“Lady? You okay?”
“Fine.” I lifted my head, forcing a grin. My Good Samaritan recoiled. I guess my grin wasn’t all that reassuring. “Sarah, come on. We have to get out of here.”
Wordlessly, Sarah grabbed her bag off the platform and nodded to me. I took her hand again, and we ran for the tunnel connecting the PATH station with the subway. If we could just catch the train, we’d be safe.
We caught the train.
The ride from Christopher Street to the Meatpacking District was short, which was a good thing, since I don’t think either of us could have handled a long trip bundled into a metal box full of strangers. Sarah kept her head bowed and her eyes closed, looking for all the world like a wilted flower. I knew that meant that she was scanning the people around us constantly, looking for signs of danger. She was going to have one hell of a headache by the time we reached the Nest. I couldn’t say that it wasn’t worth it.
When we pulled into our final destination, I tugged her out of her seat and led her, eyes still closed, out of the train. I didn’t leave the station. Instead, I walked the both of us over to the benches against the nearest wall and pushed Sarah into a sitting position, whispering, “Keep looking.” Then I pulled out my phone.
Uncle Mike answered on the third ring. “Where are you?”
“Hey, Mom. I picked up that movie you wanted.” Translation: I may be under surveillance, I am currently at the train station. If I’d been on the street, I would have picked up the dry cleaning; in a bus station, the groceries. It was a simple code, but it worked more than well enough for our purposes.
“Shit. Sarah with you?”
“Yes, that sounds good.”
“She been compromised?”
“I’m pretty sure.”
“Shit.” This time, the profanity was delivered with far more feeling. “What can I do?”
“Did you check the mail today? I’m expecting a package.”
“Sure thing. Hang on the line.” I heard the soft clunk as Mike put the phone down, followed by the equally soft, but far more ominous “snick” of a crossbow bolt being slotted into place.
Sarah’s eyes were still closed. I put my hand on her shoulder and waited, feeling like an ingénue in a bad horror movie. At any moment, the Covenant would burst out of their hiding places and take us out, and no matter how hard I fought, there was no way I’d be able to hold them all off. We’d be overwhelmed, and no one would ever find our bodies—
“Very? You there?”
“I’m here.”
“The coast is clear outside the slaughterhouse. If you can get up to street level, I can cover you.”
“We’re on our way.” I shoved the phone back into my pocket and took hold of Sarah’s arm, pulling her to her feet. “Come on. We need to go.”
She opened her eyes, the last of the glow dying from her pupils as she turned to look at me. “Is it safe?”
“We’ll find out. This way.”
I led her out of the station and up the stairs to street level. Uncle Mike was standing in front of the tiny bodega that connected to the Nest. I wanted to run to him. Instead, I walked at a conservative pace, pulling Sarah along with me. When he saw us, he nodded and stepped back inside, holding the door open until we got there. We followed him in, and he closed the door behind us. We were safe at last . . . for now. The question was, what were we going to do to make sure we stayed that way?
Fourteen
“The worst thing in the world is burying family. The second worst thing is telling somebody else that they’ll have to do it.”
—Enid Healy
The Meatpacking District, which is nicer than it sounds, inside a converted warehouse that’s sort of beginning to resemble a clown car with all these people in it
ISTAS AND RYAN WERE WAITING for us in the main room of the slaughterhouse. Ryan looked concerned. Istas looked faintly bored, and was chewing on something that looked suspiciously like the bottom half of a rat. I decided that asking would be a bad idea if I ever wanted to eat again.
“The Covenant is staying at Sarah’s hotel, so Sarah’s staying with us now,” I announced.
“Are you both okay?” asked Uncle Mike.
Sniffling, Sarah shook her head. Then she nodded. Then she shook her head again.
I came to the rescue, saying, “We’re shaken up, but we’re fine. Ryan, do you want to show Sarah to one of the open offices, so she can put down her things? She’s going to be here until all of this is taken care of. It’s not safe for her to go back to her hotel.” It wasn’t safe for her to go back to any hotel, if the Covenant had charms that could block her telepathy. That was the only natural defense she had.
“On it,” said Ryan. He offered Sarah a faintly bemused smile, clearly not sure why she looked familiar. “Can I take your bags?”
“Okay,” whispered Sarah. She handed him the backpack with her school books and homework in it, and I handed him her suitcase. She kept hold of her laptop, still hugging it against her chest like a talisman. Then she wandered off after Ryan, following him toward the nearest set of stairs. Istas followed them, still chewing on her probably-a-rat. That was good. I wanted a few minutes alone with Uncle Mike.
The two of us stood silently until Sarah and the others were up the stairs. Then he turned to me, and said, “Report?”
“I reached the roof of Sarah’s hotel without incident. She came and let me in. We went down the stairs, and were met in the hall by Margaret Healy, who was warded against Sarah’s telepathy. Someone must have warned her that she might be dealing with a psychic.” Someone like Dominic. I should have been more suspicious from the very start—but then again, hindsight is the only perfect vision. “Margaret arrived at the door to Sarah’s room while we were trying to clear out. She picked the lock, and once she was inside, she started demanding to know where I was. Sarah was trying to convince her that I was already gone when my phone rang—shit, my phone. I still don’t know who called.” I reached for my pocket.
“Stick to the main narrative,” said Uncle Mike, holding up a hand to stop me. “What happened then?”
“Margaret realized Sarah had been lying about me, and started to move deeper into the room. So Sarah hit her from behind with a vase and knocked her out.” I allowed myself a small smile. “It was pretty darn brave of her.”
“She’s had some good examples,” said Uncle Mike. “Then what?”
“I searched Margaret for weapons and tied her up as best I could with a roll of electrical tape from my bag.” There was an empty card table nearby. I shrugged off my backpack and walked over to it. “I haven’t had a chance to see what all I got from her.”
“Show and tell was always my best class.”
I dropped my bag on the table. “Then let’s study.”
Margaret had been carrying over a dozen knives, three guns—two pistols, and one mousegun that had been concealed in her sock—a garrote, a blowgun, and a variety of darts, some of which had tiny corks on them to keep her from getting scratched. I handled those with the utmost care.
“Is that everything?” asked Mike, picking up one of the knives.
“Not quite.” I pulled out a set of brass knuckles and a lead-filled sap, dropping them on the pile. “That’s it. Well, that, and this. She had it around her neck.” I reached into my pocket and produced her anti-telepathy charm, holding it up for him to see.
Mike whistled, long and low. “That’s some serious hoodoo. You think she made it herself?”
There are a few spellbooks and grimoires in the family library. Rumor has it they all used to belong to Grandpa Thomas, which explains how he was able to make a deal with one of the Netherworlds before he disappeared. No one in the family has messed around with magic since. We Prices may be foolhardy, but we’re not stupid. “I don’t know,” I said. “If she’s a witch, she didn’t show it—and she was wearing
the charm, which would have messed with any magic she was planning to use.”
“I’d have expected a tattoo, not a necklace, if she wasn’t the crafter.”
“Unless they wanted her to be able to take it off,” I said. “Maybe they’ve started using empaths to prevent more defections.” There are at least eight naturally empathic cryptid species, and some of them are human enough—or harmless enough—that the Covenant might be willing to let them live if they seemed to be useful. It wouldn’t be the best life for a unicorn or a cofgod, but it would be a life, and that was more than the Covenant was usually inclined to offer their kind.
“Then she’ll probably be in trouble for losing it.” Mike looked at the charm thoughtfully. “You sure it works?”
“Sarah started picking up on Margaret’s presence as soon as I took this off her so, yeah, I’m sure it works.”
“But does it work for people who aren’t her?”
“Only one way to find out,” I said, and looped the chain around my wrist, drawing it tight.
The effect was instantaneous. The soothing static of Sarah’s close presence cut out, replaced by silence. There was a shriek of dismay from the walkway above us, and Sarah ran into view, grabbing the railing and leaning far enough out that I was briefly afraid she might lose her balance and fall. “Verity! Are you hurt?!”
“I’m fine, Sarah! I’m fine!” I unlooped the charm from my wrist, holding it up so she could see what was going on. The static immediately snapped back on. A mild headache came with it, like whiplash from that brief psychic silence. “We just wanted to see whether that necklace I took off of Margaret was what she used to block your telepathy.”
“It was,” said Sarah. She was looking at me like I was a ghost. “Please don’t do that again. I thought you’d died or something.”
If I’d suddenly vanished from her “view,” that was an understandable thing for her to think. “I won’t,” I said, and put the charm back down on the table. “Did they find you a room?”
“Yes, but there’s no Internet in this building.” Sarah looked even more distraught. “Artie’s going to be so worried.”
“So call him.” That would probably worry him even more, since “the Covenant found me and they have telepathy blockers but don’t worry, I’m fine” wasn’t the world’s most reassuring statement. That couldn’t be helped. “We’ll get the network up as soon as we can, but none of us is a computer genius, and it hasn’t been a priority.”
Mike eyed me. “I work in network administration.”
“Only one of us is a computer genius, and it hasn’t been a priority,” I amended. “Maybe you can help Uncle Mike get things set up. In the meanwhile, call Artie, tell him you’re not dead. It’ll probably be good for your nerves.”
“Okay,” said Sarah, and turned, vanishing back into the office. Ryan and Istas appeared a moment later, heading for the stairs.
“This day just never lets up,” I muttered, finally fishing my phone out of my pocket. I opened it and scrolled to the missed call log. Then I blinked. “Shit.”
“What?”
“The call I missed while I was at Sarah’s. It was from Dominic.”
“Verity—”
“No. I’m not letting him know we suspect him.” Suspect, my ass. Margaret had a telepathy blocker. I was ready to lock him up and throw away the key. Still. I hit “redial,” raised the phone to my ear, and waited.
Dominic picked up before the first ring had finished. “Are you all right?” he demanded.
“Yes,” I said, as calmly as I could. “Barely. Is she?”
“Peter found her before she regained consciousness. What did you hit her with? A brick?”
“Actually, it was Sarah. She managed to catch her from behind with a vase while she was looking for me. Nice timing on the phone call, by the way. It nearly got me captured.”
“Oh, God.” Dominic sighed raggedly. I realized for the first time how worn he sounded, like he was being yanked in too many directions at the same time. “I need you to do me a favor. It may sound like I’m trying to walk you into a trap, but I swear, I’m not.”
I was done believing him when he said that. I was still willing to play along. “I’ll listen if you’ll answer me one question.”
“Anything.”
“Are you the one who told them they needed to be using anti-telepathy charms?” If I didn’t ask, he’d suspect; Margaret’s charm was missing, after all.
Dominic’s sharp intake of air wasn’t quite a gasp, but it was a close cousin. “They’re what?”
“I’m taking that as a ‘no.’”
“Is Sarah all right?”
That was the only good question he could possibly have asked. “She’s shaken, but she’s not hurt, and they’re not going to find her again.” If I’d been thinking, I would have moved Sarah the second the Covenant came to town. I didn’t think. “What do you need me to do?”
“Get to Sunil and Rochak. The plan for tomorrow includes sweeping their neighborhood, looking for signs of cryptid inhabitation. They need to shut down the café and get out of there.”
Shit. Even if this was a trap, it wasn’t one that I could ignore. Sunil and Rochak were even more defenseless than Sarah, and they thought they were safe. Dominic and I were regulars. They knew us. They’d open their doors for him and welcome him in gladly.
I couldn’t save their sister. If there was a way for me to save them, I had to take it.
“On it,” I said.
“Thank you.”
“Just take care of yourself, okay? I’m worried about you.”
“You’re not alone in that.” Dominic laughed unhappily. “Sometimes I wish I’d never come to this cursed city. It’s changed everything.”
“Life does that,” I said.
“Yes, but—”
He stopped mid-sentence. I waited for him to continue, only to finally realize that the silence on the other end of the phone was absolute. He wasn’t even breathing. I pulled the phone away from my ear, checking the screen. The connection was dead. He’d hung up on me . . . or someone had hung up for him.
“Well,” I said, with a sigh. “Isn’t this going to be fun?”
“I’m going with you on whatever fuck-crazy errand you just agreed to,” said Uncle Mike.
I looked up at him and smiled thinly. “I stand corrected. This isn’t going to be fun. This is going to be a party.”
Convincing Sarah to stay behind wasn’t nearly as hard as it would usually have been. She’d been scared, and that was something she wasn’t used to. Uncle Mike got her set up in one corner of the main room with a pile of computer pieces I didn’t recognize. She settled in to connecting wires and configuring settings, looking happy as a clam. I guess we all have our comfort zones.
Traveling with Uncle Mike meant I couldn’t take the rooftops, but didn’t need to hail a cab, either. We rode in his sedan, blending smoothly into the traffic around us. If the Covenant was watching for me suspiciously, they’d know to be watching the high ground. Hopefully, being on the roads would keep me under their radar.
“I wish I could convince her to go home,” I said, sinking deep into my seat.
Mike didn’t need to ask who I was talking about. “Any chance of that died when these people got charms to block themselves from her view,” he said. “No way she’s getting on a plane when she won’t know whether one of the other passengers is planning to kill her.”
“Maybe we depend too much on her telepathy.”
“We’ve all got our skills. There’s no shame in depending on them. Just in falling apart if things don’t go exactly the way you were planning. Since you’re not doing that, I think we’re going to be okay.” Mike turned onto a one-way street without checking the sign to be sure he was traveling in the right direction. Judging by the parked cars around us, he wasn’t.
“So we’ve got a rogue Healy, and our cuckoo’s benched for the duration. We still have two bruisers, you, me, and all your folks from work. What about these boys we’re going to pick up?”
“They may not want to come with us, and we won’t force them. They’re Madhura.”
“Huh,” said Mike, and kept driving. After a few minutes had passed, he added, “Guess that’ll save us a few bucks on spoiled food.”
I smiled a little. “Guess so.” Having a Madhura around retards food spoilage and decay of all types. Bread stays fresh for weeks if there’s a Madhura in the neighborhood. No one’s exactly sure why. Alex thinks they may be natural bacteriophages or something, but it’s hard to say without a lot of invasive lab work—something none of us are particularly interested in performing, and absolutely zero Madhura seem to be interested in volunteering for.
“You really think we’re driving into a trap?”
This time I was the one who was quiet for a few minutes, thinking about the question. Finally, I said, “I honestly don’t know, Uncle Mike. I want to believe him. I want to believe that Margaret being at the Port Hope was just a horrible coincidence. I can’t, quite. At the same time, I never gave him credit for being this good of a liar.” I glanced toward my adopted uncle. “Either way, I guess we’re going to find out in a little while.”
“Two against four.” Mike smiled. It wasn’t a comforting expression. “Sounds just about fair.”
“Assuming we don’t plan to walk away.”
“Who does?” He shook his head. “You know you can’t trust him anymore, hon. He’s trying to serve two masters—the Covenant, and his heart. That never works out for anybody in the long run.”
I sighed. “I know. I’m just . . . I guess I’m still holding hope for him picking the right side.”
“Right for him, or right for you?”
This time I didn’t have any answers at all. We drove down the streets in silence, and I hoped as hard as I could that when we reached Gingerbread Pudding, we would find Sunil and Rochak alive and well, and I wouldn’t have to make up my mind about Dominic De Luca. I wasn’t ready for that. Soon, maybe, but not yet.
Midnight Blue-Light Special Page 18
