Kelly Meding - Wrong Side of Dead

I nod, acknowledging without committing. Phin and Wyatt haven’t been there in several days; however, they may both return tonight, and I don’t have the strength for another fight with Wyatt. “So, any word on our evacuation progress?”

“Several large trucks are en route to assist in removing all salvageable equipment,” he replies. “I don’t think a decision has been made on the structures.”

The main building, which housed Research and Development, is a smoldering mess. The dormitory in the rear of the grounds and the entire gymnasium complex are in various states of disaster, but neither has serious structural problems. Still, if we’re really evacuating for good, everything needs to be leveled.

“Some well-placed explosives will take care of the problem, I’d think,” I say, only half-serious.

“It’s being considered.”

“Problem is, it’s too damned noisy,” Kismet says from somewhere behind us.

I twist my head to look at her, as sweaty and blood-smeared as the rest of us. “Fire?”

“Harder to control. We don’t want the whole mountain to go. Normally, we’d ask the Fey for help, but—”

A little hard to do with the brass dead, the entire Council ignoring us, and very little left in the way of magical allies. “Right,” I say. “Any news on Bastian’s condition?”

Kismet takes a few steps forward. She’s short enough to not have to stoop beneath the low tent. “Morgan’s taking him and two others to the hospital. Their injuries are serious and we can’t treat them here.”

It’s a risky move. Without our contacts in the police department, those medical records will be hard to hide. Operating as Triads depended upon secrecy and the ability to move around without being bothered by the real police. It’s an advantage we’ve lost in a most spectacular manner.

“We’ll take the other injured out of here in waves,” she continues, speaking to me like an equal. It’s unsettling. “Some of the rooms in this motel will be for our little MASH unit, and the others for living in until we come up with something more permanent. The equipment can be stored in the trucks for now.”

Good plan, all around. “What kind of help is Astrid offering?” I ask.

“Assistance with transportation and any medical personnel we require.”

When she doesn’t continue, I say, “And?”

“That’s it.”

I glance at Phin, whose expression is blank. Our hands are still entwined, and I’m sure Kismet’s noticed, but I don’t give a shit. “Gee, that’s generous.”

Kismet shrugs. “She didn’t have to help us at all, Stone. Her team showing up today helped immensely. A lot more people could have been hurt or killed.”

“True.” Annoying, but true.

“And she wants to meet with us. Officially meet.”

“Meet, huh?” Looking up at Kismet is starting to hurt my neck, so I let go of Phin and carefully stand. The tarp brushes the top of my head. No dizziness, no vertigo. Score one for me. “Who’s us?”

“Me, Adrian Baylor, and you.”

I hear Phin stand up behind me, tenting the tarp upward. “Why me?” I ask. “I’m not in charge of anything.”

“Wyatt wants you included in this.”

So Wyatt spoke to Astrid about me. I can’t help wondering if it’s because of our little fight, or in spite of it. Or which makes me less crazy. “Now?”

“Tonight, after we’ve moved out and settled in.”

“I guess you and Baylor are in charge now, huh?”

A haze of grief steals briefly across her face, chased just as quickly by uncertainty. “Looks that way,” she says. “Which means you’re welcome to come with us, Stone.” Her gaze flickers over my shoulder. “Unless you have a better offer?”

“Depends on your definition.” I can’t explain why I’m leery of returning to Phin’s shared condo. Especially if Wyatt shows up.

I can’t tell her the secret that Rufus confessed to me about his involvement in the death of Wyatt’s family ten years ago, and if I’m put in the same room with both of them, I won’t be able to keep my mouth shut. Maybe that’s what Rufus wants, and maybe the chance to unload his guilt is what he hoped for when he told me, because I don’t like lying to Wyatt.

God, I don’t want to be responsible for this secret.

“This works out, though,” I say, my way of redirecting the conversation. “I wanted to speak with Astrid anyway. Right now, the Assembly is our best chance.”

Kismet nods, understanding without further clarification. The future of the Triads and the safety of the city are foremost in her mind, as well. “The vampires, too. They’ve helped us in the past. They don’t want to see the goblins or Halfies overrun the city any more than we do. Your contacts would be useful.”

“Contacts?” I snort. Can’t help it. “Isleen and I didn’t exactly exchange phone numbers. She just has this odd habit of showing up.”

Kismet arches a slim eyebrow at me.

“Okay, fine,” I say. “You call her, I’ll kiss her ass.”

Behind me, Phin chokes to hide laughter. “It’s very likely a vampire representative will be at your audience with Astrid,” he says.

I pivot on my heel, hands going to my hips. “Why’s that?”

He smiles, the enigmatic bastard. “A lot’s happened in the past three weeks, Evy.”

A series of sarcastic barbs die on my tongue as I comprehend the hidden meaning in his words. “Like unexpected alliances?” His expression remains neutral. “I’ll take that as a yes. Awesome.” I spin to face Kismet again, whose mouth is open in an O. “Looks like we’ll get to talk to the vampires tonight, too.”

Her expression shifts from surprise to annoyance. “Secret alliances between the Assembly and the Families? When were we going to hear about this?”

Phin steps around me, closer to Kismet. “When the Assembly chose to disclose it. We work with your Triads, not for them. We no longer answer to you.” It’s not quite a threat, but it’s close enough.

And I don’t know how I feel about it.

Someone had the good sense to empty out Boot Camp’s stash of sweats and spare clothes and distribute them to the motel rooms housing the refugees. Changing into clean sweat-shorts and a T-shirt makes my shower so much sweeter, and I’m almost energized as I exit the bathroom.

The four female trainees assigned to the room clam up the moment I step out. They’re a little intimidated by me, and I hate it. Okay, so I came back from the dead, have nearly died enough times to make any cat cash in its nine lives, and I can be pretty scary when I yell. Which I did ten minutes ago to gain access to their shower.

“Thanks,” I say as I glide through the small room, straight to the door. Summer humidity hits like a soggy blanket the moment I step outside onto a cracked sidewalk, facing a weed-pocked parking lot and the side of a mountain. Many of the room doors are open, creating a beehive effect of people going in and out at random, passing messages or delivering supplies. Three hours here and things are running smoothly, thanks to Baylor and Kismet.

The Green Acres Lodge office has become our modified command center, so I head around to the front. The motel is L shaped, the inside of the L facing the mountains, and the office on the short end, along with an old diner. I’m on the long end, so it’s a hefty walk. My poor stomach is tied up in unhappy knots, an awful combination of nerves and lack of food.

I still have no idea where I stand in all this. My brain wants to help the remaining Triads in whatever way I can. My heart wants to find Wyatt, haul him into the nearest empty room, and demand to know what he’s thinking. What he’s feeling. To have him tell me everything that happened while I was missing.