by E. A. Copen
“I get it. You’re a bad guy. Now fix Robbie.”
Seamus flatted his palm and breathed on it. As if his flesh were made of thousands of tiny ants, bits of Robbie crawled back into, well, Robbie. His body slowly knit itself back together. Color came back into his face. The hobgoblin blinked and then drew in a deep, gasping breath. Kim, who had scrambled down out of the balcony about the time Seamus must have arrived, ran to his side and helped him sit up, smoothing her fingers through his fiery hair.
“My debt is repaid,” said Seamus with a bow of his head. “Let us hope you and I never meet again, Judah the giant slayer.”
And with that, the fae necromancer stepped through his portal and back into Faerie.
CHAPTER THIRTY
The Kings called in a nurse and two EMTs they knew could keep quiet to look us all over. They determined Abe, Robbie and I had frostbite of varying degrees, mine being the worst. The particularly brave nurse said one of my fingers needed amputated at the second knuckle but Sal didn’t think so. He came over, put his hands over mine and worked his healing magick as best he could. When he took his hands away, my fingers were bright red instead of black, but they were still tingly and numb. As for my foot, they put it in a cast and found me a set of crutches to get around on.
Abe insisted he would heal on his own and refused all medical attention except for having the big slice in his arm sewn shut. Apparently, it was uncomfortable.
True to his word, Seamus had healed Robbie, who insisted he had no memory of ever being dead. Robbie spent a good part of the rest of the evening alone in a corner with a cup of hot tea, trembling. The only thing I heard him say the rest of the night was how happy he was he hadn’t had to burn the place down to get that sodding bastard giant.
After having some of my superficial wounds treated and the EMTs gave me a bottle of Vicodin, I found a chair that hadn’t been broken in the fight and sat down next to Abe.
He leaned back as if the little cocktail chair was an armchair. “How is the hand?”
I flexed my fingers for him. “Still no feeling in my fingers, but it could have been worse. Thank God I’ve got decent friends.”
“That you do,” Abe agreed.
My attention drifted to where Father Reed had been standing at the bottom of the stairs. As soon as the fight was over, he’d slipped out before I could thank him. After everything, he’d come through when I needed him.
“So I guess you’re just vampire enough,” I said to Abe.
He looked at me flatly. “Excuse me?”
“The knife in your chest. Guess it counted as a staking? I thought that was fatal.”
“One of the perks of being a so-called half-blood,” Abe said, the hint of a smile touching the corner of his eyes in a wrinkle. “I may not be as strong or as fast as my full-blooded counterparts but, just like them, I can get staked. Incredibly painful. Horribly inconvenient. Mind numbingly boring…but not fatal. At best, it renders a weak one incapacitated until the stake is removed. At worst, all you will do is piss them off.”
I shook my head. “Why don’t I know these things? I feel like that’s important.”
Abe leaned in. “You do not know these things because vampires do not wish you to know them. BSI teaches an effective method is to stake a vampire and that is true in many cases. If it is not, that’s when they call me in. I deal with big fish.” He ran his fingers over the front rim of his hat.
“And Crux was a big fish? That’s why they sent you?”
“They could have sent anyone,” said Abe with a shrug. “My presence only served to irritate the situation if anything.”
“That’s not true. Crux wouldn’t even have met with me if not for you.”
“He only did that because I am Upyri. The political sphere of the vampires is too complicated for me to grasp.”
“Even if the clan leader is your half-sister?” I asked.
Abe sighed. “Especially because of that. But we have let our conversation digress. You asked why I was sent. The answer is I was not. When I heard there was an opening to work with you, I asked for the opportunity.”
I sat in stunned silence for a moment. With my record, it had been everything I could do to hold onto my job some days. BSI hated me. I was unruly, they said, and unconventional. No one wanted to work with me.
“You are surprised,” continued Abe with a smile. “Why?”
“I don’t have a good record with the bureau or with partners. Why would you want to work with me?”
“Because you are not blind,” he explained. “The establishment in Washington forgets true change only comes from those who question things. Change is good. If there was no change, humans would still be dung flinging apes if not extinct. But too much change too fast or change that comes about because of panic…” He shook his head. “That is never good. Important decisions should never be made from a place of fear. BSI tries too hard to hold onto the strings of power they established during the Revelation. The organization was founded to help humans sleep at night. A good organization grows and changes with the people.”
“You don’t think BSI is doing that?”
Abe stood and slid his hands back into his leather gloves. “It doesn’t matter what I think, Agent Black. As much as I try, my voice is drowned out. I am nobody, trapped in anonymity. But you…” He pointed at me. “The world is watching you, waiting for you to fail. There is power in that.”
Abe offered me his hand and I took it. “It has been a pleasure Agent Black,” he said. “But I must return to Washington. I’ll fax you a copy of my report after it’s been filed but, suffice it to say, I will have nothing but a mediocre review of your performance here. We do not want the brass too excited. They might look away.”
He tried to pull his hand away but I held on to it. “Mara,” I said. “What’s your report going to say about Mara? She had a record. One more strike…”
“I can see the girl is important to you,” Abe said once I let go of his hand. “As far as I can tell, she’s an innocent victim of circumstance, taken hostage when Crux tried to make his escape from the law. Crux, on the other hand, disappeared without a trace and, even with the best tracking resources available to me, I was unable to give chase. You do not have to worry about her, Judah.”
“You’re a good man, Abe Helsinki.”
Abe flashed a fanged smile and corrected, “Half,” before going to the stairs and taking his leave.
Creven appeared beside me, shimmering into existence from behind his magick veil. “I’ve decided something,” he announced.
“Oh?” I asked, watching Abe go. “What’s that?”
“I’m wanted in sixteen countries. The INTERPOL would give their left nut to catch me. But I’m not half as dangerous as you. You got a death wish? Seamus is not the kind of person you want knowing your name, let alone giving you a nickname. You’ve got to be more careful what kind of enemies you make, lass. Enemies like Seamus shorten your lifespan considerably.”
Sal came up and put an arm around me. “You need to get off of that foot. The nurse said you need to stay off of it.”
“I told the nurse which part of me she could kiss, too,” I answered but sat on the chair he’d brought up for me anyway. “So, you’re not going to heal my foot, huh?”
“Why?” He sat on the floor next to me. “You’d try to kick me if I did. Last I heard, you still had a pretty good reason to be pissed at me. Can’t kick my ass if your foot’s broken.”
“I’ve got another foot.”
As I sat there, though, looking around at Sal’s biker friends who had played a small part in our victory, despite never being asked or expected to, I understood. This was a family, another pack for him, one where all the pressures and responsibilities of being a dying man’s second in command wouldn’t have been present. Even dynamics in the pack got stale after a while and having a social group outside of the pack would have almost been a necessity. Everyone else d
id. Ed had his gamer friends, Daphne had her college friends and Shauna had the gym rats. Why was this different?
Because he kept it secret, I answered. And because it was a secret I automatically assumed it was wrong.
I didn’t control Sal’s life. There was no reason I should be privy to his secrets and know where he was at all hours of the day. And he was right. I shouldn’t have just expected him to be there for me all the time, especially knowing he wanted more than just a casual friendship. It was wrong of me to lead him on like that. Even if his secret was wrong, too, two wrongs didn’t make a right.
I had to forgive to move forward, but that didn’t mean I needed to forget. These bikers, whoever they were, were important to Sal, important enough he was willing to go to great lengths to keep a life secret from me. The only way I was going to find out why was to stick around. I’m not a quitter.
“So, dinner,” Sal was saying. “There’s this hole in the wall Tex-Mex place I’ve been dying to try. I hear they’ve got the best queso. How’s your Spanish?”
“Better than it was a year ago.”
“Good. Pick you up day after tomorrow around seven?”
“Can we do it after the election? I’m going to try and focus on that for a few days after I sleep for about a week.”
“Day after celebration, then,” said Sal with a smile. “I’ll mark my calendar.”
I nodded and eased up onto my crutches again. “About before…”
“Hey, no sweat. I’m not holding it against you.” He flashed his palms at me. “Honest truth about healing your foot? I’m tapped. I’ll need a few days to recover. We’ll give it a try then, huh?”
I nodded. Movement down on the dance floor caught my eye and I realized the two EMTs were examining Sven. Mara was kneeling with him, holding his hand. With my broken foot, it was difficult getting up and down stairs, but I managed to hobble my way down there, assuming they’d want an explanation. Since the fog had vanished, the frost on Sven’s face had melted a little and his joints must have warmed just enough they’d been able to move him. The gentle giant was now lying on his back. I paused on the bottom stair when I heard a clattering sound. One of the EMTs moved her stethoscope away from Sven’s chest and shouted for another gurney. Then, she rose to push through the crowd to go get it herself.
I grabbed her arm as she passed by. “Is he alive?”
“Fading fast,” she answered and jerked her arm away. Then she continued in a low voice. “Truth is he’s not going to make it so if you’ve got something to say….”
I made it the few steps forward and then awkwardly lowered myself to the floor next to him. Mara was gripping Sven’s hand tight with both her hands, tears streaming from her eyes.
“I’m here,” she was saying. “You saved me.”
I took Sven’s other hand. It was like holding onto ice. “Hey, big guy.”
“I can’t see you,” Sven said. It was obvious why. His eyes were open but they were frozen, bloodstained blocks, unable to focus. “Agent…Your friend, is he okay? The half-blood?”
“Better than ever.”
The lump in Sven’s throat moved up and down. “What about my master?”
My grip on his hand tightened. “Crux is never going to hurt anyone ever again.”
His big hand closed around mine and the hint of a smile touched his blue lips. “Good.” His head rolled back to Mara. “Would you sing to me? The way you did before? Your voice is so pretty.”
Mara nodded and moved one hand away to wipe some tears from her face. Then she began to sing. I’d never heard Mara sing before and never in the language she sang in at Aisling. Only later, after a lot of research, would I come to find out it was a traditional Swedish lullaby, the tune of which Sven must have learned as a boy. I never did learn how Mara knew it.
Sven closed his eyes and smiled. After a moment, his grip on my hand went. Sven’s chest relaxed and didn’t rise. Mara paused in her singing to stroke his long, golden hair and kiss him on the forehead.
“Mara…” I reached for her but she jerked herself away.
“Leave me alone!” she shouted at me. “You’ve done enough.”
Sal came and helped me back up, handing me my crutches. He walked with me out of Aisling, but I barely remember the trip. One thought rang in my head. I had failed Mara. I had saved her life, rescued her from whatever danger I thought was beyond her. But I had failed her on every level that counted.
I don’t remember making it home or swallowing two Vicodin and crawling into bed and sleeping for a day and a half. What I do remember are the dark dreams, seeing her parents lying in a pool of their own blood, Mara cowering in the corner. There wasn’t any gratitude or relief in her face. There was only fear.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
The low roar of a dozen voices filled the cozy living room of Tindall’s two-bedroom home. Americana décor, freshly polished and dusted, lined the walls and his wife, a mildly plump woman with dimples, glasses and pretty, auburn hair, put out snacks and drinks for everyone. Some cops had come in uniform while others dressed up for the occasion, sporting a suit and tie. The television was the real center of attention, though, as the polls in Concho County had closed just under a half hour ago.
I stood with Tindall in one of the back bedrooms, holding his hat and jacket while he practiced a victory speech in the mirror. Up to and including this morning, the press favored Tindall to win the competition but only by a hair margin. As I’d been saying since the beginning, it all depended on who turned out to vote. I’d spent the last few days helping man the phones to get people out to vote. If everything went as planned, we’d squeak by with a win.
After bungling another line, he leaned back from the mirror, shook his head and said for the hundredth time, “God dammit. Why do I even bother? I’m not going to follow the script anyway.” He tossed the folded papers down on the bed and put his hands on his hips.
“Chin up, Tindall,” I said. “You’re supposed to be happy. Tonight’s the big win.”
“It’s FUBAR. I’m getting handed the biggest mess this county’s ever seen and that’s if I win. On one side, there’s the supernaturals rallying behind me like I’m some sort of saint. On the other, I got humans ready to start a lynch mob and storm the gates. I feel like everybody’s watching me.”
“That’s because they are. The public sees everything you do as political when you occupy a public office,” I said. “And better for you to be in the public eye than me right now. My ass is already grass as far as public opinion goes.”
He eyed me and then grabbed his hat and sat down, turning it in his hands. “Any luck finding her?”
He was, of course, referring to Mara. In the weeks since the incident at Aisling, I’d only gone to see her once. I found her apartment empty. The neighbors said she never came back after what happened and the landlord had boxed up all her belongings and put them in storage. I called Ed and asked him if he knew anything, but Ed wouldn’t talk to me, either. When I hit all the federal databases looking for her, nothing popped up. No bodies in any of the morgues matched her description, and she didn’t have any pending arrests. I guessed that was good. Wherever she was, she was staying out of trouble.
I shook my head. “No luck.”
“Did you try putting up posters at the bus stops? If she left town, someone has to have seen her.”
I sat down at the vanity. “No one is going to see Mara unless Mara wants to be seen. She’ll cover her tracks; just like she always does.”
Tindall’s wife appeared in the doorway. “Hon, they’re about to make the announcement,” she said excitedly.
“You ready to give your victory speech?” I asked Tindall.
“Ready as I’m ever going to be.” He stood and took his suit jacket, sliding it on and turning. “How do I look?”
“Like a politician.” He scowled at me. I put a hand on his back and gave him a playful shove toward the door. “Go on, Ti
ndall. Knock ‘em dead.”
He paused in the doorway. “You’re not coming?”
“Be there in a minute,” I assured him and he went on without giving me a second thought.
Once he was gone, I sat and looked at myself in the mirror. Without any effort, my hand started flexing. Even though Sal had healed the outward damage on my hand (and then later my broken foot), I still didn’t have any feeling in it. Tests revealed there was some nerve damage and they’d given me some exercises to try and fix swelling in the joints. My face had a new scar, too. I didn’t look or feel like me anymore.
The door opened again and Hunter poked his head in. “Mom?”
I smiled and held an arm out to him. “Hey. How’s it going tonight?”
Hunter opened the door the rest of the way and put his hands in his pockets, shrugging. “I was just wondering if you’d heard from Sal. He’s not here yet. He promised he’d be here.”
“I’m sure he’s on his way,” I promised, rising from the vanity to go and hug him.
We found our way into the living room just in time to catch the end of Tindall’s victory speech. Even so early in the night, he’d won in a landslide victory thanks to a record voter turnout. I stood in the back, clapping one hand on my leg with the other thrown over Hunter’s shoulder as my friend celebrated a well-deserved victory. His cop buddies cheered and lifted him on their shoulders, carrying him out into the front yard where more of his supporters had gathered. I followed but kept my distance. This was his moment, not mine.
After a few more celebratory toasts, a black SUV pulled up. A big guy in a suit got out of the front passenger side and adjusted the bullet-proof vest he wore underneath it. From where I stood in the back of the crowd and close to the road, I could just barely make out a purple fleur-de-lis pin on the lapel of his suit.
