Kelly Meding - Requiem for the Dead

More gunshots broke, followed by the squealing of tires. I came up on my knees a few feet from my old position. The six goblins lay in an odd pattern of fuchsia blood and gore splatters. One twitched as it died.

"Stone?"

Tybalt jogged over to me and reached out his natural hand. I took it, as grateful for the help up as for the unexpected save. Behind him, Kyle was holstering his gun and poking at a dead goblin with his shoe.

"You have incredible timing," I said.

"Where have you been? We've been trying to reach you guys for hours."

"Long story. Where are Gina and Shelby?"

"Searching a few blocks from here. Astrid put three quads out when you'd been out of contact for four hours after Baylor called in the meet up at Lincoln Street. Where's everyone else?"

"Not far."

"Wounded?"

"Yeah." Baylor's death and Milo's injuries stuck in my throat. I couldn't make my tongue form the words.

"Let's go, then," Kyle said. "We can clean up this trash later."

Leaving six goblin corpses in the middle of the street, untraveled or not, wasn't good policy, but I didn't have the mental focus to argue the point. Kyle drove, while I rode shotgun and gave directions. Tybalt called Kismet, who knew where the old police precinct was.

Kyle navigated the narrow alley that led into the rear parking lot, and Shelby pulled in right behind us. Even though Kyle and Shelby were both on the list of Therians I mostly trusted, their proximity after the events of the last few hours had my hackles up. They weren't the enemy, though, and I had to stop from giving Shelby a hairy eyeball he didn't deserve.

"Christ, Stone, what's going on?" Kismet asked as she climbed out of her Jeep. She made a gesture at her throat. "What happened?"

Mine was probably bruised from that stupid collar. Wyatt had to have heard the vehicles, but he hadn't opened the door yet. Explanation time was now or never.

"We were ambushed on Lincoln Street," I said.

Kismet's eyes went wide. "The message for you was a set up?"

"No, that part was actually kind of helpful." I explained Horzt and his gifts, the ambush, waking up in our cells, and Vale's demands. Cold fury swept over Kismet when I told them about Milo; I couldn't even look at Tybalt. I glossed over our escape, Vale's escape and skipped straight to cold-cocking the sniper and my quest for help. "Tybalt and Kyle saved my life."

"Sounds like," Kismet said. She narrowed her eyes. "What aren't you telling me?"

I swallowed.

The door swung open. Wyatt stepped out into the sunlight, and I was grateful for his appearance. She shouldn't have to hear this from me.

"Adrian's dead, Gina," Wyatt said.

She spun to face him. "What?"

"He was shot by the sniper. None of us saw it coming."

"But…" The single word made her sound so small, so unlike her blustery, powerful self.

Wyatt came down the steps and folded Kismet into a hug. I turned away from the sight before their joint grief unleashed my own. I didn't have time to grieve for Baylor right now. Too many things were left undone.

"Where's Milo?" Tybalt asked me.

"Inside with Marcus," I replied.

Proving himself to once again be a man of impeccable timing, Marcus appeared in the doorway with Milo in his arms. Despite the fact that Milo was five-foot-seven and weighed at least a buck-fifty, Marcus held his weight he might a child half his size. Marcus turned a fierce scowl on the new arrivals, a protectiveness in his face and stance I'd never seen before.

"And still in need of medical attention," Marcus snapped, as though he'd been part of our conversation.

Milo's shirt hid the majority of the bruises on his back, but his legs were nearly solid purple and definitely swollen. Tybalt let out a string of impressive cuss words that cut through Kismet's grief and got her attention. She pulled away from Wyatt with a gasp.

"Put him in the back seat," Shelby said. He opened the rear passenger door of his SUV.

"We need to update Astrid and Rufus," Wyatt said. "The Danes have to be warned."

"Vale made a grave error by not killing us all when had the chance," Marcus said as he walked past.

"Agreed," I said. "but he also has two things that we need. The scroll and the cure. If he realizes they're valuable to us, he'll try to bargain."

"The only thing I'll trade him for is a quick death versus a slow one," Wyatt said.

"Once word of Vale's treachery is out to the Clans, he'll have few places to hide," Shelby said. "The Elders do not suffer fools, nor will they sympathize with Vale's attempts to cheat in the course of Riley's succession to Elder."

"Good," I said. "Vale gambled on Marcus giving up the mansion security codes and he lost. He's overconfident, and he rabbits at the first sign of real trouble. Now that we know his game, we know what to expect."

"So what's our next move?" Tybalt asked.

I thought of the sniper on the roof nearby, and of the address he'd given me. "I've got one place to start looking. Who's up for a trip into Mercy's Lot?"

A quick phone call to Astrid divided our rather large group into three neat little units. Wyatt and Kismet were heading straight back to the Watchtower with Milo, Baylor's body, and the trussed up Bengal sniper. Marcus, Tybalt and I were going across town to check out 452 Ashmont Road. Shelby and Kyle got stuck with goblin cleanup duty.

Ashmont wasn't very far from my old neighborhood in Mercy's Lot, a narrow north-south street that eventually connected to Cottage Place about three blocks from where I once lived with my Triad partners. Number 452 was eight blocks north, in a cluster of dilapidated row homes that hadn't been new in about seventy years. Our target was one house from the end of the block. Tybalt drove past and parked halfway up the street.

"What's our play?" Tybalt asked.

"Vale isn't foolish enough to still be here," Marcus said.

I scooted forward between the two front seats. "He was smart enough to leave a sniper behind at the last location."

"You're right. However, it's likely that this house was abandoned before he enacted today's scheme."

"So front door?"

"Front door."

The neighborhood was annoyingly busy, which made sense, since we were inching into the post-rush hour evening. Residents were parking their cars or walking home from the nearby bus stop. Marcus agreed to swing around to the access alley that ran down the middle of the block, between the postage stamp backyards on our side of the block and the identical homes on the opposite street. He'd go in from behind, just in case someone was still home.

We kind of blended, since only Tybalt was wearing his typical Watch uniform. I tucked my hair around my throat to try and hide the bruise that was slowly repairing itself, thanks to my handy healing abilities. Therians healed pretty fast, too, which was the only reason Astrid had allowed Marcus to come with us. His exposure to the silver collar had left behind a low fever and blistered skin that looked only slightly less painful than it had half an hour ago.

Tybalt's earlier anger had settled into an intense precision that fueled every movement he made. We walked up the cracked stone path to the sagging front porch. The screen door squealed on its hinges. Since we weren't alone, I made a show of checking my pockets for keys, while Tybalt used an attachment on his mechanical left hand to jimmy the locks.

He went inside first. I don't know what I expected to find—rogue jungle cats brought to mind images of caves and vines—but it wasn't this clean little home full of Victorian furniture. I didn't know much about antiques, but I'd bet that the silk chaise in the living room cost more than I made in a month. Despite the exterior, the house was nicely kept and kind of…regal.