As Lie The Dead (21 page)

“What in the blue fuck are you doing?” I snarled.

My voice caught him unawares, perhaps too consumed by his own breakdown to notice my entrance. He spun in the chair, alert. His face caught me just as off guard. Bright red, watery eyes, mouth open in a near-mockery of a frown. He panted through his mouth.

“There’s no note,” Leo said. The shock in his voice was startling, unexpected. As if receiving this note was so obviously what was to happen next, he just couldn’t understand why it didn’t exist. Childlike in its plaintiveness. My heart almost went out to him.

Almost.

“Note?” I repeated. “No note, Leo? That’s why you tore Alex’s room apart? Looking for some sort of goddamn note? He didn’t commit suicide.”

“You always leave a note. Whenever I went away on business, I left a note so no one worried. When the kids went out and no one was home to tell, they left a note so we’d know. You don’t just leave.”

I could have been anyone, or not even in the room. He looked right at me, but I wasn’t there. It was difficult to accept such concern from a man so quick to temper. So much like the stepfather I’d blocked from memory—a man who hadn’t given two shits
about me. Only how often he could lock me in my room, get high with my mom, and screw her until she screamed for him to stop. He’d been fast to temper and faster to let his fists fly.

He’d left, and he didn’t leave a note behind.

“You had no right!” I said. “No fucking right to tear through his room like this. What makes you think—”

“I’m his father!” Leo shot to his feet, faster than the squat man seemed capable of moving. His face colored cherry red, both fists clenched at his sides. He seethed as he stalked toward me.

I stopped him an arm’s reach away with: “Yeah? You’re so concerned now, Dad, but when was the last time you saw him?”

“He wouldn’t see me. Don’t you think I tried?”

“I have no idea how hard you tried, but I do know there was a reason he didn’t talk about you, or his family.” Through my own anger, I felt that statement to be true. Felt it from deep down inside Chalice.

Leo blanched. I’ve never seen a person go from fire red to ghastly pale in only a few seconds. “He told you?” he asked, voice shaky.

I wanted to say yes and then drop the subject. The city was going to hell around me, Phin was out there playing a wolf-in-sheep’s-clothing, and I was stuck in this apartment playing therapist to a dead man’s father. Not to mention the pregnant shape-shifter in my living room, nesting in my blankets, about to give birth at any moment. Saying yes meant an end to the conversation.

“No,” I said, “he didn’t talk about it.” What the hell was wrong with me?

Leo relaxed his fists. “Good, because it’s a family matter.”

“Doesn’t sound like there’s much family left.”

His hand flew. My new reflexes didn’t respond as quickly as my brain. The open slap snapped my head to the right. I tasted blood with the sting. I also didn’t hesitate in returning the favor. My knuckles crunched right into his nose, sent his glasses skittering to the floor, and released a short spray of blood. He stumbled backward and fell into the desk chair, muttering that I’d broken his nose.

“Touch me again, and I’ll knock a couple of teeth loose,” I said. My face burned where he’d hit me. I tongued the corner of my mouth; the little cut would heal fast. “If this is how you solve problems, it’s no wonder Alex didn’t talk about you.”

I braced for another attack. Leo just sank deeper into the chair, both hands cupped beneath his nose. Defeated. There was a man quick to temper and just as quick to feel remorse over what he’d done. I’d grown up with the type. I didn’t need him around.

I grabbed a white undershirt off the dresser and held it out. Leo took it and pressed it against his nose. The cotton turned red. He didn’t look at me.

“Maybe you should go to a motel.”

He cringed. “Alex asked me—”

“And I’m asking you to leave. If I hear from him, I’ll let you know.” Good way to guarantee I’d never have to speak to the son of a bitch again. I swiped his glasses off the carpet. Held them out. “Go clean your face up.”

He left the bedroom like a chastised child, no longer the angry man in charge. My gaze swept over
the mess, the ragged remnants of Alex’s life. It occurred to me to clean up, but what was the point? He wasn’t coming home. I didn’t know how much longer I’d stay at the apartment. It wasn’t my home, not really. I needed a place with fewer residents, no nosy child neighbors, and more convenient exits. Like my old shared apartment on Cottage Place.

I hadn’t been back there since before my death. I didn’t know whether our stuff was still there or whether the other Triads had gone in and cleaned house. Not a bad place to hide out, if so; the Triads wouldn’t think me dumb enough to return to such an obvious location.

Fallback plan, in case this one didn’t work out.

I shut Alex’s bedroom door, enclosing the mess. It wasn’t important. The bathroom door was shut, water running on the other side. Joseph stood at his end of the sofa, still as stone, watching.

“Joseph, Leo will be staying at a motel tonight.”

A curt nod, then he returned to his seated position, still stiff and wary. He probably wouldn’t relax until Leo was out the door.

I flopped down in the upholstered chair near the sofa. Too hard. Fingers of pain squeezed my belly, and I groaned. Let my head fall back against the cushion and closed my eyes. Just a little break. Most of the sleep I’d gotten lately came from being knocked unconscious. Twelve hours ago, I’d joked with Wyatt about finding a motel and sleeping for a week.

That option no longer existed. A few minutes to collect myself while Leo cleaned his face was all I would get.

I snapped awake in a dark apartment. Orange
lamplight filtered in from cracks around the plastic-covered windows, giving me enough to see. Joseph was asleep on the couch, stretched out flat on his back, tense even while unconscious. Aurora was still curled up in her floor nest, as relaxed in slumber as her grandfather was alert.

My neck ached from the awkward position. I stretched as I stood. An angry beep came from my back pocket. One missed call on the cell phone. I stared, perplexed that I’d managed to sleep through it. More so when I saw the time on the phone’s display: after midnight.

Shit. How the hell had I fallen asleep for five hours?

I checked Alex’s room to verify Leo was gone (he was) and then closed myself into my room. I started to dial in for the voice mail and stopped. No password. All I could do was check the caller I.D.—the hospital. My heart thudded. I hadn’t spoken to Wyatt since early in the afternoon. He had to be worried. I hit Redial.

Halfway through the second ring, someone picked up and said, “Truman.”

I couldn’t stop my smile at the sound of his voice. “Hey.”

“Hey, yourself. I called you two hours ago.” Concern, more than anger, colored his words. “I haven’t heard from you since this afternoon. You okay?”

“Didn’t Isleen call you?”

“Yeah, which surprised the hell out of me. She just wasn’t very specific.”

I sat on the bed and slid back until I was leaning
against the wall. “Sorry, I fell asleep. It’s been a weird day.”

“How’d the conversation with Jenner go?”

He sounded eager for information, to feel included and necessary to my investigation, but I didn’t want to go into specifics over the phone. I trusted him; I didn’t trust someone not to have bugged him. “I’ll tell you in a few hours when I come over.”

“It’s a little late for visiting hours.”

I laughed, then quieted, remembering my guests in the other room. Softly, I said, “Like that’s ever stopped me. Things got a lot more complicated today, and I don’t think I can …” A gentle snuffling sound caught my attention. I pulled the phone away and listened. It didn’t repeat.

“Evy? You there?” Wyatt’s voice was tinny, far away.

The apartment floor creaked outside my door. My heart sped up. Every sense came on high alert. Wyatt’s distant voice continued talking, so I shoved the phone under a pillow. And listened. The creak repeated, as did the snuffling, both of them closer.

Mouth dry, I slid to the end of the bed and stood. Soft carpet cushioned my steps. All the knives were in the kitchen. I mentally scanned the bedroom. In the top drawer of the jewelry box, I found a metal fingernail file. It was small and blunt, but it was all I had by way of a weapon.

I took three quick steps toward the door, listening. If it was Aurora up and in search of the bathroom, I didn’t want to burst out there and scare her into labor. No lights shone beneath the door; surely she or Joseph would have turned one on. Caution kept me still,
while instinct screamed at me to run. Get away from the unknown and ominous threat until I could identify it and form a plan of engagement.

Like that was going to happen with my two charges out there.

Heart slamming against my rib cage, I reached my left hand toward the doorknob. My fingers barely brushed the copper. Something on the other side growled, furious and feline. The floor creaked as a great weight shifted. I scrambled backward, barely missing the door’s edge as it slammed open, the lock and knob splintering out of the frame.

I banged my hip on the edge of the desk and came to a full stop. In the dim orange light cast by street-lamps, a black jaguar padded into the room. Ears flat, it hissed, flashing white teeth the size of my thumb and a pink tongue as large as my hand. Its copper eyes were fixed on me, hunger and fury dancing in them.

Words strangled in my throat; I couldn’t even scream. Shadows moved in the living room. Voices spoke words I couldn’t hear. The apartment door opened.

No. “Aurora!” I shouted. “Joseph!”

The jaguar shrieked—a raucous cry to wake the dead. It reverberated in my chest and set my teeth on edge. I winced, flexing my grip on the nail file. The pathetic weapon would probably tickle such a big, all-muscle animal. No, not animal—Therian.

“I’m protecting them,” I said.

The animal made a face, and if I hadn’t known better, I’d have sworn it snorted at me. A shadow moved just outside the door, and a female figure
stepped into a narrow pool of light. My stomach dropped.

“We protect our own,” Belle said. Gone was the simple waitress uniform, replaced with … nothing. She was completely naked, which was almost as unsettling as the jaguar next to her. “We don’t need Sapes messing with Clan business.”

I glared, my temper boiling. “Phineas came to me—”

“He is a fool to trust you.
We
will keep the Coni safe until this nasty business is finished.” The jaguar hissed again, and she smiled. “He told you sacred secrets. You cannot be allowed to share them.”

“How—?”

She tugged her earlobe. Therian hearing—duh. She overheard us in the diner. She knew what Phin had told me about the bi-shifters.

Heat flushed my cheeks. Had that been Phin’s plan all along? Was all this just another goddamn setup? One more person picking me as their pawn of choice? My clenched fists ached. Tiny tremors tore up and down my spine, fueled by rage. The power of the Break snap-crackled, and I kept the kitchen in the back of my mind.

“What about Michael Jenner?” I asked, struggling to not fly at her.

Belle’s nostrils flared. “What about him?”

“He’s going to the Assembly on my behalf. We believe the other Clans are in danger from the same people who killed the Coni and Stri. I’m trying to find out who they are. I promised Phin I would.” His name was a bad taste in my mouth.

“And if they are human?”

“I don’t give a flying fuck if they’re human, faerie, goblin, or God; they will be punished.”

She stepped closer, one hand resting on the jaguar’s back. Her copper eyes flashed in the streetlight, mirrored like a predatory cat. “You lie. I know of no one who will choose another race above their own.”

“A criminal is a criminal.”

“Bullshit.”

“You’d defy the Assembly?”

“The Assembly hasn’t ruled on anything yet, human, and I’m going to save them the trouble.”

She moved in front of the jaguar and bent at the waist. Black and brown hair sprouted on once smooth skin. Her face flattened, broadened. In only seconds, she transformed into a tiger larger than the jaguar already holding court in my bedroom.

Belle the Tiger hissed and reared back, ready to pounce.

“Here, kitty, kitty,” I said.

She leapt. I latched on to the Break and let it pull me apart. I was sure I felt Belle as she landed where I had just been standing. I visualized the kitchen. Shifted. And slammed into something electric. Blue light fritzed my vision and stood my hair on end. I shrieked and fell.

I hit carpet and rolled onto my knees, dizzy and sick to my stomach. I was in the living room, barely three feet from the bedroom door. The jaguar sailed at me, a black blur. I ducked too late, and razor claws sliced my back, all agony and heat. I thrust my flimsy nail file and sank it deep into the jaguar’s left haunch. It roared and limped away.

Belle slammed into me sideways, her sheer bulk squashing me into the floor. Hot, moist breath panted on my face. Saliva dripped from her finger-sized teeth as her lips drew back. A strange grunt-purr started in her chest. Was she laughing at me?

This was bad.

I hadn’t expected the blocking spell. She knew Phin and I had gone into the bathroom and not come out. She’d guessed I had a power of some sort and came prepared. “Clever,” I said. My lungs ached, unable to take a proper breath.

“Clever for a cat, you mean?” a strange male voice asked.

I turned my head a few inches. A naked man stood next to the sofa, nail file in one hand, blood flowing down his leg. He was thin, nondescript, with dark hair covering his chest and legs. “Chilly in here?” I gasped, pretending to eye his shadowed crotch.

Jaguar Man growled. “You stabbed me with a nail file.”

Clever retorts died in my throbbing chest. Darkness blurred the edges of my vision. I didn’t know which would be worse—suffocating under a tiger or being eaten by one. I tried once more to teleport, but the blue electricity tore down my spine and numbed my senses. Stole the last of my breath away.