“Istas is a waheela,” I said, and put Eva down. “Go find your Aunt Candy for me, okay?”
“Okay!” said Eva, and the swarm moved on, running easily over the uneven floor. A few of them ran backward so that they could wave. I waved back, and tried not to look relieved. Sometimes the little girls would spend an hour or more making me do parlor tricks before they got bored, and when you’ve read one preteen dragon’s mind, you’ve read them all.
I resumed walking. Istas did the same, looking at me while confusion wafted off her thoughts like smoke. “If you have sent them to retrieve Candy, why are we not waiting?”
“Because I have a landmark to say hello to.” I gestured toward the far wall of the cavern, where one of the only things that was neither blonde nor covered in gold was waiting for us.
William raised his head as we approached, opening enormous eyes the color of electric jack-o’-lanterns. His lips turned upward in an eerily human smile, considering that he was a giant fire-breathing semi-saurian cryptid. “Sarah!” he said, his crisp British accent somehow making things all the more incongruous.
Even dragons have to come from somewhere. William came from England, back when the United States of America were still the thirteen original Colonies. In a very real way, this country was built on top of him.
“Hey, Billy,” I said, waving. “You remember Istas? She was here when you woke up.”
“But she was unconscious at the time, as I recall.” William lowered his head, putting Istas at eye level. That wasn’t necessarily a comfortable place to be; his head, after all, was the size of a VW bus. “A pleasure to properly make your acquaintance, Miss Istas. I truly do appreciate your efforts on my behalf.”
Undaunted, Istas looked him in the eye. Then, solemnly, she curtsied. “It is very nice to meet you.”
I will never understand people, no matter how long I live. And that could be a very long time, if the Covenant of St. George doesn’t kill me—cuckoos have an extremely high life expectancy. “We’re here to talk to you, and to Candy,” I said. “It’s about Verity.”
William’s smile faded, replaced by an expression of profound concern. “Oh, dear. Has Miss Verity’s unsuitable swain finally turned against her?”
“Not that I’m aware of, thankfully, but that’s sort of the problem.” I could hear Candy’s thoughts clearly enough to know that she was pissed about us being here. Also that she was coming up behind me. I turned. “Hi, Candy.”
The current Nest-mother stopped and folded her arms over her chest, glaring so hard that even I could recognize it. Candy hated the fact that I could always recognize her, since she knew I didn’t do faces. What she never quite understood was that I do minds, instead, and hers was distinctive.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded, turning her glare from me to Istas, who looked impassively back. “What if you were followed?”
“We weren’t followed,” I said.
“What if you were?”
“I would have ripped and torn and broken the bodies of our pursuers, and it would have been glorious,” said Istas. She sounded so calm that we all turned to look at her, even William. Heedless, Istas gave her parasol a spin, and added, “I would have brought you their heads. I think it would have made a suitable subterranean cavern-warming present.”
The silence that followed this announcement lasted for several seconds. I was the one to break it, turning to Candy and saying, “We’re here because we need your help.”
“Did Verity send you because she knew I’d tell her no?” asked Candy. “She already has our slaughterhouse. She doesn’t need any more help from us.”
“Verity didn’t send me,” I said. “Verity’s gone.”
Candy paused. William snorted out a small puff of smoke.
“Gone?” he asked.
“Gone. Something knocked her out about an hour ago. It hurt like hell, and I haven’t been able to reach her since.”
Candy’s thoughts turned alarmed. “Oh, God, what if she’s not dead?”
“Candice,” said William chidingly. “That isn’t a nice thing to say in front of her family.”
“But it’s true! What if she’s not dead? What if the Covenant has her? She knows where we are! We can’t move you!” Candy put her hands protectively over her belly, starting to cry. That was an expression even I could read without second-guessing myself. “We can’t lose you. I can’t leave you.”
“I don’t think she’s dead, but I don’t think she’s told them anything, either,” I said. Seeing Candy cry made it oddly a little easier to stay calm. It was like she was freaking out on my behalf. “They haven’t had her long enough, and I don’t think there’s any torture they could subject her to that would make her give you up in less than a day.”
“If they have a telepath—”
“They’re using anti-telepathy charms. If they had a telepath, they’d have to remove those charms from Verity in order to get any kind of information out of her, and I’d know where she was. Since she hasn’t been appearing and disappearing from my radar, they aren’t removing the charms, and they don’t have a telepath. Human methods of getting information aren’t good, but they’re not going to break Verity Price in less than a day. We have time to find her if we start moving now.”
“We can’t—” Candy began.
“Anything you need,” said William. She stopped, turning to look at him. Her eyes were wide, and her confusion was a raw wound on her emotional landscape. He blew a puff of flame in her face, sending it dancing along her hair. It wasn’t the aggressive gesture it would have been with anything but another dragon: Candy was fireproof. For her, that was an affectionate peck on the cheek. “I would not be with you now if not for Verity. We owe it to her family to do what we can to bring her home. Moreover, you’re correct: she knows where I am. If the Covenant has her, she has to be taken from them, or you’ll lose me again.” He ducked his head enough to nudge her belly, ever so gently, with the tip of his snout. “I want to meet our baby. I want to see how many of you are carrying fine, strong sons to bring joy to the other golden ones waiting lonely around this world. How can we deny these women the aid they need?”
Candy sniffled. Then she sighed, turning back to me, and asked, “What is it you want from us?”
Candy listened attentively as I explained my plan. She even suggested a few things I hadn’t considered, like using the kids—in a swarm, and with the help of some of the adults—to canvas parks and playgrounds, since they’d be able to ask really blatant questions without anyone thinking it was strange. Little girls can get away with a lot just by looking cute and clueless when they’re doing it.
When we were done talking, William and Candy had promised to dispatch every available female dragon—omitting the pregnant ones, the ones assigned to tend the eggs that had already been laid, the ones under five years of age, and the babysitters—to start searching the city for my missing cousin. They’d phone the Nest if they found anything, and then Candy, who was staying put because of her pregnancy, would call me. If they actually found Verity, as opposed to just finding information that might lead us to her, they’d bring her back to the old Nest.
“Thank you,” I said for the eighth time, as Candy walked us to the door.
“Thank my husband,” she said. “I understand why he wants us to help you, but if we didn’t have to stay here and protect him, we’d be gone.”
“I know.”
“You have a lovely home,” said Istas amiably.
That seemed like a good place to end things. We walked out the door, which closed behind us, blending seamlessly back into the stone wall. Istas spun her parasol.
“I think that went quite well, despite the lack of carnage,” she said.
“I hope so.” I started walking. “There are a lot of dragons. They can cover a lot of ground. I just hope none of them get hurt.”<
br />
“If they do, we will avenge them,” said Istas.
Once again, that seemed like a good place to end things. I didn’t say anything for the rest of our trip back through the sewer to the manhole where we’d made our descent. It was still uncovered—probably because Istas had thrown the lid too far away for anyone with normal human strength to drag it back into position. I made a note to ask her to put it back where it belonged just as soon as we were aboveground, and started up the ladder.
I was almost to the top when a figure loomed above the opening and a hand was thrust down into the darkness, grabbing my forearm. I squeaked, and was about to scream, when the static kicked on and I realized who had hold of me.
Fighting wasn’t going to help. I let myself be pulled the rest of the way up into the light.
Dominic released me as soon as I was on solid ground. We both stepped back to let Istas out of the hole. She looked at Dominic, sniffed the air, and frowned.
“You are unwell,” she informed him. “I will end you if you have harmed Verity.”
“I know,” said Dominic quietly.
Even I could tell that he wasn’t looking good. His hair was uncombed, and there were dark circles around his eyes. He looked like a man who’d just realized he was in the middle of fighting a war.
“Dominic?” I said.
He turned to me. “Sarah.” He sounded relieved. “I need your help.”
“Is Verity alive?” I didn’t know what I was going to ask until the question was out, and then there was nothing else I could have asked him. Nothing else in the world.
“Yes.” He nodded. “But I don’t know how long she will be. We need to move.”
“You know I can’t trust you.”
“Yes, you can.” He held out his arm in silent invitation.
I didn’t say anything. Dominic knew what he was offering me, and how much stronger I would be if I were touching him. Before either of us could change our minds, I reached out and grabbed his wrist, diving into his psyche as hard and deep as I could without pausing to make the process easy on either one of us. This wasn’t the time to be gentle. Dominic gritted his teeth, and he didn’t pull away.
Telepathy—cuckoo telepathy, anyway—is usually a passive thing, polite and noninvasive. Sure, I may learn a person’s deepest, darkest secrets, but it doesn’t hurt them, and it doesn’t hurt me. This . . . wasn’t like that. This was a home invasion of the soul, and it made me feel dirty even as I was doing it.
Dominic’s mind was filled with cluttered rooms packed with thoughts and memories even he wasn’t fully aware of anymore. He didn’t think he remembered what his mother looked like. He did; he just had the memory walled off by so many other things that it only came to the surface when he slept or, oddly, when he ate German chocolate. He was in love with Verity. He hated the smell of violets in the rain; that was connected to his mother’s death, and was part of the wall between him and the memory of her face. He wasn’t a part of the plan that captured Verity; the rest of the Covenant agents in town hadn’t even told him they suspected she existed. He thought they suspected him of being a traitor. He didn’t care. After we got Verity back, he was done with the Covenant of St. George.
Dominic de Luca was finally picking a side, and it wasn’t theirs.
I let go of his wrist, breaking the telepathic contact at the same time. He gasped, and I realized just how pale he’d gotten. Sorry, I said mentally. I know that can be rough.
“It’s all right,” he said. Then he paused. “You . . . didn’t speak.”
I smiled a little. “I didn’t have to. After that kind of excavation, we’re attuned. Welcome to the family. Now let’s go and get my cousin back from your ex-allies.”
Eighteen
“The trouble with the Covenant of St. George is that it encourages loyalty through ignorance, zealotry, and fear. I wonder sometimes . . . what would they have accomplished if they’d tried doing it all with love?”
—Enid Healy
A converted slaughterhouse in the Meatpacking District
ISTAS WALKED into the warehouse ahead of us, her parasol resting against her shoulder. She looked utterly relaxed, which may be the only reason no one attacked Dominic on sight. They were too busy staring at the muck-encrusted waheela. “Dominic is not responsible for Verity’s disappearance, and is no longer affiliated with the Covenant of St. George,” she announced. “The telepathic girl without a proper circulatory system says so, and as she has no reason to lie, I am choosing to believe the story which presents the highest odds of future carnage.”
“That’s my girl,” said Ryan—but his voice was several octaves lower than normal, and he seemed taller as he got up from his seat. Uncle Mike didn’t bother standing. He just produced a gun from somewhere inside his jacket and raised it to shoulder level, the muzzle trained on Dominic’s throat.
“I admire the efficiency, but can you at least try not to get arterial spray in my hair?” I asked.
“Hello, sir,” said Dominic. “I assume you’re Verity’s father. I wish we were meeting under better circumstances.”
Uncle Mike blinked, looking nonplussed. “Excuse me?”
“Dominic, this is our uncle, Mike Gucciard.” Telling him Uncle Mike’s last name was a warning that the choice Dominic was making was irrevocable: if Dominic so much as twitched in the direction of the Covenant after this, he’d find himself stuffed into a dumpster somewhere in midtown. There are things we don’t screw around with, and that includes the covers of our friends and allies. “Uncle Mike, this is Verity’s boyfriend, Dominic De Luca. He’s here to tell us how to get her back, and to discuss the many fabulous advantages to defecting to the side with the sense of humor.”
“The sense of humor, and the many, many unmarked body disposal sites,” said Uncle Mike. I’d never heard his voice that devoid of warmth.
“Please go easy on him,” I said quietly. “He’s our best shot at finding Verity.”
“Or he’s lying to you,” Uncle Mike shot back. “Did you consider that?”
I sighed heavily. “Okay, so is it time to have the talk about lying to the telepath again? I say ‘don’t lie to the telepath, it never works,’ and you all say you won’t. And then I point out that the corollary to this is that when the telepath says someone isn’t lying, she’s probably right. That’s when you look sheepish and say you’re sorry and hey, look, I just shortcut about ten minutes of awkward conversation, go me. Now can we get on with saving Verity from the Covenant, or do I have to get annoyed?”
There was a moment of silence before Istas said, “I was unaware the telepathic girl possessed a temper. This is pleasing. Temperamental people are more likely to participate in carnage.”
“Sweetie, what have we talked about?” asked Ryan.
Now it was Istas’ turn to sigh. “Humans are discomforted by excessive discussion of their squishy interiors.”
“Which means . . . ?”
“No referencing carnage more than once in a single conversation.”
“As the dominant human in the room, that rule is hereby suspended until we get my niece back,” announced Uncle Mike. Now he stood, stalking toward Dominic with the calm, predatory assurance of a man who knew damn well that he was armed to the teeth and ready to kill anything standing in his way. I knew I wasn’t in danger. I still took a step away from Dominic, just in case. Uncle Mike kept walking until the two of them were almost nose-to-nose, lowering his gun at the last minute as he looked the younger man square in the eye.
To Dominic’s credit, he stood his ground. Then again, maybe that was a sign that he was too stupid to live.
“Sarah’s vouching for you, and that would normally be good enough for me, but my niece’s life is on the line,” said Uncle Mike. His tone was absolutely level. That was another warning sign, and I took another step away from them. “If you’re lying to
us—if I find out you’re using some Covenant trick to lie to us—I won’t just kill you, I’ll hurt you. I’ll make you sorry that you ever came to America, and then I’ll make you even sorrier to have tangled with my family. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, sir,” said Dominic. “And if I may be blunt, sir, I’m already sorry to have encountered your family.”
Uncle Mike’s eyebrows shot up. Then they lowered again, coming together as he scowled. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“Before I met your niece, I was content to be ignorant of the true nature of this war, and my place in it. Without her influence, I might have been able to spend my entire life believing ‘monster’ was the word for cryptid, and ‘traitor’ was the word for Price. I would have been unaware of how incomplete my understanding was. I would have continued to think that I was happy.” Dominic gave a small shake of his head. “I want to find Verity more than anything else. I want to bring her home, and never let her go. I want to learn everything there is to know about this maddened mirror image of the world where I grew up. But here and now, I am frightened, and she is missing, and part of me is sorry I ever got involved.”
“He’s telling the truth,” I said. “In case anyone cares.”
Once again, every head turned toward me. Uncle Mike radiated disapproval. “I didn’t expect you to take his side, Sarah. Do I need to remind you of what his kind does to yours?”
“Uncle Mike, I love you, and I know what you’re trying to say, but I’m a cuckoo. Killing cuckoos isn’t a sign of evil, it’s a sign of sanity. Killing other sapient cryptids is another matter—and that’s something I’ve never seen Dominic do. Plus he’s in love with Verity. That sort of puts him in my good graces.”
“I am in love with her, and would prefer she remain among the living,” said Dominic. “Please. I don’t know what I can possibly do to prove myself to you, and I doubt that we have time for anything that you might name. Verity is alive, but that doesn’t mean she’s not in danger. Time is short. I need your help.”
Midnight Blue-Light Special Page 23
