Keri Arthur - Fireborn

“Because I was—and still am—pissed off at you.”

“Yeah, well, that’s a two-way street,” he muttered. “How are you supposed to get the notebook back to the sindicati?”

I crossed my arms and looked out the side window for several seconds. It was tempting—very tempting—not to answer, but I’d already seen the lengths he was willing to go to get what he wanted, and I wasn’t about to risk another such debacle. Not with Jackson’s life on the line.

“They’ve given me a number to call.”

“What number? I’ll have it traced.”

“Why? It’ll undoubtedly be a burn phone.”

“Perhaps, but we might be able to get GPS positioning on it.”

“And how does that help, exactly? Whoever is currently holding the phone will be a subcontractor. The sindicati haven’t shown any real propensity to place themselves in the line of danger.”

“Exactly, which makes the fact that they took such a risk to grab you in broad daylight even odder.”

“As I said, I think I was merely an opportunity too good—”

“And what,” he bit back, “if you’re wrong? What if you were the target all along, and they were merely waiting for the right moment?”

“If they were going after me, they could have done it a whole lot sooner. Hell, I was next to useless for hours after you dumped us.”

“Except that they must have known we were watching you. That accident was not only very well timed, but executed in an area from which they could get away very fast—and they took our people out along with Jackson’s truck.”

Another chill ran through me. To do something like that took time and planning, and that could only mean he was right. But it also meant Amanda might not now be in the hands of the sindicati if she hadn’t insisted I uphold my end of our deal. And that, I thought grimly, was karma at its finest. “Are your people okay?”

“Yeah. The same cannot be said for Jackson’s truck, however. I’m not actually sure how Amanda Wilson survived that crash—there was a lot of blood on the seat.”

Seat. Damn, the USBs. “Where’s the truck now?”

“It was hauled away. I believe the police have been trying to contact Jackson.” He gave me a look that sat somewhere between annoyance and disgust. “Wouldn’t happen to know where he is, do you?”

“Yeah, I do. And thanks to you, he’s in the same place I was.”

Sam’s eyebrows rose. “Why in the hell would the sindicati want him ?”

“As insurance. I give them the notebook, they free him.”

“Well, that ain’t going to happen.”

I stared at him for a moment, unable to believe he’d actually said that. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“What do you think it means?” His expression was grim. “You’ve seen the red cloaks. You’ve seen what they can do. The life of one Fae is not worth the lives of the millions who could be affected if this thing gets out of control. We need the cure—or at the very least, a vaccine. To get it, we need those notes.”

“If you think I’m going to let you sacrifice Jackson’s life—”

“You haven’t exactly got a choice here. You’re in this car, with me, and you’re not getting free of either anytime soon.”

“What? You’re going to chain me? Because that’s the only damn way you’ll keep me captive.”

“Well, there is the drug option. Or I could simply take you back to headquarters and lock you in one of our flameproof cells.” He half smiled, but it was a cold thing, holding little in the way of amusement. “It was designed to hold pyrokinetics, so I’m thinking it should be fine against the fires of a phoenix.”

I snorted. It might well be capable of withstanding the fires of a pyro, but he was forgetting one thing—I was a fire spirit . Of course, at this particular moment I was a fire spirit stuck in flesh form, but under normal circumstances, a cell of any sort wouldn’t have held me. Not unless they’d employed witches to create magical barriers.

But I wasn’t about to tell him that—why give him a heads-up? Hell, even if I didn’t find myself in that cell, another phoenix might. While there was generally only one pair per city, it wasn’t unusual for youngsters to linger in an occupied city for a few weeks or months while they were looking for a place to call their own. And there were always free cities—no older pair could ever remain in one place their entire lives. Sooner or later, it paid to move on—especially in places where hatred for nonhumans was high. Melbourne was pretty mild compared to some cities, but even so, Rory and I would risk only a few more rebirths here before we went searching for somewhere new. Personally, I was voting for any city that had more warm days than it did cold. Somewhere with bigger, wider sunsets where a firebird could enjoy the freedom of the skies every single night.

“For god’s sake, Sam,” I said, shoving away pleasant thoughts of warm skies and freedom, “when did it suddenly become okay to sacrifice even one life? You’re still a cop, even if the department you work for has a fancy title. Didn’t you swear to protect and serve? To—as the force’s motto says—uphold the right?”

He didn’t answer. Didn’t even look at me. But that lone muscle along his jawline was back in action. My words were hitting home, even if he wasn’t responding. But would they make any difference? Once, maybe, but whatever had happened in the years since we’d parted had obviously altered at least some of the core beliefs and values of the man I’d once loved.

Would always love, no matter how much I fought it.

I sighed. “Look, I know we can’t give the sindicati what they want, but, by the same token, you cannot seriously be saying you’re going to let Jackson die. If you do, then you and PIT are no better than the things you hunt.”

“Sometimes,” he said, his voice holding a deep edge of bitterness, “you have to become the darkness if you’re to have any hope of hunting it.”

And he had become that darkness. It was in him, around him. But it hadn’t yet totally consumed him. He wouldn’t be arguing with me like this if it had. “The minute any society starts that sort of thinking, it dies. Trust me. I know .”

He gave me another of those dark glances, blue eyes glinting fiercely in the gloom of the car. A tremor ran through me, fear and desire combined. “Just how old are you, Red?”

“Didn’t your mother tell you it’s impolite to ask a woman’s age?”

“Meaning, I take it, you’ve had more than a few rebirths.”

“Yes. I’ve seen Death in all her forms, and I have no desire to see her visit anyone I care about.” I met his look evenly. “Hell, I don’t want to see her visit someone I used to care about, which is why I saved your useless ass in the first place.”

“Bet you’re regretting that decision now,” he muttered. “Look, I’ll do what I can, but if it comes down to the notebook or Jackson, the Fae is a goner. We need those notes to have any hope of gaining ground on this virus. The sindicati—or anyone else—are not getting their hands on it.”

“Unfortunately,” I said, “they’ve already warned that the minute they suspect PIT or police involvement, Jackson is dead.”

“Then he dies. We have no other choice.”

“There are always choices, Sam. You’ve just got to be open to them.”

He made a short chopping gesture with his hand. “There is no alternative in this case, Red, and you know it.”

The time had come to reveal the ace up my sleeve. And, hopefully, it would be an ace and not another brick wall.