Broken (41 page)

“There’s a room down the hall. A meeting room. Smaller than this, but it has windows. It’ll be light enough to talk.”

Truth

WHILE I WASN
’
T DISCOUNTING TOLLIVER AS THE SOURCE
of the power outage, my money was on Shanahan. His “horrified innocent” act didn’t work with me. I’d seen too many mutts pull the same routine. We’d show up at their doorstep and they’d stand there, stammering and wide-eyed at the very notion that they would be hunting people, denials pouring out on breath that reeked of human flesh.

Tolliver paused at the meeting room door as if expecting a wolf to lunge out from behind it. When Antonio closed the door behind them, Shanahan jumped, fingers flying up in a spell.

“If you finish that cast, this meeting is over,” Jeremy said.

As we moved to the center of the room, Clay whispered weakly, “Nicky?”

Nick started—surprised by Clay’s tone, the childhood nickname or both, so out of place here. Clay’s face was still as flushed as when he’d come running in from outside, and now neither heat nor exertion could be blamed.

“You’re—” I began.

Clay silenced me with a meaningful nod at Jeremy. Frowning, Nick moved up beside Clay.

“Watch Elena, ’kay?” Clay whispered, voice hoarse as if speaking cost more effort than he could afford.

“Are you—?”

“No, I’m not. So watch her. Please.”

Jeremy caught my eye, but Clay had turned away, as if still talking to Nick. Jeremy waved me up beside him. I glanced at Clay again, but his eyes warned me to stay quiet.

Jeremy began, “I’ll presume Dr. Tolliver has told you what’s happened this week, and your suspected role in it.”

“I—” Shanahan said.

“Then you know the charges are serious. These negotiations are equally serious. If you claim to have played no role in these events, and I discover otherwise, I will claim justice as our jurisdiction, to be decided by me—”

“But—”

“A member of my Pack is under direct threat, and neither the interracial council nor the Cabals will deny me justice if I demand it.”

Shanahan swallowed. His gaze shot to Tolliver, who said nothing.

“If you admit to your role in this,” Jeremy continued, “and help us close this portal, you will be turned over to the Cortez Cabal or the interracial council—your choice, but you have my word that I will attend any proceedings, and ensure that your cooperation here is noted and considered.”

“And if I played
no
role in any of this?”

“Then you’d be well advised to tell us anything that will help exonerate you, and anything that will help us close this portal…and to pray that we don’t find out you’ve lied.”

Shanahan pulled himself straight and met Jeremy’s gaze. “I played only one role in all of this.” He enunciated each word as if such gravity would prove his sincerity. “And that is as the original owner of that letter. If I failed to properly safeguard it, then my only defense is that I had no reason—absolutely no reason—to believe it wasn’t what my grandfather claimed.”

“A fake?” Jeremy said.

“Not a fake. A dud. A failed experiment. A supernatural curiosity with an interesting story attached. That’s what my grandfather collected: stories.”

Jeremy’s gaze veered toward the windows, and his nostrils flared. The windows were closed, and he gave a slight head shake, as if the sniff had been instinctive. All I could see was the empty basketball courts.

“And the story behind this particular artifact?” Jeremy said. “You called it a dud.”

Shanahan nodded, emphatically, as if seeing a sign that his story was being believed. “It
is
supposed to be a portal. A holding cell.”

“For the man known as Jack the Ripper.”

“No, there’s no—”

“We’ll get to that,” Tolliver said. “Back to the letter and its intended purpose.”

They told us a story very similar to the one Anita Barrington knew, with the sorcerer creating a portal to hide from those wanting to take or stop his immortality experiment.

“Only either he wasn’t as good as he thought he was, or he rushed the last few steps while his enemies were closing in…”

“And the portal failed,” Jeremy said. “The sorcerer couldn’t get inside in time.”

“That wasn’t the problem. He—”

Shanahan went rigid, then stumbled back, hands going to his stomach. His mouth opened as if to scream, but no sound came out, just a wisp of something gray, like smoke, and he collapsed backward to the floor.

Tolliver shot forward. Nick pulled me back. Clay tried to lunge for Jeremy, but it was more of a lurch, his face shiny with exertion. Antonio spun on Tolliver, and the sorcerer flicked his fingers in a knockback spell, but Antonio grabbed his hands before he could finish.

Jeremy rushed to Shanahan, who was writhing on the floor, letting out what was probably a howl of pain, but came out only as a mewling whisper carried on a stream of breath that stunk of burnt flesh.

“Let me help—” Tolliver said, struggling against Antonio.

“Help what?” I said. “Finish him off?”

Tolliver’s eyes shot to mine, blasting me with cold fury. I walked over to him, Nick sticking so close his arm brushed mine as we moved.

“Are you going to blame us for that too?” I said. “Maybe we could flip off a power breaker, but we sure as hell can’t do that. That’s magic, and there are only two magic-makers here. Was he about to say something you didn’t want us to hear?”

“You think
I
did this?”

Shanahan had gone still, eyes open and blank. As Jeremy closed Shanahan’s eyes, Tolliver let out a roar and started struggling again.

“You just let him die? I could have—”

“Helped?” Jeremy said, voice deceptively low. “No one could have helped him…by curing it or hastening it along. But I’m sure that’s no surprise to you.”

“I didn’t—”

“I don’t know very much about magic, but there’s nothing else that would do that—burn a man from the inside.” He walked over to Tolliver. “He was about to tell us something about the portal spell, something you didn’t want him to say. What—”

A shout from outside cut him short. We all froze. When Tolliver opened his mouth, Antonio clapped his hand over it.

Another shout came, then a laugh, followed by the
slap-slap
of a ball hitting the pavement. Teens setting up for a game of hoops.

“How close?” Jeremy murmured as I slipped over to the window for a look.

“Too close.”

“Nick? Clay? Move Shanahan,” Jeremy said. “Elena? Find them a place to hide his body. We’ll meet you in the gym.”

“The gym?” I said. “It’s still dark in—”

“We’re only using the exit.”

The hall closet door was locked, but I broke it open and cleared a place inside.

Clay moved in to help Nick drag Shanahan to the closet, but he was barely able to stand without toppling. Nick waved him back.

“Is it just the fever?” I said. “What about your arm?”

He hooked his left arm over my shoulder in an awkward, furnace-hot embrace. He leaned in to me, lips going to my ear. I could feel the heat radiating from him.

“Don’t—don’t worry ’bout me, ’kay?” he whispered. “Get this done, I’ll be fine. Keep going. You need cover? Tonio and Nicky, ’kay?” A small sound, like a choked growl. “Not me. Can’t count on me.”

“I’ll cover her,” Nick said. “You know I will.”

Clay motioned for us to get moving to the gym.

Using a skipping rope, we bound Tolliver’s hands to prevent spellcasting. He fought like someone seeing the end coming. But he was no match for Antonio, who just heaved the taller man off his feet, ignoring his kicking and flailing.

We took him into the forest.

Jeremy sent Nick, Clay and me ahead to look around. Out of Jeremy’s sight, Nick and I sat Clay down on a fallen tree, never going so far that we couldn’t look back and make sure he was still okay. When we found a small clearing a safe distance from the path, we collected Clay, and returned to the others.

Antonio sat Tolliver on the ground and we surrounded him.

“Think about this,” Tolliver said, struggling to keep his voice calm as a vein in his forehead pulsed. “How could I possibly be responsible for all this? I haven’t seen Patrick in years. The letter was in his possession, then it was stolen and this portal—” His head shot up. “You think I stole the letter and activated the portal?”

“No. We know who stole the letter.”

“Then why aren’t you questioning—?” His gaze flicked across our faces, and the vein started pulsing again. “
You
stole it? Let me get this straight. You stole the portal letter. You activated that portal. And somehow this is all our fault?”

“The theft of the letter had nothing to do with the portal,” Jeremy said. “The person who wanted the letter had no idea what it supposedly contained—”

“And you believed that?”

Jeremy’s voice stayed even. “Yes, we do. It was a separate matter, with a human purchaser interested only in the letter’s historical value. We did steal it, in return for information that helped us to stop another set of crimes.”

Tolliver’s dark eyes still fumed.

Jeremy continued. “Perhaps Shanahan did believe that the portal was a failed experiment—in fact, I’ll wager he
did
. But when those zombies came to his door, looking for their master, he saw an opportunity. He knew the story behind the letter, that his great-grandfather had created it and trapped a killer within, a killer whose work was pivotal in those immortality experiments.”

“Jack the Ripper?” Tolliver’s lip twisted. “Don’t you get it? There is no Jack the Ripper.” He shook his head sharply. “Yes, I’m sure there was one, once, but he has nothing to do with the letter. That’s what Patrick was trying to tell you. I stopped him because I didn’t want to go off on an unnecessary tangent. Whoever killed those young women is
not
Jack the Ripper.”

Jeremy studied Tolliver’s face, and let him continue.

“The whole
From Hell
thing was a ruse used by the sorcerer who created that portal.
He
wrote the letter. He arranged for it to be sent, with the kidney, to the…” A sharp shake of his head. “Whoever it was sent to. It’s all in the file. I don’t remember—”

“Where’s the file?”

Tolliver hesitated, then said, “I can take you to it. Patrick showed it to me this morning, and we put it someplace safe. If you let me take you—”

“Not now. So this sorcerer—Patrick’s great-grandfather—”

“Maybe,” Tolliver said. “There’s nothing in the file about the creator being a Shanahan, but if that’s what you heard, okay, we’ll go with that. Whoever this sorcerer was, he created the portal as a holding place, as Patrick said, to escape supernaturals who wanted to steal or stop his experiment—an experiment unconnected to Jack the Ripper. He sacrificed two petty criminals to create the portal, then put the portal trigger into a piece of paper. At the same time, the police are investigating a string of homicides in Whitechapel. Letters are flowing in, claiming to be from the killer, all being carefully collected and stored in the police station. So he uses the paper to write a fake letter, figuring there’s no safer place in London than that police file…”

Tolliver continued explaining, but Jeremy’s gaze had swung out over the forest, eyes narrowed, nostrils flaring as he tried to catch a breeze. He saw me watching but, instead of waving it off as nothing, he motioned Tolliver to silence.

“Antonio?” Jeremy murmured. “Take over. Elena, I need your nose. Clay?”

Near-panic crossed through Clay’s eyes, as he realized Jeremy wanted him to cover me, leaving Nick behind with Antonio.

“Keep him talking,” Jeremy said to Antonio, not noticing Clay’s hesitation. “We’ll be right back.”

Clay’s mouth opened, probably to suggest Nick go in his place. First, though, he looked at me. I shook my head, jerking my chin toward Antonio and Tolliver. If Clay stayed behind, he’d be the only one protecting Antonio, whose attention would be on questioning Tolliver. Better to have Nick doing that.

Clay followed us into the forest.

Deal-Breaker

CLAY WALKED BEHIND ME
,
AS MUCH TO KEEP HIS DISTANCE
from Jeremy as anything. Any other time, Jeremy wouldn’t have needed to see Clay to know something was wrong—he’d just know, in that uncanny way of his. But right now, he was too preoccupied.

I crept up beside Jeremy and whispered, “Was it something you heard?”

He hesitated, as if not certain himself, then shook his head. “Not heard…”

“Give me a direction, and I’ll get upwind.”

He scanned the forest, but his eyes were unfocused. He hadn’t seen, heard or smelled anyone. He’d sensed them, the same way he often did when we were hurt or in danger.

“There,” he said, pointing east. “We’ll loop around to the south. I don’t want to get too far from the others.”