Hangman's Army: Lake Of Sins, #3

by L. S. O'Dea

  “Someone has to say something before she gets herself killed.” He shot her a glare. “Sure, you’re great in the forest but the Trackers are better. You can’t trust them. They’re not your friends. They’re wild creatures, predators.”

  “That’s kind of what we need to talk about.” Gaar’s black eyes narrowed. “Interrupt me again and I’ll gag you.”

  He started to say something but the gleam in Trinity’s eyes stopped him. The Handler was serious. He nodded.

  “First, Trinity knows to be wary of the Trackers. Mirra’s protection only goes so far. Parra was different though. He was sick. Satisfied?”

  He wasn’t but he nodded. She’d have to prove that she had common sense, because so far he hadn’t seen it.

  “Good. We need more serum,” said Gaar.

  He started to speak but stopped, pointing at his mouth.

  “You can speak.” Gaar grinned at Trinity. “Takes orders well.”

  “Not from me.”

  “Maybe you have to threaten him.”

  They were not amusing. “What happened to the serum I gave you before I was arrested?”

  “Gone,” said Gaar.

  “How can it all be gone?”

  “That was a long time ago,” said Trinity.

  He’d given it to them before his arrest and trial. Five Trackers and Gaar getting monthly dosages for well over four years...“Good point, but I’m not sure how we’re going to get more.”

  “Can’t you cook up a batch?” asked Gaar.

  “Me? No. I never produced it. I bought it.”

  “Where?” she asked. “Ray’s been searching for months, but he hasn’t found any.”

  “My supplier was an Almighty. A guy named Coakers.”

  “Not Coakers.” Gaar shook his head.

  “You know him?” He was only a little surprised. Coakers had been involved in a lot of dealings with all the classes.

  “Knew. He’s dead,” said Gaar. “Don’t look at me. It was your kind that killed him.”

  “Why would they do that?” Not again, please not again.

  “Word on the street was that the authorities discovered that he was involved with you,” said Gaar.

  “They’re the ones who introduced us! They’d told me to buy the serum from him.”

  “There was also a rumor that he’d supplied you with the Servants and Guards you used in your experiments. We know that’s not true, so I’d guess they found out he sold you the extra serum.” Gaar’s black eyes searched his. “Unless you and Coakers were involved in some other business?”

  “No. Just the serum.” He fought the bile that rose in his throat. He’d caused another death. Before his arrest, he’d sent copies of his reports to his high school biology teacher, his college roommate and Michael from Michael’s Pub. After the disappearance of the reports that he’d turned over to the Supreme Almighty, he’d begged his lawyer to contact the others. She’d tried, but his professor had died in a freak carriage accident and his roommate had drowned. His roommate had been a medalist on the swim team. His death had been more than suspicious but his body had been cremated so another autopsy had been impossible. Michael had disappeared, leaving his pub and all his belongings. He was probably dead too, his body undiscovered.

  “We need more serum,” said Trinity, pulling him back to the present. Her eyes were sympathetic as she gazed at him.

  Some of his anger subsided. She might be the only one who could understand his guilt. Not that she was responsible for anything that’d happened, but her escape had started it all and she probably understood that.

  “How soon do you need it?” He had no idea where he’d get more serum. Coakers had been his only contact.

  “We used the last of it a few months ago,” said Trinity.

  “What?” The last time Mirra had gone without her serum was the Night of the Trackers. “Have there been any issues? You know...”

  “No,” said Gaar. “They stay deep in the forest, away from the fighting and commotion.”

  “Thank Araldo.” He glanced around again. Thankful that Trackers weren’t lurking in the bushes, at least not in this part of the forest.

  “The sooner we get the serum the better. It took us months to convince any of the four to take it the first time,” she said.

  “Four? Who didn’t take it?” This was going from bad to worse. There was a Tracker out there who hadn’t had serum in almost five years.

  She and Gaar exchanged another look.

  “One of the ones from the camp. He was brown and black with stripes. We only saw him twice after...that night. He was near the others but not with them. He may be dead,” she said.

  “We can only hope.”

  “Typical Almighty. He doesn’t obey or worship you so he should be dead.” She curled her lips, showing the tips of her fangs.

  “If I believed that then you should be dead. You don’t seem to obey anyone and you certainly don’t worship me.”

  Gaar barked a laugh. “He has you there, Little One.”

  “Why did you wait so long to give them the serum the first time?” Even if he could get some soon, they couldn’t wait months to administer it. He didn’t know much about Trackers; no one did. All he knew was that the serum kept them from killing everything in their path.

  “Parra helped,” she said.

  Gaar snorted.

  “Not intentionally,”—she frowned at the Handler—“but we couldn’t have done it without him.”

  He looked from one to the other. She wasn’t making sense.

  “Like I said, when Sikka and Nirankan brought Parra to us he was very ill. Mom was able to help him feel a little better for a while.” She glanced at Gaar again. “Even though his illness had nothing to do with the serum, we convinced them that the serum kept them healthy. They’ve been taking it regularly ever since, until we ran out.”

  “And Mirra?” he asked. Trinity hadn’t mentioned her by name.

  “Mirra wouldn’t come to us. Not at first,” she said.

  “Please tell me she hasn’t been without the serum—”

  “She was pregnant and cautious.”

  “Mirra was pregnant?” So now, there were more than five Trackers. That wasn’t good, but it’d be an amazing discovery. It was a shame there weren’t enough Trackers for the necessary genetic diversity needed to repopulate the species. As it stood, inbreeding was the only option and the young would suffer.

  “They were stillborn.” Gaar’s face was grim.

  “Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.” He glanced away not wanting to see the pain in the Handler’s eyes. “Has she gotten pregnant again? Or has Sikka?”

  “Yes, both of them,” she said.

  “Did the babies survive?”

  “Time will tell.” Gaar’s voice was rough.

  “She’s pregnant now?” He ran his hand through his hair. Pregnant females were moody and protective. Mirra was dangerous without serum. She’d be doubly so pregnant or with young.

  “Yes, and I can’t have her stressed and running wild. The last time, she’d been nervous, refusing to eat or hunt. She started hanging out in the shadows, never coming close enough for me to help her.” Gaar’s fists were clenched and his lips were curled, exposing his long, sharp teeth.

  “Gaar tried everything to catch her.” She ran her hand down the Handler’s arm and he relaxed slightly.

  “I would’ve done anything.” Gaar’s black eyes landed on Hugh. “I will do anything.”

  “He means it.” Trinity laughed. It was sudden and out of place, a failed attempt to break the tension. “Last time he set traps, trying to coax her with food. He was getting ready to load a Producer up with serum and set her out as bait.”

  “That’s not funny. We can’t do something like that no matter what.” His eyes darted from one to the other. They couldn’t be serious. She couldn’t be serious. She was part Producer.

  Gaar straightened and bared his teeth. “I will do anything—”

&nb
sp; “He didn’t do it. We didn’t need to, and we won’t this time either.” She crossed her arms over her chest, defiant as ever.

  “And I was going to use Mirabelle, so...” Gaar shrugged, smiling slightly.

  Trinity’s lips twitched but her voice held a trace of anger. “Trust me, if anyone deserved that end it’d be Mirabelle.”

  He doubted that, but he’d reserve judgement until he met Mirabelle. There were a few people he’d happily set as Tracker bait. Maybe, that’s how he’d kill Conguise.

  “Finally, Mirra approached.” Gaar paused. “She was wild and scared. Trinity made some tea that helped to calm her and then we were able to administer the serum.”

  His heart slowed. He didn’t want to be in the forest with an uncontrollable Mirra. They’d barely made it out the last time.

  “Mom and I tried to duplicate the serum, but it isn’t the same. I don’t think the ingredients come from nature.”

  He raised his brow. No shit, it doesn’t come from nature.

  “She can’t go through that again. She can’t lose another set of babies.” Gaar’s hands trembled at his sides. “Tell me what you need. I have to take care of her this time. I have to make it right.”

  The Handler was begging. He’d never imagined that this day would come. Somehow, he wasn’t sure how, but he’d do it. Nothing else was going to die because of his failure. “I may be able to recreate it. I’ll need a sample of Tracker blood—one from each would be great.” At Gaar’s glare he explained. “Mirra is wild born. The others were either created in a lab or used in experiments and perhaps altered. Their blood may differ from hers and from each other.”

  “That’s not going to be easy,” grumbled Gaar.

  “Next to impossible,” said Trinity.

  “If you can get the blood, that’s great. If not, I should still be able to figure out the recipe as soon as I get access to a lab.”

  “Back to that again,” she said.

  “Yes, and this time you’re on my side.” That felt good. Now, she couldn’t argue about him leaving for the lab.

  She glared at him but tipped her head in a slight nod.

  “Please, tell me that you have some serum left because without a sample, I won’t be able to create it, even with a lab.”

  “I used the last shot on Mirra.” Gaar’s face paled to a sickly gray.

  “All I need is a little. A drop or two. Do you have any of the used syringes?”

  “I might.” Gaar’s pulled his backpack off his shoulder and dug inside the bag.

  He wasn’t sure what he’d do if they didn’t have any.

  “Will this work?” Gaar held out three small vials. There were a couple of drops of yellowish fluid in the bottom of each one.

  He took them, holding them in a shaft of moonlight. “These are perfect.” He put one in his sweatshirt pocket, handed one to Trinity and one to Gaar. “In case something happens. We need to keep these safe until I leave for the lab.”

  “When will that be?” she asked.

  “Now, you’re in a hurry for me to go?” He grinned at her snarl. “I have no idea when the lab will be ready.” He wasn’t even sure he could trust Meesus to deliver on her promise.

  CHAPTER 28: HUGH

  THE SUN WAS STARTING to rise as Hugh and Trinity slipped back into camp. Gaar had left to find Mirra and the other Trackers in order to collect samples of their blood. The camp was quiet except for Jackson, who was talking to two other Guards, and a few Producers who were stacking firewood. No one paid any attention to their approach.

  “There wasn’t a warning call as we approached, was there?” he asked.

  “No.” She sent a troubled look at Jackson, who was heading their way.

  “Why not? I thought you had this worked out?”

  “It’s a big forest.” Jackson stopped next to them. His face was pale and his eyes were bloodshot, but he looked ready to travel. “We move our sentries from place to place but we can’t cover everything.”

  “The camp isn’t that big.” He glanced around. “This entire setup doesn’t make sense. Why are you split into two small groups? If you were all together you’d have enough people for a proper watch. Plus, there’s safety in numbers.”

  “It’s easier to hide small groups,” said Jackson.

  “If the group were large enough, then yes, it should be broken into different sections with troops defending the outer territories, but from what you’ve said there are less than one hundred of you.” He began pacing. “You need to find a location that’s secure and easy to defend. Then, you set up a schedule for sentry duty. You can use bird calls to check in with each other. A happy call means everything is good, a distress call means you require help and a danger call means to protect the camp. It’s simple.”

  “The calls won’t work,” said Trinity. “There’s no way that a Guard or Servant will exactly mimic the sound. Travis and I used to do that to attract different types of birds, but I could always tell. So, could the birds. They often came but they were hesitant and wary.”

  He stopped pacing. “If the calls are close enough to make the birds question it, then they’ll work fine.”

  “You don’t understand,” she said. “We’d hear the difference. We’d know it wasn’t a bird.”

  “You, Gaar, Mirra, absolutely.” He glanced at Jackson. “Even you and the others living here might, but not the Almightys’ Guards. Not the ones in the Protective Services. Any experienced hunting Guard might recognize the call as a fake, but the Almightys use Guards that come directly from the city shelters, not the country.”

  “Most of them wouldn’t recognize a bird call if the bird was on their shoulders,” said Jackson.

  “Exactly. We could teach everyone the calls.” He turned toward her. “Do you know one that’s simple to imitate but common to these woods?”

  “Yeah,” she said.

  “We’ll use the House Servants on night watch and the Guards during the day. They’ll go out in teams and live in the forest, returning every three days for a break.”

  Jackson shook his head and Trinity sighed.

  “What’s the problem?” His plan was perfect.

  “There’s no way that we can persuade House Servants to go on watch with Guards. They’d kill each other, but the bird call is a brilliant idea.” Jackson glanced at Trinity and then his eyes fell on Hugh. “This is why we need your help.”

  “It’s not brilliant. It’s basic logic.”

  “None of us thought of it,” said Trinity. “We don’t know anything about fighting a war. We need a leader.” She touched his arm, smiling slightly. “Trust me when I tell you that it hurts me to say this, but we need you.”

  “I can’t.” Her hand slid away, claws scraping slightly against his sweatshirt. He didn’t have to look at her to see her disappointment. He could feel it in her glare. “I already told you that I’ll be of most use in the lab.” He couldn’t be responsible for more loss of life. He couldn’t.

  Trinity and Jackson looked up at the sky, the Guard grimacing as the sun hit his face. Birdie was flying into camp. The Avion landed on the branch of a nearby tree.

  “High Hugh! Good to see you alive and free and not burnt to a crisp.” Birdie chirped at his own joke. “I had my doubts, a lot of doubts that Little One could pull off your rescue, but save you she has. I was sure the next time I saw you, your head would be farther from your shoulders.” Birdie cackled in laughter.

  “Good to see you too, Birdie.” His hand drifted to his neck, rubbing. At least it had been until the Avion had opened his beak to speak. “Please don’t use my title.”

  “Touchy, touchy. Always were too uppity.”

  “I said I don’t want you to use my title. How does that make me uppity?” His headache was coming back.

  “You shouldn’t care what a friend calls you.”

  “What did you want Birdie, or did you only come to torment me?” He wasn’t going to get into an argument with the Avion.

  B
irdie fluffed up his feathers in offense. “Same Hugh. Always in a hurry. Hurry, hurry, Hugh. Sad. I’d hoped your time in jail would’ve made you more sociable.”

  “How would being locked away from everyone make me more sociable?” The Avion’s logic made his head spin.

  “Loneliness makes you appreciate company more, especially company who brings you news. Important news. News Hi...Hugh will want to know.”

  “You have a message for me?” The hair stood on his neck. Who’d use Birdie to send him a message? Barney, Ray and Kim didn’t know the Avion, did they?

  “Message? No. News? Yes.”

  He gritted his teeth. Patience. If he offended Birdie again, he wouldn’t put it past the flying rat to leave.

  “Here Birdie.” Trinity pulled a chunk of bread out of her backpack and held it out to the Avion. “I’m sure you’re hungry after your trip.”

  Birdie shot Hugh and Jackson a glare. “Little One has manners. Little One is Birdie’s favorite.” He flew down, retrieved the bread, landed back on the branch and ate.

  Avions didn’t like coming deep into the forest, so whatever Birdie had to tell him had to be important, but interrupting the Avion’s meal wouldn’t go over well. So, he waited, his mind churning. His gut told him something bad had happened and his instincts had only failed him that one time when he’d trusted Jason.

  “The message,” said Trinity softly, after Birdie had finished eating and preening himself.

  “Thanks,” he whispered, near her ear.

  “Now, you owe me one.”

  Several if he counted saving his life. “The serum should be payment enough for this one.”

  She stiffened but kept her mouth shut.

  “Yes, of course. The news. The news. Not good. Not good at all.” Birdie settled more comfortably on the branch. “It’s nice here. Nice breeze. Nice tree. Sunshine.”

  He mentally counted to ten. He was going to wrap his hands around the Avion’s neck and squeeze the message from him.

  “The news?” prompted Trinity, in her soft, sweet tone. The one she never used when she spoke to him.

  “Oh, yes, yes. It seems your Guard has been taken.”

  “They got Sue? What about the others at the camp?” This was worse than he’d imagined.