by Kelly Meding
How the …? Maybe Leo and Alex had talked more often than I believed. “It’s not the coffee shop. It’s something I’m doing on the side, for school.”
“I thought the semester was over.”
Okay, now I felt like the one being interrogated. How’d he manage that?
“Aurora has a phone number where I can be reached,” I said. “If you hear anything, call me.”
“Likewise.”
One word, so accusatory. As though he knew I knew more than I was telling. I left the conversation on that note, and then left the room. After a quick detour to my bedroom for something, I stalked out of the apartment. Annoyed at just about everyone, including myself, with no clear plan for dealing with it.
“Chalice! Hey, wait!” The child’s voice pierced my eardrums from the far end of the hallway. I didn’t have to turn to know it was the neighbor girl—whose name I still hadn’t learned.
The elevator doors opened. I slipped inside and hit the Close button, in no mood to deal with the little chatterbox. I didn’t want to talk to anyone else from Chalice’s life, not for the foreseeable future. I needed to be Evy for a while.
Phin was sitting on the car’s hood, looking right at me when I hit the street. He didn’t move until I was close enough to toss a plain white T-shirt at him. He eyed it with a quirk of his head.
“Were you listening?” I asked.
“I tried, but the window faces opposite,” he said.
I opened and closed my mouth, a little thrown by the honesty. And perturbed that he’d tried eavesdropping in the first place. “They’re fine. Leo seems mostly harmless.”
“Mostly?”
“Is anyone completely harmless?”
The rhetorical question pacified him long enough for him to get the T-shirt on.
“But Aurora’s okay?” he asked as he pulled back out into the street.
“She’s fine. The baby’s kicking a lot.”
“The child’s strong, like her father was.”
Curiosity at the inner workings of the Owlk—no, of the Coni and Stri communities—made me open my mouth. Respect made me shut it again. I didn’t need to bring up those painful memories, didn’t need to pick Phin’s brain about the family he’d loved and lost because of me. Shut up, do my job, save what was left of the Coni Clan.
At the next stop sign, he asked, “Back to the hospital?”
“Yes.”
We spoke little on the drive back across the river. I picked the tape off the useless bandage, worked the bloody gauze off next, and tucked the entire mess into a neat pile on the floor. Phin snorted air through his nose, the only outward sign of his disapproval. Yes, it was gross, but I wasn’t putting it in my pocket.
“So, about finding out who the other bi-shifters are?” I said.
“I told you—”
“I know, you told me it’s not your decision. Who do I ask? This Jenner guy who was at the hospital this morning?”
Phin nodded. “He’d be the one to ask, but it’s ultimately the Assembly’s choice.”
“How long does it take to get permission from the Assembly?”
“It depends on how long it takes to contact everyone.”
“Hours?”
“Only if we’re lucky.”
I groaned and tapped my fingernails on the dash. “Can’t we just save time and ask the ones who are actually bi-shifters? Since you’re the ones who are most likely to be targeted?”
“I don’t make these rules, Evy.” Phin had visibly tensed; his hands tightened around the steering wheel. “I never wanted to be part of the Assembly, but since my people have few choices for representation, I have to abide by their traditions. Talk to Jenner.”
“Think he’ll still be at the hospital?”
“If he’s not, I’ll get him there for you.”
Both a threat and a promise, Phin’s words left little doubt that I’d get my audience with Jenner. One way or another.
I stood at the foot of the bed and watched Wyatt sleep for several minutes. He looked peaceful, all traces of worry and fatigue gone from his face. His right eye was puffy and slightly bruised, his left shoulder covered in white bandages. A half smile played on his lips, the product—I hoped—of a good dream. Machines beeped and whirred, tracking his strong vitals.
He deserved the rest; I hated waking him, inviting him back into our shared living hell. Denial was a happier place.
I skirted the end of the bed and perched on the edge, near his right arm. I brushed his hand, found warmth there, and folded it into mine. Squeezed. His eyes scrunched. I squeezed harder. Put my other hand on his chest. His heart thrummed beneath my touch.
He grunted and opened his eyes, peering at me from beneath thick lashes. Confusion slowly gave way to recognition. “Hey,” he rasped.
“If you don’t stop saving my life,” I said, “I’m never going to manage paying back this enormous debt I owe you.”
His eyebrows puckered. “You don’t owe me anything.”
I tapped my fingers against his chest. “Why don’t we save this old argument for when you’re feeling better?”
“Wimp.”
I laughed. “Stubborn jackass.”
He looked at my arm, shifted his position, and winced. “Guess that healing crystal was a one-shot deal.”
“Superhealing powers are overrated anyway.”
“Says the superhealing teleporter.”
“Two Gifts I never asked for,” I reminded him. “Not that they haven’t come in handy, but superpowers aren’t very fun when you keep healing and the people you care about don’t.”
His right hand clenched mine. He lifted his left, placed it over my other, held it tight to his chest. “I’m going to be fine, Evy. It looked scarier than it was. I probably wouldn’t have needed surgery if it hadn’t gone in so close to my spine. They were being extra careful removing it.” His eyes searched mine. “Gina said you and the shape-shifter went to do some digging.”
“Phin,” I said. Annoyance came from nowhere, directed squarely at Wyatt’s unveiled jealousy. “Yes, we did some digging. Dug up a pretty interesting corpse with his help.” I relayed what I’d learned from Tattoo about the meeting at Park and Howard, and what Phin had told me about bi-shifting.
“What was the other thing?” he asked.
“What other thing?”
“I overheard Gina saying something about a man at Chalice’s apartment.”
I closed my eyes, without the stamina to talk about that again, and let my head rest on his chest, just above where our hands still held tight. His heart beat beneath my ear, strong and powerful. It had stopped less than twelve hours ago and had nearly shattered my world. We had shared each other’s pain, and yet I didn’t want to share this one. He pulled one hand free and gently stroked the back of my neck.
“What is it?” he asked.
“I met Alex’s dad.”
His hand stilled. A moment passed. I let him lift my chin and turn my head until I was looking at him. “How did that go?”
“It was weird,” I admitted. “I don’t think he ever suspected I wasn’t Chalice. He seemed madder that I hadn’t called in the National Guard to find his missing son. Guess that makes me a bad friend in his eyes.”
“And that bothers you.”
“It bothers her.” And the dividing line between us was beginning to fade. “So, yeah, it does bother me. Especially since I know he’s not missing, and I can’t even tell Leo the truth. I don’t think he and Alex had a great relationship, but it seems like they were trying to fix it.”
He didn’t look away, but some of the focus left his eyes as he pondered something. Considered his words.
“Evy, I know you don’t want to hear me say this right now—”
“Bottle up my emotions, because my anger is my best fuel?”
His lips parted.
I sat up, shrugging one shoulder. “Kismet gave me a similar speech earlier today. Got any other fortune cookie wisdom for me?�
�
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “That was my best line. It’s all the advice I’ve got for you, and I hate to say it, but Alex’s personal bullshit with his father has to wait. We’ve got living people to worry about—one of whom is down the hall from here and counting on us to save his life.”
“I know, Wyatt.” I stood up and paced to the far side of the room. To get some distance, maybe gain some perspective. “I need to talk to Jenner about getting access to the Clan Assembly. I need to stake out that building on Park Place and find out who’s recruiting Dregs that hate humans. I need to get that password info from the gremlins first thing in the morning. I need to protect the last three living Coni long enough for one of them to have a baby. And all of this has to be done while avoiding questions from an angry father, not telling Kismet what I’m up to, and without you helping me.”
I glared at him, hands on hips. “Want to add anything else to my plate?”
Wyatt used the bed controls to sit up straighter, mouth twisting in pain as his body shifted position. “It’s too much? You want to quit?”
“Fuck you, Truman.”
“I didn’t think so.”
I slammed my foot flat against the wall—for all the good it did—and received a shock wave up my ankle and calf. He knew my buttons, and he knew how to press them. He wasn’t wrong, though, as much as it frustrated me to admit it. I had a lot to do, not a lot of time to do it, and very few people on my side.
At least my after-afterlife was somewhat consistent.
“What did the wall do?” Wyatt asked.
I rolled my eyes. “I’m not allowed to vent anymore?”
“Vent, yes. Just try not to break your foot, okay?”
“It’ll heal.”
“You’re exasperating.”
“And you’re not?”
“I’m injured. I have an excuse.”
“You never needed one before.”
“Ha-ha.” He blew hard through his nose. “I want to be out there with you, Evy. You know that.”
I approached the bed, close enough to take his extended hand and squeeze. “I know, but this is what happens when you do stupid things like save my life.”
“Hanging around you does get me hurt a lot.”
“You love it.”
The setup was there, and I was sorry for my words the instant they left my mouth. I didn’t need to hear him say it again, not when I couldn’t say it back. Our gazes locked; I saw it in his eyes. In the way his lips parted, preparing to speak.
A sharp knock on the door interrupted him and dragged our collective attention to the other side of the room. Phin stood halfway inside, closed fist against the frame. He looked right at me, ignoring Wyatt, who held my hand tighter.
“Michael Jenner has agreed to meet with us,” Phin said to me. “Thirty minutes, other side of town. We need to go.”
“Okay,” I said, and then turned my attention to Wyatt. His expression was dark, annoyed. Probably by Phin’s casual use of “us” and “we” when Wyatt was stuck in bed. Professional jealousy I could deal with, as long as it didn’t develop into something else.
“Keep me updated,” he said.
“As often as is safe,” I replied. “Just sit there and don’t hurt yourself.”
He grinned. The simple gesture lightened my spirits, and I found myself smiling back. For four years, Wyatt’s unique brand of pep talks had gotten me through every possible sort of trouble, from relatively minor to ten-point-zero on the Oh-Shit Meter. Good to know he hadn’t lost his knack. I bent at the waist, far enough to press a kiss to his forehead and inhale his scent. Familiar spice and comforting warmth, mixed with a vague medicinal odor.
“I know I don’t have to ask,” I said, “but everything I just told you?”
“About what?” he deadpanned.
“Good man.”
Halfway to the door and with my gaze on Phineas, I stopped. He was looking at my chest, and it wasn’t for the first time. If we were going to work together on this, I needed him to stop doing that. I pivoted on one ankle and strolled back to Wyatt, carefully unhooking the latch on my necklace. I held out the cross and chain. Wyatt looked at it, then at me, curious.
“I’ll be back for this,” I said, as much meaning in what I didn’t say as in what I did. Wyatt took it, nodding his understanding.
At the door, Wyatt’s voice stopped me again. He said, “Hey, Phineas?”
Phin took a step forward, head tilted to the side, a gesture I’d come to associate with curiosity. “Yes?”
“Keep an eye on her for me.”
Sweet, but an unnecessary request. Phin and I had watched each other’s backs well so far; we each had something invested in the other. Wyatt knew that, he just couldn’t be there to protect me himself.
“Of course,” Phin replied.
“Just be a good patient,” I said, “and don’t piss off the nurses.”
Wyatt flashed his best shit-eating grin. “I need entertainment, you know.”
“Read a book,” I tossed over my shoulder as I left. In the bustle of the hallway, I waited for Phin to catch up to me, then asked, “Where are we meeting Jenner?”
“His office, over on South Street,” Phin said.
“Doctor’s office?”
“Law office.”
I groaned. Just had to be a lawyer.
Chapter Nine
2:30 P.M.
Phin had said downtown, and yet I still pictured a posh, glass-walled building with fancy landscaping and metered parking, maybe some nice hedges. The building he parked in front of was none of those things. The cement block walls hadn’t seen fresh paint this decade, cracks in the sidewalk sported dandelions and dried clumps of grass, and graffiti adorned the car permanently parked next to ours, its tires long gone. On the far west side of Mercy’s Lot, surrounded by bail bondsmen and porn shops, we arrived at Michael Jenner’s office.
“He’s a public defender?” I asked. The simple painted sign in the barred window said so, but I just couldn’t believe it.
“That surprises you?” Phin said.
“Well, yeah. I’ve never seen a P.D. who wears such fancy suits.”
“Only when on Assembly business, I assure you. He’s a pretty nice guy, if you give him a chance.”
“Undoubtedly.”
I let Phin take point, and we went in without knocking. The tiny reception room smelled of food spices—clove and cinnamon and something tart. Four scarred wood chairs lined the wall to our left. A vacant desk sat opposite the door, silent sentry to the room’s only other door. Besides a phone, a blotter, and a neat stack of manila folders, the desk was bare. No decorations on the walls, no magazines for visitors. Spartan was too kind.
“Must not be very good,” I said. “His services don’t appear to be in high demand.”
“He’s selective about his clients,” Phin said. “Keeps his time available for our kind rather than yours.”
Our kind. Fascinating. “Just weres, or Dregs in general?”
He grunted, just like before. Seemed he objected to the word “Dreg.” Not that it was meant as a term of endearment, only a reminder of how Triads viewed the nonhumans. Lesser creatures. Same way I’d always seen them. Until now, and I wasn’t sure what to do with my altering point of view.
I didn’t apologize, and Phin didn’t comment. He circled the desk and rapped his knuckles on the rear door. A muffled voice said, “Enter.”
Jenner’s office was as unimpressive as his waiting area. Simple oak desk, a single bookcase filled with texts and tomes of law. Two barred windows, boring cream curtains. A framed law degree. The wall to the right of the door was hidden behind an army of filing cabinets; I had no doubt each one was stuffed full, and not necessarily of past cases.
Michael Jenner sat in a brown leather desk chair, shirtsleeves rolled up, tie loosened, fingers steepled in front of his mouth as though contemplating a chess move.
I closed the office door behind me. Neither Phin
nor I sat in the two wooden chairs opposite the desk.
“Ms. Stone,” Jenner said. “Phineas tells me you need information from the Assembly.”
“You get right to the point,” I said.
“Is that a problem?”
“Actually, it’s refreshing.”
“What proof do you have that the rest of the Clans are in danger?”
“Proof?” I looked sideways at Phin, who dutifully ignored me. Oh, wait, Jenner was a lawyer. “All I have is circumstantial evidence and a gut feeling, Your Honor.”
“Bi-shifting is a closely guarded secret among our people,” Jenner said, casting a cross look at Phin. “What makes you think I will risk the safety of those Clans based on your gut?”
“Whoever ordered the slaughter of the Coni and Stri may already know who the other bi-shifting Clans are,” I said.
Jenner narrowed his eyes. “Or you could be waiting to pass this information along to your friends in the Triads, so they can finish what they started.”
Phin caught me around the waist before I could get three steps. My face flared red-hot, on a par with my anger. His arms tightened and pulled me close to his chest. I didn’t fight hard. I hadn’t planned to hurt Jenner badly, just give him a pretty shiner to go with his fancy suits.
“Evy, don’t,” Phin said softly.
“How dare you?” I snarled at Jenner. Red colored the fringes of my eyesight. “How fucking dare you, you absolute asshole? Let go!” The final demand came out a shrill scream, unrecognizable as my own voice. Phin’s hold loosened; I tore away from him and stormed to the other side of the cramped room.
Jenner hadn’t moved, hadn’t even unsteepled his fingers.
“Accuse me of that one more time,” I said, hands clenched tight so they didn’t shake, “and there won’t be enough pieces of you to do a proper autopsy.”
He raised one slender, perfectly shaped eyebrow. “Your temper is going to get you into trouble, young lady.”
“It’s gotten me into trouble more times than I can count.” I inhaled, held the breath, then let it out through my nose. Wyatt had once called it a cleansing breath. It didn’t help. “Look, Mr. Jenner, I owe you shit, and I owe the rest of the Clans about the same. But I owe my life to Phineas and his people, and I will do my damnedest to protect them from the Triads, from vampires or goblins, and even from you.”