Standard Deviation of Death (The Outlier Prophecies Book 4)

by Tina Gower

  “Stay.” Edu shakes a finger at me as if I were a misbehaving pet.

  Dorcus braces herself on a stone cross, using it to stabilize herself as the next contraction hits her.

  “The contractions are getting too close.” Emmanuel frowns, keeping his voice low as he passes Edu. “We have to get her to the midwife.”

  Edu nods, his focus on watching his wife as she squats into a more comfortable position. I’m kinda a little worried about her too.

  Shit, again with the captor sympathy. I cross my arms and give the three my back as I readjust Becker’s torn shirt to cover more of my shoulders.

  Emmanuel sits next to me. “Becky only wants what’s best for the fates. The government’s meddling has caused a lot of problems in the fabric. She’s an oracle and a witch. I have oracle abilities, but I chose not to be trained. The same as my brother. It’s rare to have two in one family, but we have thirteen brothers and sisters. So sometimes it can happen in bigger families.” He shrugs.

  I wonder why he’s telling me this. He’s got to know that I’m not convinced. “Well”—I cross my arms—“the government doesn’t want to drain my boyfriend for his shifter blood and use it in spells. So you see, we’re at an impasse.”

  His brow furrows. “That werewolf officer?” He makes a face like it’s the most disgusting thing he’s heard. “They’re practically animals. I wouldn’t give cattle raised for hamburger as much freedom as the police department has given him. There’s a reason they stay out of our cities. Civilization. That wolf is far from civilized. He should be with his kind or he should leave. Since he’s not, he’s fair game.” He turns his nose up, brushing off some invisible speck of dirt.

  “He has every right—”

  “Of course he has rights.” Emmanuel lets out a long sigh. “You’re twisting my words. I only mean that it’s not good for his health to be here. He needs a pack or he’ll turn feral. We’re only doing a favor to society by”—he scratches his chin to think of the right, most appropriate word—“removing the potential threat.” He scoots closer to me, his arm around my shoulder. I shrug him off. He lets his arm fall as if it doesn’t matter. “Listen, Kate.” He takes a long breath. “We’ve already seen it. We’ve seen the horrible things he will do when he turns. It’s not…it’s horrible, okay? If he knew, he’d beg us to put him down.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut so hard tears are forced out the corners and run down my face. “Shut up.” Knowing Ian can likely hear his confession, my lungs ache from not being able to take a full breath. “Ian is a good person. He’s kind and he’d never do anything to hurt anyone.”

  He shrugs. “We saw it.”

  I wipe my cheeks with jagged swipes. “When? When did you see it?”

  “A year ago. We’ve been keeping a watch on him since the Norns slaughtered his pack. Leaving a fair amount of shifter blood ripe for the taking. Nothing has changed to lead us to believe he will recover from the downslide.”

  “A year ago? Fates change. Why haven’t any other oracles predicted it? They’d have removed him from the force if he was a danger.”

  “I can tell you don’t believe it. You don’t want to.” He nods and looks out through the forest. “I understand. You love him.”

  A year ago I didn’t know Becker. A year ago I wasn’t his pack. Heck, three weeks ago I wasn’t even sure I wanted the job as a pack mate and now I couldn’t imagine how my world would work without it. “You say I can change destiny. I will change his.” I could already have done exactly that. Except there’s a nagging in the back of my mind. I couldn’t change my parent’s destiny. How will I change Becker’s?

  His lips quirk into a half smile. “Then you accept your fate as well.”

  “I don’t have a fate.”

  He pokes my nose, as if I’m an adorable child. “Very true.”

  “They should be near here,” Dorcus calls. She motions to the high grass with a stick and begins swinging it side to side as she takes long strides.

  Edu lifts me by my forearm. “You’re with me.”

  Although, when it’s clear my lack of shoes is slowing him down he deposits me in an area where I’m surrounded by the remains of a twisted, tangled barbed wire fence and he keeps a watchful eye. Splintered wooden posts lean inward as if they were soldiers with bayonets corralling me.

  If Ali and Becker are close, then where are they? I squint, scanning the high grass and searching for a clue as to where they might be. Are they hurt? Hiding?

  A large tree in the center of the burial ground grows up through a grave. Aside from the disturbing image of a dead body with a tree growing through it, it also blocks my view of the laboring witch and Emmanuel, who are using a grid pattern to search the more convenient spots for hiding across the graveyard. Lots of nooks and rocks and taller plants to disappear under on that side.

  Edu wanders farther and farther from me, but it’s not as though I can run without causing notice. Also I don’t really want to snag my bare legs on rusted metal and develop lockjaw. But I inspect my possible escapes anyway.

  I see an opening. A clear way out. Since I don’t want to tip off to Edu my intentions, I rub my arms and stare into the distance, pretending to be bored with the current events. Edu glances over every few minutes, but those intervals become fewer and fewer and his attention wanes as Dorcus’s contractions become more intense and much closer together. It’s not long before she takes up permanent residence on a raised grave marker, head in her hands, focusing on her breathing.

  “There’s obviously something wrong with the spell. Or the cooking witch is blocking it. We’re not finding them.” Edu tosses his stick he’d been using to poke piles of leaves.

  Dorcus doesn’t lift her head from between her knees. “They’re here. I can feel it.”

  The three of them gather close, discussing their strategy.

  Yep, here’s my chance. I inch to the far end of my cage. A little more. Tiptoe through the barbed-wire hazard and walk backward to keep them in sight. That’s when my foot comes into contact with something warm, solid, as if I stepped on a hideous bug. I hold in a silent scream and do the jump-shiver-shake dance to get the heebie-jeebie feel off my skin. Then I carefully take a look at whatever disgusting thing I came into contact with so I can relay it to my doctor if I develop a rash or mysterious illness.

  That warm, disgusting solid thing? It’s a hand. A rough weathered peach-greenish tint. Lipski.

  Face up, one arm resting on his chest, the other T-ed out—no evidence Lipski is breathing. Near the massive tree in the center of the graveyard, the three witches argue. So far I’ve escaped notice and so has Lipski. I brush away the debris covering his body. And take note of the blood around his mouth. My hand flies up to my face. Oh gods. Seven hells. They didn’t get to him in time. He lies motionless in a heap.

  I shake him. “Lipski,” I whisper, near tears. My voice shakes. “Hey, you’ve got to wake up. Come on.” I pound on his chest. I should have paid much closer attention in CPR. “You can do this. You can beat this.” I pound harder and harder, swinging my leg over to straddle him and put more of my weight into it. “Please.” I fall forward getting right into his face. “This is only magic. It’s not real.” I choke on each word.

  I’d been able to talk Ian out of an MED. A few days ago I saved Beatrix Morrison from a similar type of magic. Pseudo-witchery Ali had called it. It shouldn’t have worked, but if I could convince his mind that it wasn’t real, I could untangle him from the hold of the spell.

  “Hank. You have five beautiful girls waiting for you. Your wife will kill Ian if you don’t come home safe. And then she’ll kill me. So all this work to keep me alive would have been for nothing. You’ve got to pull through.”

  I try again, following along the rib to the correct spot on the sternum, and pump. One, two, three—

  I’m jerked off Hank from behind. Losing my balance, I fall to the ground, scraping my palms and reopening my wounds from Becker’s bite. I press my hand
into my stomach to stanch the blood.

  Emmanuel circles around Lipski’s body. Kicks it. “It’s the gremlin!” he calls to the other two.

  I crawl to Lipski, cradling his head. I align my forehead to his, the tears falling too fast. My vision blurs. Fuck, I should have let Becker drink himself into a stupor and driven us out of town. I should never have put anyone at risk.

  And because I’m stubborn. Because I can’t let him go. Because Emmanuel doesn’t stop me as he helps his brother bring Dorcus closer to Hank. I start CPR again. There was something about blowing air into the lungs. I needed to do that. I lean over and open his mouth. Check the airway.

  “Hey,” Edu yells. “Move away from him. He’s covered in magic. You could get some of the spell on you.”

  “I don’t care.” I scream it, grunting each word. My fingers curl, digging into my friend. He sacrificed everything. I lower my mouth to his to blow air into his lungs. And taste…ketchup?

  I straighten. Eyebrows slam together. What in the hells? I glance around the outskirts of the graveyard and into the pine trees.

  Then, as if to answer my question, Ali comes running out of the forest and straight into Emmanuel. She bounces off his tall, solid frame and falls on her butt. Both brothers pounce on her and she smiles with all teeth and rolls out of the way, just as Becker falls from the tree from above right on top of both of them, and in some serious cuffing mastery, he cuffs their wrists to each other in some four-way-crisscross lattice pattern.

  “He can manipulate metal.” Ali inches in between the two men and a werewolf and chants over the laced pattern. “The carved symbol on police cuffs to stop magic won’t be enough.” At the end of her spell she flicks Edu’s ear and he passes out, dragging his younger brother to the ground with him.

  Emmanuel’s feet dig into the leaves and pine needles, attempting to keep himself upright. “This is illegal magic. You can’t hold us like this!”

  Ali narrows her eyes at him. “You’re seriously going to complain about what’s legal and not legal after what you’ve been doing?”

  Lipski, who was not unconscious at all, has already cuffed Dorcus-Becky and gently lowers her to the gravestone platform. “Someone tell me we got cell service now? I delivered four of my own kids; I don’t really want to add one more to the list without a doctor present.”

  I hug myself. It all happened so quickly.

  “Emergency Mage Technicians are on the way.” Ali tosses Lipski’s phone to him. He catches it and in one motion slides it into his pocket.

  They had it all planned out. Last minute decisions are the most likely to slip past oracles and seers. The three witches wouldn’t have had a chance to scry their futures. I’m fateless, so the Brazils couldn’t see me leading them to a trap. And Ali knew what I’d do, so they were able to devise something that might work.

  Lipski wipes the ketchup from his lips. “Damn, that is good stuff, Ali.” He winks at me. “Felt like hours before you noticed me lying there with a big neon sign.”

  I blink. “How did you…?”

  Becker drags the brothers to the platform and instructs them to sit and keep quiet. “Gremlins and trolls are resistant to many types of magic. Or the effects aren’t as pronounced. So the cookies didn’t work on him as well as it did on the rest of us, but neither did the MED. He could feel the outer edges of the traps and avoided the worst of it.” He glares at his partner as if this news pisses him off most of all.

  Becker nudges me to a spot away from the three witches and makes me sit so he can inspect my feet. He wipes the dirt and stickers away and frowns over the cuts.

  “It’s not so bad,” I assure him.

  He lets out hiss of air. “Right.” He nods. “Better than a dead partner and you and I drained for a spell.”

  “Just you, apparently.” I kick at his shoulder and grin. “They wanted me for something special.” I throw my hair back as if I’m a model.

  He shrugs, not paying attention to my joke.

  I lean forward, cupping his chin. “Hey, I don’t believe any of it. Their prediction isn’t accurate. If you were dangerous then employment oracles would be all over that. And if they’re right and I can change destiny then I’ve changed yours by being your pack.”

  “Sure.” He attempts a grin, holding my gaze for a second before leaning forward for a quick peck on my cheek. “I don’t believe it either.”

  But he looks away from me too quickly to be convincing.

  Then everyone descends on us at once. The EMTs appear with a stretcher, shortly followed by firefighters and police. And a representative of the Homicide Predictions Department. Not Kyle. Adele, the actuary sent in his place, apologizes he couldn’t be here himself. He wanted to, but was too ill to travel. Can’t say I’m disappointed at that news.

  For once, I’m glad I don’t have to deal with the paperwork of this fallout. Luckily, I’m still on probation.

  Chapter 17

  Becker insists on carrying me back to the house and sets me inside his car, leaving the door open, but turning on the car and blasting the heater. It’s freezing out. The heat wave is apparently over.

  “We won’t be staying here,” he mumbles and goes to inspect the damage on the house.

  “Don’t you have to get to work?” I ask. Because before all of this excitement, he’d been scheduled to work the night shift. That should have started about—I check the clock on the car—right about now.

  Eight p.m. Huh, I remember my bet with Michelle Kitman. That I’d solve the case before tonight. Granted, Kitman wouldn’t see the connection between the two cases, so she might baulk at my victory, but after I explained it and expanded it out, she’d totally understand why we had to keep the full case—beyond the blood fever outbreak—from her. Now I wish I’d kept her on the hook for it. Damn.

  “Becker? Work?”

  He doesn’t answer. Instead he pulls out his phone to punch in some numbers and curses. “Shit. It’s still dead. I’ll have Lipski call in for me and tell them I’m sick.”

  “But Ali can—”

  “Kate.” He turns around and looks at me, square-on for the first time since we left the crime scene. His shoulders slump, his skin is pale, his hair’s a ragged mess, his stubble nearing beard status. Magic doesn’t agree with him. “I’m sick, okay.”

  I shift in the seat, bringing my legs into the car. “Okay. You’re sick.”

  He sighs. “It will be fine. I never take sick days. They’ll probably be shocked I’m using it at all.” He takes a long look at the busted, missing front door. “I’m going to have to call my friend and ask him to pick out a new entryway. I really hope it’s something within my budget.” He scratches the back of his neck.

  “I can help pay for it.” I mentally calculate my savings. Government actuaries don’t make much. It’s mostly the amazing benefits and drive for the love of the job that attracts us to the work. But thankfully, I don’t have excessive spending habits and do save some each month for emergencies.

  “Naw.” He drags the pieces of door from the front parking area and props them up over the gaping hole. The wards will keep curious unwanted guests from entering. “I’ll have enough if I do the work myself.” He brings a few screens that must have blown off as well and sets them against the house before jogging to the car. He closes my door and then stomps over to his side and starts the car.

  “Maybe I can hire someone?” I eye the damage. “It will save you time from having to figure it out yourself.”

  He half smiles as if this suggestion amuses him. “Kate, I’m a nearly full-blooded werewolf. My teen years were really rough. Any time I broke something or punched a hole in the wall, I was grounded until it got fixed. And I found out really quick my dads weren’t going to rush to hire the work out. I had to learn how to do every kind of repair you could imagine.” The car rolls slowly down the long gravel drive. “However, if they’d torn the whole house down, we’d have been in deep. I don’t know how to build a house.”
/>   We both laugh at that one, but the mirth doesn’t last long. The silence grows.

  I fiddle with the tatters of his shirt. I should have gotten some clothes while we were at the house. “Ian—”

  He shakes his head. “I like it when you call me Becker.”

  “Are we still…” I tilt my head and clear my throat, not exactly sure how to phrase what I want to ask him. “Can we…”

  He stops the car. We skid a little, but not much. He grips the wheel, eyes wide, but he won’t meet mine. “Just say it. I can handle anything you say. I promise, I won’t—”

  His reaction leaves me fumbling for my next words. “Oh gods, what do you think I’m asking you?”

  He squeezes his eyes shut. “You’re breaking up with me.” Keeping his face away from mine, he sweeps his hand gesturing to my body. “Your legs are crossed and your knee closest to me is pointed away from me. Your voice has the barest hint of fear. Like you’re regretting what you’re about to say.” He grips the wheel tighter if that’s at all possible. “So say it. And then I’ll drive you to Ali and Hank and ask them to find you a safe place for the next couple of weeks. Hank will take me to lock up and toss me in until the tranq wears off—”

  I choke out a laugh. “Hells, Becker, you’ve thought this all out.” I put my hand on his arm until his grip loosens on the wheel. “I’m not breaking up with you. I was worried with everything happening if you wanted some space.”

  He arches an eyebrow in question.

  I rush to explain. “I mean that we’d still do anything you needed for pack, but I wouldn’t push you for anything…more.”