Kelly Meding - Wrong Side of Dead

“They were your partners,” I said. “They loved you.”

Felix hung his head. A tear splashed into the leg of his jeans. When he looked up again, his face was a mask of misery and fear. “I just want it all to stop hurting, like before.”

My heart beat a little faster. “Soon.” Damn, I hated to play this card. “Felix, if you ever cared about Milo, or Tybalt, or Gina, you’ll be honest with us.”

He snarled, baring his fangs, and lunged. He didn’t get far enough to make me jump—the restraints were too tight. “Fuck you, Stone. Don’t tell me who I care about.”

“You’re a half-Blood, Felix. The depth of your feelings now means shit to me, but the man you were? The Hunter who died on that bus? He’d help us. You wanna die a monster or a man?”

He settled back in the chair, miserable. And also potentially pondering my words. He flexed his fingers, weeping palms leaving damp streaks on the wood arms, then curled his hands around the ends, as though he enjoyed the agony of the blisters.

“It’s for them,” I said, repeating the words he’d said to Wyatt. “You meant Kismet, Tybalt, and Milo, didn’t you?”

Felix dropped his chin to his chest, shoulders tensing. It was as good as a verbal confirmation.

“Someone’s threatening them if you don’t keep your mouth shut about this Halfie collection. Am I right?”

“He promised they’d be safe.”

Ding! “Who did?”

“I can’t—”

“They’re here in the Watchtower, Felix. We can protect them, but you have to tell me from who.” He was so close to giving me the confirmation I needed but didn’t want to hear. He just had to say Thackery’s name. “Please, Felix.”

A tear splashed onto his shirt, adding another damp spot to the muddle of fluids already present. “Two conditions?” he finally said.

“Ask.”

“You finish what you started on the bus.”

I jerked, startled by the request. Angry, agonized eyes met mine, and I could only stare back at him.

“I want you to kill me,” he said.

My mouth felt like sand, and my stomach dropped to the floor. Son of a bitch. It was Alex’s death all over again. He’d begged me to set him free and I put a bullet in the back of his head. Fuck!

“Fine. What’s the other condition?”

“I’ll only talk to you and Milo.”

I balled my right hand into a fist and pressed it hard against my thigh to stave off an irrational need to punch something. “Has Milo come to see you?”

“No, none of them have.”

“You think there’s a good reason for that?”

“Yeah, but I … I need to say good-bye. I owe Milo that.”

There it was—the reason we’d brought him back here in the first place. And now that he’d caught on, I was uncertain if the others would follow through. Milo had been incredibly hurt by Felix’s infection for very personal reasons. Seeing him earlier in the corridor must have ripped the scab off a healing wound—if it had even scabbed over in the first place.

“I can’t promise Milo,” I said.

“Then anything I know about Walter Thackery dies with me.”

Ding ding ding! We have a winner, ladies and gentlemen! It was almost too easy, and now that Felix was talking, I needed to tread carefully. “What do you know about Thackery?” I asked.

“He’s the one organizing us.”

Cold fingers crept up my spine. “He threatened to kill Gina, Milo, and Tybalt so you wouldn’t run to us and spill your guts?”

“Yes.”

It made sense, but it also … didn’t. We had the resources to keep them safe from Thackery, and yet the recent Therian kidnappings seemed to prove otherwise. I just couldn’t help thinking there was more to it. A second, more powerful reason that Felix would be Thackery’s lapdog. “What else does Thackery have on you?”

He glared. “Don’t forget the price of admission.”

Dammit .

The door clicked open. “Evy?” Wyatt asked. “Outside a minute?”

I followed him out, my mind reeling with the confirmation of Thackery’s involvement in this. In the outer office, I asked, “Did either you or Marcus mention Thackery or the missing Therians to him?”

“No, we didn’t,” Wyatt said. “He knew on his own.”

“Which means he was at the rave on purpose, as a distraction.”

“Almost definitely, but that’s not why—”

“Phineas is missing,” Astrid said as she stormed into the jail’s office. Every muscle rippled with annoyance. She looked like a prowling cat ready to pounce on the first prey that moved.

“Missing?” My heart nearly burst out of my chest. “How—?”

“He left the Watchtower without informing anyone. We’ve been watching his heat signature since his return from the country house, and not five minutes ago he flew off the grid.”

“He left?”

“I just said that.”

“Where the hell would he go?”

“Would he search on his own?” Wyatt asked.

“Maybe,” I said, “but he’d tell someone first.”

“Are you certain?” Astrid asked.

I threw my hands up, exasperated. “No, I’m not, Astrid. I’m his friend, not a telepath. He’s angry and he feels responsible, and even Phineas isn’t above doing something stupid when his emotions are running high.” I glanced at Wyatt. “Would he go back to the condo?”

Phin owned a condo in Uptown. It was a lovely three-bedroom place in a private community. For a time, he’d shared it with Wyatt and Rufus St. James. Rufus was wounded badly several months ago, and those injuries left him with a great deal of pain and unable to walk without assistance, so he opted to use a wheelchair for ease of mobility. He’d also turned down several offers to join the Watch, so he continued living at the condo. Wyatt now lived here at the Watchtower, and Phin shuttled between the two.

“Maybe,” Wyatt replied. “But if he did, I’m sure Rufus would—” As if on cue, Wyatt’s cell phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket, then showed me the I.D. Rufus. He flipped it open. “Is he there?”

I almost pinched Wyatt for not putting the call on speaker.

He nodded an affirmation—Phin was at the condo. “What’s he doing?” A pause. “Try to keep him there. His family has been kidnapped and I don’t—” He fell silent, listening. “Walter Thackery’s involved, but we don’t know why yet. Just try to keep him—Rufus?”

“What?” I asked, unable to stay silent any longer. This was a ridiculous way to manage a conversation.

Wyatt held up a shushing hand. “Rufus, what just happened?” I was nearly reduced to tapping my foot by the time Wyatt said, “Okay, thanks” and hung up.

“Well?” Astrid and I said in stereo.

“He showed up on the condo balcony,” Wyatt said. “Rufus let him in, and he went straight to his room, didn’t say a word. Rufus called when he heard a lot of noise, like he was shoving stuff around, searching for something. Said Phin came out with a wooden box about the size of a loaf of bread, went back to the balcony, opened up the box, shifted back into an osprey, and flew off clutching whatever was inside the box in his talons.”

“Rufus didn’t see what he took out of the box?” I asked, shocked by the described actions.

Wyatt shook his head. “Said it was long and shiny. The inside of the box was lined with satin, and he said the construction looked old. No nails, just wooden joints. Could have held a knife or something similar.”

We both looked at Astrid, who shrugged. “If that box’s contents hold significance for Phineas or his Clan, I’m not aware of it,” she said.

“Awesome.” Wait. Significance for his Clan? It could very well be a waste of time, but … “I think I know where Phin went.”