The Rising dr-3

by Kelley Armstrong

  At the table, Ash ate his wrap, but not without complaint. Wraps? Seriously? In a park? Where were the burgers and fries? Damned West Coast.

  “So where are you from, then?” I asked.

  From the look he gave me, you’d think I was asking for his home address so I could send a death squad.

  “Around,” he said.

  “So where did you get the email address?” I asked.

  “From the person you gave it to, obviously.”

  I shot a look at Daniel.

  “We called the number for Cyril Mitchell,” Daniel said. “That was the emergency contact another skin-walker gave Maya. The woman who answered said he was dead. She claimed to be his daughter. Is that true?”

  “Yeah, he’s dead. Yeah, she’s his daughter. But if you expected any help from that dumb bitch, you’re even more clueless than I thought.”

  “So tell us what we’re missing,” Daniel said, his voice low, calm. “Clue us in.”

  Ash shrugged. “Later. Maybe. Point is, she’s not going to help. She didn’t want her dad mixed up with the St. Clouds or their genetic projects. Blames them for his death.”

  “They killed him?” I asked.

  He looked ready to shoot back a sarcastic response, then checked himself. “No. It was a heart attack. She blames them because he was working for them. Working both sides—employed by the Cabal, but helping some of the Project Phoenix parents. So she blames us, too, which is why she isn’t going to help. But she did decide it was her duty to pass on your email to me and tell me you phoned from a Vancouver number. She knew you were my sister. Acted like she was doing us a huge favor. She shouldn’t have been passing out your contact info without asking you. Like I said, dumb bitch.”

  “So she told you I called, gave you the email address, and you decided to come meet me?”

  “Yeah.”

  He was sitting there, barely able to look at me, barely able to speak without snapping at me, yet he’d dropped everything, paid God knows how much for a plane ticket, and crossed an international border to track me down. I didn’t know how to reconcile that. I would have been sure it was a trap except, if it was, he wouldn’t be nearly so pissy about the whole thing. He’d be all, “Hey, I’m your brother and I’m here to help.”

  “You know Daniel’s a benandanti, and you know we’re supposed to be dead, and you know there are two Cabals after us. Did Mitchell’s daughter tell you that?”

  He snorted. “She didn’t tell me nothing. I already knew about the crash and the escape. There are a few parents out there who left Project Phoenix, like our mother. They’ve kept in contact with me. One of them contacted me after the crash. She had a Google alert on Salmon Creek. She told me—” The briefest hesitation. “She told me you were dead.”

  “Oh.”

  “Then I get this call from Sylvia Mitchell. So I made another call, to another parent, and found out you survived. This guy knew how to contact me, knew that I thought you were dead, and never even bothered to phone when he found out otherwise. Said it wouldn’t do any good. That I was better off thinking you were dead.”

  “Nice,” Corey murmured. “So I’m guessing these parents aren’t going to be helping us anytime soon.”

  “You guess right. The one who told me you were dead is okay but useless. Just wants to protect her daughter.” He paused. “Can’t blame her, I guess. The other guy is even less helpful, though he knows more. He has contacts. Won’t share them, though. Might endanger his kid. Cyril was in charge of this little network, but when he died, it just fell apart. He’s the only one who would have helped—or made them help.”

  “Okay,” Daniel said. “So who can we get help from? Your mother?”

  Ash snorted. “You know where to find her?”

  “Um, no, I thought you . . .” Daniel looked my way again.

  I cleared my throat. “I was told our mother separated us because the St. Clouds would be looking for twins. She left me at a hospital in Portland, but she kept you. Raised you.”

  “You heard wrong.”

  “Oh.” I paused. “So she aban—Left both of us?”

  “Abandoned. She abandoned both of us. You at the hospital as a baby, me with some so-called friends when I was five.”

  “Oh.”

  “Yeah, oh. I haven’t seen her since and I don’t want to now. If you’re going after her, count me out. I’ll suggest you save yourself the trip, though. She doesn’t give a damn about either of us. Dumped us on strangers to save herself.”

  I sat there, stunned. Then I said, “Is there anyone we can go to?”

  He stared at me, then laughed. “You guys really are spoiled rich kids, aren’t you? When things go wrong, you don’t have a clue how to save yourselves. Just run in circles looking for a grown-up to do it for you.”

  “Does it look like we can’t save ourselves? We’re free, aren’t we? But our parents think we’re dead.”

  “Good. Makes it easier to disappear. No one to come looking for you.”

  “I don’t want to disappear. I want my parents back.”

  “Why? They sold you out.”

  “I don’t believe that.”

  “Then you’re not just a sheltered rich kid. You’re a stupid one, too.”

  Daniel cut in. “We also need help because the Cabals have our friends.”

  “Then wish them well and start making new ones. They’ll be fine. The St. Clouds and Nasts will take care of them. They’re valuable future employees.” Ash eased back on the bench. “Look. I came for my sister. I know how you guys grew up and I figure she’s not going to last ten minutes on the street. I’m going to take her someplace safe. I didn’t expect”—he waved at Daniel and Corey—“an entourage, but I suppose it’s a package deal.”

  “It is,” I said. “But we’re not running and hiding. We can’t.”

  “Maya can’t,” Daniel said. “There’s a problem with skin-walkers after they start shifting.”

  “What?”

  “One of the first subjects is the sister of the guy who gave me Cyril Mitchell’s number,” I said. “She’s been shifting for a few years now and she’s . . . brain damaged.”

  “From the shifts?”

  “Maybe brain damaged isn’t the right term. It’s like she’s becoming more . . . animal. All she cares about is eating and sleeping and running around the woods. Now I’m starting to shift, and . . .”

  “You’ve noticed changes?”

  “No,” Daniel said. “But it’s only been a week and Rafe told her it took awhile with Annie. If Maya starts reverting like that, we can’t exactly take her to a hospital and ask them to fix it. We need help from the people who did this to us.”

  “And how the hell are you going to get that? Ask nicely?”

  Silence. This was the part we hadn’t worked out. Hadn’t dared discuss.

  I spoke first. “Ideally, we’d find someone who worked for the project—a scientist or a doctor—who has either left the St. Clouds or is willing to work against them. Which sounds like Cyril Mitchell.”

  “Yeah, it does. Which means you’re shit outta luck. I’m not even sure he could have helped. This is . . .” A look crossed Ash’s face. Something like fear. “Big.”

  “It’s huge,” Daniel said. “And I’m not letting it happen to Maya.”

  “So how are you going to stop it, benandanti? Put all their scientists in choke holds and use your power to persuade them to help?”

  “If I have to. The better option, though . . .” He took a deep breath. “Is a truce.”

  “What?” Ash laughed and shook his head. “You really don’t know anything about Cabals, do you?”

  “No, but I’m hoping you’ll fill us in. I do believe, however, that under the right circumstances, a truce is possible. For that, though, we need our parents—not because we want Mommy and Daddy to hold our hands, but because these people won’t take our demands seriously. We’re just kids. We need to get to our parents and let them know what’s happen
ed. Yes, maybe some joined the project voluntarily, but they didn’t sign up so their kids could be taken away. If they know the truth, they can use it. Threats. Blackmail. Whatever it takes. Get the Cabals to help us on our terms.”

  Ash looked me in the eye. “This stuff about the girl. Annie. You’ve met her?”

  “I have.”

  “Could she have been faking it? Maybe her and her brother set this up so you’d think you need a Cabal’s help?”

  I shook my head. “It was real. She’s regressing, and it’s . . .” I swallowed. “I can’t imagine it.”

  “Fine,” he said. “We’ll try it your way. It won’t work, but I can tell you’re not going to believe that until you’ve given it a shot.”

  TEN

  ASH DIDN’T GET A whole lot more pleasant after that. He insisted he’d come to rescue me, but acted like I’d found him—against his will—and now I was clinging like a burr, tenacious and irritating.

  When we finished eating, he wanted to find a spot to hole up for the night.

  “We need to stake out a good place now,” he said. “Before it’s dark. Otherwise, all the good spots will be taken.”

  “We found one the night before last,” I said. “We can just go back—”

  “Never use the same spot twice. Not when you’re running.”

  He seemed to have some experience with this. A lot of experience? I looked down at his tattered sneakers. I had a feeling he didn’t live with those “so-called friends” of our mother anymore.

  “So where do street people live in this city?” he said. He shook his head. “Why am I asking you? Hell, this is Canada. The great socialist nation to the north. You guys don’t even have homeless people, I bet.”

  “We have them, unfortunately,” I said as calmly as I could.

  “Guess socialism isn’t really working out for you, huh?”

  “Canada is a democracy. That means we’re not a socialist country or a communist country or a—”

  “We have homelessness and we have gangs,” Daniel cut in. “Both of which could be an issue in finding a place to spend the night. You’re right, though. We have no idea where to look for a spot. We’re going to need to rely on you for that.”

  I cleared my throat. “Actually, there are a few dozen homeless living here in the park. Long-term campers deep in the woods. When Vancouver had that big windstorm in 2006, they had to go looking for the homeless people, make sure they were all accounted for. Dad came over to help with some other rangers.”

  “Make sure they were accounted for?” Ash said. “What? They keep a roster, check in on them from time to time?”

  “The park management knows they’re there. They aren’t hurting anyone, so no one bothers them.”

  Ash shook his head as if this, too, was clearly the sign of a backward nation.

  I said, “As long as we get deep enough in the woods and don’t bother them, we can stay here for the night.”

  And I’d really like to stay in the forest, if I can. But I didn’t say that. I had a feeling it would make him decide to stay anyplace but here.

  “We should,” Daniel said. “It makes sense. We’re not going to need to worry about gangs in here.”

  “All right,” Ash said. “Find a spot.”

  As we headed into the woods, Ash just followed along, glancing from side to side, as if he expected wolves to leap out.

  Earlier, he’d seemed perfectly comfortable climbing trees. Adept at it. And as long as we’d kept to the edge of the forest, he’d been fine. But Stanley Park is bigger than New York’s Central Park. As we got in deeper, leaving the sounds of the city behind, he grew even more tense and quiet.

  “You okay?” I said when he jumped at a sparrow hopping through a bed of needles.

  “’Course,” he snapped. “Just paying attention. Someone has to.”

  Corey nodded. “You never know. That sparrow could have had an Uzi hidden—”

  Daniel elbowed him to silence. Ash fell back, scuffling along, until we got far enough in. He caught up then. He didn’t join our conversation, but did stay close as we continued moving through the woods.

  We found a decent place. As Daniel and I cleared twigs and brush for sleeping spots, Corey and Ash stood off to the side. Ash watched us, as if daring us to ask him to help. We didn’t. Corey seemed not to have noticed what we were doing. He was staring out into the forest, lost in thought.

  I leaned over to Daniel as we both bent for the same rock. “You should probably talk to Corey about the vision thing.”

  “I was just going to say the same to you.” Daniel took the rock and motioned for me to follow him a few steps away. “You’re the one he told about them in the first place.”

  “Only because—”

  “He didn’t want to worry me. I know. But while I think that might have been part of it, it’s partly just . . . It’s not about boxing or girls or cars. Not something he wants to talk to a guy about. Having visions? Way outside his comfort zone. Too . . .”

  “Touchy-feely mystical?”

  “Exactly. For that, he’d rather talk to you. Like I’d tease him or something.” He rolled his eyes.

  “I’m more likely to tease him. But okay. Let me give it a shot.”

  “Thanks.” He glanced over at Ash. “Speaking of comfort zones, I think your brother finds it easier talking to me. Is there anything I can ask him for you?”

  I shook my head. “There’s plenty I want to know, but I need to ask myself. When I think he might actually answer. Which could be never.”

  “Don’t let it get to you.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Liar.”

  I smiled, shook my head, and walked over to Corey.

  Daniel was partly right. Corey was really uncomfortable with his newfound powers. But I’m not sure talking to me helped. Everyone else seemed to have physical powers. His was mental. Corey was really better with the physical. It didn’t help that his came with the most serious side-effect of all—debilitating headaches. He felt ripped off.

  “I think it’s just a transition period,” I said. “You’re coming into your powers, and the headaches are a sign of that. Once it develops properly, they’ll go away.”

  “Or not.”

  “Maybe if we do get you a crystal ball, that would help.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You know I’m teasing.”

  “Yeah, and I also know I’m being a brat. I just . . . I don’t . . . I don’t understand it. What’s happening. It doesn’t feel . . .” He glanced over. “It doesn’t feel like me. Changing into a cougar fits you—you’re a nature freak. Being an evil-hunting warrior fits Daniel. Sam, too. Being mermaids or whatever fits Hayley and Nicole. But this . . . it doesn’t fit me.”

  “There may be more to it,” I said. “Parts we don’t know about. No one else just has one power. We need to find out exactly what you are.”

  He was quiet for a moment, then said, “I think I might know more. I . . .” He glanced over to where Daniel was trying to engage Ash in small talk. “He should hear this. Daniel, I mean. I guess there’s no way of doing that without him overhearing.” A pointed look at Ash. “But if he makes a crack—any crack—I’ll deck him. Brother or not.”

  “No argument here. He’s not exactly Mr. Congeniality.”

  “No kidding. I think we’re going to need a DNA test to prove you two are related.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  ELEVEN

  WE WERE BACK AT the “campsite,” which was just a sheltered clearing with an empty spot that should have held a campfire, except that we had nothing to start one.

  When Corey announced he had something to tell Daniel and me, Ash decided to take a walk. I would like to think he was being polite, but he probably just didn’t want to sit through a boring personal conversation.

  “I know what I am,” Corey said. “I looked up those two words you guys saw on that paper with skin-walker and benandanti. I had to guess
at spellings, but I eventually got a hit.”

  Daniel caught my look and gave an abashed nod. We hadn’t even thought of that. The words had been blocked when we looked them up in Salmon Creek. That should have been the first thing we researched at the library.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “We should have done that.”

  Corey looked confused. “Why? Finding the right term for what I am is hardly a priority. It’s not like looking up something that’s supposed to be real. Whatever we find on the web is just stories. Like with you guys. I looked up you both, too. Daniel’s supposed to be fighting for the olive crops. I bet you don’t even know where the nearest olive crop is.”

  “No idea,” Daniel said.

  “And Maya? You’re supposed to be an evil witch.” He paused. “Well, they got that part right.”

  I pitched a pebble at him.

  “Hey, I was nice to you earlier. Gotta balance it out. Point is, I looked up sileni and xana. Hayley and Nicole are xana, which is a really obscure kind of Spanish mermaid-siren cross. A blond water spirit that sings. I couldn’t find much on them. But apparently, they have some kind of evil-fighting skills themselves. You know how sirens are supposed to drive guys crazy with their singing? Well, xana can do that, too, but only to folks who deserve it.” He paused. “Which means I really gotta be a lot nicer to Hayley.”

  “Good idea,” I said. “So that makes you a sileni, then. Which is . . . ?”

  He poked a stick at the dirt, like he was prodding an imaginary campfire. It took a moment before he said, “You know what a satyr is?”

  “Um, a guy who’s half goat?”

  He glowered at me.

  “What?” I said. “It is, isn’t it? Centaur is part horse. Faun is part deer. Satyr is—”

  “It’s a lie. They were confused with some Roman monsters when the Romans and Greeks started hanging out together. The real Greek satyrs were followers of Dionysus. They looked human.”

  “Dionysus,” I said. “God of wine, women, and song. You know, when you said you didn’t fit your type—”

  “Yeah, yeah. So okay, these satyrs liked to run around, drinking and chasing women and playing some kind of harmonica. Their leader was a guy named Silenus, who had visions of the future.”