by E. A. Copen
“Growing pains.” I smiled and closed my eyes. “He’s not a kid anymore. Hard to watch him grow up, to not think of him as someone that needs protected, but someone who can handle himself.”
After a long moment of silence, Sal nodded. “Yeah. Maybe. It’s my job to protect people, to keep my pack safe and happy. But everybody keeps telling me they don’t need me to do that anymore. What good am I to anyone if I can’t stop them from getting hurt?”
I suddenly felt even worse about being short with Sal. I’d been dodging his protective detail for months and frustrating the hell out of him. If I’d known it meant that much to him, I might not have tried so hard.
From a parent’s perspective, I understood. Here I was, watching Hunter grow up and not need me. It stung to be told to drop him off a block from school and hear him tell me to butt out. I missed being close enough to share secrets.
Sal was in that same position with Ed. Ed was the baby of the pack in a lot of ways. Both Sal and Valentino had looked at him like a younger brother. While Valentino had been pushing Ed to be more like him, Sal had always done everything he could to preserve Ed’s innocence. He’d tried and failed. It was inevitable, really. No matter how hard you try to shield those you love from pain, you know deep down, it’s impossible. Facing that hurt down when it came, that change in status from an innocent to be protected to a peer, can destroy a relationship if it’s mishandled. There had to be a balance between giving someone their space, letting them fail, and being a guiding hand there to pick them up when they fell.
Not only was Sal going through that with Ed, but with Mia and me, too.
I sighed through my nose and winced at the dull throbbing in my head. “You know I can’t promise you I’m going to give up and rest easy.”
“It’s just not in you. Sometimes, your tenacity is what I love about you. Other times, I’m so damn worried that’s what’s going to get you killed.”
He flipped on the turn signal, and the truck slowed. Off to our left, the massive concrete wall of the reservation loomed. Black shapes patrolled the towers, the border patrol. It seemed like there were more agents up there today than normal, but maybe that was just because I so rarely paid attention. The border patrol agents lifted the barrier and we drove right through without being stopped.
As we pulled into the reservation, Sal tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, deep in thought. “I know you won’t promise me that you’re going to rest and get better, but will you at least promise me you won’t go anywhere alone? At least not for a few days until you’ve had your follow up appointment with Doc. No more walking around in the middle of nowhere late at night.”
“If you promise to trust me enough to choose who goes with me, sure.”
Sal nodded. “I trust your judgment. I just want to know you’re safe.”
“I think I can do that, then.” I offered Sal a tired smile. More than anything, I wanted to curl up in bed next to him and sleep for days, but I couldn’t afford it. If I was lucky, I’d get a nap. Time off was a luxury I just couldn’t afford, broken arm and concussion or not.
We pulled into the driveway and parked. Sal didn’t come and open the door for me, but waited for me, a hand out if I needed it. I took it to climb down from the truck, and we went hand in hand to the front door.
Hunter and Mia were still in their pajamas watching cartoons on the TV. Rather, Mia was watching her cartoons while Hunter had his feet up on the coffee table, texting away. Hunter looked up as we came in, his face changing as he took in the splinted arm, the bruises, and scrapes. Gold flashed through his eyes as he rose to his feet. “Tell me you got the asshole who did that to you.”
Sal held up a hand. “There won’t be any getting anybody for at least a few hours. Your mom needs rest, kid. Our job is to make sure she gets it.”
Mia toddled over. She had a half-eaten cookie in the hand she held out to me with a smile. “No, thanks, kiddo. You enjoy your cookie.”
When I didn’t take her cookie, she latched onto my leg in a tight hug that sent a prickling sensation through me. I wouldn’t be able to pick her up, not until my arm fully healed. Without picking her up, how was I supposed to change her? Put her in her high chair? In her car seat? I’d barely been home a minute, and already I felt even more helpless. Tears welled in my eyes as I bent down to return the hug. It hurt and made the dull throb in the front of my head pound harder, but I’d been through worse. I’d go through worse any day of the week as long as it meant I got to come home. Sal was right; I needed to be more careful. I had a family waiting for me.
“All right, bratling, that’s enough.” Hunter came by and scooped Mia up. “It’s about time for Sesame Street.”
“Elmo!”
“Yeah, and that freaky red monster puppet you like so much.” Hunter nodded to me, the message clear. Don’t worry, Mom. I got this.
I was relieved but felt a pang of loss at the same time. When had my boy grown up so much?
Sal took me to the bedroom and tucked me in, drawing the blankets up to my chin. “What about you? How the cut on your side doing?”
He shrugged. “Healing. Slowly. As I have the energy, I’ll try to do what I can for your arm, but the concussion is serious. Healing that is delicate work, and I just don’t have the strength for it. Chanter was good at that kind of thing. I’m more the kind of healer that can get you good enough to go back at it.” He wagged a finger at me. “But if you keep getting hurt, there’s going to be a point I can’t help.”
“I know, doc.” I yawned, stretched, and turned over. “Thanks for the pep talk.”
Sal grunted, probably in approval, and closed the door behind him on the way out.
Heavy shadows darkened the room when next I opened my eyes. The curtain moved in a slight breeze coming through the cracked window. Sweat rolled down my upper arm and settled inside the cast, making it itch. Red digital numbers on the alarm clock next to the bed told me I’d slept through the day. It was already going on eight-thirty in the evening.
I sat up with a groan. The pounding in my head had faded slightly, but the dizziness was still there. It would probably linger for another week or so, the doctor had said. I hoped the nausea would fade before then, though.
Something hard had dug into my thigh through the jeans I’d fallen asleep in. A little pinprick of pain prompted me to reach into my pocket and pull out...a tooth? The memory of what I’d found at Four Corners came back. I hadn’t yet had time to figure out whose tooth it was or even if it would be useful to my investigation.
I lifted the tooth into a tiny beam of light, turning it. “Well, I’ve got all the time in the world now.”
Science could have identified the owner of the tooth if I wanted to wait six weeks and bag it as evidence. Or, I could do a little magickal heavy lifting and get an answer.
I tossed aside all the blankets and piled the pillows behind me before pulling my feet in to sit cross-legged. It’s not necessary to do magick in any particular position, but I find it easier to focus on an object if I’m comfortable. Some spells require specific ingredients, mathematical equations, special times of days, or can only be performed on a certain day of the year. The one I wanted only required a biological sample, intense concentration, and a physical or mental connection. I didn’t have a physical connection to Gideon Reed, but we were friends and allies. What I knew would have to be good enough.
As I sat, I cleared my mind, blocking out pain and distraction. The overbearing warmth in the room was the most difficult thing to ignore, but I worked past it in time. Once I’d cleared my mind, I focused my attention on the tooth resting between my thumb and forefinger, giving it a little pulse of will. In my mind’s eye, I worked at reconstructing Gideon Reed.
I made him slightly taller than the average man, with broad shoulders and short, perfectly trimmed auburn hair. A well-proportioned nose, attractive face, piercing eyes, and hands worn by work in a low-moisture environment. But people are more than just what the
y look like on the outside, so I threw in a dash of kindness, represented by a sparkle in the eyes, and a firm belief in justice, represented by the sword he gripped firmly in both hands. Finally, the last and most important ingredient went into forming a complete picture of Gideon Reed in my mind: his unshakable faith in his God. I placed it on him in the form of a plain, silver crucifix, one I had seen him carry on several occasions. It shone in imagined light, the reflection of it filling in the missing contours of his face and body. This image of Gideon Reed was as complete as any I could make.
Once I had that, I sent another stream of my will down into the tooth in my hand. If the tooth belonged to Reed, the magick should have resonated in the image I created. That was, if I had created a complete enough picture, and if the tooth was still fresh enough evidence. After all I’d been through, the psychic connection between Reed and the tooth could have been broken because I’d waited too long.
Reed’s image shimmered in a wave beginning in the center of the image and moving outward like ripples.
I’d been right all along. It was his tooth. Now, I just had to muster enough energy and the right ingredients for a tracking spell, and we could use the tooth to track him down.
A buzz on the nightstand caught my attention. I turned to see the burner phone Espinoza had given me dancing and glowing, Ed’s number displayed on the screen. I grabbed for it and answered, hoping Sal hadn’t heard it buzzing in the next room. “Ed, did you get those video files decoded?”
“It’s called decrypting, Judah, and I told you hours ago that I did.”
“Sorry. I hit my head. Memory’s fuzzy.”
“Why are we whispering?”
I cast a long glance at the door. No one had come through it, and the TV was still on. That didn’t mean they couldn’t hear me. Werewolves have an uncanny sense of hearing. “Because if Sal hears me planning to go out, I’m sure he’ll stop me. He doesn’t want you involved either, Ed.”
“This line might not be secure, so the shorter a conversation we have, the better. You need to see what I’ve seen, even if that means bringing an escort. In fact, you might not want to come alone. This is bigger than we thought.”
I sighed and rubbed the back of my aching head. “All right, Ed. I’ll see what I can do.”
“Don’t take too long.” Ed hung up.
He didn’t have to tell me why. Eventually, Abe would figure out I knew something. They might find the laptop in the wreckage of the fire. Even if it was damaged, they’d probably notice the missing hard drive. Abe knew who I’d go to for help with that. Dammit, I had to see what was on it that and then destroy it for Ed’s sake.
Walking across the room wasn’t as difficult as I thought it would be. I was still dizzy, but once I managed to get my feet under me, it was just a matter of putting one foot in front of the other.
Outside the bedroom, all the lights were off and the curtains drawn. Only the blue light of the television was available to cast shadows. Hunter and Sal sat on the sofa, both of them turning around when I came out of the room. I tried to catch a glimpse of what they were watching, but my eyes were too sensitive to the light and I had to look away.
I used dodging into the bathroom as an excuse not to talk to them just yet. While I was in there, they turned whatever they were watching off. Sal stood outside the door when I opened it, leaning against the washing machine. He had his arms crossed and an eyebrow raised, waiting for me to give him some kind of report. Best to cut to the chase, then.
“I need to go over to Ed’s.” I felt like a teenager asking to borrow the car.
Sal eyed me with heavy scrutiny. “You want me to take you?”
“Unless Hunter has suddenly learned to drive.”
Hunter, who had remained on the sofa, turned around, his proverbial ears perked at the prospect of driving.
I held a finger out at him. “Don’t even think about bringing that up until you’re sixteen.”
He turned around, grumbling. “I can get a learner’s permit at fifteen and a half.”
“I’ll take you over to Ed’s. I need to talk to him anyway. Get your coat.”
“My coat?” I scrunched up my nose. “It’s got to be eighty outside.”
“Storm coming in.” Sal went and grabbed my coat from the back of a chair, tossing it to me. “I figure once you see what Ed has to say, you’ll go running off to save the day. I can’t stop you, but I can at least make sure you stay dry while you’re out there.”
I caught the coat, then stood on my tiptoes to plant a kiss on his chin. “Thanks for looking out for me.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He winked at me. “Now move it, Kimosabe. Tonto’s got shit of his own to do.”
Chapter Eighteen
Shauna and Daphne weren’t home when we got there. Ed threw open the door as soon as I reached the porch, my hand raised to press the buzzer. His mouth hung open, halfway through saying something, but the words halted when he saw Sal standing behind me. Ed blinked once, straightened, and swallowed. “Alpha. I didn’t expect… I mean, good to see you?”
Sal tilted his head to the side. “You’ve been dodging my calls.”
I heard no hint of malice or anger in Sal’s voice, but Ed shrank. “Uh, yeah, sorry about that. I’ve been busy.”
“That’s fine. This time. In the future, you’re not going to be too busy to answer my calls again, are you, Ed?”
Ed cleared his throat. “No, no. Once I get all this figured out, I’ll be golden.” He pulled the door open wider. “Come in, both of you. Judah, is he up to speed?”
“Not really.” I stepped through the door and steadied myself on the other side by holding onto the arm of a chair.
“How much does he know?”
I held onto the chair as I turned to gauge Sal’s reaction to Ed’s question. I knew Sal wasn’t happy about Ed keeping secrets from him. He was also perplexed by it. Ed shouldn’t have been able to lie to Sal without Sal detecting it. Keeping secrets from his alpha should have been even more difficult. Werewolves in a pack instinctually shared information with each other. Sal was supposed to be his guide, his mentor, like an older brother or a parent.
Sal put his hands in his pockets as the screen door bounced closed behind him. “Let’s just say I know enough and leave it at that, huh?”
“Uh-huh.” Ed gestured back toward his bedroom. “This way.”
Ed rushed on ahead, and by the time Sal and I made it to his room, he’d picked up most of the clothes on his floor and tossed them into a growing mountain in the far corner. With a quick sweep of his arm, he pushed half the trash on his desk into a trash can on one side before sinking down into his chair.
“Now, there were five video files on the computer, and I managed to get three totally decrypted. The fourth and fifth ones are corrupted beyond repair. Let’s start at the beginning.”
He moved his cursor to the first file and double-clicked it. Just like last time, the video player opened, but no error came on the screen. Instead, the video displayed the image of a young woman on a bed in a minimally furnished room. She wore a pale-blue hospital gown with a dizzying Greek key pattern on it, open in the back. Her back was to the camera, which was several feet above her head. The woman stood and paced several feet from the camera before turning and glaring up at it. The look on her face was raw hatred.
A familiar voice spoke over the video footage. Doctor Han’s. “Subject Thirty-Six upon entering week three of the program. All tests confirm that she entered the program in good health, optimal mental function, alert and responsive to all stimuli. After the initial batch of tests and exposure to serums one through twenty, tests indicate no change in anything other than her mood. Of course, that could be due to hormonal changes. Female subjects were less than ideal on that front because of such a variable, but for phase two of the program, we will need both viable male and female subjects. Tomorrow, Thirty-Six will be the first female subject exposed to Doctor LeDuc’s twenty-first serum. He might have discarded
the effects initially, but as time has proven, he was far less interested in the program than in his own side project. Nevertheless, his work will fuel the future for both man and supernatural kind. I must admit, I wish he were here to see it.”
All through the video, the woman just stood, staring at the camera, rage in her eyes. The more I stared at that gaunt face, the more I noticed. Bruises of varying sizes and ages colored her cheeks, neck, and arms. A cut on her forehead looked like it had been stitched closed.
I swallowed past the growing tightness in my throat. “Anyone else recognize that voice?”
“Doctor Han,” Sal growled next to me. “Marcus’ personal physician and the asshole who helped keep Mia from me.”
“If you don’t like him now, just wait until you’ve seen all the videos.” Ed snorted and opened another video file.
The same woman appeared on the screen in the middle of a different room, this one without any furnishings. She stood, surrounded by men in guard uniforms, her fists balled and raised. The men held batons. It didn’t take much imagination to see what was about to happen.
The woman, Subject Thirty-Six, leapt forward with a roar and drove her fist into the stomach of one of the guards. It did nothing since the guard must have been wearing some type of armor. She cried out and drew her fist back, then the beating started. They beat her down without mercy or regard for her life. Again and again, the clubs came down and lifted away bloody. All the while, Han’s voice droned on excitedly in the background.
“There was a breakthrough with one of the other subjects yesterday. When final preparations for his liquidation began, the subject was able to conjure fire in the palm of his hand! We subdued the subject and proceeded with liquidation, but the event sparked an epiphany. Some organisms develop defense mechanisms under extreme duress.”
Here, Han’s commentary paused while a bright flash covered the screen. I flinched away, squinting in the darkness. When I turned back, Subject Thirty-Six stood, bloodied and with her fists clenched, in the center of a massacre. Body parts had been scattered all over the room. Blood spatter painted the wall. One of the poor guards was still alive and used his one remaining stub of an arm to try to crawl away from her. Thirty-Six marched over, grabbed him by the head, and twisted. The guard fell limp.