Standard Deviation of Death (The Outlier Prophecies Book 4)

by Tina Gower

  He sets his sandwich down and rolls his neck from side to side.

  I take a bite of mine.

  He watches me, concentrating. “I’m trying here. I really am.”

  I lean across the counter and take his hand. “I know.”

  “You can explain every single reason why this lecture isn’t going to end in disaster and I know it’s not. I trust you. I trust you know what you’re doing. That you can function and protect yourself without me.”

  “But you’re too much wolf.”

  He nods.

  “And you’d rather I not go.”

  “I’d rather you not have to care or get my approval either way. But your life is in danger. People want you dead.”

  “So I bring Ali and Hank.”

  He shakes his head. “Neither of them is me.”

  I cast one last yearning look at the Kitman tickets. “All right.” I put on my best I’m-fine-no-big-deal face. “I’m sure there will be other opportunities when I’m not on death watch.” I take my sandwich into the dining room and attempt to drown my disappointment in case files. I open Jack’s old file. The first case Becker and I worked on together. The one that started this entire investigation. Although I had every detail memorized, it would help to go over it again with all the fresh information in mind.

  The fridge door opens and closes a few times. Becker must be putting away the sandwich makings from lunch.

  Okay, so without the silver bullet save of Kitman solving the case for us, I had to come up with another plan. Past cases. How many have been manipulated. Becker’s tablet is on the couch, so I move my files to the coffee table and get to work. I search for symbol. Any case that had an unexplained symbol involved. Nothing.

  Didn’t really think that would work. Even I didn’t get the connection until several cases later. How about the words skuld, karma, or wyrd.

  Wyrd returns me seven cases. Excellent.

  I scan the cases. There’s a bit about one of the assailants. Talia Lee. Talia. Lee. I put the tablet down. That’s the same witch who’d been using blood magic. Shifter blood. We’d tagged her in Ali’s binder she’d borrowed from the coven library. I read the case.

  Talia had scratched the wyrd rune in her victim’s torso. There were pictures attached. Diagonal hash marks intersecting. It was the same symbol. The one someone sent Jack. The same one watermarked on the bus driver’s orders to miss a stop that ultimately led to the death of Jared Walker. And the same symbol on the back of the card Julia had been given by the witch who promised her they would set right fate’s wrongs.

  Becker sets a water glass in front of me and I jolt, returning to reality. “Okay.”

  “Okay?”

  He grits his teeth for a moment and his nostrils flare. “Okay. Don’t make me say it; it’s hard enough knowing you’ll be going without me there to watch you.”

  “Becker…” I nearly tell him not to worry about it, but stop myself. He’s making an effort to go against his instincts. I owe it to him to follow through. And I want to go to the Kitman lecture. I’d rather go with his blessing, even a strained one. “Is there something I can do to make it easier?”

  He shifts from one foot to the other, rubbing his fist. “What do you mean?”

  “Is there a way to make it less difficult for you? You know, this obsession and control thing? Should we do more pack time before we head back into the city? More protein? Should you run around the building? Do a couple push-ups? Or…”

  Sex. My brain inserts the idea and thankfully I stop myself before I blurt it out loud. We just started a relationship this morning. Why do I feel the need to bang him the first moment we’ve had alone since then?

  “Yeah.” He nods, swallowing a couple of times and backing away from me so quickly I nearly miss the blush creeping up his neck. Becker can’t read minds, but he definitely got a whiff of my attraction. He unzips the duffle Hank brought for him and searches until he finds a pair of shorts. “A run. I’ll start with that. Extra protein.” He grabs a plastic-wrapped peanut oat cake and waves it above his head and drops it into his pocket, walking backward to the rear entry of the house. “Maybe after a shower…”

  For a minute I think he means sex, but realize he must mean pack session. Heat radiates out of my chest and to my face. If I didn’t have a dark complexion, I’d be as red as Becker. “Sure. I’m going to keep at these files. I think we’re going to want to call the psychiatric facility that Talia Lee is admitted to and get a meet and greet. Too many coincidences to ignore.”

  Becker latches onto the switch in topics. “I’ll get on that.” He pulls out his phone, shifts all the items in his hand to under his armpit, and taps as he moves out to the garage.

  I go over a few more files, but nothing else sticks out like that first jackpot with Talia Lee. I massage my temples and instead decide to learn what I can about the wyrd symbol. Gulping water, I read through a few articles. The symbol isn’t without its controversy. Generally accepted as an Anglo-Saxon religious rune, but with the warning that it may have migrated there from several other cultures. It’s been used in witchcraft across several continents, although it’s not clear when it was first used or how it works or even who first discovered it—it’s that ancient. But the Norn fate Wyrd has a little more information. There have always been three fates that control destiny; each culture has called them something different.

  Wyrd, or Urd, represented the past or what has come to pass, whereas Skuld dealt with the future. Skuld also managed the debt and guilt of events that had happened and therefore could not be changed. Skuld had the possibility and the ability to right wrongs. Had we been interpreting this group’s motives incorrectly? Did they believe that the government had misinterpreted forecasts and it was their holy duty to correct those mistakes?

  I blow out a frustrated breath and throw the printout of information on top of the mountain of case files.

  Becker strolls in from his run, slightly hunched over, glittering with sweat, and panting. He motions to the bathroom, too out of breath to speak. The shower comes on and steam rolls in from under the door.

  I move a few files into the master bedroom, which is as far away from the guest bathroom as I can get to give him some privacy. A few minutes later I hear him shuffle out of the bathroom and rummage through his duffle in the kitchen.

  He joins me in the bedroom, hair dripping wet from his shower, and wearing a clean pair of track pants. He drops his bag into the closet, dangerously close to the lace teddy Ali brought me.

  Don’t think about the lace teddy with Becker shirtless in the same room. I close my eyes and force myself to focus on the case.

  He glances at the spot I’m staring at in the closet. “Hey, uh, should I keep my stuff in the other room?”

  My gaze jumps to his. “What? No. Of course not. We both know where you’ll be sleeping.”

  “Yeah.” He nods, palms on his chest, then paces. “I don’t have to though. I can leave right after like before. Just because we’re doing the relationship thing doesn’t mean we have to move too quickly.”

  “I’m fine with it.” I shake my head and make a failed effort to pretend that I’m deeply analyzing something in a case file. A case file I discover is upside-down. I right it. “Are you? Fine with it, I mean?”

  “I’m glad you asked because”—he reaches behind himself and produces a pair of handcuffs that were tucked into his waistband—“I have a few reservations…”

  I sigh. “Gods, Ian. What is it with the handcuffs? I thought we were past that. You said you only needed them until I decided about the relationship and I did. I decided I’m all in for everything. We don’t need to do this. It’s a bit over the top, don’t you think?”

  He shakes his head. “It’s a precaution. For now. I’m working tonight and I should get some sleep, so I can make it through the shift.”

  “I don’t understand. After the jog and the protein—isn’t that enough?”

  “I don’t know.” His eye
s widen and his shoulders rise to his ears. He’s genuinely perplexed as to what to expect from himself. “I don’t want to test it.”

  “And what’s the worst thing that could happen? We sleep together. We’re in a relationship. We’ll eventually have sex. And won’t it…help? Maybe we’re looking at this all wrong and being too coy.”

  He grips the cuffs, holding his ground, and clears his throat. “That will happen eventually. I’m not trying to avoid it. I just thought we’d go on a few dates first.”

  He plays with the cuffs in his hand, not looking me in the eye. He’s hiding something, stalling. But it doesn’t matter. If he’s not ready to go that far, and honestly, I don’t want to rush into it. Seeing Kyle today was a huge reminder of my tendency to rush into sexual relationships without first stopping to see if the other person is as fully on board as I am.

  I step away from the bed and make a sweeping gesture to the frame. “I assume you’ve already inspected it and know where you’d like to hook up.”

  He gives me a look that says he doesn’t appreciate my humor and pulls the top sheet back to reveal a short bar across the bottom of the headboard. He clamps the cuff on the frame and then his right wrist into the cuff. Since he’s right handed, I assume he must think this will impair him further in the event he goes berserk, as he fears he will. Personally, I don’t think I have that kind of power over him. I don’t believe for a second he’d take advantage or hurt me.

  He sets an alarm on his phone and sets it on the nightstand next to his side of the bed. Oh my gods, we have sides now. I bite my lip and try not to laugh out loud. Becker would probably also not appreciate that joke either. I lay next to him.

  He wraps his free arm around me and pulls me close. “Key is in the duffle bag. Front pocket.”

  “All right.” I reach over and grab a file to read while he drifts off to sleep. It’s the most unsexy setup I can manage and yet I still can’t stop thinking about all the dirty things I could do with a werewolf cuffed to my bed.

  I won’t get much work done.

  Chapter 7

  Becker doesn’t speak much on our trip into the city. There’s a lot of frowning, but he does his best to pretend he’s one hundred percent okay with me being free to roam around in the vicinity of people who’d like to kill me. We meet Ali and Lipski at the police station. My two new guards listen patiently while Becker goes over every safety protocol, and they wait while he checks and rechecks various items in my purse.

  Ali snickers. “Is the pepper spray really that important? After what you witnessed I could do earlier today?”

  Becker drops the spray in my purse and grunts a good-bye to the other two. I’m rewarded with a quick kiss.

  After Becker is in the elevator Ali giggles. “You’ve graduated to public displays of affection. Hooray!”

  “He can still hear you,” Lipski says in his low grumble that is the only tone Becker can’t hear.

  Ali raises her nose in the air. “That’s why I said it.” She picks at a piece of lint on her sweater. “He thought he could take my cousin for an unspecified amount of time to a secret location. He’s going to have to deal with some heat from me.”

  I’d have to talk to Ali about that. It might become plan A if we don’t solve this case. I knew it would be difficult for her. My uncle, her father, had left right before her mother’s mental condition worsened. Ali didn’t like being left behind.

  Lipski checks his watch. “We don’t have a lot of time to spare. We should get going so we can get you in the best seat. Remember, front row, center. Beck and I took a look at the auditorium’s setup. You should have a clear path to emergency exits on either side, plenty of warning from all entrances for Ali to throw out a spell. I’ll be patrolling outside.”

  We get in Ali’s car. Lipski instructs us on the best route.

  She holds up a plasticware bin. “Did you eat the cookies I brought to the station this afternoon?”

  “Yeah, I still feel a little rummy. I put some in Becker’s locker like you said.”

  I lean forward from the back seat. “Whoa, wait a minute. Don’t you guys think this is taking the vendetta against Ian a little too far?” I glare at Ali. “Vomit cakes? Really, Ali?” I dig for my phone in my purse to warn Becker off the “friendly treat.”

  Lipski rests a calloused hand on my wrist. “Hold up, Katie Cupcake.”

  Ali grins wide. “Katie Cupcake. I like that. I want a call sign too. Like Ali Aioli Sauce.” She bangs on the wheel, hopping up and down in her seat. The car lurches forward with each jump. “I claim Ali Aioli Sauce.”

  “This isn’t funny,” I plead to both of them. “Becker is dealing with enough. He can’t afford to get sick…” My mind trails off, connecting the dots. “Wait, did he ask for this? Did he want to get sent home so he could obsess over watching me? You can’t encourage him.”

  Ali shakes her head. “No. No. No. Come on, you think I’d support a stalker werewolf’s agenda? It’s not vomit cake.”

  “Katie, you might be fateless,” Lipski points between him and Ali, “but we’re not. If you want to go to this Kitman lecture, you would have been able to make a decision like that undetected on your own, but with three of us who can be easily forecasted on knowing your plan, it makes it harder to keep that from Wyrd.”

  “Oh my gods.” A bit of bile burns the back of my mouth. “You’re all willing to get sick for me to geek out on my profession’s hero?”

  Ali makes a disgusted face. “Blah, no. I don’t care how awesome math is, you’d have to have at least one of the seven hells of a reason to motivate me to mess with the fates. And I didn’t even get enough time to mess with the spell recipe much to make it at least taste decent.” Her body goes slightly slack as though not getting more time between death threats to alter a recipe properly is the most defeating thing I’ve ever done to her.

  Lipski motions for Ali to turn down a side street so we hit the auditorium at a less used route. “The cookies should make it a little fuzzy if someone tries to get a read on our futures. It’s not going to be perfect; we’re not completely hidden. The magic won’t work for long, as our bodies adjust differently—so it’s not a long-term solution, but it will frustrate them for sure not getting all the details they want.”

  “Okay.” I’m unsure of how much of this unstable magic they explained to Becker. He’d never go for “maybe it might work” but it was all they had.

  Lipski twists in his seat to see me better. “Becker and I have been going over old cases and following up on the card Julia was given in the alchemy district. We passed it around and found two other families from that same construction incident with incredibly good luck. From there we’ve been mapping out who all might have had their destiny altered by Wyrd in the last year. At least eight of over a dozen possibilities were connected to cases Michelle had some involvement in. Where she saved the day, apparently it left some people in the lurch and feeling they got a raw deal. It appears Wyrd doesn’t like the Kitman method.”

  “Right. Makes sense. She’s been the lead on a lot of high profile cases. The Kitman method enabled her to lower risk on high probability cases by seeking out the potentially fatal situations, isolating them, and then avoiding.”

  S.I.A. Seek. Isolate. Avoid. It lowered the probability for the victim without as much occurrence of ripples—or other predictions that tend to spring out after a huge event is altered. I’d attempted to use the method while solving Jack’s case, but the timeframe was too tight. For those first few weeks after the case, I’d been afraid I caused the ripple that eventually led to his near-fatal accident by not following the method correctly. It takes skill to implement, so if done with success it’s noted by colleagues.

  I stroke the back of my hand along my jaw. “Could Wyrd be attempting to bastardize her method by using it in reverse? Maybe that’s how they’re able to fly under the radar with some of their forecast changes. Alana’s death notice had very little ripples and they controlled for the f
ew that could be detected.” My last case had been a high probability, short time frame, prediction—extremely short notice, a few hours rather than a few days. It usually almost always resulted in death, but someone else died in her place. A man named Jared Walker. “Maybe we could use that as a conversation starter?”

  “We’ll need to make contact with Kitman.” Lipski rubs his chin as though he’s considering the idea. “Might not want to alert her to the issue right away. We don’t know what pulling their attention on someone with as high a profile as Kitman might do. Tread lightly.”

  “But whoever’s targeting me could be targeting Michelle too. She should know she’s at risk.”

  “Not exactly. She’s high profile enough she’ll get a warning prediction if her risk level goes up.” Lipski signals Ali to drive up to the roundabout in front of the auditorium. “I’ll take the car and park it in a more ideal location.” He turns back to me. “We think Kitman’s safe since she’s mostly on the lecture circuit and hasn’t taken a case in over a year. But whoever’s seeking vengeance has taken an interest in some of her old cases at least. We want to see if there are details from those cases that might not be written in the files.”

  Doubtful. Kitman was notorious for keeping meticulous notes. I take Lipski’s tablet with the downloaded files in question anyway. Scanning through, I recognize a majority of them from university case studies.

  Ali instructs me to wait in the car as she hops out and runs to open my door. “Your majesty.” She makes a sweeping gesture with her hand. “Okay, that means you have to do me sometime. Fair’s fair and all.”

  “Gotcha.” I promise, already constructing the payback so I can get it over with—I don’t like IOUs. Especially now. I imagine Ali giving my eulogy and mentioning that I never came through for her and using this one event as an example.

  Ali and I get through the crowd out front fairly quickly, I’m glad we got our tickets in advance. The line is long and it looks to be a full house.