“He’s not FBI, Walt.”
“Oh.” The CB fell silent.
“He got away, didn’t he?” the sheriff said.
“Uh…yeah.”
“Sheriff!” I said. “We don’t have time for an ambulance. The son of a bitch shot him with a poisoned bullet.”
Her mouth parted slightly. Without a word, she headed for the far wall and the oversized first aid kit hanging on it.
I made myself stand. This wasn’t going to be easy to explain, either. Once she got a look at Taeral, she’d know he shouldn’t have survived the shot. And I doubted they had surgical tweezers around here—so I’d have to cut him to get the bullet out. Which he definitely shouldn’t be able to survive, if he was human.
“Need towels,” the sheriff said as she came back to drop the kit in front of the cell. “Should be some in that hall closet. Maybe I can staunch the bleeding. I don’t know what to do about poison, though—”
“Sheriff, please listen to me.”
She stopped and stared, like she’d just remembered I was there.
“I have to get the bullet out,” I said. “If I don’t, it’s going to kill him.”
“No. I can’t let you do that. We’ll have to wait for the ambulance.”
“I’m a paramedic. Not currently practicing, but my license is still valid.” I glanced at the cell. Taeral hadn’t moved, but he was visibly shaking. That wasn’t a good sign. “Please,” I said. “Open the door, and let me help him. I’m the only one who can.”
After a long pause, she shook her head and grabbed the keys from her belt. “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she muttered, unlocking the cell door. “What, you can’t get this open yourself?”
“I could have. But I’d rather you did,” I said as I walked to the entrance. “Thank you. Listen, do you have a set of tweezers? If you don’t, I’m going to need a knife.”
“No…and no. I’m not giving you a weapon.”
I pointed to the discarded gun Reese had left on the floor, right next to where I’d been. “If I wanted to hurt you, or anyone else, I’d have done it by now,” I said. “I can’t dig this out by hand.”
She frowned at the gun. Finally, she went to one of the desks, opened a drawer and pulled out an evidence bag with my bloodied knife in it. “The smaller one’s locked up with your van,” she said, coming around to toss the bag to me. “I guess that’ll have to do. I’ll…go get some towels.”
Mumbling to herself, she picked up Reese’s gun and left the room.
I grabbed the first aid kit, went into the cell and knelt beside Taeral. “Hey. You still awake?” I said.
“Unfortunately,” he whispered weakly.
“Well, the good news is, I got the dagger back.” I opened the kit and grabbed a bottle of rubbing alcohol. Had to clean the werewolf blood off before I did this. “Bad news is, I have to use it to get the bullet out.”
He opened his eyes. They were bright with pain. “Must you?”
“Um. I don’t have anything else.”
“It is…enchanted,” he rasped. “To cause greater damage.”
Damn. I’d completely forgotten about that—and I couldn’t hurt him any more than I had to. Things were already bad enough. I didn’t even know what mandrake did, but it clearly wasn’t helping. “I’ll find something,” I said. “This is a police station. They’ve got to have a knife somewhere.”
“Wait. Shut down.”
“Huh?”
“The spell…Reun used. On Grygg.”
“Oh, right. Hang on.” I took the dagger out of the plastic bag and tried not to think about the words too much. “Dhuunad sios’na.”
The runes carved into the blade glowed briefly, a muddy crimson light through the dried blood, and then winked out.
“What the hell was that?”
I winced. Didn’t hear the sheriff come in while I was focused on not thinking. “Er, magic?” I said as lightly as possible, hoping she’d take it as a joke.
“I guess you’re really not one of them. You’re something else. Great.” She sighed and came into the cell, carrying three folded towels. “Is he…”
“He’s going to make it.” Jaw set, I cleaned the dagger with the rubbing alcohol and set it aside. “Taeral, I have to move you,” I said. “I’m sorry.”
He nodded faintly. “Do it.”
I took his shoulder, alarmed at how much his trembling increased when I touched him. He hissed and stiffened as I rolled him slowly onto his back. The entire front of his shirt was sodden with blood.
When I cut the shirt away so I could work, the sheriff gasped. It was impossible to miss the huge, gaping wound in the center of his chest—or the wisps of smoke that rose from it as the cold iron burned into him.
She backed up a step, and the towels fell from her arm. “He should be dead,” she said hoarsely. “That’s not possible.”
I glanced up at her. “Neither are werewolves.”
The word seemed to act like a splash of cold water, galvanizing her into action. She gathered the towels, walked over and crouched at Taeral’s left side. “How can I help?” she said as she looked over the situation. “You’re really doing this without anesthesia? Do you…er, want to squeeze my hand or something?”
Taeral managed a tiny smirk. “I’d not recommend that,” he whispered, closing the fingers of his metal hand into a fist. “But I thank you.”
“If you can have a towel or two ready for when I get this out, that would be great,” I said. “Oh, and any chance you can call off the ambulance? They’re wasting their time, coming here.”
She blinked. “He’s lost so much blood. Shouldn’t he go to a hospital?”
“No. He shouldn’t.”
“All right.” She grabbed her walkie and conveyed the information to Walt.
I tuned her out so I could concentrate on Taeral. At least with cold iron, I didn’t have to do a lot of guesswork to find the bullet—just go in where the smoke was. After a deep breath to calm my shaking hands, I lowered the blade and made a shallow cut from the edge of the smoking hole.
Taeral jerked and snarled through clenched teeth, banging his metal fist hard on the floor.
A simple cut shouldn’t have hurt that much. He’d taken bullets with less reaction.
“Jesus. Did it not work?” I meant the shutdown spell. Hopefully he knew what I was talking about, because I still didn’t want to actually admit to using magic. Sheriff Gormann seemed about two straws from gibbering panic already.
“Not the dagger,” he gasped. “The mandrake.”
“Can we do anything about that?”
He shook his head once. “Just be quick.”
“All right.”
I worked as fast as I could. The bullet had lodged deep, burrowing itself into his flesh as it burned, and it took longer than I wanted. The fresh blood pooling around the blade didn’t help.
He only screamed once, when I had to reach in and pinch the bullet with my fingers to draw it out.
I’d never seen a bullet like this one. The long metal jacket must’ve been cold iron, but it had hardly flattened on impact. The ends were curled up and away from a small, clear tube at the core of the thing that had obviously held liquid. Mandrake oil.
I remembered Taeral mentioning the stuff, and Reun being horrified by the idea of using it.
The second I got clear, Sheriff Gormann laid a folded towel over the wound and pressed down. She was pale, her eyes a touch too wide, but still holding it together. “You’re sure he’s going to make it,” she murmured. “I mean…holy mother of God. I’ve never seen so much blood.”
“Feel better already,” Taeral scraped out.
I cleaned the blade and replaced it in my jacket. That was too goddamned close—and we still weren’t anywhere near safe. They knew what we were, and they’d keep coming after us. We couldn’t be here if Reese, or whoever he was, decided to come back with reinforcements. “Listen, Sheriff,” I said. “You have to let us go.”
“We’ll manage.”
She opened her mouth, and then closed it. “I’m sorry, but I can’t ignore the evidence,” she said. “You’re still suspects. I have to follow the rules.”
Okay, it was getting a little harder to be understanding now. She’d just seen beyond a doubt that Agent Reese wasn’t who he said, and she was still clinging to the you-drive-a-black-van-full-of-guns, therefore-guilty theory. But with Taeral in this state, we couldn’t just leave by force. “Fine,” I said. “The rules say you can let us go if we’re cleared, right? So call Abe. Please.”
She hesitated, and then let out a short breath. “NYPD, twenty-first precinct. Right?”
“Yes. Captain Abraham Strauss.”
“All right. I really shouldn’t do this, but…” With a slight frown, she eased off the pressure on Taeral and absently placed another towel over the blood-soaked one, then straightened and headed for the toppled desk.
Taeral looked at me with a question in his eyes, and I shrugged. I had no idea what he’d make of this, but Abe would figure out something to tell her.
I hoped.
CHAPTER 19
I packed up the first-aid kit and set it aside, half listening to the occasional snatch of conversation from the sheriff. From the sounds of it, she wasn’t quite convinced yet—but I knew Abe would get there.
Taeral had closed his eyes again, his features pale and drawn. This mandrake stuff was seriously affecting him, whatever it did. “You are actually going to make it, right?” I said in low tones.
“Aye. I’ll live,” he murmured.
“Think you can sit up?”
He snorted. “No. But I’ve not much choice, do I?”
As he struggled to rise, I slid an arm around him for support. He stiffened in protest, but still let me help him.
That wasn’t a good sign. Most of the time, he’d rather push himself until he passed out than allow anyone to help.
Before I could ask him exactly what mandrake did to the Fae, Sheriff Gorman approached with a cordless phone in hand. “Captain Strauss wants a word with you,” she said, and handed me the phone.
Damn. He was probably furious. I tried to keep my expression neutral as I took it and held it to my ear. “Hey, Captain,” I said, trying to sound casual. “What’s the word?”
“How the hell did you manage to get arrested in Bumfuck, Pennsylvania?”
“Er.” Yeah, furious was an understatement. I tried to think of something to say that wouldn’t sound suspicious with the sheriff standing right there, watching me expectantly. “That’s right. We’ll be out here a few more days, though. My van needs some repairs.”
Abe sighed loudly. “She’s standing right there, isn’t she?”
“You got it.”
“All right, fine. That woman is…something else,” he said. “So I told her you’re investigating a lead on a suspect here, and I threw in something about tattoos. That was when she decided you were okay.”
“That’s perfect.” I knew he’d come up with something. Even if it was an accident.
“Jesus H. Christ, I was just bullshitting her, Gideon. Don’t tell me you’re actually caught up with those guys again.”
“Okay,” I said. “I won’t tell you.”
“What in God’s name are they doing out there?”
“Don’t know. Yet.” I glanced at the sheriff. “Sorry for wasting your time, Captain,” I said, mostly for her benefit. “Apparently, I don’t have enough credentials.”
Sheriff Gormann shook her head. “A badge,” she said. “Just carry a badge. We could have avoided this.”
I couldn’t help grinning. “Hey, Abe. Sheriff Gormann says you should get me a badge.”
“Yeah, right. Soon as the NYPD gets the budget for that new Weird Shit department,” he said, and heaved a breath. “Look, kid, you watch yourself out there. And you come back in one piece. Got it?”
“Will do,” I said. “Thanks, Abe.”
“Uh-huh. You owe me,” he said. “A little heads-up would be nice next time. I don’t dare hope you’ll never pull something like this again. Why do I put up with this shit?”
“Because you love me.”
“Lucky for you.”
“Don’t I know it.”
We said goodbye, and I handed the phone back to the sheriff. She took it with a sigh. “It looks like you check out, after all,” she said. “And I am sorry about Agent Reese. Well, I suppose he’s not an agent. Is he your suspect?”
“Not exactly. But I’m sure he’s connected,” I said. “Out of curiosity, did you happen to ask him if he has any tattoos?”
“I did, actually. I wasn’t going to, but…well, I did. He was unreasonably angry.”
“And that didn’t make you suspicious either.”
“It should have,” she admitted. “I can’t believe I didn’t see through it. But he was so convincing.” She stared at nothing in particular. “Showed up a few days after Bill Ryerson took a search party up the mountain, looking for the bunch who’d already disappeared. They never came back, and I didn’t know what to do. Honestly, it was a relief having the FBI involved.”
My brow furrowed. “So you knew where some of your missing people went, and you didn’t try to find them?”
She gave me a look I couldn’t read. “Mr. Black, the people in this town do not go up there. Everyone knows it. Bill knew it, too. It’s been that way since before I was born, before my parents were born.”
“Well, we have to go up there,” I said, getting slowly to my feet. “That guy who’s not an FBI agent? He has friends, and they’re going to come looking for us. So if they show up here, just tell them we escaped.”
“Who are these men with tattoos, anyway?” the sheriff said.
I smirked. “They’re the bad guys.”
“Are they the ones taking my people?”
“Honestly? I don’t know.” Kidnapping humans didn’t fit the Milus Dei profile—but then, something about Reese didn’t add up. Like how he didn’t know who we were, even though Taeral, at least, was extremely recognizable. And how he’d been expecting Sadie. “But I think we can figure it out,” I said. “The thing is, we have to find…them. Do you know where they are?”
I could tell she knew who they were by the way she shuddered. “I’ll be honest with you,” she said. “As sheriff, there are some things I just have to accept. Even if they’re impossible. But that doesn’t mean I get involved—ever. I only know what I have to know.” She gave me that look again. “What I don’t have to know, and shouldn’t know, is where they are. If I knew that, I’d have to do something about it. Understand?”
Unfortunately, I did understand. But that didn’t help me. We had to find Sadie, before Milus Dei could. And they obviously already knew the location of the werewolf bunker. “You don’t have any idea?” I said.
“I don’t want an idea.” She sighed and leaned against the open door of the cell. “But I can point you to someone who probably does.”
“Who?”
“Chester Rigby.” A frown tightened her mouth, as if just saying the name was bad news. “He’s…well, frankly, he’s nuts. Comes from a long line of local crazies, tinfoil hat conspiracy types. But he’s not always wrong, and he’s been all over the King.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Elvis?”
A startled laugh escaped her. “Forgot who I was talking to for a minute,” she said. “King Whistler Mountain, the one that path you were trying to use leads up. Queen Whistler’s on the other side of town. Chester’s about the only one in town who’s gone up the mountain and come back down.”
Well, a crazy conspiracy nut who may or may not know something was better than nothing. “Thank you,” I said. “Can you tell us how to find him?”
“I’ll give you his address. Just don’t tell him I sent you, or he won’t talk to you.”
“Got it.” I closed my eyes briefly. “So I know I’m p
robably pushing my luck here, but I don’t suppose you’ve got a few extra men’s shirts? And…a spare vehicle?”
The sheriff scrubbed a hand down her face. “I must be as crazy as Chester,” she murmured. “You can take the station Jeep, I guess. We just use it for banging around the back roads, so it’s not in great shape. But you have to promise you’ll find out what happened to the missing people.”
Taeral coughed deliberately and shot me a warning look. I knew what he was trying to say—promises were dangerous things. I wasn’t sure if the same rules applied to me, since I was only half Fae, but I knew there’d be some kind of consequence if I didn’t keep it.
Unfortunately, this was the only option.
“All right,” I said. “I promise.”
CHAPTER 20
Chester Rigby lived at the far end of Elk Heights, on a road that was identified as Access Road B-7. Sheriff Gormann would only explain that no one else lived on the road, and that we couldn’t miss the place. Especially in broad daylight.
At least we hadn’t been unconscious all day. But any time we lost now was too much.
It was a little after noon when we set out to find the town nutcase. As warned, the Jeep was not in great shape. Cramped open cab with no roof, dead shocks, and steering with the responsiveness of a boulder. The badly maintained roads didn’t help, especially when they stopped being paved and went to gravel, and then dirt. Access Road B-7 was little more than an overgrown four-wheeler path.
Taeral rode with his eyes closed, hitching a sharp breath every time the clattering vehicle caught a bump or a pothole.
“So, what’s the deal with mandrake?” I said. “Is it the same as cold iron?”
He winced. “It is more of a drug,” he said slowly. “Some Fae use it deliberately, in very small amounts.”
“For what?”
“To…enhance.”
“Er.” That kind of sounded like a sex thing. “Do I want to know what it enhances?”
One corner of his mouth lifted. “Unfortunately, that as well,” he said, like he knew what I was thinking. He had said before that he was a little bit psychic. “A single drop of mandrake oil intensifies all sensation. Every sight, sound and taste, every touch. Pleasure…and pain.”
Fields of Blood (The DeathSpeaker Codex Book 2) Page 9
