I frowned. I hadn’t even thought of that. “That didn’t even occur to me, but you’re right. A personality switch that drastic doesn’t just happen out of the blue. Either he had to be a closet bigot already, or the shift was precipitated by something. I suppose we could ask at his workplace, but he wasn’t happy there and I don’t know if that would give us any insight.”
“I’ll text Viktor to check into it,” Herne said, then turned back to the Fae Queens. “Set up the press conference for tonight or tomorrow morning. You want to come out against this as soon as possible.” He paused, then said, “Do you think there are Fae who are capable of creating a group like this?”
Saílle closed her eyes, looking strained. “Yes, I’m sorry to say it, but there are those who resent our interaction with the world at large. And they would be more than capable of this. But I have always thought they were few and far between, and more talk than action. I admit, I cannot rule out that the Tuathan Brotherhood is actually a group of renegade Fae.”
“What she said,” Névé added. “Keep in close touch with us on what you find out. And we will contact you if we find out anything. This can’t be allowed to go any further.”
“I’m afraid things may get a lot uglier before they get better,” I murmured, and no one contradicted me.
By six-thirty, we were on our way back across the bridge, and I was done in for the day. I felt nauseated from the pain, and kicked myself for leaving my prescriptions back at the office. I hated admitting that I needed the pain medication, but the fact was, I was hurting pretty bad.
Herne glanced at me, worried. “Are you all right?”
“The pain meds have worn off and I hurt like a son of a bitch.” I grimaced. “As soon as we get back to the office, I’m taking one of those pills.” I leaned my head back, staring out into the growing darkness. The sun was setting earlier every day, and the night had set in. The clouds were socking in and we were due for rain and wind. I welcomed the storm, feeling it brewing in the distance. Its energy matched my mood.
“When both Saílle and Névé are scared into cooperating with us, you know things are bad,” I said. “I have no clue what to think now. My gut says somebody other than the Fae are behind this, but that they both agree that the Tuathan Brotherhood could be exactly what it says it is, well…that makes me nervous.” I pressed my head against the window. “What do you think?”
“I have no idea. I see both possibilities and either way, it’s a mess. I’m almost hoping it’s a frame-up because if it’s not, then the Fae will have so much more damage control to do. But if it’s not the Fae, how the hell will this play out?”
I fell into silence, listening to the sound of the traffic as we inched our way across the bridge. Rush hour was easing up, but we were still going half-speed of normal. By the time we got back to the office, Angel was waiting with my pills.
“You look like hell,” she said. “Let’s get you home.”
“I drove in this morning, but I don’t think I’m capable of driving home,” I said, popping one of the pain pills.
“Then leave your car and ride with me,” Angel said. “Herne, can you walk us to the car? It’s late, Ember’s out of it, and I’m feeling on edge.”
Herne lifted me in his arms and carried me into the elevator, ignoring my protests that I could walk by myself. But I didn’t object too hard. I was in pain and tired and frazzled. He carried me to Angel’s car and slid me into the passenger seat.
“I’ll wait till until you’re on the road,” he said to Angel, then kissed me gently on the lips. “Love, go home. Rest. If you need anything, call me. Angel, that goes for you, too. I’ll keep my phone with me.”
Thanking him, Angel pulled out of the parking garage as I leaned back against the seat. The pain pill was kicking in. When we got home, she helped me into the house.
“Can you make it upstairs?”
I stared at the staircase, groaning. “I can, but it’s not going to be fun.”
“I’ll walk behind you, to make sure you don’t fall.”
“Trust me, if I fall, I’ll just bowl you over. Why don’t you take the lead. I’ll just crawl up.”
I motioned for her to go in front of me, and then, on my hands and knees, I crawled up the steps. I probably could have walked, but every muscle in my body ached, and my back felt like every movement pushed it toward a spasm. I made it, though, and Angel helped me to my feet. She guided me into my bedroom, and helped me undress.
“Your back looks like somebody took a knife to you.” She glanced toward my bathroom. “Do you want a shower, or a bath?”
“Yeah, but I don’t feel up to standing.”
“Wait here.” She motioned for me to stay on the bed and dashed into the bathroom. When she returned, she said, “I put the plastic stepstool in the shower. It’s high enough for you to sit on. Come on, let’s get you washed up and then I’ll doctor your cuts.”
As the hot water streamed over me, I closed my eyes, enjoying the heat as it worked its way into my muscles. Angel lightly washed my back, being careful so that she didn’t re-open any of the cuts. When I finished, she wrapped a beach-sized towel around me and led me over to the vanity bench, where I dropped the towel so she could dab the antibiotic ointment onto my back. It was a blend specially for the Fae, and it numbed the sting of the cuts.
She brought me my robe, and then got out the blow dryer and began drying my hair for me.
“You don’t have to do all this,” I said, feeling a little teary.
“Yes I do. You would do the same for me.” She gently brushed the strands back. “When Viktor called, I swear my heart stopped. All I could think about was the thought that you were hurt, that we didn’t know how severe your injuries were, and that we might lose you. I couldn’t take that, girl.” Her face was soft, her eyes welling with tears.
“Well, I’m alive. But a lot of other people aren’t. Angel, I’m scared. Not for myself, but this is one of the most dangerous cases we’ve worked on. If we don’t find the headquarters of the Tuathan Brotherhood and put a stop to them, things are going to get a lot worse. I’m just afraid we won’t find them in time.” I rubbed my forehead. “I’m so tired, and I’m hungry.”
She finished drying my hair and then lightly braided it back. “There. Tomorrow, your natural waves will be all sorts of dreamy.” As she walked with me back into my bedroom, pulling my covers down, she said, “I’ll bring your dinner up. Would you like it if I eat with you and we can watch a movie or something?”
“Please.” I nodded as I climbed into bed and she adjusted my pillows to cushion my back as I leaned against the headboard. I didn’t feel like being alone with my thoughts.
As Angel headed downstairs, Mr. Rumblebutt jumped on the bed and curled up on my lap. I cuddled him, cooing softly, trying to focus on all the good things in my life, but the images from the morning kept replaying themselves over and over in my mind and I was relieved when she appeared with a tray full of grilled cheese sandwiches, potato chips, and mugs of tomato soup.
As we ate, we talked about Herne and Rafé—Angel and he were getting along nicely—and what we wanted to plant in the gardens come spring, and anything and everything that didn’t involve violence and pain and loss. Finally, I began to doze, and she carried the tray away as I curled under the covers. Mr. Rumblebutt burrowed in beside me as I fell asleep. But I kept a dim lamp on all night, and only woke up once, gasping as I thought I heard another explosion. But it was only in the back of my mind, and I calmed myself before once again, closing my eyes.
By morning, I was still stiff and sore, but feeling a lot better. I desperately needed coffee, but that wasn’t out of the ordinary, and while I decided to forgo any scratchy tops and to wear a skirt instead of jeans because of the cuts on the backs of my legs, I wasn’t feeling too shabby.
Angel looked up as I made my way downstairs. “You up to work today?”
“Yeah, I’m just not going to race around getting into any fights.
” I adjusted the skirt and then cinched it with a patent leather belt. The shirt was a low-cut peasant top that I usually wore in summer, but it was gauzy and light against my skin. I was wearing a sports bra again because the material of my regular bras was just too scratchy, and I needed to avoid compressing against the cuts. “I need a new leather jacket.”
“We’ll go shopping this weekend.” Angel handed me a plate of waffles and bacon. “Here, I made your favorite breakfast.”
I gave her a wide smile. “Did I mention that you’re the best roomie ever?”
“Only a dozen times, but what’s one more?” She paused as a text came in. After glancing at it, she groaned. “Dear gods, what now?”
I was about to ask what was wrong, but she was already talking to somebody on the phone. She moved back into the kitchen, and I dug into my waffles. They were so fluffy and yet crisp that they felt like an oxymoron. I was famished and had half-finished my breakfast by the time she came back.
“You really are hungry. Another one?”
I nodded, wiping syrup off my chin. “Please. Everything okay?”
“Not exactly. That was Cooper. DJ’s got himself in trouble.”
“Oh good gods, what did he do?”
DJ was Angel’s younger half-brother, and he lived with a foster family of shifters to help guide him through the changes that would beset him at puberty and to keep him safe from our uncertain lifestyle.
“He hacked into the school computer system to change the grade of a classmate from a D to a B. He admitted it. When they asked him why, he said he didn’t want Timothy to get in trouble for his grades. I can believe that, but my guess is that he’s just trying to prove he’s one of the guys. DJ is small for his age and he always feels left out.” She paused, then shrugged. “Cooper has grounded him through Thanksgiving, and he’s been suspended, so he’s on home study until after the holidays. He can return to school in January.”
“Ugh. That’s a long time.”
“It’s a private shifter school. They’ll send out a tutor once a week for him. But it’s going to cost Cooper money—the parents have to pay when that happens—and DJ has to keep his record clean till the end of the school year to get off probation.”
I thought about the punishment. It seemed a little harsh, but then, it wasn’t corporal, and the tutor would probably put him through his paces at a harder rate than if he were actually going to class. The school seemed to care about the kids getting their education.
“Are you still going down for Thanksgiving?”
Angel nodded. “Cooper said I’m welcome there. He had already promised DJ I could come, and he’s not going to renege on that. But you can be sure that boy and I will have words once I arrive.” She brought her plate to the table and joined me, handing me another waffle.
As we ate, I ran through the day’s schedule. We hadn’t fully set it by the end of work the day before, but I wanted to talk to Amanda to find out if she remembered anybody who might have been too interested in Eleanor at AlkaNon, perhaps someone named Naomi. Other than that, I’d be doing whatever Herne asked me to.
We reached the parking garage and, as Angel pulled in next to my car and I got out, I noticed that, across the side of my Subaru, somebody had keyed the words “BITCH SLUT.”
“Fucking hell!” I stared at the gouges. They were deep enough to mar the metal as well as the paint. Whoever had done this was either hyped up on something, or they were angry. It wasn’t just some kid passing by.
“Ray?” Angel asked, glancing at me.
I stared at it for a moment, then nodded. “Probably. I guess I could call the cops, though right now this isn’t going to be a major blip on the radar. But I’ll damned well take pictures.” I snapped a few photos on my phone and then, grumbling, checked my tires and anything else I could think of that might have been tinkered with. Luckily, everything else looked intact.
“Let’s get inside. You can stop by an insurance adjuster after work,” Angel said.
We skimmed through the morning meeting quickly. Luckily, there hadn’t been any other attacks that we knew of, though the death count to the bombing was up as five more of the missing were found. Or rather, parts of them. The injured were still managing to hold on, some of them very close to death but maintaining.
Herne gave me a long kiss when he entered the room, stroking my chin. “How are you?”
“Better—at least my body is. Some asshole keyed my car while it was in the parking garage.” I waved him off when he asked more about it, not wanting to deflect from the matters at hand. “I want to ask Amanda something—based on what Samantha told Viktor and me yesterday. I was going to give her a call after the meeting.”
“That’s fine,” Herne said. “Yutani, I’d like you to poke around on the Dark Web. I know you’ve been peeking, but arm yourself and go in. We need to find this group and we need to find them now.”
“Do you want me to dive into the cesspool too, Herne?” Talia asked.
Yutani abruptly put a stop to that. “Nope. I’m telling you now, I know my way around the Dark Web, but if you don’t, you’re just asking for trouble. I’ll feed you info to look up as per usual, and we’ll divide the work that way.”
Angel frowned. She had been scanning her tablet. “We’ve got trouble brewing. There are four businesses cited as closing their doors to the Fae. And a vigilante group beat the hell out of a Fae couple last night—they were shifters. They claimed ‘payback’ for the beatings on Sunday night. The couple has no known connections to the Tuathan Brotherhood.”
“Victims of opportunity. I was afraid this was going to start happening,” Herne said. “Do we have a fix on the perps?”
“The cops picked up two of them and they’re in jail. The other three got away, but their buddies will probably turn tail on them.” Angel shook her head. “Bad juju.”
“Well, Cernunnos received an irate call from the United Coalition this morning, asking what the hell we’re doing. They seem to expect miracles. My father managed to put them off, but we can’t go on this way much longer without wide-scale backlash.” Herne tossed his pen on the table. “We need a break on this.”
The office phone rang, and Angel dashed out to her desk to get it. When she returned, she was waving a piece of paper.
“We may just have got our break,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “That was the cops. They have the name of the bomber. They found the security footage, which survived, and they saw a man come in with the bomb. It matches what a few witnesses remember—they’re just now managing to interview them. The suspect pulled off his coat and held a gun on people to keep them from leaving. Ember,” she said, turning to me. “If you had gone in the bank five minutes earlier, you would have seen him.”
I froze. “I could have stopped him.”
“No! Don’t you even go there,” Herne said. “You would have just been caught with the rest of them. There’s no way you could have disarmed a suicide bomber, and even if you carried a gun, you probably would have triggered the explosion if you shot him. He wouldn’t have surrendered, given he willingly put his life on the chopping block. Do you understand me, Ember? Don’t go there.” He leaned forward, shaking his head, a fierce look on his face.
I tried to process what he said along with the fact that the bomb hadn’t just been planted, but it had been on a living, breathing fanatic who willingly stood there, holding those people hostage, knowing he was going to kill them at any minute, dying with them.
I suddenly gulped, realizing I had been holding my breath. “Yeah,” I said slowly as logic took over. On this one, Herne was right. If I had gone inside a few minutes earlier, I’d probably be dead now.
“Right,” I said. “You’re right. I couldn’t have done anything.” After another pause, I turned to Angel. “Do they have an ID on him?”
“Yeah. Footage places him as one of the bank’s clients, actually. His name is Menhir Ryma, and he was a loyal customer for ten years. Then…boom.” She hande
d Herne the paper. “Here’s his address, phone number—landline—and next of kin’s information. He leaves a wife and two kids.” She shook her head. “Can you imagine what they’re going through?”
“How do we go about interviewing her? I mean, I know we have to, but how do you walk up to somebody and ask them if they knew their spouse was going to blow himself up along with as many people as he could take with him?” I shook my head.
“We’ll tackle that later today,” Herne said. “This morning, you go ahead and talk to Amanda. I’m sending Viktor out to interview Grimspound Mica—the Fomorian who owns the Panther XL you saw at the scene.”
I frowned, starting to protest because I remembered the car and it felt like my fight, but then when I thought about it, I agreed. “Yeah, come to think of it, you’re right. It wouldn’t be wise to send me along with him—given how much the Fomorians hate the Fae. I don’t want to be on his radar.”
“No, you do not.” Herne sat back, frowning. “I feel like we’re running five steps behind this group. They came out of nowhere, and now their name’s on everybody’s lips only a few days after they appeared. I hate to even think it, but what happens if we can’t shut them down? What do we do if they just keep evading us?”
“Then the Fae are going to become mighty unpopular, regardless of whether they have anything to do with the group or not.” Yutani gave a little shrug and finished off his coffee. “I suggest we dive in for the day. We can only do so much with what we know. I’ll check on the Dark Web and see if I can find any sort of manifesto or target list or anything like that.”
The Hallowed Hunt: A Wild Hunt Novel, Book 5 Page 13
