Iron Night (37 page)

“Okay,” I said simply.

All of the energy seemed to drain out of my mother, and she leaned completely back into the chair, almost sinking into the cushions. Her blue eyes were strangely drained, and the color looked almost gray. Exhaustion was suddenly clear in every part of her, as was her immense age. She waved one thin hand vaguely. “Off you go, then, my darling. Much to do. Your brother can handle everything else here.” A moment later I could feel the thump inside of myself that indicated that Chivalry had just entered the mansion, and I wondered how long my mother had been aware of his approach.

I left quietly. Madeline's eyes were already drooping as I eased the door closed. I hurried down the hall, knowing that I needed to get back to Providence as soon as I could and see what was waiting for me on that side. I passed Chivalry on the staircase. From the expression on his face my brother clearly knew that something was very wrong, and he gave a wordless shout at the sight of me, but I shook my head and moved past him.

“I'm sorry,” I said, not slowing down. “I can't stop and talk. Mother will tell you everything.”

The Fiesta was still running in the driveway where I'd left it. Thankfully, the engine had stopped steaming, but when I put the car in gear and headed out the driveway there was a very new and deeply unhappy rattling sound from the engine, a clear sign that there would be many consequences for what had happened tonight. I pulled out onto Ocean Drive slowly, babying the car, and praying that it would get me all the way home. I couldn't imagine what kind of figure I would present to a AAA tow driver.

I'd shoved the Colt under my seat for safekeeping, and now I retrieved it and dropped it on the passenger's seat after checking to see that the safety was engaged. Then I picked up my phone and called Suzume, wondering what had been happening in Providence during my own adventures in Newport.

I could hear the question in her voice the moment she answered on her end, but she didn't ask whether Matt was doomed or not. Instead she simply told me that they were both in my apartment, waiting for me. Lilah was gone, having had to take Felix and Iris home. I thanked her and let her know that I was on the road and that I'd be there as soon as I could.

“Oh, and one last thing,” Suze said just as I'd been about to hang up. “Apparently your Fiesta is hot.”

“What?” The Fiesta had been called many things, but never that.

“That's how Matt knew where to find us. At some point he stuck a GPS tracker on the Fiesta. When you talked with him this morning he realized that you were still holding out on him, and he spent the rest of the day tailing us. So that's how he was able to arrive like the cavalry.”

“Shit,” I said, but I was too tired to put any force behind it. I'd wondered briefly how Matt had somehow found us, but had frankly had far too many other pressing topics on my mind (primarily how to keep him alive) to fully explore the topic. “Okay, I'm coming back.” We exchanged good-byes, and I hung up.

The drive back was very slow, the Fiesta making progressively louder noises of protest as we went. I was exhausted, my head splitting from my trip against the wall, the slices on my arm throbbing, and a thousand other sore spots making themselves known in a general miasma of misery. And I would've gladly spent a year in this condition, with no hope of even a bottle of hydrogen peroxide to clean out my cuts, in exchange for not having to face Matt.

When I finally limped home, the Fiesta gave a sputtering rattle when I turned the key in the parking lot of my building. I gave the steering wheel a pat—it was very clear that the Fiesta would need a long visit with my mechanic before it drove me anywhere again. Matt's big Buick was in the parking spot next to mine, so it was clear how Suzume had gotten everyone away from the park.

I climbed the three flights of stairs to my apartment very slowly, but finally there was no putting the moment off any longer, and I let myself into the apartment.

Matt was tied to a chair in the middle of my living room. Suzume's creepy hostage kit was still riding in her duffel bag in the trunk of the Fiesta, but she had apparently been quite willing to MacGyver herself a solution, and Matt was tied up with several of my long tube socks and the two formal ties that usually lived in the back of my closet. It should've been funny, but the closed, hostile expression on Matt's face when he looked at me kept any part of it from being humorous. The left sleeve of his shirt had been cut off, and there was a clean white bandage wrapped around the spot where the half-blood elf had cut him with the butcher knife.

Suze was sitting on the sofa, within easy grabbing distance if Matt showed any signs of wiggling out of his bonds, but she got up immediately when I came into the room, her face very carefully set in neutral lines.

I paused for a long moment at the door. I'd spent the entire drive over thinking about what I would do and what I could say, but all of my carefully prepared speeches flew out of my mind.

“Suze,” I said quietly. “Can you give us some privacy?”

Those dark eyes bored into me, trying to figure out what I had planned, but I knew that she failed, because I didn't even know myself. Then she nodded and walked past me and out the door. I heard her footsteps going down the steps as I pushed the door closed behind her, and I realized that she was actually doing what I'd asked—going far enough away that she couldn't hear what we said.

I pulled another chair away from my battered table and sat in front of Matt. He still said nothing, just studying me with those opaque cop eyes of his.

I took a deep breath and started talking.

It wasn't what I'd planned, but at that moment I did what felt like the only right thing to do—I told the truth.

I told him the truth about the Grann murders. I told him the truth about how Jill and Brian had been killed. I told him the truth about what I was, and the things that lived in the world under a veneer of normalcy. I told him everything.

As I did it, I knew that it was probably the stupidest thing I could've done. I also knew that it was the only thing I could've done.

He didn't say a word, simply listening stone-faced as I upended everything he'd woken up knowing this morning. And when I was done I leaned forward and untied him, then sat back and waited for his response.

At first he just looked at me, as if he'd never seen me before in his life. Then he leaned forward, very slowly and deliberately, and put his hand on my jaw. I knew what he was looking for, and I opened my mouth, forcing myself into passivity as I felt his thumb push my upper lip aside to reveal my teeth. I waited while he examined me, and when he finally took his hand away from my face, I said quietly, “I don't have the fangs yet. But I will when I'm older.”

“Did Brian know what you are?” It was Matt's first question, and it struck me hard. Unable to speak, I just shook my head.

“How many people know about . . . about all of this?” Now Matt got up from the chair and began pacing the room, and I could see the first edges of anger rolling in, like dark clouds before a storm.

“A few,” I said. Then, looking at him, I repeated urgently, “Matt, you can't tell
anyone
.”

“Or what?” His voice was cold as he glared across the room at me. “Your sister will kill me?”

“No.” I swallowed, then said the words. “It would have to be me.” Matt froze in his steps and stared. “That was the deal I made tonight to keep you safe. But you have to be careful.”

His face was frozen. “Would you do that, Fort?” Matt asked slowly. “Would you kill me if I was a threat?”

The question hung in the air between us. I paused, then said, almost begging, “It's not just my safety, Matt—” And I broke off because suddenly Matt's cop mask broke and I saw what lay beneath—the hurt, the stricken betrayal—and I knew the mistake I'd just made. “Damnit, I can't just act for myself!” I yelled.

“But that's who I always acted for, Fort. For you.” Matt's words fell between us like stones. His voice dropped, became very quiet, but I shivered at his expression. He meant every word. “Don't call me,” he said. “I'm not a danger to you. But we're done. Right now, this second. We're done.”

I started to say something, anything, trying to deny what had just happened, but he wasn't listening to me anymore. I reached for Matt when he crossed the room past me, but it was as if my hands didn't even exist, like I wasn't there anymore. Then he was out the door, closing it gently behind himself, and his footsteps echoed briefly from the hallway and were gone.

Matt was gone.

I was on the
couch when Suze came back up into the apartment. I didn't know how much time had passed since Matt had walked out—all I knew was the numb, broken feeling that filled me.

Suzume didn't ask any questions. Since she would've seen Matt leave, maybe there weren't any questions to ask. Instead she silently took me by the hand and led me into the bathroom, where she sat me down on the side of the tub and began the meticulous job of locating, cleaning, and bandaging all of the various cuts and bruises I'd accumulated that evening.

I studied her as she used surgical tape to carefully attach long gauze pads in place over the long cuts that Soli had left along each of my arms. Bruises mottled her own face, and cuts ringed the knuckles of her hands.

“Haven't you shifted yet?” I asked quietly. Those visible signs of the damage she'd taken herself in the fight could've been long gone if she'd returned to her four-legged form.

She shook her head, splashing yet another cotton ball with a few drops of iodine. “I can do it later,” she assured me, then leaned forward to dab the iodine against a cut on my forehead that I hadn't even been aware of.

When I was fully bandaged, she led me into my room. My Ithaca 37 was on the bed, and I looked over at Suze in surprise. I remembered it being knocked out of my hand during the fight with Soli, but I had assumed that it was lost. Suzume gave a casual shrug. “We had some downtime before we had to leave the clearing, and I found it in the grass where you'd dropped it.”

“Thank you,” I said, but she turned away and began to fuss over pulling down the sheets, and then pestered me until I got into the bed and allowed her to tuck me in like an infant.

“This isn't going to help,” I said softly, when she'd finished.

“Just go to sleep,” she urged. “Everything will be easier to deal with in the morning.”

There was something in her face that made me reach out and catch her hand as she turned to go, some strange hint of withdrawal. “Are you leaving?” I asked.

“Yeah,” she said, not quite looking at me. “You'll be okay. I got a call from Lilah when you were driving up from Newport. Your brother already called all the elves left, and just about everyone else in the community he could get a number for. Madeline laid down her punishment, and Lilah's sure that no one will be coming for you.”

I stared at her, trying to decipher the look on her face. Certainty filled me. “That isn't it,” I said. “Why are you leaving?”

She finally met my eyes, but she was in full poker face mode now. “Lilah said to tell you that she'll call you in a few days once she gets everything settled with the Neighbors.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” I asked, but she just gave me one long look and left the room. I heard the front door close behind her.

Too much had happened tonight for my brain to process this last curveball. I got out of bed and padded to the front door, throwing the slide bar and checking the locks. Then I crossed back to my bedroom. Reaching under the bed, I grabbed the old pair of slippers that served as my spare ammo container, and pulled out a few bullets for the .45 and a set of shells for the Ithaca, and carefully loaded both guns. I checked the safety on my Colt and slid it under the extra pillow on my bed. The Ithaca I placed on the floor, within easy reach of a quick grab. Then I got back into the bed and listened to the silence of the apartment.

I would've thought that sleep would never come, but my exhausted body had other ideas. I closed my eyes on a blink, and I was asleep.

•   •   •

I felt every bump, scrape, and pulled muscle the next morning, and I hobbled around the apartment like an old man, dry-swallowing aspirin and surrounding myself on the couch with a combination of soft quilts and bags of numbing ice cubes.

As it turned out, I had nowhere to go. When I called into work to ask if someone else could cover my shift, I discovered that I'd already been fired. Apparently I'd been scheduled to work the full dinner shift the previous night, but I'd been so focused on what had been happening that Peláez had never even crossed my mind. I was unemployed again, at the start of yet another dual job-and-roommate hunt.

I decided that I could take a few days before I started looking and worrying about my situation. I swallowed another aspirin, curled up on the couch, and put on my
Firefly
DVDs.

I napped a lot that first afternoon, letting my body heal. The only interruption to my quiet day occurred when my brother called me in the early evening, telling me that we would be taking a Sunday afternoon sail with Bhumika on the
Gay Belle
. I tried my best to get out of it, pointing out that the Fiesta was in no condition to be driven and I had no money to pay a mechanic. In a voice that brooked no dissention, Chivalry told me that he'd come and pick me up. With no escape, I finally gave in.

I left four messages on Suzume's phone, but she never picked up. I felt both annoyed and a little worried, but my feelings were allayed when I opened my door that night. Instead of the pizza I'd been expecting, a guy about five inches shorter than me but around my own age offered his hand and a polite smile. “Hi. I'm sorry that I was running a little late, but my study group ran long.” He shook the hand that I'd automatically extended.

“Um . . .” I racked my brain but was still lost. Next to his rich brown skin tone, I felt as pasty as a fish's underbelly. Bad luck that I'd never been able to get even the slightest tan. “Are you sure you have the right apartment?”

He looked startled, glanced at my door number, then back at me. “Yeah, number three above the bra shop. I'm Dan Tabak.” I stared at him blankly. He dropped my hand and the polite smile, now looking annoyed. “We've been e-mailing all week about the apartment.”

Comprehension dawned—after all, Suze had said she'd find me a roommate. I looked at him closer—he was working a level of stubble that on me would look hungover, but on him looked like he probably had a special setting on an expensive razor. His short and curly black hair had an impressive level of coif, and I was trying not to feel self-conscious that I was in my pajamas with bandages up both arms and a black eye while he looked red-carpet ready in a pair of business slacks and an indigo blue dress shirt with just the collar button undone.

He was also distinctly irritated with me. “Listen, you said in the e-mail that you had a room for rent. If you reconsidered, then you could've let me know before I drove—” He pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket, which I snagged and glanced over. On the page were directions to the apartment, sent from my own e-mail account. Apparently Suzume
had
figured out my password, since I knew I'd never used
Laters
as a closing in my life. I smiled—Suze had found me a nonhuman roommate, just like she'd said she would. And delivered him to me, true to form, as a Hollis-special prank.

Dan was still good and pissed, but I cut him off. “My last roommate was murdered, but most of the people responsible got killed last night—a few of them by me. My best friend is a kitsune, so she set this whole thing up without telling me, which is why I don't know who or what the hell you are, but the room is move-in ready. We go fifty-fifty on rent and utilities, due first of the month. You get half of the storage space in the basement. Parking is in the back, and if you want to use it you have to talk with the landlord about renting a spot. I don't know if Suze told you, but I'm Fortitude Scott, so be sure that you're okay with that.”

There was a long pause while he processed it. Then, “Of course I know who you are.” He huffed an annoyed breath, like a bird settling ruffled feathers. “And I'm a smoker.”

“That's fine as long as you only do it outside or on the fire escape.”

“And a law student at Johnson and Wales U.”

“The commute there is easy.”

“And a ghoul.”

I paused. Chivalry had told me about the ghouls, who required a regular diet of human flesh to survive, but I'd never actually met one before. He'd assured me that they were actually one of the lower-key species in the community, very rarely breaking rules or making waves, but I couldn't contain a small mental
ew
response. I eyed Dan again—he sure didn't look
(or
smell
) like what my mental image of a ghoul had been, so I clarified, “So you eat . . . ?”

“Human organs, yes.” He rolled his eyes at my ignorance. “But since I'm a
ghoul
, not a
Wendigo
, I get them from the morgue or a funeral home.” He cut off my next question. “Yes, I keep them in regular butcher paper so you don't have to see them, and,
yes
, I label them so you don't have to worry about eating them by accident.” Something in the way he rattled off that list made me wonder how many other supernatural creatures weren't exactly lining up to be a ghoul's roommate.

“Oh, that wouldn't happen,” I assured him automatically. “I'm a vegetarian.”

He looked taken aback for the first time in the conversation and eyed me suspiciously for a beat. “Let's try month-to-month to start with until we're sure it works out.”

“Hold on,” I interrupted. “I haven't said that you can rent from me.” There was one last disclosure, and I knew that this one would probably be the deal breaker. “The window is broken in your room, and the landlord is really shitty about repairs.”

Dan shrugged. “That's fine. My boyfriend is a contractor.”

Jackpot
. “When do you want to move in?”

“My old lease is up at the end of the month.”

And just like that, I had a new roommate. I called Suze to thank her, but she didn't pick up, and I left another message.

I tried calling Matt's phone once, but he didn't pick up. I tried to leave him a voice mail, but there was nothing to say, and after a minute of dead air I just hung up.

The next morning Lilah came to visit me. I ushered her inside and we ended up perched on my sofa in the same spots we'd occupied earlier in the week. But this time we were finally both comfortable enough with each other that it didn't take cheap alcohol to start the conversation. She sympathized with my injuries—the cuts on my arms were too deep to be scabbing over yet, and changing the bandages twice a day had reached the point where I was taking a lot of preemptive aspirin. She'd managed to get through the fight in the fairy circle with no visible wounds, but when I asked how things were going for her, she didn't pretend that it hadn't been hard. After all, she was now a traitor in the eyes of many of the Neighbors, and it was only fear of the Scotts that had prevented the Ad-hene and her grandfather from torturing or even killing her.

Like me, she was suddenly unemployed—Dreamcatching's owner had been one of the casualties of the fight, and she'd decided to quit before his daughter could fire her. We teased each other a little, bantering comfortably about the unemployed life, and talking about where each of us was thinking of looking for new work. At one point I asked her whether she would try to find work with another of the Neighbor businesses, and she shook her head.

“I'm going to be figuring out how to live outside the community again,” she noted a little regretfully.

“Are you sure you want to do that?” I asked.

“I don't think I have a choice.”

I tilted my head and considered her. “If the Ad-hene and their stooges were keeping the killings secret from so many people, then they must've thought that anyone outside of the most rabid fanatics would have objections. Was that not the case?”

“Definitely not. The whole community is reeling. Killing the recessives, what was done to the three-quarter girls who were drugged to participate, and finally the whole idea that they would've been willing to kill Felix . . . I'd say it's pretty much chaos right now.”

I reached across and gently took one of her hands in mine, and smiled at the surprise that spread across her face. “Chaos in a group can be an opportunity for new leadership,” I told her.

Her coppery eyebrows arched up her forehead. “Me?” she squeaked. “Themselves would never allow it.”

“Why not?” I asked, warming to the idea myself. “I told your grandfather that you are the new liaison to the vampires, and I meant it. Why not take that piece of authority and build some more? It was leaving all the control in the hands of fanatics that started the problem. And maybe this could be a chance for you to build the kind of community that you want—one that isn't as obsessed with reclaiming old glories as in making a safe life for the Neighbors.”

She smiled at me. “You're very persuasive, Fort.”

“Am I?” I asked. “Usually not. But it seems pretty obvious to me. You can't be the only hybrid who isn't chained to the altar of the elves, and maybe it's time that numbers made a difference. The Ad-hene rely on their descendents for whatever piece of the future they'll have, and maybe it's time for you guys to start making decisions for yourselves, not for them. After all, you outnumber the crap out of them.”

Lilah nodded slowly. “Shoney's death really shook a lot of people up. None of Themselves have died since Underhill opened up again.” She squeezed my hand and considered it for a second, finally nodding. “I'll think about it,” she promised. “But even if I can't be the Napoleon you're hoping for, maybe I don't have to be all on my own.” Then she leaned over suddenly and kissed me.

At first I was just surprised. It had been a long time since I'd been kissed, and Lilah was a very nice person to be kissed by. Her mouth was soft against mine, and something about her skin and her beautiful curly hair smelled like honeysuckle and springtime. When I lifted my hand up to cup her head, I could feel the tip of one pointed ear against my palm and the chinchilla softness of its fur and the way it twitched at the contact made me smile against her mouth. Everything about the kiss, and about Lilah herself, was as sweet as spun sugar.