“Are you actually asking me whether I told the telepath we had sex? Because she knew before we did. Seriously, you do not want to ask Sarah about your sex life, or anyone else’s sex life, because she can draw you diagrams. She will draw you diagrams, with helpful labels, if you push her. I’d say she needs hobbies, but we sort of are her hobbies.”
Confusion tinting his voice, Dominic asked, “So you didn’t tell her?”
“Oh, the Covenant. What wonderful training programs they must be running.” I crossed my arms. “Sarah called you and asked if you’d decided to run off with me, so you decided to track me down. Is that it?”
“Essentially, yes.” He tucked his hands into the pockets of his duster, looking uncomfortable. “I managed to locate the sewer grate you descended through. I followed the blood trail from there to the PATH station. It took a while to figure out where you’d gone after that and, by the time I got to the appropriate district, you’d vanished again.”
“I was getting the biology rundown from the dragon princesses, who do not,” I raised a finger warningly, “need to be harassed right now. They’re creepy and a little unpleasant, but they’re still having a really hard week, and I think we just need to give them some time before we go prodding at them further.”
“I wasn’t going to harass them.”
“Just kill them a little?”
Dominic cleared his throat. “Dragon princesses have long been filed as essentially harmless. I see no reason to adjust that designation. Unless you’d like to provide me with one…?”
I gave him a measuring look. Either he’d arrived after I hung up on Alex, or he’d been listening to the whole conversation, and was just waiting to hear me tell him to his face. I liked Dominic, I really did, except for that superior “humans first” streak of his. That streak was the reason I had to at least try to lie to him.
“No, there’s no reason to adjust the designation,” I said blithely, with my best haughty Viennese waltz expression. It was the sort of face that implied that lemons would be too sweet for me. “They’d like the dragon under the city to be unharmed, since they’re sort of fond of the idea of having an actual dragon around again, but they’re pretty much harmless in and of themselves.” Not even technically a lie, I thought. Let’s see you poke a hole in that.
Dominic looked faintly disappointed, like he’d been expecting me to say something else. “I see. Well, then, may I ask what drove you into the sewers a second time? You already knew it wasn’t safe down there—not that I don’t think you can handle yourself in a fight,” he added hurriedly. “It’s just that even with two of us, we were hard-pressed to escape intact. I wouldn’t have expected you to return to the depths alone.”
“I … oh, crap, you really weren’t following me for the entire day, were you?”
“I believe I just said that.”
“Dominic…” I hesitated, unsure of how to continue. Would he even care about one more cryptid death? If he didn’t, would I be able to resist the urge to shove him off the edge of the roof? I took a breath and said, “Piyusha’s dead.”
“What?” Dominic’s shock didn’t look feigned in the least.
I let out a breath I’d been only half aware of holding, and said, “I went to stay with Sarah last night after you left.” His expression turned hurt. I raised my hands, palms outward, and lied, “I wasn’t hiding from you. The mice went into full-out exultation mode, and I needed to get some sleep. This morning, I went to check on Piyusha at Gingerbread Pudding, and the place was closed. Her brothers were waiting for one of us to show up. She went out to the store last night and never came back.”
“And they thought we had something to do with it?” he asked darkly.
“Hey, you’re Covenant and I’m an urban legend, remember? It was completely reasonable for them to think that we did it.”
“We gave our word.”
“They have no reason to consider it worth anything.”
“I suppose,” he said, not sounding at all happy about it. “Her trail led to the sewer?”
“Yeah. I found the body. I managed to take some pictures with my phone—not because I get my jollies from the corpses of innocent women; whoever killed her covered her with some sort of ritual symbols before they dumped her. I’d show you, but my battery’s dead.”
“What are you intending to do with the pictures?”
“I’m going to go home, plug my phone in, and mail them to my father so he can try to figure out what the hell they are.” I sighed. “While I’m at it, I should call Sarah and tell her not to set Covenant assassins on my tail every time I fail to show up for roll call. And then I get to go and tell Piyusha’s brothers that I found their sister, but not in the sense they were hoping I would.”
“I’ll come with you.” Dominic smiled, very slightly. It wasn’t a happy expression. “If she was targeted for talking to us, her death is my fault as much as it is yours. Oh, don’t look so surprised, Verity—I can see that you’re blaming yourself for what happened to her, and if you’re to blame, so am I. I should be there.”
“I … thanks, Dominic. That means a lot to me. Besides, you should probably see these pictures. I have a feeling your resources may be more useful than mine when it comes to figuring out what these symbols mean.”
“True,” he agreed. “I just have to request one favor, in exchange for access to whatever I can obtain from the Covenant records.”
I blinked. “What’s that?”
He hesitated before giving me an almost bashful look, and asking, “Can we please take a taxi?”
* * *
We were far enough from my apartment that a compromise wasn’t really an option: if Dominic took a cab, he’d beat me home by at least twenty minutes and, even though I was substantially more beaten up than he was, he wasn’t even willing to consider the overland route. It wasn’t that he was uncomfortable on rooftops. He just really, really didn’t like the idea of jumping off them on purpose. In the end, it was time to swallow my dislike of New York City cabs and descend to street level in order to get a ride home.
At least he picked up the tab without being asked. And he turned out to be a pretty decent tipper. Always an attractive trait in a man, even one who thinks half my friends and a large number of my relatives need to be exterminated.
The mice were nowhere in evidence when we got upstairs, although the signs of their bacchanal were everywhere, if you knew what to look for. Feathers, dried flowers, and brightly colored scraps of paper were scattered around the living room floor. A tidy pile of cheese rinds and Hostess Snack Cake wrappers surrounded the base of the kitchen trash can. Dominic raised his eyebrows when he saw that. I had to smile, if only because the reaction was so understandable.
“They try to make things easy on me when they have a big bash,” I said. Taking the broom from behind the door, I swept the refuse into a dustpan and shook it into the trash. “See? All tidied up. If they weren’t considerate about things, I’d be cleaning for hours before I could even get the vacuum.”
“You are very strange,” observed Dominic.
“You have no idea.” I put the broom back where it belonged and crossed to the desk. My phone beeped with electronic satisfaction when I connected it to the charger. “Give me just a minute to send the pictures to myself, and I should be able to show you what Piyusha looked like when I found her.”
“Would you be able to locate her body again if we returned to the sewer?”
I cast a look over my shoulder, replying, “I can find the place her body was; whether it’s still going to be there is anybody’s guess. I sort of got run out of there by servitors, and I don’t know whether they were just passing through, protecting the body, or planning to treat it as some sort of all-you-can-eat buffet. Why?”
“I thought her brothers might appreciate her return. I’m not sure what, if any, funeral rites the Madhura practice, but most thinking creatures would find the opportunity to make the decision on their own … comfort
ing.” He shook his head. “I don’t understand how you can be so relaxed about such things.”
“What, you mean the idea of the servitors eating Piyusha’s body?” I shrugged as I turned back to the desk. My phone was powered up, even though it was still charging; I hooked it to the USB transfer cable and started copying over the pictures. “I’m just as confused by your ability to be so relaxed about killing people like her, so I guess we’re even. If the servitors eat her remains, it’s because that’s what they’re designed to do. You can’t blame them for doing what they’re made for.”
“What makes you so sure that humans weren’t made to exterminate the cryptids from the face of this world?”
The question sounded entirely sincere. That didn’t make it any less aggravating. Gritting my teeth, I continued copying pictures and asked, “How can you be so sure that we were? Maybe we’re here to keep them from exterminating each other, provide some ecological balance to the place. You know. Mediate.”
“I think you’re being unrealistic.”
“And I think you’re being an asshole, and since we already had this fight once, can we please focus on what’s important for a little while? A woman is dead, probably because she was seen talking to us. Somebody’s turning innocent people into servitors for a dragon that isn’t even awake enough to appreciate them. It’s a fucking mess, okay? Just another big, fat, fucking mess.” I wiped my eyes angrily with the back of my hand, glad that my back was to him. The last thing I needed was for a member of the Covenant to see me cry.
The pictures of Piyusha’s body began popping up on my screen. They’d come out about as badly as I feared, managing to be overexposed and too dark at the same time, but the runes were sufficiently darker than her skin that they still stood out. Dominic hissed through his teeth as he moved to crouch next to my chair, tapping the screen with a fingertip.
“Can you expand this?”
“Sure.” I moved the magnifier tool over the indicated area, clicking twice. “Artie made me learn how to do this when he got tired of updating my Facebook page. He’ll be thrilled to hear that it had real-world applications that didn’t have to do with airbrushing wardrobe malfunctions.”
“Who’s Artie?”
“My cousin,” I replied thoughtlessly, and winced. “Crap. Can you not ask these things? I really don’t want to explain to my parents how the Covenant got a full dossier on us again.”
“The Covenant still doesn’t know anything about you,” said Dominic. Before I could ask what that meant, he tapped the screen again and said, “This symbol. Have you ever seen it before?”
I squinted. Between the picture quality and the magnification, it was difficult to make out any details. “I don’t think so,” I said finally. “I’ve always been more into the practical sides of the job. I never really did much research in the ritual symbolism.”
“I’m reasonably sure that’s a Burushaski symbol meaning ‘control,’ and I recognize a few of the others—they all seem to mean the same things. ‘Control’ and ‘wake’ and ‘obey.’ This is a crazy mix of languages. I’m really not sure what you could hope to accomplish with this assortment.”
“How about waking up something that no one’s seen in a couple of hundred years?” I brought up another of the pictures, trying to focus on the symbols drawn across Piyusha’s belly, rather than the angry red wound bisecting her chest. “This one, I do recognize. It’s a standard piece of snake cult iconography. It means, essentially, ‘feeding time.’”
“I thought you said you didn’t handle ritual symbolism.”
“I have an uncle.” (Naga wouldn’t mind being called an uncle under the circumstances, and he was the family go-to guy for anything involving snake cults, largely because he was frequently their target. It was just that explaining why I had an extradimensional professor of demonic studies as an honorary uncle would take too long—especially since the uncle in question was a giant snake from the waist down.) “Plus, my father talks a lot.”
“For someone who dislikes talking about her family, you certainly do it a lot.”
“What can I say? Corpses make me chatty, and not entirely in the good way. It’s not like you’re filling in the gaps, you know. What about your family? Dad says you’re generational Covenant.”
“My parents are dead.” The statement was made without any real emotion. It was simply a fact, something that couldn’t be changed. “They were hunting a hydra when I was young. They didn’t return.”
“I … I’m sorry.”
“It was a very long time ago. I continued my training, so as to do what they had wanted of me. What was expected of me.” He hesitated before adding, “I had never met a sentient cryptid before coming here.”
A lot was starting to make sense. I pulled up my webmail account, attaching the pictures and shooting them off to one of the family’s blind accounts. Even if Dominic saw the address, he’d never be able to use it to backtrack anything important. Maybe I was being paranoid; I liked to think of it as being sensible. “Can I send you copies of these? I really do want you to check them against your records.”
“Here; let me.” He looked relieved at the change of topic, and leaned across me to type his email address into the “To” field. My cheeks flared red as his arms brushed against mine. I delivered a swift but firm internal slap to my hormones. No, Verity. Bad Verity. Giving in to the raw hotness of the Covenant boy once was bad enough. Doing it a second time would show a serious lack of judgment, as well as a definite failure of self-control.
Knowing exactly what he looked like under that shirt and duster wasn’t helping matters. It says something about what passes for “normal” when I’m around that the pictures of the dead girl on my computer screen weren’t doing anything to dampen my desire to jump his bones. They weren’t helping it, either, but they weren’t enough to kill the mood in and of themselves.
Dominic clicked the send button and pulled back. “There.”
“Thanks,” I said lamely. “You’ll let me know if you find anything?”
“I will.” He hesitated, eyes fixing on mine. “Verity—”
Someone started hammering on the front door of the apartment, about half a second before the telepathic static clicked on inside my head, telling me that “someone” was “my cousin,” who I’d forgotten to call. “Crap, it’s Sarah,” I said, knocking Dominic to the side as I scrambled from my chair.
Sarah had her hand raised to start hammering again when I opened the door. At first, she didn’t say anything. She just let her hand drop, and looked at me.
“Sarah, I’m sorry. I lost track of the time.”
Her eyes narrowed, frostbite seeming to spread around the edges of her irises. I took an involuntary step backward. For Sarah’s eyes to be whiting out like that, she had to be pissed. “I thought you were dead,” she said, in a clipped, tightly controlled tone that was belied by the wave of telepathic fury that underscored it. “You disappear right after fucking a boy from the Covenant, you’re not in any of the usual places, no one’s seen you anywhere, and then one of the gargoyles tells me he saw you going back into the sewers alone. You couldn’t even tell me where you were going?” You scared the living shit out of me, and what is he doing here, anyway? I thought you were done with that asshole after he explained his platform on racial cleansing!
The transition from spoken word to telepathic scolding was so smooth I barely noticed it at first, until I saw how much the white had spread across her eyes. “Sarah, you need to calm down. I’m fine. I’m sorry I scared you. I really didn’t mean to.”
You didn’t think! You never think! She stormed into the apartment, which was something of a mixed blessing. On the one hand, it meant I could close the door, thus sparing the neighbors our little family drama. On the other hand, it meant I was shutting myself in the apartment with a pissed-off cuckoo and a man from the Covenant. Not the sort of combination that inspires many funny anecdotes. A few cautionary tales, maybe, but nothing you can re
ally go repeating in mixed company.
“Miss Zellaby.” Dominic straightened up, offering a shallow but impeccably polite bow in Sarah’s direction. “A pleasure to see you again.”
Sarah turned her narrow-eyed gaze on him, making me glad once more that Antimony’s comic books got it wrong, and telepaths can’t actually kill you with their brains. Give you a whopping headache and earworm you with annoying jingles, yes; kill you, no. (Although sometimes, when she’s managed to stick “The Happy Banana Song” in my head for a week, I sort of wish she could kill people with her brain. It would be kinder.)
What are you doing here? she demanded.
He didn’t respond. He couldn’t. Without spending a lot more time around her, there was no way he’d be attuned enough to actually “hear” her when she thought at him like that.
The white rimming Sarah’s eyes started to fade, replaced by a look of sheer frustration. “What are you doing here?” she repeated, out loud this time.
“You were the one that alerted me to your cousin’s absence, if you’ll take a moment to remember,” he said mildly. “I went looking for her because I shared your concern, and assumed you’d like her returned to you with as many of her original limbs as possible.”
The white fled Sarah’s eyes completely, leaving her chagrined and a little embarrassed. “Oh,” she said. “I did call you, didn’t I?”
“Yes, you did.”
“I shouldn’t have had to.” She stalked over and smacked me solidly on the shoulder.
I yelped. “Hey!”
“Don’t you hey me! Why didn’t you call? You know you’re supposed to call before you go running off to your certain death!”
“I don’t remember that rule.” I rubbed my shoulder. Sarah doesn’t hit hard, but she has an unerring gift for hitting squarely atop any preexisting bruises you might happen to have. “I’m pretty sure I’d need a better cell plan if that was actually a rule, because I’d be making a lot of phone calls. Besides, your note said you were going to class. I didn’t want to interrupt you in the middle of algebra.”
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