Kelly Meding - Requiem for the Dead

Wyatt snickered. "Serves him right."

"Yeah. Astrid's putting together some hunting teams for tonight."

"Goblins?"

"Yes, among other things."

He pulled back enough that he could look me in the eye. "Don't make this personal, Evy."

"How can I not, when Nessa's making it personal? We need to get out there and fight back before more innocent people are mutilated and murdered."

"You're right, but we need to be smart about it."

"I know, and we will. That's why you'll be with me, so I don't do something impulsively stupid."

Wyatt smiled. I loved seeing him smile, because he did it so rarely, and he was so handsome when he did. I kissed him, just a gentle press of lips. Should have known better, because he angled his head to deepen the kiss. My tongue flicked out to meet his in a quiet, intense dance that filled my mouth with the flavor of him. It had been less than twenty-four hours since our lockup in the bank vault, but it could have been months for how my body responded to his touch.

His cell phone rang, and I laughed as we pulled apart. "Your phone hates me," I said.

"Hates me, too," he said with a huff. Wyatt held up the offending object. Unknown Number. He answered it anyway. "Truman."

A voice squawked over the other end, and Wyatt's eyebrows shot into his hairline. "Yes, this is Wyatt Truman. Who is this?" He mouthed the word Lupa at me.

Well, I'll be damned. The pups called.

"Hello, Peter." He listened, and I really wished he'd put the phone on speaker. "All right, I can be there in thirty minutes. I'll have one person with me, and that's not negotiable. I trust her with my life."

Road trip.

"The same goes for you boys. I'm coming in good faith, so no tricks." After he hung up, he didn't wait for me to ask. "They want to meet at Sunset Terrace."

That made sense, since Sunset Terrace is where we'd first seen the Lupa pups and where Wyatt had been infected. It was also once an apartment complex that housed the Coni and Stri Clans, before the whole thing was razed by the Triads and the Clan murdered to near-extinction. So many bad memories there.

"And I'm going with you, right?" I asked.

"Of course."

"Are we telling Astrid first?"

"Maybe after we're on the road…."

Snagging a Jeep and getting on our way took less than five minutes, and it was twilight by the time we parked next to the vacant lot that had been Sunset Terrace. Unlike yesterday, we weren't alone as we walked toward the center of the cement and asphalt lake that took up the entire block.

Three teenage boys with identical red hair stood in a cluster in almost the same spot where I'd confronted one of their brothers five weeks ago. A surge of hatred for these boys hit me with gut-wrenching force. They'd nearly killed Wyatt, and they'd willingly worked for my greatest enemy. But on the heels of that hatred was a cold splash of pity. They'd been raised by a madman and taught to do wrong. I couldn't heap all of the blame for their actions upon their own shoulders. The Fey had given the Lupa pups to Thackery, and he'd manipulated them. Thackery had made them into monsters.

The tallest of the three broke away and came a few steps forward. His clothes were filthy, his eyes sunken. He looked like he hadn't had a decent meal in a month—which was very likely, since the boys had been fending for themselves for a while. I doubted Thackery had taken the time to teach them basic life skills, like getting a job and managing money. They were relying on instinct, and instinct had pushed them to contact an older, more experienced Lupa.

"Peter?" Wyatt asked.

"Yes," Peter replied in the squeaky voice of someone who hadn't quite finished puberty.

"I'm Wyatt. This is Evy."

"I know."

"Are any of you sick or injured?"

"Not really." His wide, silver eyes shifted from me to him. "Do you have any food?"

"Not with me," Wyatt said gently, "but we can get some. When was the last time you ate?"

"A while. We eat what we can find."

Like mustard packets. My God . Despite my better sense, I started feeling sorry for them.

"And you live in the apartment on Cottage Place?"

Peter shrugged a bony shoulder. "Sometimes." He looked over at his brothers, who hadn't stopped surveying the lot. They were a twitchy bunch.

"What do you want besides food?" Wyatt asked.

"Help." He seemed one sharp word from bursting into tears. "I'm the oldest now. I have to protect them but I can't by myself. Because of our father… humans fear us." He gave me a nasty glare. "They want us dead."

"I don't want you dead," I said, and I meant it. "I want to know you won't bite and infect anyone else."

Peter gave Wyatt a guilty look. "We didn't know that would happen. Father told us after, and it was too late."

"I believe you," Wyatt said. "Have you or your brothers infected anyone else besides me?"

The Lupa pup shook his head so hard I thought it would snap off his skinny neck. "No, never. We've been very careful."

"Good, that's important. None of you have attacked humans, but you did participate in the kidnapping and detention of other Therians. That's a serious crime."

Peter hunched his shoulders. "Are you going to kill us?"

"Of course not. And I won't allow the Assembly of Clan Elders to kill you, either."

Oh, Wyatt, I don't know if you can keep that promise.

These boys had been complicit in so many crimes, and they'd kept Aurora and Ava captive in silver cages. The Assembly had barely granted Wyatt leniency, and that was because of his value to the Watchtower, half-Lupa or not. The three teenagers in front of me were an endangered species, sure, but the Clans had ordered them murdered once before.

Centuries ago, maybe, but did fear like that ever really die?

Wyatt must have seen something in my expression, because his own face went utterly blank—not good. "Evy, I need to ask you for a favor," he said.

"No good conversation ever started like that, Wyatt."

"I want to talk to them alone for a while, and I don't want to put you in an awkward position with Astrid."

I opened my mouth to argue, but his expression stopped me. He could be as stubborn about things as me, and he wasn't going to budge. Letting him have his way (this time) was a better move. "Fine."

"There's a coffee shop two blocks from here. I'll drop you off—"

"I can walk." The exercise would help burn off some of my temper.

"Thank you. I'll call you in an hour."

"Okay. Just be careful? Please?"

"I promise."

My trek to Carter Street Bakery only took a few minutes. It burned up some of my concern over leaving Wyatt behind. The pups were scared and starving, but I didn't trust them one bit. I did trust Wyatt, though—to know what he was doing, to talk to them in a way that got them on our side, and to be careful when I wasn't there to watch his back. Mostly I hated being out of the loop.

I bought a cup of coffee and a Panini sandwich to try and alleviate some of my persistent hunger, then settled at a sidewalk table to wait. Halfway through my sandwich, Tybalt called with an update.

"We took Brett Lewis out to the building where you guys were held," he said without wasting breath on a greeting. Or asking where I was.

Brett had never been a Hunter, but he was a Gifted human whose specialty was post-cognitive psychometric readings. He could walk around a space and "see" events that had occurred. Sometimes he could sense strong emotions around an object, too. Brett at the jail was a good call.

"What did he find?" I asked.

"He mostly poked around upstairs. He saw some of what they did to Wyatt to get him to turn. Besides the four Felia, there was a fifth person present."