Kelley Armstrong - Living with the Dead

"Them?"

Adele waved at the room and walked to a cupboard, taking down a bottle. Hope turned, slowly. Her gaze moved past the flashing TV to another chair, a recliner this time. In it, a hairless man stared vacantly at the cartoon.

"That's Melvin. Veggie Boy." Adele tapped her head. "No one's home. He's practically useless, but he's Niko's son, so they have to keep him alive."

Hope stepped sideways to see what Adele was doing. Filling a syringe.

Hope's hand tightened on her lowered gun. "What's that?"

"A sedative for Thom. He has a wicked temper. When the kumpania or the Cabal starts banging on that door, things will get ugly. I don't want him upset."

"When they do show up, let me do the talking. I'll negotiate – "

"With what?" Her look dripped disdain. "I'll do the talking. I know what we've got in here, and how to use it to our advantage."

"Adele, we – "

A noise behind Hope. A rustling. From the crib.

She'd forgotten the crib. Her knees locked, brain ordering her to stay where she was, not to look, that it wouldn't do any good.

And what good would it do to not look? Cover her eyes, plug her ears and whistle past the cemetery? When she got out, she had to do something about this, which meant she had to take the story back to the council. The full story.

Hope stepped to the crib, and a scream congealed in her throat. It wasn't a baby. It wasn't even human. It couldn't be. A doll. A prank. Adele's plan to shock Hope, distract her so she could get her gun.

It moved.

Hope's scream escaped in a strangled yelp.

Adele laughed. "That's Martha. Freaky, isn't she? Like a giant slug." Once she said that, Hope couldn't shake the image, as hard as she tried to see what lay in that crib as human. It was a woman with long, tangled white hair. She was limbless and eyeless, her body so white it blended with her diaper. She writhed from side to side, mouth opening, mewling.

"She's probably hungry." A flat statement, carrying no sense of obligation to do anything about it. "She's the most powerful of them. But we can only pick up her visions – she can't communicate. That's why Thom's the most valuable. Aren't you, sweetie?"

Hope looked from Adele, pinging air bubbles from the needle, to Thom, watching Adele with that intent stare.

" 'dele," he said, the guttural word carrying the same edge as one of Karl's warning growls.

"Everything's okay, sweetie. I'm just giving you one of your shots, to calm you down."

"No."

"Oh, I know you don't like them. They make you feel all fuzzy, don't they?" She paused, head cocking. "Hear that, Hope? Seems they finally found us."

Hope caught the faint clink of metal. Someone descending the ladder.

"Don't worry. They can't get in." She took a key from the tabletop, waved it and dropped it into her pocket. "Once the door is closed, no one gets in or out without that. Of course, to get out, we're also going to need to get past them."

Adele lifted the needle to check the dose.

"You're going to hold the seers hostage," Hope said.

"It doesn't matter who's coming down those steps – Cabal or kumpania – for either one, these guys are the most valuable things on the property."

She started toward Thom. Chaos buzzed from him, fear muted by uncertainty, sensing danger but seeing only someone he trusted.

" 'dele…" He grabbed the arms of his chair, rising.

"I don't think that's necessary," Hope said. "He seems fine."

"Bold moves, Hope. You have to be willing to make the bold moves." She stopped in front of her. "When you see the options, there's always one that seems like it's too much. It goes too far. That's the one you need to take."

Hope tried to pick up a stray chaos vibe, a thought, anything to confirm her fears. Adele only looked at her, mind blank, face expressionless. But Hope knew. She knew.

The door clicked. They both looked over. The knob turned one way, the other, then stopped. Adele began to circle around Hope. She stepped into Adele's path.

"He doesn't need that shot," Hope said. "He's calm, and I'll make sure he stays that way. You negotiate. Thom will be my responsibility."

Adele tried sidestepping. When Hope countered, Adele's lips tightened in annoyance. "I'm just going to give him a sedative, let him sleep this out."

"No, you're not. This isn't a bold move, Adele. It's craz – premature. We haven't even opened negotiations."

She hesitated. Reconsidering? After a moment, she sighed. "We have to enter from a strong position. Don't you see that? Start by proving we aren't making idle threats."

"But Thom – "

" – is the most valuable seer. A huge loss. Enter from that position, and we'll have them scrambling to save the other two."

She sidestepped again. Hope raised her gun.

Adele laughed. "You aren't going to use that. You need me."

"Not badly enough to let you kill anyone else."

She stepped past Hope. "I gave you a story. Stick with that."

Hope turned the gun on Adele. "Put the needle down."

"Relax, Thom." Adele laid her hand on his chest, pushing him back into his seat. "You're just going to take a nap, okay, sweetie?"

He resisted her push, but didn't shove back, staying on the edge of his seat, fear tempered with confusion, sensing danger, seeing only Adele.

Hope raised the gun, to her head. "Adele, put down – "

"Oh, please." She moved the syringe to Thom's arm. "Bold moves, Hope. You have to be willing to make – "

Hope fired.

Robyn saw Hope and Adele run from the tear gas fog, Adele escaping, Hope giving chase. She leapt up from her hiding place, thinking,"I have to tell Finn."

Then she'd seen the gun clutched in her hand and thought what the hell am I thinking?

Hope deserved someone who knew how to fire a gun, but at this moment, Robyn was the only person close enough to help. So after one last look around, hoping for a glimpse of Finn or Karl, Robyn gave chase.

Following Hope wasn't easy. They had a huge head start and Robyn would have lost them if Adele's goal hadn't been obvious – a building in the field. By the time Robyn reached it, Hope and Adele were inside. Robyn pulled another mystery show move, sliding along the wall toward the door, her nerves eased by thinking how Damon would get a laugh if he could see her and maybe, just maybe, he could.

Robyn cracked open the door and peered in. It was a tiny shed, empty, no place to hide. She slipped in. When her eyes adjusted, she noticed a bare spot in the hay and, beneath it, a trapdoor. She opened it, listened and descended.

There was a second door below. Closed, but not locked, it led into a darkened hall. She made her way carefully down it, gun at the ready. It led to another door. This one was closed and locked. Beyond it, she made out the murmur of voices. One was Hope's. The other, female, presumably Adele's. Robyn caught a word here and there, but not enough to decipher the conversation.

She pressed her ear against -

A blast from the room sent Robyn reeling back. She caught her balance, then replayed what she'd heard. A bang. A crash. Something falling. She told herself it was some thing falling not some one, but she'd heard those sounds too often in the last few days to mistake it for anything.

A gunshot and a body dropping.

She flew to the door, grabbing the knob.

"Hope! Hope!"

She screamed her name until she couldn't, until her throat was raw, and still she whaled on the door, yanking and yanking and yanking, her shoulder blazing.

When Damon died, everyone said, "I'm here for you, Rob. Just let me know what you need." Hope never said that. She was just there, making a meal or doing her laundry or working silently at her kitchen table while Robyn sobbed in the bedroom, thankful to be alone yet not alone. Hope hadn't asked whether Robyn wanted her to come out to L.A. She'd shown up. She didn't ask whether Robyn needed Portia's murder solved. She just did it.