Still hiding in the dark, Hadley dared another question. “What are you saying?”
“I don’t care who you were in your previous incarnations. I care who you are now.”
“What if that changes again?” Her fingers slipped lower. “What if I change again?”
“Change is inevitable, sweetheart, and all any of us can do is hope that the skin we choose to shed is less than the new one we have decided to wear.”
Dropping her hands to her sides, Hadley stared at the ceiling like it might provide her with guidance.
“I need Linus to keep his word.” She pushed herself upright. “I need him to act when others hesitate.”
“I understand.” His mother angled her head toward Linus. “Apologies, Mr. Lawson.”
“Accepted,” he said with ease. “Can we see her now?”
“I’ll come down.” Hadley swung her legs over the edge of the futon. “There’s no room for a party up here.”
Midas wished he took more comfort from her words, which sounded almost right, but her tone was flat and her eyes empty.
“I’ll do the honors.” He scooped her up and carried her toward the stairs. “I don’t mind.”
Hadley leaned her head against his chest, placed her hand over his heart, and shuddered just once.
Midas hit the bottom, his mother behind him, but he struggled to close the distance to Linus and Grier.
“You didn’t have to drive all the way here.” Hadley struggled weakly until he set her on her feet. “I’m—”
“Don’t say you’re fine,” Grier warned. “You’re not. I’m not. No one in this room is okay right now.”
“What do you want me to say?” Hadley folded her arms across her stomach. “He was my brother.”
“And he loved you more than anything in the world.”
“And Addie…” Hadley hunched over like she might be sick. “She’s…gone. I never told her…”
Unable to witness more of Hadley’s pain, Grier rushed her, and Midas gritted his teeth to keep from snapping at her. Grier yanked Hadley against her and squeezed until sobs burst from them both.
Slowly, so as not to provoke Midas, Linus joined them, stroking the curved line of Grier’s spine.
The elevator chimed, and it carried through the apartment’s open door.
Remy ran across the hall and skidded to a stop before colliding with Grier, Linus, and Hadley.
“There were no bodies,” she shouted, fist pumping the sky. “No bodies.”
Grier closed her eyes as if it might erase the past few hours if she screwed them shut tight enough, but Hadley broke from the huddle to clasp Remy by her wrists in a bruising grip.
“What are you talking about?” Her voice wavered. “How do you know?”
“Do you think I wasn’t here with you because I didn’t want to be?” She made a dismissive noise. “Unlike these losers, who came to you empty-handed, I brought news.”
Hope draining from her expression, Hadley shook her head. “The heat…”
“Me, myself, and five other Is spent the day sifting through the debris after the cleaners left.” She held up her blistered hands, which were angry from the intense heat she had shoved them into over and over while she panned for clues. “There are no bone fragments. No teeth. No nothing.”
“The average house fire burns at one to two thousand degrees,” Bishop said from the hallway. “Your average practitioner would be lucky to pack that much heat, and it’s doubtful they could do it without help from a coven or an artifact.” He paused to let that sink in. “There were remains at the bar. There were none at Michelle’s.”
A tremble started in Hadley’s calves and climbed up her body until she vibrated with the stirrings of dangerous hope.
“For comparison,” Bishop continued without entering, “a crematorium burns bodies at fourteen to eighteen hundred degrees. There are always bits left. Always. Splintered bone, melted dental amalgam, jewelry, phones, other electronics people keep on their person at all times.”
“You’re saying none of those things were found,” Hadley said slowly, staring at the damage to Remy’s hands. “Does that mean…?” She swallowed hard. “Why was no one there?”
What Hadley was saying finally struck Midas through his protective haze, and he should have gotten it sooner. The restaurant had staff. Cooks, waitstaff, a hostess, among others. Yet no remains were found?
“We don’t know that yet, kid.”
Appearing to digest that, she stared toward the door. “Why are you still in the hallway?”
“Your man threatened to eat my face earlier, so I figured better safe than dinner.”
She cranked her head toward him. “Midas?”
“Last week, he blew you up,” he reasoned. “Last night, he tranquilized you.”
“You’re lucky Midas didn’t rip out your throat,” his mother said from behind him. “I would have.”
“Midas.” Hadley gentled her voice. “You can’t murder everyone who hurts me.”
Eyebrows climbing, he kept his mouth shut because she was wrong, but he didn’t want to tell her so.
Releasing Remy, she walked into his arms and mashed her face into his chest. “I can hear you thinking murder thoughts.”
“I’ll try to think quieter.”
A laugh huffed into his shirt, and her fingers tightened around him. “What does this mean?”
The weight of what she asked pressed down on him until he ought to have sunk through their floor into the lobby.
“I don’t want you to get your hopes up and then get hurt all over again.” He buried his face in her hair. “But I don’t want you to lose all hope either.”
“That’s a fine line to walk.” She tipped her head back, her chin on his chest. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“We’re here to help.” Linus eased forward. “We’ll do whatever we can to locate those responsible.”
As protective as Hadley was of her city and her role in it, Midas expected her to pass on the offer.
“Okay.” She turned a grateful expression on Linus. “I think…” She glanced at Grier. “I would like that.”
“You’re in charge.” Linus returned his hands to his pockets. “What do you want us to do?”
Pulling away from Midas, Hadley wrapped herself in the mantle of potentate and summarized the past few days for everyone. The longer she spoke, the further she distanced herself from the role of grieving sister. It worried Midas, how well she compartmentalized, but there would be time to mourn later. He would make sure of it. Nothing good would come from letting wounds like this fester.
“Do you have any idea who the inside man might be?” Grier chewed on her thumbnail. “Or woman?”
“None.” Hadley took Midas’s hand and held on tight. “An enforcer makes the most sense, but we don’t have concrete evidence pointing toward any one person.”
“The OPA is clear,” Bishop added gently. “I tested each person myself. The leak isn’t at our office.”
“I’m sorry.” Showing none of the relief she must have felt at having her team cleared, Hadley turned her head toward his mother. “This means the coven has taken another pack member.”
“We all knew it was possible,” she said tiredly. “We’ve suspected it before, and here we are again.”
“I don’t grasp the finer nuances of the alpha/pack bond,” Linus admitted to Tisdale, “but can you sense anything through your connection to the others?”
“I would have hunted them down myself,” she replied on a gusted breath, “if that were possible.”
“Their scent might give them away.” Midas thought of Krista, the teen girl the coven had taken from their pack to lure the others away with the drug Faete. “Fresh skins smell like black magic.”
“Old skins have no scent at all,” his mother countered. “And I suspect that’s what we’re facing.”
“I hate to agree with her,” Bishop called, still in the hall, “but she’s right. This person mus
t have been embedded before the shit hit the fan. Otherwise, we would have noticed the wrongness, or smelled it.”
“The practitioner must have sworn off magic for the duration of the operation to avoid a gwyllgi nose outing them,” Linus agreed. “That level of discipline would require a master of the art, or the flipside of the coin. A neophyte without an established magical signature who embraced abstinence to ensure they read as clean.”
“A newbie would explain the sloppy bombs.” Bishop grunted. “The longer you avoid using your magic, the weaker it grows.”
“Inexperience could be the mitigating factor,” Linus added in support of their working theory. “A newbie isn’t as likely to get complex magics right on the first try. As Bishop said, it would explain why the first bomb failed to detonate.”
Luck was all that had spared Hadley, and it terrified Midas to know hers could run out at any moment.
“Our trap won’t work now.” Hadley stared toward the door. “No one would believe it after this.”
“Trap?” Midas rumbled. “What trap?”
“Bishop and I were tossing around the idea of setting up another date night to lure out the bomber.”
Grinding his molars, Midas kept from stomping out and strangling Bishop with his own tongue.
“Murder thoughts,” Hadley singsonged. “He was right to stay in the hall.”
“The date idea won’t fly,” Grier cut in, “but a wake might work.”
“That would put others in danger.” Hadley sliced her hand through the air. “The whole date angle was so the bomber wouldn’t think it was odd if only Midas and I showed.”
“Not many people in Atlanta know Boaz, Addie, or their parents well. We could pick and choose who got invites.” Grier drummed her fingers on her arm. “We could keep the gathering small to limit the risks.”
“We can’t protect them.” Hadley shook her head. “I won’t endanger more people.”
“Let me handle that.” Grier and Linus shared a glance that spoke volumes. “I can keep them safe.”
“You’re sure?” Hadley bit her lip. “Of course you’re sure.”
“You’re fine.” Grier lifted a shoulder. “We haven’t spent much time together since…everything happened…so you’re right to ask. If we were in my city, talking these stakes with my people, I would do the same.”
Drawing him back into the conversation, Hadley rubbed Midas’s arm. “What do you think?”
“It’s a good idea.” Though he hated admitting it. “It could work.”
“You’re not on board.” She read him too easily. “We’re going to have to trust Grier can deliver.”
“She can,” Linus promised, draping an arm across her shoulders. “She wouldn’t offer otherwise.”
“I’m not doing this without you.” Hadley fisted Midas’s shirt. “We can find another way.”
“I trust them.” He exhaled through his teeth. “It’s hard where you’re concerned, but I do.”
“Before we get into specifics, we’re going to need to test each of you.” Hadley broke away from him. “Bishop, do you still have the kit?”
“Yup.” He stepped into the doorway, tossed her a bag, then retreated. “Lancets are in the side pouch.”
“I must have missed a memo.” Grier glanced from her to Midas. “What are we testing for?”
“Abbott and Reece, with help from Doughty,” Hadley informed them, “developed a rudimentary test to determine if a person has become a host to a Martian Roach or if their skin is being worn by the coven.”
Blinking at Hadley, who tossed the bag to Midas, Grier cleared her throat. “A what now?”
“The parasitic roaches I mentioned,” Linus murmured. “Hadley nicknamed them Martian Roaches.”
“Why am I not surprised?” Grier smothered a grin. “As in The Martian Roaches Who Invaded Atlanta?”
The dip in Hadley’s chin at the gentle teasing kicked Midas’s protective instincts up a notch.
Hadley was so…Hadley. She was more comfortable in her own skin than anyone he knew, and he hated how the collision of her past with her present rattled her, diminished her, made her think twice before speaking or acting when one of the things he loved most about her was her spirit.
“I’ll administer the tests,” his mother offered. “You look like you would enjoy pricking them too much.”
Since Midas didn’t disagree, he stepped back to give her room and volunteered as her first victim. “Where are Hood and Eva?”
“Lethe left them at home.” She used an alcohol wipe to clean his fingertip. “Their pack is too young to run smoothly without either of their alphas present, so Hood stayed behind. Neither of them wanted Eva involved in this mess, and I can’t say I blame them. Even if I do regret missing a chance to visit with my granddaughter.”
His mother qualified as a field medic, and she had some formal education in medicine. The skills weren’t necessary for an alpha, but they didn’t hurt. Neither did the stab of the lancet into his fingertip, the way she massaged his finger to coax a few drops to form before he healed, or how she wiped those on a thin paper strip she fed the machine.
“Congratulations,” she announced five minutes later. “You’re not infected.”
After disposing of the materials, he waited on Hadley to get tested and be cleared before they sat on the couch and watched the others go through the motions.
Grier, Linus, Remy, Bishop, and finally his mother—all tested negative.
“This is good news.” His mom passed the kit to Remy. “Be a dear and test my shadows, will you?”
Half listening, Midas tensed when he thought she was calling out Ambrose, but she meant her guards.
Gleefully, Remy pressed the button on the lancing device, popping the needle in and out. “Sure thing.”
“Everyone present is who we think they are, and that does my old heart good.”
Whenever his mother played up her age or her health, he knew she was posturing for outsiders.
“Hadley and Grier can plan the wake,” she carried on, “as the two closest to the deceased.”
The deceased caused Hadley’s breath to freeze, her heart to skip, but she exhaled and sank against him.
“Bishop—” His mother caught herself and pivoted toward Hadley. “I slid into mother mode, didn’t I?”
“I was thinking alpha mode.” She had recovered enough to smile. “I get it, though.”
“We’re all alphas of a sort,” she agreed. “I didn’t mean to take over, so I’ll blame habit.”
Remy reappeared and made a beeline for the kitchen with her medical waste. “They’re both clear.”
“Excellent.” His mother accepted the kit and set about sterilizing it. “I’ll call your sister, get her here for testing.” She repacked it. “Are we missing anyone else?”
“Ford,” Midas and Hadley said together, and then she added, “Ares too.”
“Remy?” His mother repackaged the kit. “Would you mind doing the honors?”
“Drop the kit off with Lisbeth when you’re done with Lethe and Ares.” Hadley tilted her head. “She can test Ford and bring the kit back to HQ.”
“And me?” Tisdale arched her brows. “How can I help?”
“I wouldn’t presume to give you orders.” Hadley held his mother’s stare with ease. “I would appreciate it if you could mingle with the enforcers, though. See if you pick up any weird vibes. You know them better than anyone.”
“I can arrange for refreshments to be delivered for them the night of the wake. You’re pack, and you lost your sister. They won’t find it odd.” She touched Hadley’s arm. “I’ll work the party, get them talking.”
“Thank you.”
“You wouldn’t have been strong enough, you know.”
Confusion pinched Hadley’s face. “For what?”
“My son.” His mother drew in a shuddering breath then pushed it out. “He’s suffered, and he’s come out the other side of his tribulations stronger, but his tri
als have left their mark on him.”
Midas’s fingers itched to comfort her. “Mom…”
“Midas couldn’t have loved anyone who didn’t understand pain.” Expression tight, she kept going. “And they couldn’t have understood him.” She kissed Hadley’s cheek. “You couldn’t have understood each other.” She withdrew. “I can’t hold your past or your mistakes against you when fighting so hard to correct them has made you the incredible woman you are, and the perfect match for my son.”
Surprising the room, Hadley embraced his mother without prompting. “You’re a good mom.”
“I consider you my daughter, Hadley. You’re free to call me Mom when or if you’re ever ready.”
“I might take you up on that after…” Hadley withdrew. “I have things to get right in my head first.”
Nodding her understanding, his mother let Hadley retreat without another word and turned to him.
“I must return to the den.” She kissed his cheek. “Keep me updated on the wake, and I’ll make my plans from there.” She tapped his shoulder. “Just so you know, I’m taking Lethe with me. I need all the help I can get smoothing over the Knoxville incident with our neighbors and deciding what to do with the survivors.”
“Thank you.” He stole the hug he missed out on earlier. “For everything.”
“Silly boy.” She patted his cheek. “That’s what mothers are for.”
She spoke the words to him, but he got the feeling they were meant for Hadley.
Nine
Bishop mumbled a goodbye to me, hightailed it out of the hall, and rode down to the lobby with Tisdale.
Now that she knew my secrets, I could imagine how that conversation would go.
Lots of threats, on both sides. Promises of retribution, on both sides. And then an uneasy truce.
Or so I hoped.
“How soon do you want to schedule the wake?”
Jerking my attention back to Grier, I replayed the chunk of conversation I had spaced out on, but my brain was spinning its wheels, worried about Bishop and Tisdale alone in an elevator. How much damage could they do to one another during a sixty-second drop?
Proof of Life (The Potentate of Atlanta Book 4) Page 12