As Lie the Dead

Chapter Eleven

Friday, 5:45 P.M.

I don’t remember passing out, but waking up proved an unforgettably disgusting experience. Smells hit me first: odors of food long since spoiled and left to rot in the oven-temp heat of some container. Too many to identify and nearly joined by my own vomit. Close by and almost as stomach-churning as the restaurant waste was the distinct stench of blood. Too strong and too much to be just mine.

Twisted uncomfortably and lying on solid corners, damp plastic, and any number of squishy things, I tried to move with little effect. Blinking didn’t help matters much. I wasn’t blind, just in the dark. More plastic and rot pressed down on me from above, pinning arms and legs and torso in place. My stomach burned. My limbs ached. I wasn’t convinced that I was facing up.

Motherfucker. Phineas stabbed me and dumped me in a trash bin.

“Fuck!” The shout barely echoed in the close quarters of my rotting tomb.

I tested toes and fingers—check. Flexed muscles everywhere I could manage, and aside from bumps and scrapes from being tossed into the damned trash, only my abdomen was seriously injured. Couldn’t have been in there long if I could still feel the small wounds. That was the good news.

The bad news: I hadn’t a clue how far down I’d been buried or if I could dig my way out. Death by Dumpster-induced heatstroke was not what I wanted on my tombstone. Not that I’d get a tombstone. Hunters never did. Anonymous cremation for anonymous lives. No way in hell was I going out like that.

Cell phone. I wiggled my ass as best I could. Felt the familiar lump. Elation was immediately tempered by logic. Okay, fine, I had the phone on me, but both arms were currently pinned beneath an unknown poundage of used napkins, plastic cups, and yesterday’s lunch special.

Sweat trickled down my forehead and stung my left eye. My right arm had more mobility than the left, so I finger-creeped it closer to my body. More plastic, more oozy mess. From the stretch of my shoulder, I guessed it was at a forty-five-degree angle from my body. My elbow snagged on something hard and sharp. Shit.

The air I had was quickly growing stale, heavy. Teleporting from an unknown starting point to an unknown exterior was beginning to seem like an acceptable risk. Better than smothering beneath a mountain of trash. Dying now meant I’d miss out on grinding Phin’s face into the pavement.

His earlier words came back: No matter what happens or what they say, I need you to trust me to protect you. Ha! Fat lot of fucking good that had done me. If this was his play to get in good with Black Hat and his Merry Band of Dreg Terrorists, he’d better come out of that meet with solid information. Something we could use to take them out and keep them out.

Unless he helped them take us out first. The voice of my Boot Camp instructor rang clearly in the back of my mind, reminding me that it was foolish to trust Phin. No matter how handsome he was, no matter how well he could spin words into gold, he was still a Dreg, still unworthy of my complete trust. He could easily lead Kismet, Baylor, and the others into a trap. Kill the rest of the Triad forces in one fell swoop.

My stomach twisted; my heart jackhammered. Fuck no.

I jerked my right arm toward my body. Flesh ripped with scorching agony. Tears stung my eyes. My hand found a small pocket of space near my hips. I shifted a little, angled my arm, and pushed. The trash lifted a bit, but not enough. I tried again—same deal. I screamed in frustration.

Muffled voices made it through my tomb. I screamed again, no longer caring who found me. I needed out. Out of the heat, the stink, and the ever-crushing pile of refuse bearing down on my chest and legs.

The side of the bin thundered. Metal squealed, punctuated by a crash-bang! Pinpricks of light appeared above. The lid was off. They’d heard me, whoever they were. I shouted again.

“Down there,” someone said.

Bit by bit, the trash was removed and weight lifted. The pinpricks became shafts. Cooler, fresh air wafted down, making the odor of spoilage much, much worse. I retched but didn’t vomit. The garbage bag above my head finally lifted away. Sunlight glared, blinding me. I slammed my eyelids down, a soft whimper catching in my throat.

“There,” another someone said. “She is wounded.”

“You doubted it?” the first someone asked. “The scent of blood permeates this place.”

I knew that voice. No longer muffled, the familiar tone and cadence was the most beautiful thing I’d heard all day. I forced one eye open and squinted past the glare. A shadow fell as she moved sideways, blocking the offending light.

Dressed in black from head to toe, white hair pulled back in a tight braid, Isleen gazed down at me. She and two other female Bloods stood around me in a half circle, actually inside among the garbage. Her glimmering purple eyes took stock of my now-exposed body before looking right at me. “It pleases me that you are not dead,” she said.

Laughter bubbled out of my throat, as much from relief as shock. “Pleases me, too. Now get me out of here.”

Her two helpers looped steel-strong arms beneath me and lifted. My stomach wound shrieked at me, but I focused on my legs. Getting them to move, supporting my weight, and ultimately climbing over the lip of the sunbaked Dumpster. Two male Bloods waited in the alley, arms extended to help. I vaguely recalled losing my balance and falling. Being caught and lowered to the ground.

I rolled sideways and dry-heaved until my chest ached. Spat out what little liquid was still in my mouth. Good thing I’d skipped lunch.

“… another body,” one of the male Bloods said.

Alarm bells clanged in my head. “Who?” I gasped.

“Unknown male,” Isleen said. “Early twenties. His throat has been slashed.”

I tried to remember something about the puppy-man that the female Blood had kept near her. “Long-sleeved shirt?”

“Yes. Arlen, take her to the van. We must not linger here.”

It occurred to me to protest. One of her men scooped me up, and I fell against his chest, exhausted. Didn’t recognize the alley or the back of the building connected to it. A black van was parked at the end, back doors open, windows tinted. They were going to love having me inside, smelling up the place.

Tiny hammers thudded against my temples, announcing an impending headache. I closed my eyes for a minute, intending only to ward it off. The gentle sway of the van woke me again, sometime later.

I was lying on a soft blanket, covered by another. The gentle pressure of a bandage covered my shredded elbow. More pressed against my abdomen. I blinked through the dimness. Isleen sat on the floor by my side. She snapped open a moist towelette and wiped my forehead.

“How did you find me?” I asked. Croaked was more accurate. My mouth and throat were almost completely dry.

“I received a message from Eleri,” she replied. “You met her briefly this afternoon.”

My mind reeled. “You’ve got a spy?”

“Of course. She was also told to kill the human by her side.” So he’d been human after all. Interesting. “Eleri had no choice if she was to continue her assignment. Once she was able, she communicated your whereabouts. She told me you both were dead.”

“I probably should be.” Was that concern in her voice? Nah. “I guess Phin knew right where to stab me, so he missed vital organs.”

“Apparently so. Do you trust the Therian?”

Geez, did everyone know what they were really called?

“If you mean Phin, then …” I wanted to say yes. Something stopped me. He could have easily stabbed me in the chest, the heart, any number of places more immediately life-threatening. Instead, he’d chosen a place that wasn’t, probably banking on my being able to heal from the wound. Burying me that deep in a trash bin wasn’t nice, but that could have been Black Hat’s idea.

At the end of it, though, I was alive.

Isleen sighed. “Humans always have difficulty expressing trust for us nonhumans, I have noticed. He could have killed you, but he did not.”

“I know.” Didn’t mean I’d readily turn my back on him again. “Why are you investigating this?”

“As I have said in the past, we have no issue with the status quo. We do, however, have issue with those who seek to change it. Humans may not be our friends, but you are our allies. I do not wish to see anyone else—Therian, goblin, or Fey—come to power in your stead.”

“Me, either. That mean we’re stuck working together again?”

She smiled. “It would seem so. After you receive medical treatment.”

“Don’t need it.”

“Evangeline—”

“It’ll heal, trust me. Faster than you think. But I won’t say no to a shower and clean clothes.”

“Good, then I will not have to insist.”

Deadpan delivery, no hint of her previous smile. Good Lord, that might have been a joke. A vampire telling an actual joke. One more entry on today’s list of Things I Never Thought I’d Do or See.

She took me to a small motel in the northernmost neighborhood of Mercy’s Lot. A single-level, white-walled place with twelve rooms and twice as many parking spaces. I showered in a cramped, stained tub with generic white soap and those tiny bottles of shampoo that barely create a lather. It got rid of the stink and sweat and blood.

Clean clothes and a first-aid kit had been left on the toilet seat. Black jeans, red tank top, sneakers—almost identical to the outfit I’d worn the first time I met Isleen. It made me smile. I also realized, as I dressed, that my ankle sheath was gone. Probably taken off me before I was dumped into the garbage.

My elbow was already starting to scab over, so I left it alone. The wound in my stomach was less than an inch long, the edges already come together. It had stopped bleeding a while ago, leaving only a dull ache behind. It hurt to bend over, but I wasn’t vomiting blood or pissing red. Luck seemed to be on my side.

Isleen was waiting in the outer room, perched regally on one of the double beds. I smelled the pizza before I located the box on the room’s outdated wooden table, cozied up to a chilled six-pack of cola. Beyond it, a five-dollar electric clock announced the turn of the hour: seven P.M. I was in the trash longer than I’d thought.

“I was uncertain what you would want to eat,” Isleen said.

“Well, beer would have completed the stereotype.”

“What?”

“Never mind. Thank you.”

I dug in without waiting for permission and burned my tongue on a slice of steaming pepperoni. It didn’t matter that I hated black olives and green peppers on my pie; I just ate. Isleen wrinkled her nose in my general direction, and I realized how kind it was of her to order the pizza. Bloods are violently allergic to plants in the Allium genus—onions, shallots, leeks, and chives. And garlic, the smell of which wafted off the pizza pie in waves. I’d even heard stories of some Bloods having sneezing fits around certain lily plants, a close relative.

“I need to talk to Wyatt,” I said between bites. “It’s been hours since we last spoke.”

“He has already received word of your safety.”

“Oh.” I still wanted to talk to him, almost as badly as I wanted to talk to Phin. Things were happening outside of my periphery, and I hated it. Someone had to bounce the ball back into my court, and soon. “What did you tell him about Phin?”

“He did not ask.”

“You didn’t tell him Phin stabbed me?”

She inclined her head. “Passing along such information might have biased Truman against Phineas and prevented their working together in the future. Unless you prefer their antagonism?”

A lot of words to basically say, “I didn’t want them pissed at each other.”

I snapped open a cola, gulped some, and then started on my second slice of pizza. “So what do you know about this group meeting? I didn’t even get names before lights-out.”

“The leader is a man named Leonard Call.”

“Is he the one with the black fedora?”

She shook her head. “I am uncertain of that man’s identity. According to Eleri’s intelligence, Call has been organizing this militia for the better part of a month. Feeling out interest among the various communities, testing the actual bloodlust of those who would join him in battle against humans and their allies.”

“That sounds a lot like what Tovin was doing, getting the Halfies and goblins on his side.”

“Yes, but I can draw no clear line between Tovin and Call, nor find any reason why a human would—”

“Wait, what?”

Isleen’s sharp features seemed to soften. “Leonard Call is human.”

My mind reeled. The spicy pizza in my hand was no longer tempting. I tossed the half slice back into the box and wiped my hands on a paper napkin. Even the soda tasted flat. I missed the trash, and my empty can rattled to the floor. Balling my fists to keep them from shaking, I sat on the bed opposite Isleen.

“Who is this asshole in real life?” I asked.

“No one, it seems.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that no records for a man named Leonard Call exist. It is possible the name is an alias.”

“Or the gremlins erased his info.” Just like they’d done for Chalice Frost, removing all computer and paper evidence of her existence. Wiping her off the face of the world, so I could move more freely within it.

“A possibility, of course.” One she didn’t seem to believe.

“How long has Eleri been in his good graces?”

“About a day.”

“A day? You’ve been investigating this for a month but just now got someone inside?”

“No, Eleri has been with them for a day.” Isleen stiffened, pale hands clasping in her lap. Her body seemed to vibrate from the inside out. “Our first spy was not completely trusted. As you know, my people are very loyal to their Families. Betrayal is a grave sin, often unforgivable. Udell was unable to convince Call of his loyalty, and he was being left out of their plans.”

“So you had Eleri kill him?”

“Yes.” She had always hidden her emotions well, but at that moment, a brief wave of sadness crashed over her. It was gone quickly, just a rogue wave, but it had left its mark. “She revealed him as one of my spies and killed him on the spot. Her place in the Family is much lower than that of Udell, which was my mistake. Discord in the lower ranks is easier to accept than in those above.”

My heart went out to her with as much sympathy as I could generate for a vampire. “Udell was family?”

Her nostrils flared. “Of course.”

“No, I mean family-family.”

“He was Istral’s mate.”

Istral, the sister I’d seen murdered by goblins last week. She had died screaming, from ammunition created to protect the Triads, without Max lifting a finger to help. Max. Even thinking the gargoyle’s name infuriated me. I’d once considered him a friend, only to have him step casually aside while I was kidnapped by Kelsa and her goblin horde.

“I’m sorry,” I said.

She nodded. “As am I. I have lost my sister and now her husband, and I have very little to show for these sacrifices.”

“You’ve got a direct line to the bad guys.” No reaction. “And you saved my life because of it.” Nothing. She did sullen better than I did. “Well, I don’t know how much Eleri told you, but Phineas is setting himself up as a traitor to the Triads. He told Call that we know about tomorrow night’s meet and are going to stake it out, both of which are true.”

“Eleri imparted something similar when we spoke. Call’s supposed plan is simple, but potentially deadly.”

“Lure the Triads in and then attack, right?”

“Precisely.”

“So we need to outflank them before they get us.”

“Correct.”

This was getting more complicated by the minute. “Oh, what a tangled web we weave,” I muttered.

“Pardon?”

“Nothing. So the best thing for us to do is continue our surveillance like normal, so no one in this little Dreg militia suspects we’re onto them, and hope no one gets hurt.”

“Sacrifices are inevitable in a time of war.”

I started. “We aren’t at war.”

“Are we not? Consider your path since the night your friends turned their backs on you, Evangeline. Events are in motion that shall lead to a conflict greater than any of us can truly foresee.”

“You read that in your crystal ball?”

Her smile was cold. “I have walked this Earth for two centuries, child, and in those decades have never seen the level of hostility between our species as I have these past ten years. And not simply humans and vampires but among all of the others, including the Light Ones, who choose to hide underground.”

I could have told her the Light Ones—sprites and gnomes and dryads and pixies—hid underground so they could protect a gateway that kept demons from spilling over into our world. But if she didn’t already know about First Break, it wasn’t my job to educate her.

“So what?” I asked. “You think this is some sort of plot ten years in the making, that’s only now coming to fruition, and we just happen to be stuck in the middle of the fucking thing?”

She raised a single slim eyebrow. “You believe it is coincidence that the Triads were officially chartered ten years ago?”

I stood and heat flared through my aching stomach, protesting the sudden movement. But it was the only way I could tower over her—as long as she stayed sitting. “Are you saying this fuck-fest is the fault of the Triads?”

“Look at their history, Evangeline, and then make up your own mind. If they are at fault for, or simply a reaction to, a growing threat.”

Yeah, I’d do that, sure. Number sixty-eight on today’s To Do list. A list that was only growing. “If I thought I had time to make up my own mind, I wouldn’t be asking you for clarification.”

“I have none for you. I returned to the city only six years ago, after a two-decade absence. Talk to the people who were here, not to those of us who were not.”

She meant Wyatt and Rufus, the two most tenured Handlers in the city. Fat chance I’d get the answers I wanted from the brass, even if I could track them down in the next two or three days—and given my streak of luck so far, that was looking less and less likely. Kismet, Baylor, Willemy, and the others had come around within the last seven years. Longer than I’d been a Hunter, but they hadn’t been around ten years ago.

Hell.

“What are you thinking?” Isleen asked.

“That I need to go talk to Rufus again.”

“Why Rufus?”

“Because sometimes a person facing certain death will be more honest about things he’d rather not discuss.”

She nodded. “You are learning.”

I snorted. “Well, all this investigative bullshit is new to me. I’m not a detective, I’m a Hunter. They point and I kill it, not question it to death.”

“Occasionally the acquisition of answers requires a lighter touch.”

“Like I said, not my job.”

“It seems to have become your job. And if you wish to protect your friends and your species, I suggest you learn quickly.”

“Why do you care?”

“As I have stated, Evangeline, we vampires are content with our place in society. The unrest is not of our design; however, we do wish to assist in settling it.”

“Terrific.”

A muffled clanging of music trickled into the room. I listened. Pinpointed it in the bathroom. Cell phone. I dashed in, found it in the back pocket of my discarded jeans, and flipped it open.

“Stone,” I said.

“Evy?” Aurora’s voice was soft, practically a whisper.

Just what I didn’t need. “Yeah?”

“Can I talk to Phineas, please?”

I’d have loved to talk to Phin my own damned self, but the quiver in her lyrical voice stopped me from snapping at her. Kept me from saying anything about the last few hours. “He’s not here with me, Aurora. What is it?”

“Can you come home, please?”

“I’m a little busy right now.”

“Leo scares me, Evy. He’s scaring Joseph, too. Joseph thinks we should leave and find somewhere else to stay, but Phin promised we’d be safe here.”

I barely resisted the impulse to kick the bathroom wall. “What’s he doing that’s scaring you?”

“He broke a glass.”

Not exactly an apocalyptic event. “I’m sure it was an acci—”

“He threw it against the wall.”

“He what?”

“We were watching a program on television, trying to pass the time. He never sat still, kept fidgeting and tapping his feet. Then he just stood up and threw his glass at the wall. He yelled at Joseph for trying to clean it up. Then he went into his son’s bedroom, slammed the door, and has been making noise in there ever since.”

My anger flared white-hot. “What sort of noise?”

“Banging, mostly. He swears a lot, too.”

Join the fucking club.

I stalked out of the bathroom and stopped halfway to the door. “Stay put. I’ll be there soon.” I shut the phone and slid it into my pocket. “I need a ride,” I said to Isleen.

“Arlen can drop you anywhere you wish.”

“If Eleri gives you anything else on this meet—”

“I will contact you.”

I scribbled my phone number on the motel’s complementary notepad, mentally making a list of all the ways to smack Leo around when I got back to the apartment.