brought her food out on five plates.
She’d already cleared three of them.
I couldn’t help staring at her. It was fascinating to see someone put away so much food, so quickly—and with such grim determination. Like she had a gun to her head, and the trigger would be pulled the instant she stopped eating.
But I guessed maybe even a gunshot to the head wouldn’t kill her. I’d extracted four bullets, two of them so close they formed the same wound, and the injuries were already showing signs of healing. Her bleeding had stopped almost completely by the time I pulled the last one. Still, it was clear that being shot had hurt like hell.
That much I knew from personal experience.
Finally, she downed half a glass of orange juice in one swallow and leaned back from the table for a break. “Now maybe I can think straight,” she said. “By the way, you never answered my question.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Little fuzzy here. What question?”
“My luna-ball?”
“Oh, right. The snow globe.” She probably wasn’t going to like this. “It’s still in Central Park, in about a million pieces,” I said. “The cop stepped on it.”
“Shit!” Her jaw clenched, and she drummed her fingers on the table. “Those are so damned hard to get. I really don’t want to bargain with—” She broke off abruptly. “I forgot. You’re human.”
This time she said human like an insult. I decided to ignore it for now.
“Speaking of questions,” I said. “I have a few for you.”
“Well, I can’t promise I’ll answer them.”
“Why? Because I’m human?”
She looked at me sharply. “Keep your voice down.”
“Look, sister.” My sympathy only went so far, and she’d already stretched it severely when she tried to stab me with my own damned knife. “I risked my ass to get you away from the rest of the SWAT team. Maybe they wouldn’t have killed you, but I’ll bet you couldn’t get far pumped full of bullets. Now I’m probably on these people’s shit list, whoever they are, for helping you. And all I want to know is why I did that.”
“I don’t know why you did it,” she said. “I told you not to help me.”
“Damn it, you know what I mean!”
She made a frustrated sound. “All right,” she hissed. “But only because you’re probably right. They will target you, and you’ll be dead soon anyway.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“Hey, I tried to warn you. You have no idea what these people are capable of.” She laughed bitterly, and then looked around the empty diner like someone was listening. “They’re called Milus Dei,” she said in a low voice. “The ankh and sword is their symbol. It’s an ancient cult, dedicated to hunting down and exterminating Others.”
I blinked. “Other what? Werewolves?”
“Hush,” she said. “And yes, but not just weres. Fae, vampires, bogeypersons—”
“Hold it.” I was having enough trouble buying into the werewolf bit, and I’d seen it up close and personal. “You’re saying all those things are real.”
“We’re not things. We’re Others.” Sadie shivered, and her gaze unfocused. “Milus Dei wants to destroy anyone who’s other than human,” she said. “Not just kill, but break down. Eradicate. So they take us alive, and…experiment us to death.”
Her hollow tone and haunted eyes said she wasn’t exaggerating. I remembered what she’d said in the van: They’re not taking me back. “You escaped them,” I said. “Didn’t you? That’s why they’re chasing you.”
She nodded tightly.
I felt sick. Not only were all the things that went bump in the night real, but some insane cult was hunting them down to capture and torture them. And I thought the Valentines were bad. At least my psychotic ex-family killed what they caught. They saved all the torture for me. “This Milus Dei thing,” I said. “How big is it? I mean, maybe if you just stopped going to Central Park, since they’re looking for you there—”
Sadie was already shaking her head. “They’re all over the city. Police, big business, local politics. They have some powerful members,” she said. “Besides, I have to get into the park. I…lost something, and I need it back.”
The white pouch. I was willing to bet the blood on that tree had been Sadie’s. “Maybe I can help with that,” I said. “What did you lose?”
She rolled her eyes. “Nothing you’d be able to find.”
“Oh, really.” I folded my arms and leaned back in the seat. “Does it happen to be a white leather fringed pouch on a rawhide cord with chicken-scratch writing on the front, filled with little stones or something?”
“You saw it?” she breathed. “That’s impossible.”
“Obviously not,” I said. “That wasn’t a lucky guess, you know. I thought I was pretty specific.”
“Tell me where it is.”
I shook my head. “Not until you tell me why it’s impossible.”
“Look…Gideon.” She leaned forward with her hands on the table. “You seem like a nice guy, I guess. Kind of scary for a human, but nice. I almost like you.” Her gaze was penetrating. “So I�
��m going to warn you right now. Asking too many questions could get you killed.”
I stared right back at her. “Maybe. But I’m pretty sure not asking questions will definitely get me killed,” I said. “So start answering.”
“You really are an idiot.” She closed her eyes briefly. “All right. It’s impossible…it’s unlikely that you could’ve found it because the bag is enchanted. Hidden to humans. They look at it and see an ordinary piece of jewelry, or nothing at all,” she said. “And the chicken scratches, those are Fae runes written in moon ink—which only weres and the Fae can see. Again, not humans.”
“Uh-huh,” I said. “Moon ink and fairy writing. That doesn’t sound crazy at all. Especially the part about how werewolves can see it. Does that mean you’re a fairy, too?”
Sadie shot me a dry look. “Weres and Fae are both connected to the moon. And—damn it, I don’t have time to explain all this to you. Where is my pouch?”
I reached into my pocket and pulled it out. “Right here.”
She snatched it so fast, I almost didn’t see her move. “Damn,” she said, turning it over to inspect the bloodstain and the broken cord. “I didn’t think it was this damaged. Maybe the spell is broken. At least that’d explain why a human could see it.”
I cleared my throat. “You’re welcome.”
“Huh? Yeah, thanks,” she muttered, still frowning over the pouch. Then she shoved it abruptly in a pocket and pushed back from the table. “Gotta go,” she said. “Thanks for dinner and all. Well, I guess it was breakfast.”
“Wait a minute. You can’t just—”
“Leave?” Her smile was grim, almost sympathetic as she stood. “Watch me.”
“What the hell am I supposed to do?” I said. “At least tell me how to find you again if I need to. I have no idea how to deal with any of this.”
“Just don’t deal with it, and maybe you’ll survive. Leave it alone, Gideon.” The corners of her mouth twitched down, and she looked away. “Trust me. You’re better off without me in your life.”
Wrong Side of Hell (The DeathSpeaker Codex Book 1) Page 3