Kelly Meding - Requiem for the Dead

Thackery had been given these children to raise as he saw fit. He made them into the villains I'd once hunted. Had they been given to a loving parent, someone who wanted them to grow up sane and happy, they might all still be alive. Their family wouldn't have been ripped in half. They wouldn't be hiding out in the apartment of the man they'd tried to kill and only succeeded in changing.

For the first time, I hated myself for the thing I'd become—the killer that Boot Camp had created and unleashed on the world.

"Evy?" Wyatt knocked. "May I come in?"

"Yeah."

He pushed the door open far enough to slip inside, then shut it. He didn't ask, simply knelt in front of me and gathered me into his arms, a solid presence I'd come to depend on more than I ever thought possible. The tears still wouldn't come, so I clung while he stroked my back.

"What happened?"

"Bad memories," I said.

"Of?"

"Killing their brothers."

"Oh, baby." Wyatt pulled back and cupped my cheeks in his palms. "That was a lifetime ago. You can't—"

"Blame myself? That ship has sailed around the world, so try again."

"You reacted to a situation. You had no choice."

"Didn't I? There's always a choice, Wyatt."

"Thackery had Ava and Aurora. You were protecting your family."

"They thought they were doing the same thing."

"Maybe, but you know more than anyone that you can't change the choices you've made. You have to live with them." The soft growl at the end of told me he was also addressing my most recent choice to "die" without telling him first.

Wyatt knew about living with choices better than almost anyone—except maybe Rufus, who was still withholding a whopper of a secret from Wyatt. "I know," I said. "Really. I guess it hit me all at once, sitting across from the disciples like that."

"The disciples?"

"Peter, Mark and John. Don't tell me it never occurred to you?"

He chuckled. "I guess it did. Evy, there's a lot of blame to go around, but the important thing is that those three are safe, and they want to stay that way."

"They definitely seem to like you."

"I'm an easy guy to like."

I rolled my eyes, which made him laugh again. "You're good with them, Wyatt. I mean that."

"Some of it is Lupa pack instinct. They're young and they want to be led by someone stronger and older."

"Or they need a father figure, and they like you for it." Something warm flashed in his eyes, an affection that wasn't directed at me. "Did you ever want kids?" The question bubbled up and out before I could think it through.

His eyebrows winged up. "I don't give it a lot of thought, since Gifted can't have children."

One of those weird side effects of being able to tap into the Break and its magical energy source was sterility—boys and girls. Biologically, it made the question moot, especially as a "couples topic." But it didn't do a damn thing to stop adoption. Literal or figurative.

"The Lupa are your family now, Wyatt, whether we like it or not. And even if you don't see yourself as a dad, at the very least you're the handsome, fun uncle who feeds them sodium-laden fast food on a regular basis."

"A high-speed metabolism helps with the sodium and MSG."

"And seriously depletes your bank account."

"No kidding."

"How long are you going to hide them?"

He released a long, uneasy breath. "I don't know. If I can prove they aren't a danger to humans or other Therians, then maybe the Assembly will rescind their kill order."

"What if they don't?"

A flash of silver in his eyes hinted at danger if that happened. "One crisis at a time. They're safe here for now. Our first priority is Vale."

I could live with that. "Okay, so if you were a were-cat wanted by your own people, where would you hide?"

"If I was Vale, I'd leave the city altogether."

"But not before you get your ransom money. So where do you hide while that's happening?"

"Fleabag motel?"

"Plenty of those around here. Vale isn't the smartest big bad ever, but I don't think he's stupid enough to use his real name. It'll take forever to flash his picture at every front desk, and who knows if we'll be lied to."

"You're forgetting one advantage we've got."

"What?"

He tapped the side of his nose. "I know what the bastard smells like."

Sometimes having a half-Lupa boyfriend was kind of awesome.

With no computer on the premises and my pre-paid phone only a few years past the Stone Age, we figured out our motel search grid the old-fashioned way: a piece of paper and a phone book. It took a while, but between the five of us we knew every single street and location, and their relationship to the others. The pups seemed eager to help and disappointed when we told them they couldn't go with us.

"Too many people affiliated with the Watchtower will be out tonight," Wyatt said. "You're still wanted by the Assembly, so I want you to stay here. Promise me."

"We promise," Peter said, and that seemed good enough for Wyatt.

Not me. "You so much as go outside for a pizza and I'll bust your ass, kid," I said.

Peter blinked and nodded vigorously. "We'll stay here."

"Good."

Our next problem was the issue of transportation. Wyatt had fled the Watchtower on foot, and I'd left my car at the Dane compound. Stealing a car was on the list of possibilities, but we both preferred saving that one as a last resort. Stolen cars meant police attention when the owner noticed it was missing.

As I was considering calling Kimset to see if she could help us on that front, Tybalt called me. "Hey," I said.

"I knew you weren't dead. I told you she wasn't dead."

Oh crap. "Milo?"

"Yeah."

"Why aren't you resting?"

"Been resting all day, and then everyone started acting weird. Avoiding questions. Marcus finally told me what was going on, but I didn't believe him. I made him steal Tybalt's phone, since I can't walk."

The mental image of Marcus pickpocketing Tybalt made me snort hard through my nose. "How did you know Tybalt knew anything?"

"Because he came to see me a while ago, and he's not that great of an actor. If he thought you were dead and did what you're accused of, he wouldn't have been so calm."

True. Milo's deductive reasoning skills scared me sometimes. "Is Marcus with you still?"

"Um, yeah. He actually looks kind of steamed, and—"

"Put him on the phone."

My end of the conversation had earned Wyatt's undivided attention, and his expression asked if I thought this was a good idea. I thought it was a fantastically bad idea, but I couldn't let Marcus keep thinking I'd murdered his grandfather and gotten away with my own life. Hell, I hated lying to everyone about my latest death, but especially Marcus. I respected the hell out of him, even though I'd never say so out loud.

The only reason I knew Marcus was on the line was because he breathed really loudly, almost a growl.

"Marcellus is alive, too," I said.

I swear I heard his eyebrows hit his hairline. "What?"

"We cooked up the plan together in about five minutes, but he's fine, and I totally owe him for going along with this."

"Can I speak with him?"

"He isn't with me."

"Your parents are safe now. Why haven't you both come forward? Do you know how many people this is hurting?"

I flinched because, yes, I knew, and for once I actually gave a damn. "Marcellus wants to stay dead for a while longer, and his reasons are his own. I'm playing along for him, and it gives me a chance to sneak up on Vale."

"You have to find him first."

"No kidding."

"I have to tell Astrid."

"That's your call, Marcus, I can't force you not to tell her. But no one else, please. Promise me that, at least."

He grunted. "I promise to keep your confidence, and I'll ensure the same from my sister."