Kelly Meding - Another Kind of Dead

I threw out a name. “Walter Thackery.”

Another crack in the form of furrowed eyebrows. “What about him?”

Not “Who is he?”

“He created the hounds and all the other hybrids locked down in your sublevels. I have information that can help you catch him, but first I need to see those hounds.”

His eyes narrowed. Bastian seemed to weigh my words, in no hurry, unaware I was on a big damned deadline. He finally broke the hold on my gaze and looked at the trio of Handlers. “Who’s responsible for her?”

“I am,” all three replied in chorus. I would have laughed if it hadn’t been so generous.

Bastian blinked. “Adrian comes with us. You two stay.”

Wyatt made a startled grunt. I squeezed his arm just above the elbow, then winked when he caught my eye.

“Weapons stay here,” Bastian said.

“Not a fucking chance in hell,” I replied, as nonchalant as if he’d asked whether I wanted cream in my coffee.

He scowled, then walked over to the elevator and entered a code. A little yellow light flashed green, and the doors slid open. I followed him and Baylor into the wide polished-metal interior, turned, and held Wyatt’s gaze until the doors closed. My stomach flipped as the elevator dropped. I hated elevators, had for most of my life. Felt too much like free-falling.

Bastian flanked my right side, and, this close, I smelled oranges and patchouli—an odd mix of scents that mingled with memory. If not for Bastian, my life would have been completely different. Maybe I’d have died long ago on the streets, another victim of random violence—Dreg or otherwise. Maybe I’d have fallen in love with a handsome older man who would have taken me away from this damned city, to a life of luxury and pleasure. And maybe rainbows would’ve shot out of my ass. For better or worse or something in between, Bastian had gotten me here.

I was tempted to punch him in the eye for it. Fortunately for his good looks, the elevator dinged on level S-3. Another keypad lit up by the door, and Bastian typed in another code. The security in the place impressed me. It meant everyone who went in and out was recorded and logged somewhere—information that would make discovering the traitor much easier.

The doors opened on a long, well-lit corridor that stretched a good twenty yards before ending in a T junction. Every few yards a stark gray metal door presented itself. Each had a fist-size door at eye level, with a slot to slide it back and see what was inside. At waist level on the left side of each door was a keypad and a card slider—double security on these doors.

As we exited the elevator, my nose was assaulted by the rank odors of urine, blood, sweat, wet dog, and something I couldn’t identify. Sweet like honey, but with an undercurrent of tang. The strength of the smells made my eyes water. Even Baylor looked queasy.

Bastian strolled down the corridor, past a dozen doors, and turned right at the T junction. More doors, these a bit closer together. He stopped at the first on our left and pulled back the slot guard. He moved to the next and repeated it with six doors, not even bothering to look inside, so confident the hounds were there.

I glanced at Baylor, who quirked an eyebrow. “Your show, Stone,” he seemed to say.

The slot window was protected by thick (and hopefully shatterproof) glass. I peered through, into a room roughly six-by-six feet, dimly lit by an overhead, inset light source. A hulking shadow crouched in the corner of the room, its dark brown pelt glimmering, back to me. But I knew that shape—long limbs and human torso, roped with deadly muscles, hands that sported razor claws. My stomach knotted fiercely.

“One down,” I said, then moved to the next door. Each presented a repeat of the last—a hound huddled in one of the corners, facing away, subdued and very much not dead. All six hounds present and accounted for. “Hell.”

“You genuinely suspected someone here released those monsters?” Bastian asked.

“No reason not to, since someone here tipped off Thackery about Token’s removal.”

Bastian’s face drew in on itself, like the man had just sucked on a lemon. “That’s a serious charge.”

“You didn’t deny it.”

“No, I didn’t.”

A chill spread through my chest. Behind me, Baylor drew to his full height, tense, watching. I instinctively felt for my tap to the Break and grasped the fine edges of power with my mind. Just in case I needed to get us out in a hurry.

“I don’t speak for the scientists who work here,” Bastian said. “So I don’t dare speak for or against their possible actions regarding this man Thackery. You came to see the hounds, and as you can see, they’re tucked in nice and secure.”

“The hounds are here, fine,” I snapped, “but that doesn’t mean someone in R&D isn’t responsible for the other hounds being turned loose, or for getting Phineas el Chimal, a member of the Assembly of Clan Elders, fucking kidnapped.”

Bastian cocked his head to the side. “Is he the same Elder who demanded the execution of one of our Handlers less than two weeks ago?”

“So? Phin pardoned Rufus and rescinded his demand of execution. You know that.”

“Yes, but how do you know that, Chalice ?”

I had not for a single second thought Bastian a fool. There was no sense in bothering with the charade. “I know because I was the one who protected the last three—four if you count the infant—living members of the Coni Clan. I caught Snow, one of the perpetrators of the Parker’s Palace massacre, and I’m the one who actually put Leonard Call into a coma by jumping out a window with him.”

Annoyance and awe warred on Bastian’s face, skewing his mouth into an uneven line and creasing his forehead. “So,” he said slowly, “we meet again, Evangeline. It’s been quite a few years, and—”

“Oh my, how I’ve changed? Save it. I’ve heard it before.”

“I can imagine. It’s not every Hunter who has two death certificates in her file.”

“Can we pretend the one at the factory stuck?”

“I’m still working off the premise that the one at the train station stuck. It’s difficult to accept the notion that someone was actually raised from the dead and put into another person’s body.”

“Tell me about it.”

Baylor cleared his throat. “Do we really have time for this?” he asked.

“Explain to me again why you believe someone at R&D betrayed you,” Bastian asked. I did, and he nodded along, either accepting or simply absorbing. No idea which until he spoke. “It’s a logical assumption, based on evidence presented.”

“But?” I asked.

“But no one will admit to it, Evangeline. And given your deadline, you don’t have time to sift through telephone records and individually question everyone who works in this building.”

“The only people I need to question are the ones who were on duty yesterday when Token went missing. Where do I find that roster of names?”

“I can get it from my office upstairs. Everyone who comes and goes uses an individual key code to enter and exit the building.”

“Good. Were you here?”

His eyebrows slanted in a deep V. “Yes. As I said, my office is upstairs. Are you going to accuse me of being the traitor now?”

“Depends.”

“On?”

I swallowed, my heart beating just a little faster. “Did you call Thackery to tell him that Token was missing?”

“No.”

Phew . Scratch one name off the immediate list. He’d come off the Official List as soon as someone checked his cell phone—

“I didn’t call Thackery,” Bastian said wearily, “because he called me first.”

Sound roared in my ears. I didn’t register Baylor pulling his gun, only him stepping around in front of me, pistol leveled on Bastian’s throat. I couldn’t seem to pick my jaw up off the floor. Had Bastian seriously just confessed his compliance with the Bad Guy?