Summoned Chaos (23 page)

“No offense, but the Council sets the bar when it comes to paperwork.” I tried not to sound
too
sarcastic.

“I can tolerate the typical administrative delays. But not when it comes to my son.” His voice was tighter, almost bitter. “This is where you come in.”

My gut twisted. “Councilman, I—”

“I want that report,” he said, cutting me off. “Something about that rift interested Elder Rancin and her R&D team. So much so that they were willing to risk all of your lives. Now Alistair is fighting for survival. Someone owes me answers, but since Linda and her people aren’t talking, I’ll have to get them on my own. Get me that report and I can promise you my full support in the years to come.”

My heart pounded. If I was worried that his previous comments were treasonous, what he was now asking for was downright suicide.

It was one thing to talk about operating against the Council and quite another to follow through with it. Devon wouldn’t just strip me of my credentials, he’d mount my head on the wall like a trophy.

I struggled to maintain a façade of calm. “I wouldn’t even know where to start. It’s not like I can simply waltz into R&D and demand it.”

Monroe smiled, but this time he appeared more like a predator than a bureaucrat. “You’re a resourceful man. You spent a long time living outside the Council which means, unlike the rest of your peers, you can think outside the box. Prove to me that the courage I see in you is not just blustering and foolishness and you’ll win not only my loyalty, but that of my people as well.”

I was silent, my stomach churning with tension. I’d finally reached a level of begrudging acceptance with the Council, if not with the Elders. If I did something as royally stupid as breaking into R&D, I’d be throwing away everything I’d worked so hard to recover. I’d scraped and clawed my way back into the Skilled world, climbing up a hill that, at times, seemed insurmountable. I wasn’t sure I was willing to risk my career—maybe even my life—to help Monroe.

Yet despite my fears, a hunger gnawed at me. Monroe’s words were laced with the Devil’s promises, but I couldn’t deny I was intrigued.

What were the real reasons Rancin had ordered us to keep the rift open? And why were her people denying the existence of the one in Maryland? Someone, maybe an Elder, was pulling the strings that had nearly cost Alistair his life. Not to mention that of Carla Jones and myself.

More than the desire for answers that was building inside me was a sense of vindication.

Dad and I suspected wrongdoings on the Council, but hearing it from someone on the outside solidified my suspicions. If someone like Monroe was willing to believe proof of a traitor existed, maybe I stood a decent shot at uncovering it. And if that happened, of having support when I brought it to bear on the guilty.

But finding answers wasn’t exactly a walk in the park. I wasn’t lying when I told Monroe there was no way to get into R&D. That place was locked down tight. My Wizarding credentials wouldn’t even get me into the parking lot, let alone inside their computer files.

Maybe I was thinking about it all wrong. Rather than kick in the doors like I usually did, perhaps a more subtle approach was required. After all, even the most impenetrable fortress had a weak point. All I needed to do was find it.

And not get caught.

“Okay. I’ll get you that report.”

Satisfaction spread across his face. “A wise choice.”

My phone rang, interrupting us.
Quinn.

Excitement at seeing her name and worry that she was angry at me filled my veins. I leapt to my feet. “Pardon me.”

Monroe nodded, toasting me with an approving grin as he leaned back.

I ducked into the hall, answering immediately.

“Hey,” I said, before she could speak. “Again, I’m really sorry about what happened in Maryland. I never intended for you to wind up anywhere near the cameras. I’ll make this up to you, big time.”

“Marcus—” Her voice caught.

I felt sick to my stomach. “Babe, what’s wrong?”

She paused to clear her throat. “Steve’s in the hospital.”

Chapter Seventeen

Collateral Damage

For the record, the Skilled hate hospitals. Since emotions played such an important role in our powers, we tended to be more sensitive to the outpouring from others. With the multitude of pain and fear, hope and relief, hospitals were like a psychic fire hose of emotions. The extremely powerful of my kind avoided them altogether, opting instead for smaller, boutique clinics or on-site family Healers like the Shifters employed.

Even with my hamstrung powers, I wasn’t much a fan myself.

Of course, that was mostly because I spent far more time in them than the average person should. Heck, considering the amount of time I’d spent getting patched up recently, I was thinking about having my mail re-routed.

But as much as I would have preferred to be anywhere else, concern for my friend brought me back to Wellington Memorial.

Thankfully, Councilman Monroe was more than understanding when I’d bolted from his residence.

I pushed through the flimsy barrier with ease, then stepped into the emergency ward. The psychic buzzing that pressed against me from the outpouring of emotions barely registered. The waiting room was filled with a smattering of patients in various stages of discomfort. I breezed past the woman behind the counter who, thankfully, I didn’t recognize.

She blinked in surprise, no doubt startled by the Glock on my hip and sword on my back.

As much as I questioned the morality of walking into a hospital fully armed, I’d learned my lesson. Having chased the zombie Anthony Banks through these halls months earlier, I wasn’t about to get caught unprepared again.

The hospital was renowned for being complicated to navigate, but I’d spent so much time there that I found Steve’s room in less than five minutes. Quinn was seated in a chair next to the bed. She rose, wrapping me in her arms as I entered. Just the warmth of her touch was enough to calm the tension and fear raging inside me, if only a little.

I glanced at the Minotaur. His fur was disheveled and his snout paler than normal. His chest rose and fell with a labored rhythm while machines around him beeped. It pained me to see him like that and made worse by the fact that I’d just come from a similar scene.

More collateral damage.

“How is he?”

Quinn squeezed me. “Sleeping.”

“What happened?”

She pulled me over to the large chair, then motioned for me to sit. I unhitched my sword, placed it and the backpack full of papers on the floor, and eased into the chair. Quinn slid an arm around me as she curled gracefully into my lap.

“The authorities think he was ambushed. He was shot twice in the chest, but most of the damage came afterward. He was—” She swallowed the catch in her voice. “He was beaten pretty badly. The doctor says it was a blunt object like a bat or two-by-four. One of his ribs is broken.”

The mental images of someone beating my friend sickened me.

“Do they know who did it?” I asked, struggling to keep my voice calm.

She shook her head. “He was unconscious when they found him.”

I couldn’t pull my eyes off Steve. This was the same beast that had pounded me into the ground a few days earlier and not broken a sweat. Now he was broken and bloodied.

“Marcus?”

“Sometimes I’m stunned by how much evil there is in the world.” I quickly wiped my eyes. “Will he be alright?”

Quinn blew out a long breath. “The doctors think so, but Minotaur physiology is still relatively new to them.”

“What about his own people? Surely he has family who can help.”

“If there are, no one knows about them. You and I are his only emergency contacts.”

“Us?”

She nodded, then leaned her head against my shoulder. I let the silence of the room and the warmth of her presence soak into me. It was like a small beacon of sunshine in the dreary, depressing world.

I was also touched that Steve had listed me and Quinn as his go-to folks.

Yet I’d shoved him away when he’d tried to help.

Well no more. I’d sit in that hospital room forever, willing him back to health if that’s what it took. Because he was my friend.

“I’m sorry about disappearing after the fight in Maryland,” she said without preamble. “I just got scared by all the cameras.”

“I shouldn’t have put you in that position.”

She leaned back. “If anyone is to blame, Marcus, it’s me. I’ve been around you long enough to know what I’m getting into when I go on those little adventures.”

The Minotaur stirred before I could respond.

“Hey, big guy.” I wanted to apologize profusely for how I’d acted at the bar, but I couldn’t get the words around the lump that had formed in my throat.

“Thought I smelled you,” he grunted. His bloodshot eyes creaked open and locked on to me. “You’re in a robe.”

It wasn’t a question.

“It’s been a long, bizarre day,” I said, trying to keep my tone light.

He scooted himself upright with a wince. “Tell me about it.”

“Easy.” I leaned forward to stop him, but he scowled at me.

“I’m fine, bud.”

“Not according to the doctors you’re not,” Quinn said.

Steve gave her a half-smile. “Hey, I grew up in a Minotaur clan. Trust me, I’ve had worse.”

That raised a whole lot of questions, but I kept my focus on immediate events. “So, what happened?”

Steve sniffed the tray of cold food by his bedside, then sneered. “Got sloppy and dropped my guard. Bunch of punk kids took advantage of it. One had a gun, which is the only reason they got the drop on me. Apparently they don’t like my species or my association with you because they had a few choice words for both. Made them pay for it, though.”

Quinn placed a hand on Steve’s massive arm. “The doctors I spoke with said you were alone when the cops found you.”

“Not surprised,” Steve replied with a smirk. “The punks scampered off after I wailed on a couple of them.”

“You didn’t kill anyone, did you?” I asked, fearful of his answer.

“No.”

Relief flooded through me.

“Should have,” he continued. “But I figured it wouldn’t be good PR for you. What with being my media ‘boyfriend’ and all.” He chuckled, but immediately clutched his side.

Quinn stood. “I’ll get someone.”

“I’m
fine
,” Steve insisted. “Just a little sore. And sleepy. And hungry. Maybe even turned-on too.”

I blinked while my girl disappeared out the door. “I’m sorry, what?”

He shrugged at me. “Blood and sex go hand-in-hand with my species.”

I started to give him a smart-aleck retort, but Quinn reappeared with the nurse.

“I see you have visitors,” he said, checking the various machines.

Steve yawned. “I’m a popular dude.”

The nurse shook his head, then pressed a couple buttons on one of the machines. It hissed softly. He turned to Quinn and me. “It’s not visiting hours yet.”

The Minotaur waved a massive hand at us. “It’s okay. They’re family.”

Tears stung the corners of my eyes. I’d long considered him family as well, but hearing him say it meant a lot. Maybe he’d already forgiven me for being a jerk to him at the bar.

The nurse smoothed the bed sheets. “Okay.”

“Good,” Steve slurred. He mumbled something else, but quickly dropped off to sleep.

“How much morphine did
that
take?” I asked.

“It’s not morphine, but to answer your question, enough to kill a rhino. Your friend here is one durable creature. Glad I got him too. I’ve never worked on a Minotaur before.”

Quinn watched as Steve began snoring lightly. “Will he be okay?”

“I think so. By human standards he should be dead. The bullets missed his vital organs, which was lucky. Most of the damage came from the beating. Thankfully, the contusions and broken rib will likely heal. Not sure how long it will take, but as best the doctors can tell, he’ll survive.” He offered us a weak smile. “Since you’re family, you’re more than welcome to stay. Just don’t get him too worked up. I’ll be back in a couple hours to check on him.”

He examined the machines one last time, then exited the room.

His words, however, lingered long after he left. Someone had hurt my friend. Beat him because he was different. And if what Steve said was true, it was partially because I’d dragged him into the spotlight. Exposed him to the hate.

What if I’d done the same to Quinn?

It was hard enough to deal with Steve being targeted. The thought of her winding up in the same place was almost unbearable.

“I wish I’d brought a book,” Quinn said, shattering the quiet. “The hospital gift shop didn’t have anything worth buying.”

I wiped my face with the sleeve of my robe, bottling the emotions for the time being. There’d be time to deal with them later.

Instead, I opened my backpack and pulled out the large stack of papers. “I brought some reading material. It’s pretty boring, but I could certainly use your help if you don’t mind.”

She took half the stack, skimming the pages quickly. “What is this?”

“Information I siphoned from the Council intranet. Reports, emails, personal files of the Elders.”

Quinn’s eyes flew open. “You hacked the Elders’ computers?”

“I may have to do more than that.” I told her about my meeting with Monroe. When I finished, she shook her head.

“You live on thin ice, you know that? What happens if you get caught?”

“I’ll return to freelancer work, I guess. Or go back to stripping.”

Assuming I wasn’t executed on the spot.

“Your career isn’t a laughing matter,” she chided.

“Strong words coming from someone unwilling to stop moving long enough to start one.”

Her eyes widened in surprise.

I, too, drew in a breath. Where did that come from?

“I’m sorry,” I whispered, lowering my head. “I didn’t mean that.”

She gripped my chin, lifting my head. “Yes, you did. And you’re right. I haven’t been around much the last couple of months. I know our relationship isn’t what either of us hoped for, but the fact is I’m still not ready to come out of the shadows yet.”

“Take all the time you need.” It hurt, but I meant it.

I hadn’t given Steve what he wanted and he’d wound up in the hospital. If Quinn needed more time, I was absolutely going to let her have it.

She kissed me lightly on the lips. “Thank you. Getting back to you,” she added, pulling away. “You need to think about your career. Seriously. You rail against the Council, but look at all the good you’ve done already by helping them out.”

My eyes went to Steve. “Not all of it has been good.”

“Marcus, those punks didn’t beat Steve because of you. They did it because they are narrow-minded bigots.”

“Maybe.”

She was probably right, but considering the attacks on me recently, it wasn’t too much of a stretch to think that someone had targeted Steve as a consolation prize.

“So what are we searching for?” Quinn asked, looking at the stack of papers.

“Honestly, I don’t know. Anything that pertains to recent events or that seems out of the ordinary for bureaucratic chat. More important, anything that might indicate a back door for getting to R&D.”

“Sounds fun,” she said, and started reading.

* * *

Two hours later, we were still waiting for the “fun” to kick in. The nurse swung by, checked on Steve, then departed without saying a word while Quinn and I plowed through hundreds of emails. There was a lot of chatter about the Mimic attack, but it was all conjecture and questions.

Aside from the obsession both Rancin and Devon seemed to have over me, of course.

Between them, the last several months were filled with emails back and forth about my performance on the rift team, discussions about my merits as a Warlock, and a whole mess of less complimentary topics. Most surprising was that Rancin was the one defending my position on the rift teams.

Apparently she had been the one who’d recommended me.

Devon, on the other hand, felt I was barely qualified at a desk, let alone to help run a team.

Granted, it wasn’t like Rancin’s support was glowing. According to her, I was an effective tool, but one that annoyed the leadership. Still, the fact that she was pushing for me to be more involved with the teams was shocking. Maybe I’d judged her wrong.

I seemed to be doing a lot of that recently.

“By all things holy, this is boring,” Quinn said, setting another sheet of paper aside.

I rubbed the blurriness from my eyes. “One of the many joys of private investigation.”

“So this is what you did for a living before your ‘promotion’ to the rift repair teams?”

“For the most part, yes. People think freelancer work is all gunplay and sexual tension, but it’s mostly research.”