Darkest Misery (12 page)

My tails. They must be wearing some sort of anti-magic to protect their eyes.

I grabbed Misery as Andre yelled my name again. He'd sensed them too. Blindly, I spun around with the knife, hoping to keep whoever approached far enough away to prevent an attack. Dark lines and blurry shapes shifted before my eyes as my pupils struggled to readjust. The immediate area was magically black, but pinpricks of light were reappearing. Headlights and phone lights sliced through the darkness, and the curse itself was slowly fading.

One of the tails was on me. Blue or brown, I couldn't see well enough to distinguish, but he carried a knife of his own. The switchblade's sheen caught the light from Andre's keychain flashlight.

Heart pounding, trying not to think how close that blade might have come to my ribs, I lashed out again, driving my attacker back toward the street. Where was the other one? Melissa had said two. And if there were two here, then how many more were across the street? Someone had to have set off the curse.

“Drop it,” I warned the guy. “Maybe you can't see the black blade, but my knife's bigger and will do more damage.”

The attacker hesitated. Clearly, he could see the blade, or he was sensing that I wasn't lying about it.

Then Andre was there, behind my attacker, flashlight in one hand, his knife in the other. “So is mine.”

I squinted as the street lightened some more, and fresh sirens—the distinct sound of Gryphon ones—grew louder. The guy with the switchblade glanced between me and Andre. His eyes widened farther when he stared down the street. His hand twitched, then cursing, he dropped his knife.

Doing my best to hold steady, I took a cautious step forward. To my left, I heard more cursing and Gi's voice telling someone to shut up. Trusting that meant the satyrs got this guy's partner, I kept my eyes on him and Misery near his throat. Andre pulled out a zip tie and bound his hands.

“You got another of those?” Melissa asked, appearing at Andre's side.

He gave her an odd look, and I could taste the lust spreading through his core thanks to her proximity. “You helping us arrest goblins?”

Melissa made a noncommittal noise and took the tie. “I'd rather kill them and be done with it, but they should be questioned.”

I re-sheathed my knife. “Goblins?” Now that Andre had mentioned it, I could sense the goblin's greedy effect on his emotions too. That must have been how he figured it out.

“Sure feels that way to me.” Andre shoved the attacker forward.

As the blackness gave way to a heavy gray that dulled the block like a photographic filter, I could tell we'd nabbed Blue Shirt. Gi and Melissa had captured Brown Jacket, and they marched him over to us. The goblins, who weren't looking very goblin-like at the moment, glared defiantly at us.

“Satyrs working with Gryphons.” Brown Jacket spit by Melissa's feet.

She backhanded him.

Andre got out his phone, muttering something about how he'd pretend not to see that.

“Why?” I asked the goblins as Andre called in to HQ.

“Orders,” Blue Shirt said.

The satyrs exchanged confused expressions, but a chill ran through my blood. “The satyr has a point,” Ulan had said. “Her death could put an end to it.”

But that was only a couple hours ago. Could he or Gunthra have ordered a hit so quickly, and while the meeting was supposed to be in progress?

I stuffed my hands in my pockets, but I couldn't hide my nerves or the despair that was hitting me anew. All my exercise-induced endorphins were gone. No beer or renewed friendships were going to make this day any better.

If Gunthra had gone ahead and ordered some of her people to take me out, then this alliance was already over. Any hope for salvaging the truce and forestalling the prophecy was gone. We were well and truly fucked.

Naturally, it was a satyr who had started it all.

Chapter Seventeen

The unnatural darkness had vanished completely by the time I returned to Headquarters. The block was awash in the blue, red and golden lights of police cars, ambulances, fire trucks, and, of course, Gryphon emergency vehicles.

But dealing with the innocent victims and the fallout from the goblins' attack was someone else's problem. In the bland hallway by the Gryphons' interrogation rooms, I paced and waited. The two goblins we'd arrested had been stripped of their disguises, separated, and were in the process of being questioned. Meanwhile, Gunthra, Ulan and their big-eared company were being hauled in. The satyrs, or Lucen anyway, would be right behind them. He'd called immediately once news had broken at the meeting.

Andre shut one of the doors then banged a fist against the wall. “They're waiting for their lawyer. How are you?”

I forced my feet to quit moving, but that resulted in me swaying in place. I was too jacked up on adrenaline, my own misery and Andre's anger to hold still. “I'll be fine. Not the first time someone's tried to kill me in the past week. I'm just furious because…”

Because any progress we'd made was gone. Any hope of working together was over. I should have known better. Known it couldn't and wouldn't work. But I'd given over to hope—that most vulgar of four-letter words—because I couldn't imagine how to tackle this problem on my own.

I was going to have to start imagining, and fast.

“Jess?”

I snapped out of it and pushed my hair from my face. I couldn't vent to Andre. “It's a complicated case, and this is related to it.”

“I could help if—”

“You knew more. Yeah, I know. I could use all the help I can get, but it's not my call.” If it were, I'd tell Andre immediately. I'd tell lots of people. The more heads working together, the better, especially if nonhuman heads were going to be unreliable at best and dangerous at worst.

Unfortunately, I also understood
Le Confrérie's
reasons for keeping quiet. Most Gryphons would have no prior knowledge about what we were dealing with, so lots of education and explanations would be required. Word getting out to the population at large could lead to panic. And, most importantly, we'd originally thought we could keep a low profile so the furies wouldn't discover we were working against them, thus buying us time.

The last reason might no longer apply if my theories about Mitch's abduction and Olef's murder were right, but I'd defer to Tom and the others to make the call about sharing information. Much as I loathed it, I needed their support like they needed mine. If that meant letting them make some decisions for me, I'd do it. For now.

Commotion elsewhere broke up our conversation, and the double doors into the hallway flew open. Four seriously pissed-off-looking goblins, each with their hands bound, were marched toward us. Behind them strode Gryphons and satyrs, also livid. Well, except for Claudius, who appeared unable to remove the smirk from his face.

My hands clenched into fists behind my back. I'd been kidding myself if I thought punching an inanimate object was anywhere near as satisfying as punching him would be.

Ulan refused to look at me as one of the Gryphons stuffed him inside an empty room, but Gunthra did the opposite, watching me until a door closed behind her. Of all the goblins, her face was the least hardened, her expression almost contemplative. Since those were her goblins we'd arrested, I wasn't sure what to make of it.

Lucen reached for me, but I drew back, not letting him touch me while Claudius was nearby. His jaw tightened.

The last interrogation room door shut, and Tom spun around. “Everybody out.”

“Are you talking to me too?” I asked.

“Yes, I'm talking to everyone. Everyone get out while we question people.” The Southern twang in his accent was thicker than I'd ever heard it. So I wasn't the only one losing my shit. Peachy.

Andre pointed back through the door. “There's an empty meeting room that way.”

I pushed through the crowd, brushing Lucen's hand with a single finger as I did, hoping the gesture would go unnoticed by his evil overlord yet let him know I was thinking of him. “This way, come on.”

Surprisingly, the satyrs followed, but perhaps that was only so they could have some relative privacy in which to argue. Ingrid, Theo and the other Gryphons from World came along. Tom remained behind with Andre, presumably to question the goblins.

As soon as the door slammed, Lucen turned on Claudius. “This is all your fault.”

I sucked in a breath, willing him to shut up.

“Lucen, calm down,” Dezzi said. It was clearly an order, not a suggestion.

“With all due respect, Dez, we're supposed to be okay with him nearly getting one of our own killed?”

Dezzi pulled out a chair and gestured to it. “She's not one of our own.”

Lucen ignored the chair. “Are you forgetting—?”

“
I
am not forgetting anything.” Dezzi's dark eyes seemed to glow, and I could have sworn at that moment she grew several inches to tower over Lucen. Power leaked off her, and I inadvertently pressed myself against the wall, heart hammering. “
You
are forgetting your place. If you continue to forget it, you will lose it. Understood?”

Lucen held her gaze for a moment, and I prayed he did understand. Dezzi hadn't forgotten she'd offered me a council spot, but she sure didn't need Claudius finding out about it. She also didn't condone what had been done, but she was stuck in one hell of a nasty position—trying to protect herself, her domus, including Lucen, and appease Claudius at the same time.

Across the room, Devon loosened his tie. Unless he'd spoken up after I left earlier, he was being uncharacteristically quiet. A smart move since there wasn't much good to be said.

Claudius's smirk finally disappeared. “Dezzi, if you're having trouble controlling some of your council members—”

“I am not having trouble.”

Lucen took the cue and sat, but his face was so dark and tight that my jaw clenched for him.

“Good.” Claudius tossed his hair behind his shoulders. “Then we all acknowledge there is no fault here except for that which belongs to the failed goblin assassins. I simply made a suggestion for discussion.”

“There will be no more discussion of anything resembling cold-blooded murder,” Ingrid said.

I started, so caught up in the satyr power struggle that I'd forgotten the Gryphons had joined us.

Discussion circled the drain for the next half hour, if it could even be said to get that far. Our drain was clogged with suspicion, disgust and dislike, and though we circled, there wasn't so much as a trickle of progress.

After five minutes, I'd tuned out the conversation. The way I saw it, the chances of getting anything useful accomplished were over. My best bet was trying to figure out whatever Olef had meant by using a key and going about searching for the remaining Vessels alone.

Make that a Vessel. One. Logically, that was all we needed. The furies couldn't open the Pit without all five, so if we got our hands on one, we'd have thwarted them. The Gryphons must have information on the one left in their care, even if Tom hadn't found it yet.

There was a flaw in this plan, naturally. The furies had two, possibly more. One of the ones they had might have been the lone Vessel the Gryphons had information on. Because of that, it would be ideal if I could get my hands on the information the satyrs and goblins had brought too. But that meant going through Claudius and Ulan.

Yet there had to be a way. I simply needed to figure out what it was, preferably including a plan that didn't involve Lucen. Being kicked off Dezzi's council was probably the least terrible of all the things that could happen to him if he kept challenging Claudius.

Tom stuck his head through the doorway and beckoned me over. “Come on.”

I wasn't thrilled to have my thoughts interrupted, but leaving the tense room was a relief. “What's up?”

“Gunthra wants to speak to you.”

“To me? Why?”

He paused outside one of the interrogation rooms, his hand on the doorknob. “Couldn't tell you. Feel free to share when you find out.”

My stomach twisted as he opened the door. I'd already had way more dealings with the goblin Dom than I'd ever wanted, and since she'd tried to have me killed, I was less inclined than ever to talk to her.

This ought to be good.

Gunthra sat with her hands folded at the metal table in the center of the room. I shut the door behind me and faced her.

“I'm pleased to see you are unharmed,” she said.

Goblins liked to stare at people without blinking. Whether it was normal behavior for them or merely a trick to unnerve humans, I couldn't say. But I did the same to her now, letting the silence drag out before breaking it. “Yeah? Then next time don't order a hit on me.”

She toyed with the pearl buttons on her sleeve cuff. “I've denied having anything to do with that.”

“Which isn't the same as telling me you had nothing to do with that. I'm getting better at playing your word games, and I'm not interested in making any deals.”

Gunthra spread open her hands innocently. “No deals. I owe you, Miss Moore, for this unfortunate situation.”

I crossed my arms. “Meaning?”

“Meaning…” She paused, glancing up at the camera in the corner. Her shoulders sagged. “I believe my superiors are acting rashly. Fear and mistrust do not engender wise decisions.”

I couldn't help but think of Xander and his unfounded accusations. “Tell me something I don't know.”

“Four-fifty-two. You didn't know that.”

“What?”

Her large eyes widened farther. “That is the room number for the High Council goblins. You've proven to be a clever woman. Do with the information what you see fit.”

My mouth went dry, and I snapped my lips together. It was as though Gunthra had been pondering the same things I'd been pondering several rooms down. Either that or she'd been reading my mind and not merely my emotions. Creepy.

But damn useful. Part of me whispered that I'd been too quick to condemn Gunthra. Her hands might be as tied as Dezzi's were with regards to having her superiors breathing down her neck, but she'd been on to the furies from the beginning. She'd studied the situation and had been driven by desperation and her convictions to make deals with me to learn more information.

Gunthra would not act rashly. Neither by trying to kill me, nor by handing over Ulan's hotel room number. She'd thought this through and come to the same conclusion as I had—the only way to get shit done was for one of us to say “the hell with it” and just do it.

Tom believed the goblins had brought information with them. Gunthra had given me a push in the direction to finding it.

My pulse hammered in my ears. “I will.”

“Good, and good luck.”

Head spinning, I left the room and crashed into Tom, who must have been standing right by the door.

“What did she want?”

I checked up and down the hallway. Andre had disappeared, but a few other Gryphons roamed about. “Any of these rooms open?”

Gathering I wanted privacy, Tom headed down the hall away from the interrogation rooms and led me into one of the dull beige conference rooms not far from where the Gryphons and satyrs were butting heads. He closed the door and blocked it with his body. “So?”

I fingered the pendant beneath my shirt. “First, tell me your opinion. Do we really need the goblins and satyrs to find the Vessels?”

Tom's eyebrows shot up. “Honestly, I don't know. I thought so, but we haven't begun to scratch the surface of everything at World's archives. All I can tell you is what the texts I've found say, and they say each group in the original alliance took a Vessel with them. So we probably don't have everything we need without their cooperation.”

“Okay, but think about this. We only need one, right? Just one is all it takes to prevent the furies from opening the Pit. Is it possible information about one of them is buried at the archives still?”

“Anything is possible. I have a researcher working on it full-time, but she hasn't discovered much yet. When I say the archives are huge, Jessica, I mean enormous and not necessarily well-organized. Very few Gryphons are interested in becoming librarians, and Gryphon policy isn't to allow non-Gryphons a lot of access because of the magic involved.”

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “So what if we went and dug some more ourselves? Both for the Vessel and for more information about this key Olef mentioned.”

“We never did search the archives for anything about a key because we had no reason to.” Tom scratched his neck. “What are you thinking exactly, and what does this have to do with why Gunthra talked to you?”

I released my grip on the pendant before I accidentally yanked it off. “I'm thinking this alliance is a failure. Neither the satyrs or goblins are going to share willingly, and I don't much feel like hanging around and waiting for the next batch of assassins or the furies to make their move on me. I want to take what these people know and disappear. Specifically, disappear to France and go through the archives using Olef's key and their information as a starting point.”

I held my breath while Tom seemed to debate internally. “How will you get their information?”

“I have a plan, which is where Gunthra comes in, and you're better off not knowing it.”

With a great exhale, Tom's interest collapsed. “Forget it. You need to tell me what you're up to.”

I gripped the table behind me in frustration. He was so close to going for this. “Later. We still don't know how the furies found out about Phoenix. The fewer people who know anything, the better. I'll tell you all when you come to France with me, but we leave Ingrid and the others here without them knowing what I'm doing.”