Deadtown (43 page)

“How flattering.”

She beamed, missing the sarcasm. “We marched in the parade, along with everyone else. All these blood bags were around, and nobody
knew
. Nobody screamed or ran away or gave you that look like you belong in the toilet or something. It was fun.” Her red eyes widened. “But then, out of nowhere, all these Harpies just appeared. I knew they were Harpies from that book you gave me. There were hundreds of ’em—thousands—and they swooped in and started attacking. Norms were screaming, running around. It was, like, really bad. I didn’t even think about what I was doing. I just jumped up and started killing demons.”

Tina had led the zombies in fighting off the Harpies. From what she said, the zombies fought hard, attacking Harpies with their bare hands, tearing them limb from limb. Harpies don’t eat zombies, but they’ll fight anything that threatens them. Some of the zombies had been badly injured. And zombies don’t heal. A zombie gets its face slashed open, it stays that way. They’d been brave.

For humans, Harpy wounds disappear at sunrise. I hoped the same would be true for zombies.

“You know what was weird?” Jenna said. “All that human blood, and I didn’t even get hungry.”

“I know why,” Tina replied. “It’s ’cause the blood was only real in the demonic plane. Right, Vicky?”

I nodded. “In normal reality, it’s an illusion.”

“Yeah,” Tina said, “so we couldn’t smell it.”

“I don’t get it.” Jenna shrugged and chomped industriously on her gum.

“It’s all in that book,” Tina said. “You should read it. It’s really good.”

I got up to go. “Well, Tina, it sounds like you’re a hero.”

“Yeah,” she said happily. “I’m gonna be on TV tomorrow, too. Maybe even on
Oprah
.”

Kane would love it. Without knowing it yet, he’d found the face of PA propaganda. A face with green skin, bloody eyes, too much mascara, and pink lip gloss.

Later, I’d give Tina the lecture on why it takes years of training to become a demon fighter. She needed to understand that the expulsion of Difethwr had scattered the Harpies. Tonight, though, I’d let her bask. The kid had done good.

30

I SPENT SUNDAY AND MONDAY MAKING UP FOR SOME SERIOUS sleep deprivation and hanging around the apartment. I tried Daniel’s number four times but never got an answer. On the last try, his answering machine was full. There was nothing about him or Sheila Gravett on the news. I was due to give Bergonzi my statement at Goon Squad headquarters on Wednesday—and the good captain was going to come up with some answers about Daniel, or I’d go public about Baldwin and Difethwr. I still had the phone numbers of half a dozen reporters who’d love to put me back on TV.

In between attempts to call Daniel, I stared at the phone and wondered whether to call Kane. He’d returned from his werewolf retreat on Monday afternoon. On the one hand, I was still kind of mad at him. On the other hand, I just plain missed him. Just when the desire to hear his voice started to win out over my stubbornness, he called me.

“How was your retreat?” I asked.

“Lonely.”

I didn’t want to get into that discussion again, so I went for a lame joke. “Well, you
are
a lone wolf.”

“True. But I missed you.”

“That’s funny. I was just thinking the same thing about you.”

“So how about we get together? I’ve got tons of work to catch up on today”—
same old, same old,
I thought—“but I’d love to come over tomorrow night. We can watch the election results together.”

“Ah, so it wasn’t me you missed. It was Juliet’s TV.”

He chuckled, a feral sound low in his throat. “Believe me, Vicky. It was you.” I caught my breath at the sexy promise in his voice. He chuckled again, but when he spoke, his voice had grown serious. “There’s something we need to talk about. Not now. Tomorrow, when I see you.”

That got my stomach flip-flopping all day on Tuesday. Even though the apartment didn’t need it, I cleaned the place just to distract myself. I was sure that Kane was going to lay down an ultimatum about next month’s retreat. And if he did, he wasn’t going to like what I had to say.

I was all fluttery with nerves—and I’m not a flutterer, damn it. I knew what the problem was: there was too much I wasn’t facing. But you can only face one thing at a time. And sometimes you needed to get your feet back under you before you could face anything at all.

By the time Clyde called to announce that Kane was on his way up, the apartment was spotless, the TV was on, and I even had little snacky things—cheese and crackers, peanuts—laid out on the coffee table. Still feeling fluttery, I opened the door. And there he was. God, he looked good, dressed in jeans and a black sweater that made his hair seem even more silvery. Kane, the cooler-than-a-cucumber trial lawyer, was never one to be nervous, I thought. But then he kissed me—a mere peck on the lips—and I wondered. What did Kane have to be nervous about?

“Man,” he said, looking over my shoulder, “look at those numbers.” He walked around me to sit on the sofa, his eyes on the TV.

I wondered what was so fascinating. Governor Sugden was winning reelection by a landslide. No surprise there, though, seeing as how his challenger was in prison awaiting trial on charges of practicing sorcery without a license and aggravated assault by black magic. What was surprising was how many norms turned out to vote. You’d think they wouldn’t bother, for a one-man contest. But voters had gone to the polls in record numbers. A few cranks voted for the disqualified Baldwin—making a statement, I guess—but 98 percent of the votes went to Sugden.

“It’s a whole new era for human-PA relations,” Kane ex ulted. I sat on the sofa, leaning against him, his arm slung loosely across my shoulders. His body was solid, both strong and relaxed, and I could almost feel the energy buzzing through him. He was always like that, revitalized, when he returned from a werewolf retreat. It felt so good just to be close to him.

Then Kane clicked off the TV and turned to me. His gray eyes searched mine. “Vicky, about the retreat—”

“Please don’t ask me to go to the next one. I can’t.” I took a deep breath and held his gaze. “This isn’t easy for me to say, but I have to say it. I’m not a werewolf. And I can’t straitjacket myself into pretending to be one. Not for you, not for anyone. I’ve got to be what I am.”

He nodded. “I know. I was wrong to try to make you into something you’re not.” His hand brushed my cheek. “You’re pretty terrific the way you are.”

I closed my eyes and leaned forward for a kiss. But it didn’t come. Kane straightened and pulled back his arm. I opened my eyes again and blinked at him. He jumped off the sofa and started pacing.

“I’ve got to say something difficult, too. Hard as hell. But—” He stopped and nailed me with those piercing gray eyes. “I’m going away. To Washington.”

Color me stunned. The way I gasped and gaped, I’m surprised I didn’t shift into a fish out of water. After a minute, I found my voice. “When?”

“Tonight. I have to leave for the airport in about twenty minutes.” He sat again and took both my hands in his. “It won’t be forever. I’ve got a six-month PA visa. But it’s happened, Vicky. I’m preparing a civil rights case for the Supreme Court.”

He glowed when he said it, like someone had flipped on a spotlight. This was Kane’s dream—the chance to establish PA rights at the federal level. “That’s great, Kane. It’s what you’ve always wanted. I’m sure you’ll win.”

“It’ll be a long, uphill battle.” He grinned, a little wolfish. “But winning is exactly what I intend to do.” He squeezed my hand. “I know you don’t care about politics, but—”

“No, that’s changed. After what happened to Maria . . .” I pictured that poor, sweet child huddled all alone in a cell. “Believe me; I’ll be rooting for you. The norms are going to have to figure out how to live with the monsters.”

“Don’t say—” He stopped himself, smiling, and nodded. “There’s one other thing I need to say. While I’m gone . . . I’ll be working hundred-hour weeks. Work, sleep, work, sleep.”

“The usual routine.”

He smiled again. “But what I’m trying to say is . . . For me, this case will be everything. Everything. And I don’t expect you to sit around waiting for me. You should see other guys. If you want.”

“We were never exactly going steady to begin with.”

“True. I knew I was crossing a line, asking you to come with me on the werewolf retreat. I’m sorry I pushed.” He let go of my hands. “I kind of thought you and that human detective—”

I put my finger on his lips to shush him. And now the kiss came: long, warm, deep, and sexy.

When it was over, I snuggled against his chest. He sighed, stroking my hair. “But if there is anyone else, he’ll have to fight me for you when I get back.”

 

 

LESS THAN AN HOUR LATER, KANE WAS GONE. I COULDN’T believe it, but he was. And I wouldn’t see him for six whole months. I sat at the bar in Creature Comforts, feeling glum and half listening to Juliet chat up a Harvard graduate student who was studying Renaissance drama. He wanted to interview her for his dissertation; she wanted to drink his blood. Same old story.

Creature Comforts was busy—not as crowded as the night of Tina’s victory party, but doing good business. More norms had been coming in, as well as zombies, who were now allowed to roam the New Combat Zone without a permit, expanding their range beyond Deadtown by several blocks. Zombies couldn’t get drunk, but they sure as hell got hungry. Axel had had to quadruple the number of bar snacks he carried. “How’s business?” I asked him as he lumbered past, pushing that seven-foot body as fast as it would go. He grinned, showing his big square teeth, and gave me a thumbs-up.

“Hi,” said a voice to my left.

I turned on my stool to see Daniel standing there, smiling. Daniel. Alive and in one piece. His hair was a little shorter, and his blue eyes sparkled.

We took the same booth we’d sat in before. “You’re okay,” I said. I couldn’t help smiling back at him.

“Good as new.”

“I tried to call you. No answer at home, and at the precinct they said you were on leave. I had to hope that meant you were all right.”

“I had a concussion. No big deal. But they kept me out of sight for a few days while they figured out how they were going to spin this thing. You wouldn’t believe who got into the act: Massachusetts cops, New Hampshire cops, the Goon Squad, politicians, FBI, even Homeland Security.”

“I haven’t seen a word about it on the news.”

“They’re going to make an announcement tomorrow. Sheila Gravett was attacked and killed by one of her werewolf experiments when a keeper inadvertently left a door unlocked.” Well, that much was true. Sort of. “There’ll be nothing in the news about me. Nothing about you or Maria.”

That was good. I didn’t want Maria being dragged through the publicity machine. I felt a pang, hoping she was okay. I hadn’t heard anything from Gwen.

Daniel was silent for a while, picking at the label on his beer bottle. When he looked up, the sparkle was gone from his eyes. “I wasn’t much help to you up there.”

“You’re kidding, right? I never even would have made it across the state border without you.”

“Yeah, and then I got knocked out with my own gun.” He paused, looking down. “I saw what happened, Vicky. Security tapes, and Gravett had a video camera going. I watched everything. You saved my life.”

So he’d watched the shift, seen me in Harpy form. The knowledge of that squeezed at my heart. It hurt. I didn’t know what to say.

“What did you . . . ? What
was
that thing?” he asked, his voice low.

“I shifted into a Harpy. I didn’t even know it was possible for me to change into a demon.” I suspected it had to do with the Hellion mark, but that was a question I’d have to ask Aunt Mab. And I was still in avoidance mode—part of me didn’t want to know.

“I didn’t save you, Daniel. That Harpy wasn’t me. Well, it was, but not the real me. I wasn’t in control.” How could I explain this to him? “I don’t know why I chased that wolf-creature away from you. Maybe I wanted to eat you myself.” I reached across the table and touched his hand. Just lightly, just for a moment. “I’m not human. You’ve got to understand that.”

“I do.” Now he looked at me, something fierce in his eyes. “I also understand that it
was
you, whatever you say. The spark that’s Victory Vaughn didn’t go out just because you changed form. So you wanted to kill Gravett. I’d have killed her myself, given the chance. But you weren’t just some demon bent on revenge. You protected me. You saved Maria. Hell, from what Roxana told me, you saved the whole city of Boston. All of that was
you
, Vicky. All of that was brave and loyal and . . .” His hand captured mine and held it. “And beautiful.”

I blinked, because I’m not the kind of person who gets teary-eyed. “Thank you for saying that.”

“I should be thanking you.” His smile lit up the dim bar. “And I was hoping to do it with dinner this weekend.”

I drew back my hand. “I can’t.”

The light faded from his smile. Why did it hurt to see that?

“Is it because I’m human?” he asked.

“No, Daniel. It’s because you’re married. I’m not going to get between you and your wife.”

A little wrinkle appeared between his eyebrows. “But I’m not married.”

“Please, don’t. I appreciate that you came here to say thank you. And what you said just now, it means a lot to me. Don’t spoil everything with a lie.”

“I’m not lying. I’m
not
married.”

This was too much. “Who answered your phone that morning?”

He frowned. “What morning?”

“The day after I missed our appointment. The day I met you at the precinct.”

A light dawned. “That was my wife, but—”

“See? Give up on lying, Daniel. You’re lousy at it.” I pushed myself out of the booth.