Kane stood abruptly. “Let’s be on our way.”
“I thought you’d gone.”
“I probably should have.” His eyes locked onto mine, then looked away. “I had to make some calls. Let the rally organizers know I’m running late.”
“The rally is still on?”
“Of course. After this . . .” He still wouldn’t look at me as his arm swept across the hall. “We need it more than ever.” He offered his hand to Mab. “Are you ready?”
“Indeed.” She accepted his assistance in standing, and I noticed she was a little wobbly on her feet. Not surprising after a shift, but when I asked if she was all right, she assured me that she was.
And that was all we could manage to say to each other.
Mab took my arm and we followed Kane, who was already pushing her luggage trolley toward the doors, out into the night.
KANE’S BMW CARRIED US ALL BACK TO DEADTOWN: KANE, Mab, me, and the most awkward, uncomfortable silence I’d ever experienced. Mab sat in back, staring out the side window, her hand on the small suitcase beside her. I sat in front, inches from Kane yet feeling like we were on opposite sides of an impenetrable steel wall.
Who knew what the others were thinking? I didn’t want to guess. But for me, most of my thoughts were of the kicking-myself variety. Kicking myself that I hadn’t told Kane about the Night Hag’s offer. That I hadn’t told either of them about Dad. That I’d let Difethwr’s rage take over, to the extent that I was ready to attack my own aunt.
Shit. The car may have held three passengers, but I was crowded out by remorse and regrets.
“I think it would be wise,” Kane said, speaking to Mab, not me, as we neared Government Center, “to stow your weapons in my office vault, as we discussed earlier. The authorities might let you bring them into Deadtown, but you’ll never get them out again. Not with the situation as it is now.”
“Is there time before your rally?” Mab asked, her gaze never straying from the window. It was just past ten o’clock.
“There is. I don’t take the stage until one.”
“Then I agree.”
Kane steered into the garage on New Sudbury Street where he paid an outrageous monthly fee for his reserved parking space. When he stopped the car, I unbuckled my seat belt and started to open the door.
“Wait here,” he said.
“I was going to help you lug that trunk up to your office.”
“No need. Keep your aunt company. I’ll be right back.” He turned around and peered at Mab. “Before I lock up the trunk, do you need anything out of it?”
“No, thank you. I already have it.”
“Have what?” I asked. “Mab, Kane’s right. Any weapons you bring into Deadtown now won’t get out again.”
“Not a weapon,” Mab said. “The gauntlet.” She still wouldn’t look at me. “Thank you, Mr. Kane. Please do secure my . . . er, cargo.”
Kane nodded and pulled back from the window. A few seconds later, the car’s trunk opened. The whole car shifted as Kane lifted the heavy box. I watched him trudge toward the elevator, Mab’s trunk bowing his broad shoulders. I thought about getting out of the car and helping, whether he wanted me to or not, but I didn’t want to be brushed off again. I slumped in my seat.
But not for long. I turned and looked back at my aunt.
“Mab . . .” I began.
“Not now, child. I know you wish to talk, and we shall. But not now. At the moment, I’m tired. The shift healed my injuries, but it required energy I scarcely had. Most of all, I need to think. So please have some patience with an old woman.”
“You’re not old.” My aunt had lived for more than three centuries, but she was the definition of vitality. I didn’t like the tone of defeat in her voice.
Mab didn’t answer, so I pressed forward with what I really wanted to say. “Mab, I’m sorry. Please believe that. Are . . . are things okay between us?” It was a question I’d never expected to have to ask my aunt, but her weariness and her refusal to look at me made me frightened.
Her face still turned toward the window, she waved a hand, then let it drop to her lap. “It’s as I said before, child. The Destroyer has a strong hold on you.” She paused. “Stronger than I’d imagined. That is why I must think now.”
I turned back to stare through the windshield at the concrete wall. We sat in silence until Kane returned.
THE CHECKPOINTS WERE BUSY HEADING INTO DEADTOWN, although I didn’t see a single car coming out. Kane swore under his breath as we joined the end of a line of cars leaving human-controlled Boston.
“Maybe people are coming in for your rally,” I said.
“Or maybe they’ve elevated the code again.”
But when we pulled up to the booth, the restriction level poster still indicated Code Yellow. I wasn’t surprised. The recent attacks had come from zombies, and yellow restrictions kept them in Deadtown. Plus the full moon was almost here, so companies would want werewolf employees to clear their desks before heading off on retreat.
Kane passed our ID cards through the window. Mab still had the forged ID I’d gotten her the last time she was here, and no eyebrows were raised. The guard handed the cards back and raised the barrier, already looking past us to the next car.
A couple of businesses had reopened in the New Combat Zone. The convenience store remained closed, but Conner’s and The Wild Side both had lights on and handwritten OPEN signs on their doors. As we passed Creature Comforts, a group of pedestrians pulled open the door. Inside business seemed brisk, not at all like during my last visit. Probably people having a couple of drinks before the rally. I was glad Axel was getting the business.
After we cleared the second checkpoint, it was only a few minutes’ drive through the crowded streets to get to my building. Zombies were everywhere, thronging the sidewalks and spilling into the road. Yet pockets of emptiness surrounded the food carts stationed every few yards, the vendors looking dejected. The zombies still weren’t eating.
With each block, the need grew to say something, anything, to Kane. Half a dozen times I turned to him, only to have his name die on my lips at the sight of his fixed stare, his rigid posture. The way he made such a point of not looking at me. When he pulled to a stop in front of my building, I still hadn’t managed a word.
“Kane—”
He was already out of the car, opening Mab’s door. I got out and removed her bag, setting it on the sidewalk. “Do you need help with that?” His gray eyes watched me over the roof of the car. At last he’d spoken to me, but his formal voice sounded more like a professional limo driver than my boyfriend.
“I’ve got it,” I said.
He nodded and turned away. Damn it, I couldn’t let him just leave. Not with things like this. As he opened the driver’s side door, I raced around the car and put my hand on his arm. “I know you have to get to the rally, but can you wait a couple of minutes? I need to get Mab upstairs, but I’d like for us to talk.” I’d spent more than enough time avoiding him and ducking conversations. I didn’t want him to leave with bad feelings between us. For once, I was going to face the issue head-on.
If he’d let me.
“Please?” I added.
He tilted back his head, as if the answer was written on the sky. Then he looked at me and nodded. “I’d like that, too.”
My heart surged. “Good. I’ll be right back.”
I picked up Mab’s bag and ushered my aunt inside. I introduced her to the night doorman—a new guy, not Clyde—and told him she’d be staying with us for a while. Upstairs, Mab stretched out on the couch and closed her eyes. “Take your time, child,” she said. “We’ll talk after I’ve rested. You go and make things right with your young man.”
Make things right. Was that even possible? Maybe not. All I knew was I had to try.
17
KANE STOOD BY HIS CAR, TALKING ON HIS CELL PHONE. HE ended the conversation as I walked over. He watched me but didn’t shift his posture or open his arms to m
e. I stopped several feet in front of him, suddenly tongue-tied. I’d said we needed to talk, but now in the searchlight of his stare I didn’t know what to do or say.
“You should have told me,” he said.
Five words, each of them a distinct knife in my gut. Not because Kane was aiming to hurt, but because he was right.
“I promised Dad.”
“You think I couldn’t keep his secret? Me?” His mouth snapped shut and he clenched his jaw. “Juliet knew. You trusted her, but you didn’t trust me.”
“That was different. She microwaves things for him.” Kane looked at me like I was crazy. Maybe I was. “What I mean is, I didn’t tell Juliet. She was home one night when Dad came to see me and—”
“And he was obviously okay with her knowing. And still you didn’t tell me. You didn’t even bother to ask your dad if he’d mind.” His expression clouded. “Or did you ask? Is he afraid I’ll try to talk you into handing him over to the Night Hag to gain my freedom? Because . . .” Kane’s voice trailed off. His eyebrows knit together as he thought. Then understanding widened his eyes. “He doesn’t know about that, does he? No one does.”
I looked at my shoes, unable to meet his gaze.
“Christ, Vicky, you’ve got yourself wrapped up so tightly in secrets it’s a wonder you can breathe.”
“The choice the Night Hag gave me. It’s . . . it’s impossible. I don’t know what to do.”
I expected him to yell; he had every right to be angry with me. But when he spoke, his voice was gentle. “Don’t you see? That’s exactly when you need to turn to others for help. We’ve had this conversation so many times before. You don’t have to face everything alone.”
I looked into his eyes then. They were alight with sincerity. And now he did open his arms, and I flew into them. Finally I could breathe again, and I drank in his scent. He hugged me tight and pressed his lips against my hair. Then gently, firmly, he straightened and held me at arm’s length.
“Vicky, I understand that you don’t want to hand over your father to the Night Hag. I wouldn’t ask you to. I know it means a lot to you to have him back.”
“It does. But there’s more. The white falcon is mentioned in the prophecies—I did tell you that. And you saw what he can do.”
“You mean kill the Morfran.”
“Kane, there’s never been a way to do that before. We could imprison the Morfran in slate, but we couldn’t destroy it. With Dad’s help, we can obliterate so much of the Morfran that Pryce will never be able to make his demons strong enough to attack. We can stop the war before it begins.”
“Which can’t happen if the Night Hag has the falcon in her control.” He paused, thinking. “Mab told me, though, that no one knew until tonight that the falcon could kill the Morfran. Right?”
“That’s right.” The sharpness of his question brought on a twinge of guilt. He didn’t trust me to tell him the whole truth, with good reason.
“When did the Night Hag approach you with this bargain?”
“I was still in quarantine.”
“Vicky, that was three weeks ago! We could have used those weeks to figure out a plan. You, me, your father, Mab. We should be putting our heads together to beat the Night Hag, not let her win through your—” He bit his lip. “Through our inaction.”
Something stung my eyes and suddenly Kane looked all blurred and wavery. “I can’t protect you,” I said. “I can’t protect either one of you.”
“Don’t protect me; let me stand beside you.” His thumb brushed a tear from my cheek. “I love you. And you told me you feel the same way. But if there’s no trust, there’s no love. There can’t be.” His voice was low, almost hoarse. “I need you to trust me, Vicky.”
“I do.” How could I explain it was love that made me want to shield him from the darkness that had swallowed me whole?
“No more secrets, then.” He lifted my chin with his forefinger. “Promise?”
I nodded.
“We still have a couple of days before the full moon. Let’s put those heads together and see what we can come up with.”
I didn’t hold out much hope, but it was a plan—and better than anything I’d been able to formulate as the problem had spun round and round on the Merry-Go-Round of Impossibility in my mind. At least we’d be trying to do something.
Kane kissed me—a long, deep, lingering kiss that held all the promise, all the feelings I’d feared my silence had killed. I moved closer, savoring the way our bodies fit together. His arms tightened around me.
Too soon, the moment was over. He stepped away, putting his hand on my cheek, his thumb lightly caressing my skin. “I’ve got to go,” he said. “I don’t want to. The unity rally could go to hell for all I care, but—”
“That’s not true. And even if it were, I wouldn’t want it to be.” Kane’s passion for social justice, his tireless efforts to bring people together for a greater cause—I loved these things about him. “Go ahead. I’ll be there in time for your speech.”
“You don’t have to. You’ve got your aunt to look after.”
I stood on tiptoe and raised my mouth to his. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” I murmured against his lips.
BACK IN MY APARTMENT, MAB WAS ASLEEP ON THE SOFA. I was glad. She’d had quite a day, thanks to jet lag, a zombie attack, a confrontation with the Night Hag, and a quick shift into a pigeon and back. Not to mention having her niece draw a sword on her.
I’d put things right with her. Kane’s words—you don’t have to face everything alone—made me believe that I could. But for now, I’d let her sleep.
I got a spare blanket from the closet. Mab lay on her back, one hand clutching her bloodstone pendant, her head turned slightly to the side. She looked peaceful. It was good to see the worry erased from her face, I thought as I gently spread the blanket over her. How could I have come so close to betraying her?
As I straightened, I heard a buzzing at my ear.
“So what are you gonna do next, oh fearsome aunt slayer—try to smother her with a pillow?”
Butterfly. Wonderful.
But wait. On second thought, maybe I did want to talk to this demon. I pointed down the hall. I’m not chatting with an Eidolon in front of my aunt, even if she is sleeping. I’ll talk to you in the bedroom.
“Seriously?” The black insect hovered in front of my nose, its demon face perplexed. “What are you trying to pull?”
I’m going into my bedroom and taking all my delicious guilt with me. You can follow me or go back to the demon plane. I bent and kissed Mab’s cheek, then turned out the lights and left the living room.
I shut the bedroom door behind me. A minute later came a taptaptap, like a moth bumping into a window screen. I opened the door. No Butterfly. Or so I thought until the demon ran past my foot. Then it shot into the air, zipped across the room, and alighted on my dresser.
“Since when do you knock?” I asked, closing the door. I kept my voice low so as not to disturb Mab. But I found it easier to shield my thoughts from the demon when I spoke to it out loud.
“I thought maybe you were setting up some kind of trap. So I made my entrance in a way you wouldn’t expect it. Clever, huh?”
Whatever. “Listen, Butterfly, I need to talk to you. So if we could call a truce”—I couldn’t believe I was saying that—“for just a few minutes.”
“Talk? Great, let’s talk. I got a whole list of conversation starters. How ’bout we discuss how you let Pryce and the Destroyer snatch poor Bonita out from under your nose? Or how you put your loved ones in danger because you couldn’t bring yourself to tell them about the whole Night Hag thing? Or how you were all set to do battle with your beloved aunt until I stopped you? Or, speaking of battle, what about those visions you keep having of murdering innocent people? Yeah, I think we’ve got a lot to talk about.”
“Do you know what the word truce means?”
“Hunger shrinks my vocabulary.”
“Not as much as a br
onze blade would.” As best I could, I shielded the fact that I was bluffing. Although I hated to admit it, I needed this annoying demon right now.
A pause. “You’ve still got that dagger in your nightstand, haven’t you?”
“You know I never sleep without a weapon in reach.”
Butterfly launched itself from the dresser. It landed on my shoulder and belched. “So talk.”
I fanned the putrid air away. “I need a favor.”
The demon rocketed upward and ricocheted around the room, bouncing off the ceiling and hitting the walls like a butterfly-shaped pinball. I ducked as it whizzed past my cheek. Eventually, it landed on my headboard, its sawtooth wings trembling.
“Pardon me. I don’t think I heard you right. I could’ve sworn you asked me for another favor. That’s two in two days. Doesn’t that mean you owe me your firstborn or something?” The demon frowned. “Except you wanna stay a shapeshifter, so that means you won’t have a firstborn. So I guess you owe me . . . let’s see . . .”
“Quit clowning around. This is important.”
“Let me get this straight. You insult me. You threaten me. You torment me. You starve me to the very brink of death.” Butterfly flopped onto its back on my pillow and feebly waved its legs in the air. “And I’m pretty sure that you haven’t yet gotten over that whole trying-to-kill-the-Eidolon obsession.”
I should have killed you when I first conjured you. I tried to stuff that thought behind my mental shield before Butterfly picked up on it. Not exactly persuasive. Still, I should have killed the thing then. I’d been ready to. The only reason I hadn’t was the demon had surprised me in a moment of weakness by unexpectedly using the magic word.
Hmm. The memory gave me an idea.
“P . . . puh . . .” The word refused to leave my mouth.
Butterfly rolled over and stood on all six legs again. “Did you say something?”
I licked my lips and tried again. “Please.”
The demon staggered back like I’d dealt it a blow. I took advantage of its stunned silence and rushed on.
Hellhound (A Deadtown Novel) Page 15