Exodus (Imp Series Book 8)

by Debra Dunbar

  Which was exactly what was supposed to happen. I was such an idiot. How could I have not seen it? They sent their most disposable elves over in situations where they were bound to cause trouble and come to my attention. All of that would keep me from seeing…whatever it was that I wasn’t supposed to see. And it worked. I’d wasted time rounding up elves, sending them back to Hel, breaking them out of jail, arguing with human officials and farmers and vampires, setting up tents and shopping for groceries. And while I was doing all that, Gregory was equally busy, leaving Aaru to set up this Elf Island and help me.

  If only I knew what we weren’t supposed to see.

  “In addition to your group, I encountered some elves in a place called Iceland and another group in France. Are there more?”

  She nodded. “At least eight other groups before us, and probably another six afterward. They already have settlements organized. I don’t know the human names for what they are, but they’re supposed to have homes and land for us. Of course, we won’t be given slaves, but other elves have been promised double what they lost when they needed to free their changelings in Hel. By this point almost half the elves have already migrated.”

  Fucking assholes. And stupid me. How the fuck had I not known this? How had Gregory and all his angels not known this? How had it not been all over CNN and MSNBC and BBC that one hundred and fifty thousand elves had suddenly appeared through magical gateways? This was the best kept secret ever, but that didn’t make me feel any the less of a chump.

  “I guess we’re supposed to be dead.” Lysile’s voice cracked slightly. “There was no one to meet us. That human shot us and killed two. The metal death boxes killed another four. The vampires killed Swyllia and almost killed Cliey and me too. I think we were meant to be sacrificed, to wind up dead. I think we were just supposed to be a diversion.”

  It made me feel guilty for wishing that these forty-three elves in my pasture were dead. They were pawns, sent to keep me busy—perhaps keep me busy with killing them.

  “Why would Wythyn elves be trying to assassinate me?”

  “They aren’t Wythyn elves anymore,” Lysile said. “We’re all part of the Alliance of Elven Kingdoms. While we still retain our ethnic identities from our prior kingdoms, we no longer are separate. So if there are elves trying to kill you, and it’s not a personal grudge, then it’s a concerted effort by the High Lords to do away with you.”

  Killing me would make it easier for the elves to integrate. As Gregory said, the other angels would welcome them with open arms, turn over the guidance of the humans to them in a heartbeat. And if I were dead, perhaps Gregory wouldn’t be at his best in fighting the rebels. Perhaps he just wouldn’t care anymore.

  An angel had lured Little Red over. An angel had coordinated this with the High Elves. They get Aaru, the elves get this world and plentiful human slaves. What a deal.

  I needed to kill a bunch of High Lords, and find out who this angel was and rip his wings off one feather at a time.

  “Tell me about the High Lords,” I asked. “There used to be ten elven kingdoms in Hel. Are nine of them running the show here?”

  “No. There are three High Lords and two High Ladies left, but one of them is considered the leader of the Alliance. He’s the one who worked with the angel and got the agreement for elven lands and rule here among the humans. His name is Lliam Thi.

  Lliam Thi. I recognized that name. He was the one who’d put a price on my head, who that young elf last year said had promised them all Nirvana. Well, Lliam Thi better enjoy what short time he’d had here, because he was about to visit the afterlife. Permanently.

  “Nyalla, do we still have those chains and handcuffs in the basement?” I asked.

  “Chains, yes. But the only handcuffs we have are the one’s Leethu left here.”

  They’d have to do. “Bring them. I’ve got some elves to interrogate.

  Chapter 23

  Nyalla got the handcuffs while I dug the chains out of the basement, but when we got to the corner of the pool patio where the elves had been stacked, it was empty. Nada. Nothing but pavement.

  What the fuck? The elves were gone and I had no idea what had happened. There was no way they could have gotten out of those nets unaided. I doubted the other elves in my field would have helped them since they rarely came up to the house. I stood holding about ten feet of chain and cursed, wishing I’d put Diablo on guard. Although how was I supposed to know they’d vanish in the twenty minutes I was in the house?

  What pissed me off more was that the nets were gone too. Those fuckers were expensive, and I’d had them modified so that they worked on angels, demons and elves. I needed them. Nyalla needed them.

  Other than the missing nets and my inability to interrogate Nyalla’s captives, I was sort of relieved. Netting one elf and keeping him prisoner in my basement wasn’t that difficult. Several posed more of a problem. Killing and trying to bury ten bodies might result in more than just a bunch of paperwork.

  “You know what this means,” Nyalla said. She was about as close to brooding as I’d ever seen her.

  “That we need more nets? That these fuckers are coming back to try and kill me once more?”

  “That we have a traitor.” She pointed to the field. “None of them would have come near the house without an invitation and an escort. They’re scared, and as Lysile said, they’re not powerful elves.”

  “Not necessarily,” I countered. “Maybe yet another assassin arrived while we were in the house and let his buddies free. If they sent ten, there’s no reason to believe they didn’t send eleven.”

  “Maybe.” Nyalla nibbled a finger as she thought. “Boomer and Little Red are guarding the elves in the field. They’d know if one of them came up to the house. No one is guarding the stables, though.”

  I knew she wasn’t accusing Nils. “Bob? You think Bob had something to do with this?”

  “He’s the one who gave you the information on the elven migrations. He’s the one that’s had you running around after them while the High Elves lock down their presence in this world.”

  She had a point, but I was still finding it hard to believe that Bob was a traitor. “Leethu vouched for him. And he’s a half-elf. I can’t see him siding with Wythyn assassins. I believe he’s just as much of a pawn as the elves in my field.”

  “Lysile is a pawn,” Nyalla corrected. “We honestly don’t know about the rest of them. It would be easy to sneak a spy in a group of fifty migrating elves and tell him to relay information back and stab you if he or she gets the chance.”

  One of the elves, or Bob, or an eleventh late-to-the-party assassin. “Or maybe an angel? There are a bunch of rebels, and at least one of them is working with the elves.”

  She shook her head. “I would have sensed him. I might not have any magic, but with my gift I can tell the difference between humans and others. Demons and angels feel the same, and you’re it within my range. Other than the dragon, all I’m getting is elves. It had to have been an elf—or a half-elf.”

  I didn’t want to accuse Bob without digging into this further. “Okay, so an elf. You’ve netted ten of them so far. Let’s say another one came to kill the blow-up doll in the pool, saw the nets, and decided to let his buddies out and make a break for it instead.”

  “Maybe.” Nyalla eyed the blow-up doll. “But how would he know there are elves in those nets? They can’t be heard more than a foot or so away once the net is sealed and closed. And elves aren’t generally susceptible to nets—just angels and demons.”

  “So he thought he was letting out a bunch of demons?” I couldn’t see how that would pin this on Bob. “Bob wouldn’t know there were elves in the nets either.”

  “Yes, he would. He saw them this morning and commented that they’d been modified. If he knows they’re modified, and he knows how you feel about the elven migration, then I’m sure he put those two things together and got a net that works with elves.”

  “But why? Why would he d
o that? We had a deal where he and the Klee elves got to stay while the others were cooped up on Elf Island. Why go against preferential treatment in this world for…for material gain?”

  Nyalla shrugged. “I don’t’ know. I just don’t trust him. Maybe what the High Lords are offering him is more than what you can. He is the one that’s been telling you about these groups of elves—the ones in Iceland, France and Iowa. If that was meant to distract you from the real migration, then what better plan than to send an elf to ‘help’ you, and make sure you’re too busy chasing down elves in Iowa to see what’s really going on.”

  Nyalla was smart. Way smart for a human girl with less than a quarter century of life under her belt. But then again, she had been a slave to the elves for most of her life. No one knew them like she did.

  I kicked at a nearby patio chair. “Since I don’t have any of the assassin elves to interrogate, I guess I need to go find Bob. Any ideas?”

  Nyalla looked out to the barn. “If he’s smart, he would have gotten the heck out of here. He’s smart, but he’s also arrogant, so I get the feeling he might still be around, thinking that you wouldn’t ever suspect him.”

  Everyone always underestimated me. And that was usually the last thing those people ever did.

  We found Bob out among the elves in the field, helping one of them weave dried grasses into a basket for fruit. So innocent. He looked up at me with his mismatched eyes and smiled.

  “Where the fuck are my captives?”

  His confusion was very convincing. “Huh?”

  “Captives. Elves from Wythyn came to kill me. We had them bagged and tagged over by the hydrangea near the pool pump. And now they’re gone.”

  “Wythyn elves?”

  Oh for fuck sake. I grabbed Bob by the front of his shirt and yanked him upward. “Where. Are. My. Elves?”

  “I. Don’t. Know.”

  I’d had enough of this. I started dragging Bob toward my house. The other elves watched wide-eyed. Bob struggled, which made it even more difficult to get him poolside. Finally we reached the far side, where I pointed to the empty spot where the elves had once been.

  “They came to assassinate me, or whoever they thought was floating in the pool. Which pisses me off even more. What if it had been Nyalla? Or Candy? Or one of my other friends? We’d restrained them, but someone came to set them free.”

  “Why would you think that someone was me?”

  Bob was good. He was real good. “Well, it seems while I’ve been busy chasing down these groups of blue-collar, working-class elves, the big dogs have snuck in and set up shop. And who was giving me tips to chase down these groups of trash? You. Why were you doing that? Who paid you off, Bob? What are you getting out of this? You keep me busy running down a bunch of basket weavers and that gives the others a chance to slip in unnoticed.”

  Where he was stoic in the face of my accusations about the assignation elves, Bob paled at my latest.

  “I…I didn’t know about the others. I was told by my contact that he’d give me info on the elven migrations. I figured that was worth trading to you for safe passage and the ability to live here. I’m a half-elf, a nobody. Do you seriously think the High Elves would make deals with me?”

  Probably not, but the High Elves would definitely not be above using him. “Who was your contact? And what made you think he was trustworthy?”

  “His name is Drexell. He was a northern elf from Asha outside of Eresh. They’re typically neutral, and he was eager to trade information. I shared what I knew about the human world and their magic. He offered to let me know when the groups were migrating over.”

  Idiot. I wasn’t sure what to do with Bob. I wasn’t even sure if I trusted him anymore. Nyalla sure as heck didn’t. It was possible he’d been duped and was just as innocent as the elves in my field, but if he was, then who the heck had taken the captive elves from beside my pool area?

  It was time to lay my cards on the table. “Got a problem here Bob. From what I’ve been told, elves have been coming here for months, if not years, and are already entrenched in some portions of human society. I don’t know where. I’m more concerned right now in finding out where the High Lords and Ladies are—especially Lliam Thi. And I’m also interested in who came onto my property and took the trespassers that we’d restrained. I’m not going to tell you how I know this, but it had to be an elf.”

  “It wasn’t me.”

  I grabbed his head, squeezing it between my two palms. Detecting lies was a new thing for me, and it worked better with demons than it did elves. But I’d discovered that under extreme fear, falsehoods seemed to come shining through.

  Bob gasped, his heart pounding. I was sure he thought I was about to crush his head into pulp. “It wasn’t me,” he squeaked.

  It wasn’t. I let go of his head and looked back out toward my pasture. Either the eleventh assassin theory was true, or the traitor was out there, mingling among the potters and basket weavers. There was another Ruling Council meeting tonight. I really didn’t have time to interrogate forty-two elves—forty-one if I assumed Telly was innocent. There were other things I needed to do, but I couldn’t allow a traitor to be right outside my house, especially with Nyalla living here.

  “Who out there left the encampment and came to the house?” I asked Bob.

  The elf looked like he was about ready to pass out, or puke. “I don’t know. Frideia and Laine were showing me how to make a basket with straw. I wasn’t paying attention to the others.”

  Nyalla shook her head. “There are forty-two encamped there right now, Sam. Little Red and Boomer are watching the perimeter for vampires. No one is paying attention to the coming and going of the elves. Plus they’re fast, and stealthy. One could have easily slipped down here and back without anyone being the wiser.”

  I marched out toward the tents, Bob and Nyalla following me. “Line them up. I’m going to check each and every one of them and if one is lying, there will truly be hell to pay.”

  It didn’t take long to find our traitor. I gave Little Red and Boomer as well as Diablo the heads-up that I’d be doing an interrogation. Nyalla and Bob gathered the elves, and before I’d spoken to three, the dragon came trotting into the center of the encampment, an elf clutched in his hands. Pearly-white talons curled around the struggling captive, sharp points pressed against sensitive flesh. Little Red might be a baby dragon, but he knew how to apply just enough pressure to keep his prey from escaping without punching six-inch round holes through his body.

  “And who is this?” I asked cheerfully. “Bring him up here. I’ll let him cut in line and go next.”

  “He was halfway to the road before I saw him,” the dragon told me. “If I hadn’t been airborne, and if that truck hadn’t swerved to avoid hitting him, I would never have noticed.”

  Elves. Fast and stealthy. The dragon plopped this one in front of me. Actually he threw the elf to the ground. I noticed red streaks and holes along his clothing. Seems our escapee had either tried to run from the dragon, or Little Red had less control over his claws than I’d thought.

  “Name?”

  The elf glared at me. “Twyn”

  “T, we’ve had a bit of a problem here and I’m trying to discover if any of the elves that I’ve been hosting know about it.”

  He glared at me. Little Red gave him a poke with a claw, knocking the elf face-first onto the ground.

  “What’s your profession, T?” I asked.

  The elf didn’t reply.

  “He’s not one of us,” Telly spoke up. “Almost half of us are from the same town in Cyelle. He’s not. He keeps to himself. Can’t even manage to cook his own food. We all chat about what we did back in Hel, about our homes there, what we miss and what we hope for the future. Twyn never says anything.”

  “So what did you do in Hel? And where did you live?”

  “I’m from Li,” he lied. “And I was a fletcher.”

  “Prove it.” I already knew the guy was lying, but I w
anted the elves to see it too. I wanted more than just Telly and Lysile to trust me, and that wouldn’t happen if they thought I was prone to dragging off suspects with only circumstantial evidence.

  One of the elves handed Twyn an arrow and a bunch of feathers. The elf’s hands shook as he took a curved knife from his pocket and began to slice the feathers in half. He notched the wood then slid the feathers in the side. The arrow glowed as he chanted.

  Looked good to me, but what did I know? “Anyone here actually a fletcher?”

  An elderly elf stepped forward, extending her hand. She took the arrow and ran her finger along the feathers, holding it up to her eye and rotating it. Twyn bolted. He made it twenty feet before Diablo appeared in front of him, snorting and blocking his path. I took the chains and fur-lined handcuffs from Nyalla and secured our newest prisoner.

  “Can I eat him?” Little Red asked.

  “Maybe later,” I told him with an apologetic smile.

  As much as I wanted to let the dragon eat this shithead, I needed Twyn. If he knew about the assassins enough to set them free, then he probably knew about other things too—such as where the High Lords were hanging out.

  But further interrogation would have to wait until after the Ruling Council meeting.

  “Come on, T. You’re going to stay chained up in my basement until I get back, then we’re going to continue this discussion.”

  Chapter 24

  This Ruling Council meeting wasn’t held in Aaru, and wasn’t held in a Marriott. Even though our original meeting spot had been blown up, there were plenty of other conference centers to choose from. Unfortunately they chose none of the above, and we were all perched on a blustery mountain top like mystical gurus. Gabriel had to use his angelic powers to keep the paper agendas from blowing away, and mind-speak was mandatory, otherwise everyone would need to scream to be heard over the wind.

  Usurper was still taking Uriel’s seat. New Guy had been replaced by an angel I was calling New New Guy. And Sleazy, the last of the original popular vote angels was conspicuously absent. Instead another angel sat in his spot. I’d named him Goldilocks.