Kelly Meding - Requiem for the Dead

"How's that?"

"A few months ago, you'd have barreled off on your own, caution be damned, and done what you thought was best. Now you're letting other people handle things and take the lead."

"I don't have a lot of choice." I saw his mouth open, saw the bon mot about to drop, and beat him to it. "Yeah, yeah, there's always a choice. Fine."

"Good."

"My personal growth is your new ulcer, you know."

"I'll take my chances."

Wyatt and I were on our way downstairs when Tybalt called me back. Marcellus had agreed with my decision to tell our Watchtower allies that we were both alive. He knew the Assembly vote would happen tomorrow, and he understood my need to mend fences with my coworkers. I told Tybalt to pass along my thanks, and then gave him the heads-up about Aurora.

"We know," he said. The noise from his end of the line suggested he was in the field somewhere—sounded like music. "Someone from the Dane compound called and told Astrid. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, pal, I just want them found."

"I know. We'll do what we can."

"Thanks."

"So when are you making your grand resurrection?"

"Officially in a few hours, I think. Wyatt and I are checking out some leads first. Tell Astrid she can let the cat out of the bag."

"So to speak."

"Exactly."

"Be safe."

"You too."

We hit the sidewalk and made tracks straight for the black SUV idling by the curb. Marcus flashed us a droll look from the driver's seat. He'd surprised me by offering to pick us up and help with the motel search. "Two noses are better than one," he'd said.

I'd accused him of working too soon after being shot—I still hadn't thanked him for knocking me down that night—and he had said it was the perfect cover for getting out of the Watchtower for a few hours. He was off-duty, officially, so he could come and go as he pleased.

I took shotgun so I could navigate, and Wyatt sat behind me. Our first stop was only four blocks away, on the edge of Mercy's Lot, a pay by-the-hour place I wouldn't have slept in if I was wearing a full-body Hazmat suit. Wyatt went inside to talk to the clerk while Marcus sniffed around outside. It didn't take long for my pair of Therian noses to suss out that Vale hadn't been there.

Motel number two was ten blocks north.

Marcus cast frequent glances in my direction, none of them hostile, but they were intent enough to make me squirm. He was entitled to be unsettled, considering what I'd put him through today, so I endured the discomfort for four more motel checks. The boys alternated who went inside and who stayed outside, and this was Marcus's turn to stay put.

While Wyatt went into the office, I pinned Marcus into the driver's seat with a frustrated stare. "Okay, what?"

"I understand your reasons for faking yours and the Elder's deaths today," Marcus said, his tone tinged with danger. "Family is important, and I know that fact well."

"But?"

"Today I found myself in the unique position of having to lie to Milo, and I'm furious at you for putting me there. He's seriously hurt, and he didn't need the added stress of hearing that you'd died. He values your friendship, Evangeline."

"Milo's my best friend, you know that. I didn't want to hurt anyone, Marcus, especially him and Wyatt." I hadn't properly thought this plan through today—that was becoming abundantly clear as I cleaned up the damage I'd done. Not that I'd had time to consider the consequences of my actions beyond saving my parents.

"I'm grateful that he didn't believe you'd died. I didn't want him to carry that emotional pain, along with the physical pain he's battling."

"Why did you kiss him?" I hadn't meant to ask the question, and especially not in the middle of an investigation. It slipped out without conscious thought.

My pulse raced when his face twisted into an epic frown. Marcus was genuinely scary when he was angry. "He told you?"

"I knew something was up between you two, so I kind of pushed."

Marcus studied the steering wheel with intense concentration, then looked at me with perfect calm. "I care for him a great deal."

"As what?"

"That's for us to define." With that, he climbed out of the SUV and checked the perimeter of the motel.

He was pissed and entitled to it, given everything he wasn't saying out loud. No matter where their fledgling relationship did or didn't go, I was glad that Milo had him. I was far from an expert on relationships, but they seemed good together. I didn't have to warn Marcus about handling Milo with care. We'd both seen Milo fall apart when Felix died; he wouldn't give his heart away so easily again.

The motel check has seemed like a good idea at the time, but when we were three motels from the end of the list and nothing had panned out, I'd added this little adventure to the long list of Shit I Did Wrong This Week. We hadn't even rustled a nest of Halfies to take the sting out of several wasted hours.

"At least we know where he isn't," Marcus said.

"Yay," I replied with an eye roll. "A city this size and we've deduced he's not in one-thousandth of a percent of the square yardage."

"We still have three locations left to check."

I gave him the next address, and he pulled out into the street. I glanced behind me at Wyatt, who'd been quiet since returning to the car. He was frowning at the back of Marcus's seat, eyebrows furrowed in a deep vee. Silver flashed in his eyes, and something about that drew Marcus's attention.

"Wyatt?" I said.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, then blinked hard. "I had the oddest feeling just now."

"Like what?" We were still discovering the nuances of his half-Lupa state, and I needed to know if he was about to go all wolfy on us so we could find a deserted building or something.

"I don't know. A sense of dread, but not mine."

"Have you been in contact with the Lupa children?" Marcus asked.

We both stared at him, surprised Astrid hadn't clued him into that particular subterfuge. "I have," Wyatt replied.

"Lupa Clans have a powerful sense of each other, even when not in proximity. Few other Clans have such a sense. It could be their dread—"

Wyatt yanked out his phone and dialed.

"—you're experiencing," Marcus finished.

I leaned between the seats, barely able to hear the electronic sound of the phone ringing. And ringing. Wyatt's face turned to stone. It rang until the service transferred him to a generic voice mail. He hung up.

"Take us back to my apartment on Culpepper," Wyatt said.

Marcus immediately made a right onto a connecting street. "They're in your place?"

"Yes. Something's wrong. They know to pick up when I call."

I squeezed Wyatt's shoulder. He reached up to twine our fingers, and I held on. I couldn't take away his anxiety for the three boys he'd adopted into his life, but I could be there for him. I'd fight for him, and I'd fight for them, because they were important to him.

Marcus pulled into the first free space he found on Culpepper, and we three tumbled out. We were a block away from the apartment building. Wyatt strode with purpose, desperate to get there, but unwilling to break into a full-out run with so many unaware pedestrians around us. This close to midnight, Mercy's Lot was just waking up.

At the door to the building, Wyatt froze. If he'd had hackles, they'd have raised on-end. "Vale," he said, the word almost a growl. "I smell the bastard."

Marcus made a noise in his throat was almost a hiss. "As do I."

"Evy?"

"I'll cover you both," I said.

As we went inside, I drew the pistol I'd kept tucked in my waistband. I preferred fighting with knives and that would never change, but I'd rather not have to get up close and personal with a were-cat's claws tonight. I'd much prefer to just shoot one between his damned copper eyes.