Poison Tree (5 page)

“The stomach is pretty vital, as is the femoral artery,” Jason replied.

“Not like the heart, or lung, or aorta,” Alysia argued, “and not with the kinds of healers we have on staff.”

“You were there?” Sarik asked as Alysia’s words sank in.

Alysia nodded, and then seemed to pause. She looked at Sarik, and Sarik could see in the human’s eyes the exact moment when she realized that her presence on the scene looked suspicious.

“I went to see if I could do anything about the network issue,” Alysia answered.

Before dawn, in sleet and freezing wind, after tech support had already been called?
Sarik bit her tongue to hold back the question.

Lynzi frowned and then rubbed her temple. Especially in her own ritual space, Sarik knew, the Triste could probably feel every spike of emotion around her, no matter how carefully someone tried to conceal feelings. On the other hand, with so many strong emotions piled on top of the exhaustion she must have been coping with after healing Jason, Israel, and Ben, Sarik would have been surprised if Lynzi could read anything specific.

Jason squeezed Sarik’s hand. He said, “Alysia ran forward when Ben shouted for her. She helped get us under cover, pulled the firestone out of me, and kept Ben from bleeding to death before Mary could get Lynzi. And she donated blood.”

Sarik nodded, taking in the information. Jason was right; Alysia’s reaction wasn’t what she expected of a mercenary.

Lynzi swallowed and said, “I think we need to send someone to Onyx. I’m sure they see us as a bunch of tree-hugging peaceniks, but SingleEarth is one of the wealthiest and most influential organizations in the world. We need to make it clear that there is a value to not crossing us.”

Sarik shuddered at the notion and then turned and stared when Alysia said, “I can go and try to set up a meeting. Immediately, unless someone has a good reason to wait.” She glanced up at the clock on Lynzi’s wall. “The Hall is about four hours away. I can get there and back by evening.”

What are you thinking, Alysia?
Sarik wished she could read the human’s mind. Alysia’s knowledge of Onyx made it obvious that she had some kind of history with them. It was possible that she was in SingleEarth because she had run away from that guild, but if so, why would she volunteer to go
back
there?

The panic of the morning was getting the best of Sarik. She didn’t have enough information to make sense of Alysia’s behavior, but she knew one thing for sure: she needed answers.

“You shouldn’t go alone,” Sarik said. “You gave blood this morning. You shouldn’t be driving four hours to meet with mercenaries.”

Alysia glanced at Jason and Lynzi, who were both obviously exhausted. They would need to feed and rest to recover their strength. That left only Sarik.

This is the only way to know
, Sarik told herself. She had to risk it.

At last, Alysia said, “I would be happy to have you with me.”

“Fine,” Lynzi said. “I’m going to update Diana and then call Central to get security here. Onyx may have elite mercenaries, but SingleEarth is
not
defenseless.

“Both of you. Travel safe.”

“I wish I could go with you,” Jason said softly, standing to come by Sarik’s side. He wobbled, unsteady on his feet, and she caught his arm and kissed him before her normal reserved attitude could catch up to her.

“I love you,” she said.

“Make sure you come home,” he said.

She nodded. “I promise.”

T
HE
O
NYX
H
ALL
had once been a theater, though it had long ago been gutted and stripped down to a skeleton. The scaffolding that had once supported lights and rigging almost eighty feet above the proscenium stage was now only ever occupied by one person.

Christian Denmark leaned against the back wall, comforted by the inky darkness that was never pierced by the dim lights that barely illuminated the main level.

He had been awake for three days straight, training with Pandora. His entire body ached, his head pounded, and his skin was still occasionally streaked with flashes of heat, cold, or simply searing pain. Entering into the deep trance required
to resettle his energies was proving nearly impossible, but at least at this hour the Onyx Hall was
quiet
. Most Onyx jobs happened under cover of darkness, so members rarely faced the morning light.

He had thought that such trials would end after his initiation several months earlier, but Pandora never stopped
pushing
. Was near immortality worth the price?

Most people disregarded their other senses as long as their eyes were working, but the leader of Onyx, named Kral, believed it was crucial for members to operate using at least five senses—six, if they could manage it. The Hall was kept in darkness so thick that even a shapeshifter or witch could make little use of what light might become available. Therefore, Christian noticed immediately when the door opened, admitting a band of light.

A member would have stepped inside and closed the door, but in this case, the light remained long enough that Christian chose to investigate. He scrambled down the scaffolding, memories as old as he was letting him know where each bar or beam was without any assistance from his eyes. He dropped the last twenty feet, absorbing the impact without damage, and crossed toward the still-open door.

There were two visitors. One hung back in the doorway; Christian kept his eyes averted from the morning sunlight streaming in around her and turned his attention to the other one, who had walked toward the assignment board.

Any member was welcome to view that board, but the way the other woman lingered in the doorway made it seem
more likely that these two were not supposed to be here. He crept closer, sliding up the crossbow hanging at his back so he could balance it on his arm.

A shape shot past him in the darkness, barking frantically. The red Labrador retriever wasn’t much of a guard, since he would sooner lick than bite, but Christian smiled nonetheless as the woman at the board stiffened and turned toward the dog.

And laughed.

He froze in the darkness, unbelieving, as he watched her try to calm the exuberant dog, saying things like “Hi to you, too. Get down. No—” She gave up, and her tone sharpened as she gave the command, “Ringo, sit!”

Ringo sat, though his tail never stopped playing percussion on the floor:
Thump, thump, thump!
Christian’s heart felt like it was doing the same thing.

He didn’t stop to wonder, or think, or watch his back, or question, or even to take an instant to practice any of the self-control that was so crucial for his survival as both a member of Onyx and as a Triste. Instead, he wrapped an arm around Alysia’s waist to pull her forward, partly in a friendly greeting along the lines of a hug and partly because he needed to touch her to convince himself that she was real. The words that came out of his mouth—“Alysia, long time no see”—were ridiculously understated compared to his racing thoughts.

The controlled words and tone were a product of more years than he could count of being careful about what other people saw and heard from him. Hearing his own voice startled him back to reality. Alysia was here, but she wasn’t alone—and what was she doing here?

“And this is …?” he asked as Alysia pushed him away with a seemingly sad smile. The figure in the doorway still hadn’t stepped forward enough that he could see her. Did she know that, at this hour, the light pouring in around her made her featureless to anyone who wished to preserve any night vision?

“Christian,” Alysia said, her voice perfectly even, “this is Sarik, an associate of mine from SingleEarth.”

SingleEarth!
He had a million questions he wanted to ask.

“It’s nice to meet you,” the other woman said.

Despite the polite words, she did not step forward or offer to shake his hand. Clearly, she wasn’t a threat; she wasn’t even brave enough to enter the building. She didn’t matter.

“Why are you here?” he asked Alysia.

It wasn’t the question he wanted to ask. What he wanted to know was why she
hadn’t
been there for the past two years. The last time Christian had heard anything about Alysia, there had been a two-million-dollar price on her head. The only thing that kept him from demanding answers immediately was that he didn’t know what game Alysia was playing—yet.

“We’re here on SingleEarth business,” Alysia answered.

He tensed almost imperceptibly as she reached into a pack she was carrying, but the only weapons she retrieved were useless without a crossbow: three Onyx bolts.

“Do you recognize these?”

He did, instantly. He could even tell how old the firestone was, and who had made it, which gave him all sorts of theories that only confused him more. “They’re ours,” he replied. “Pandora made the firestone.”

“How can you tell?” the other woman—what did she say her name was?—asked.

Stupid question. Firestone could only be made by Tristes, and any Triste could read the signature left on it.

“Why bring these to me?” he asked.

Alysia hesitated, which was when Christian realized how stupid he had been.

Alysia hadn’t come here looking for
him
. If anything, she would have picked this hour because she knew when the Hall was normally empty. She hadn’t wanted to see anyone—or be seen herself.

Was this the first time? Or had she been here dozens of times, even hundreds? Like him, she was a third-ranked member; she had access to private contracts that could be accepted and fulfilled in complete secrecy.

Alysia looked to her cohort, and the other woman cleared her throat as if nervous.

“As Alysia said, we’re here from SingleEarth,” she said. Her voice was smooth like a politician’s, with a meaninglessly friendly tone and a bland Midwestern accent. “Three of our people were attacked this morning with these weapons. Alysia recognized them and said that someone from here was probably responsible.”

Christian’s patience was running out fast, making him recall all the aches he still carried in his body. “Alysia is probably right,” he answered. “What’s your point?”

Her carefully controlled tone broke, long enough for her to snap, “Our people could have been
killed
, and—”

Genuinely surprised, he interrupted, “Whoever did this
missed
?”

“They didn’t
miss
,” she bit out, before taking a step back, swallowing tightly, and getting her voice under control. “Alysia understands the logistics more than I do, but she thinks the archer didn’t intend to kill.”

There were plenty of people in SingleEarth who might have had enemies from their previous lives—Alysia was a prime example—but Christian couldn’t imagine a contract going up to harass SingleEarth’s members without a kill intended. Alysia’s information was probably good, if she was telling the truth, but since Christian couldn’t imagine her in SingleEarth, he had no idea whether she had any reason to lie.

“The shots were professional, easily third-rank,” Alysia said, “but I’ve never heard of a third-rank member of Bruja who would take a job where there’s no risk, no glory, not even a body left behind—nothing but panicked, unarmed SingleEarth members.”

There was anger in her voice as well, though Christian suspected she was upset for different reasons than her cohort.

“Whoever attacked us used these bolts to send a message they didn’t have the courage to present directly. The coward isn’t going to get away with it. Understand?”

Alysia kept the words vague, but Christian took the meaning: she didn’t know what it was yet, but she was sure that this message had been intended for her.

Us
. She had used the word “us.” Whoever attacked
us
—her and SingleEarth.

If the message is meant for her, then let her deal with it
, Christian thought.

“If someone has a contract out against SingleEarth, I haven’t heard about it,” he said, “so you might as well be on your way.”

“Christian—”

“You might want to leave quickly,” he suggested. He pocketed the packet of bolts, noting the way Alysia’s gaze followed the movement. “Before someone here decides your intentions might not be in our best interest.”

If Alysia really wanted to talk to him, she was going to have to do it at a time and place of
his
choosing, and it wasn’t going to include an audience.

For now, Alysia looked from him to the sunlit doorway and then at him again. She started to speak, but then she shook her head and left with her SingleEarth friend. Given the glare of the morning sunlight, it was impossible for him to know whether she looked back.

T
HERE WERE PLENTY
of ways to find anonymous, willing blood donors in SingleEarth, and that was what Jason preferred. He didn’t have “regulars,” he never accepted blood from friends, and he
never
bled Sarik no matter how many times she offered. He knew his refusals bothered her, but there was no way he could make her understand.

After he fed, there was work to do. Lynzi was still resting, so it was up to Jason to greet the hunters who were arriving from less peaceful Havens. Thankfully, the weather had subsided to a fine drizzle as he showed their new security force around the campus.

“Is this the only video surveillance?” one of the hunters
asked, examining the camera in the lobby of the administration building.

“Yes. It’s there mostly to give the secretary a heads-up,” Jason explained, aware that the angle was ill designed for security.

The door opened to admit another hunter, who shook drops of water from her hair before she announced, “I cannot imagine anyone making the shots you’ve described.” Though she seemed to be speaking to Jason, she walked past him without looking at him and then spoke to the first hunter. “There are trees close to the recreation building. The weather would have made it hard to climb them, but not impossible.”