Kelly Meding - As Lie the Dead

“Christ, you scared the shit out of me,” I snapped, trying to get my racing pulse under control.

“Sorry. That was a really cool entrance, though.”

I rolled my eyes. “Who was right about what?”

“Kis. She said you’d probably show up, so she told me to wait and give you a message.”

“Which is?”

“Truman and St. James were moved from here to a more secure location.”

“Why?” The question slipped out, even though I could guess.

“Because someone sneaked in and tried to kill them. Well, tried to kill Truman.”

My stomach quailed. “Is he all right?”

“He’s fine. He had a silver cross that knocked her for a loop long enough to get help in here.”

“Were-cat?”

Felix tilted his head, considering me. “Yeah.”

“When?”

“About an hour ago.”

Son of a bitch. “She alive?”

“And being detained for questioning.”

“I can save you the trouble. My would-be killer fell into overconfidence mode and spilled right before the tables were turned.”

“Yeah, we heard something about that over the wire. Morgan’s team was sent in to check it out.”

Morgan would have a hell of a time wrestling Jag Man’s corpse away from the police. It was the third time in a week that the cops had been called to that apartment. My guess was it would take more than a Handler’s flashy Special Cases badge to get access. Or a call from the brass.

“So what do they want?” Felix asked.

“Same as us. Security for their people.”

He snorted. “By trying to kill ours?”

“It’s what we do to them.”

“Whose side are you on?” he asked, shooting me a queer look.

I bristled. “Right now? Mine, because I’m the only person who hasn’t tried to kill me at some point this week.” We could have this argument anywhere and at any time. I had better things to do. I still had to stash my new shadow and then get to Rufus. “Do you have any cash on you?”

“Some. Why?”

“Because I need it. Now, where did you take Wyatt and Rufus?”

Leo started awake when I knocked on his car window. He’d fallen asleep with his head against the glass, breath puffing a cloud of vapor the size of my fist. He blinked at me, momentarily confused, then rolled the window down with a hand crank.

“You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

“Sorry,” I said. “Scoot over. I’m driving.”

He complied without question—which surprised the hell out of me—and gingerly inspected the back of the passenger seat before settling in. Probably checking for blood. I slid in behind the steering wheel as headlights flashed into the alley. I started up the car and pulled out. Felix fell in line behind.

At first, Leo didn’t notice. After five blocks and two left turns, he twisted around in his seat. “We’re being followed,” he said.

“He’s a friend.”

Three blocks later, we pulled into the lot of the Palm Tree Inn, a white-painted brick motel nestled between two fast-food joints. It was U-shaped, its garish sign marking the open end of the lot. I parked near the office. Felix pulled in next to me, then darted inside.

“Is something happening here?” Leo asked, gazing around. Confused.

I turned to face him. “No. Leo, I need you to do me a favor. I need you to stay here for a few days while I take care of some things.”

His expression morphed from concern to anger and back again, unsure which to choose.

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” I continued, “and I can’t do my job if I’m trying to protect you. When this is over, we’ll talk. I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

Understanding dawned. His face went slack. “You mean about—”

“Three days, Leo. Just promise me you won’t go near alcohol or the apartment.”

A silent war waged in the ensuing silence, lasting the several minutes it took Felix to return with a key and room number. I climbed out with my bag and handed the car keys to Leo. He stared at them, then at me. “Fine,” he said.

“Thank you,” I said, then followed Felix back to his car.

We waited around the corner, lights off, until Leo retreated to his room with a suitcase and shut the door.

“He your old man or something?” Felix asked when we were back on the road.

“Just someone I’m trying to help,” I said.

“You can’t help everyone, Evy.”

“Nope.” I’d lost too many friends to think otherwise. “But the day I stop trying is the day I take a header off the Wharton Street Bridge.”

He grunted.

“Do you have any extra weapons?” I asked after a brief silence. “I’m feeling a little naked over here.”

“Not in the car,” he said.

I kept my eyes forward. It was his hesitation in replying, more than the answer, that unnerved me. I wasn’t asking for an arsenal. Just a knife or gun. Even a dog whistle would have made me feel better. Every Hunter carried extra weapons.

My overbearing tendency to question Wyatt’s orders had gotten us into many fights in the past. I latched on to that bullheaded curiosity—the impossibility of simply accepting an answer—and let it guide me. “How many were-cats attacked the hospital did you say?”

“Just the one.”

“And he attacked Wyatt first?”

“Yeah, he did.”

He . I watched the city fly by as Felix drove us west, back across the peninsula of Mercy’s Lot. Through quiet streets dotted with the occasional homeless wanderer or brave adventurer. Toward an unknown destination. I didn’t know what was waiting, but instinct told me it wasn’t Wyatt. “Not a very smart would-be assassin,” I said. “With Rufus recently shot and suffering from third-degree burns, the were-cat goes after the man who’s most likely to fight back and win?”

The leather on the steering wheel creaked. Felix had a white-knuckle grip, but his profile revealed nothing.

I laughed, pretending to be unbothered by my own comments. “His stupid mistake, right?”

Felix smiled and seemed to relax as he pulled to a full stop at a four-way intersection. “Yeah.”

“So how come you said earlier she was female?”

His reaction time was too slow. I ducked his flying elbow and threw my left arm up to block any further blows, while my right fist landed a kidney shot that took his breath away. His foot came off the brake, hit the gas, and we careened forward. I reached into his coat as we crashed.

My ribs slammed into the dashboard. I slid sideways toward the door, thumbing the safety off his gun. Felix glared at me, still holding his side, a little dazed from our sudden stop against a metal street-lamp.

“No one attacked the hospital, did they?” I asked. He didn’t reply; I chambered a round.

“No.”

“Where were we going, Felix?”

“An apartment across town.”

“Why?”

“Kismet wants to talk to you.”

“Bullshit. Why?”

He fixed me with a poisonous stare. “You don’t quit the Triads, Stone. You don’t get to run off and ignore your duty and make up the goddamn rules as you go along. You report all activities to your superiors.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” My hand trembled, but I kept the gun steady on him. “You lied about the hospital just to get me into a room so Kismet could lecture me about duty?”

“She doesn’t like being left in the dark. None of us do. You’re in the middle of something that affects all of us. You don’t get to keep it to yourself. We need to know what’s going on.”

“She could have asked.”

“Would you have told her the truth?” He snorted when I hesitated. “Didn’t think so.”

I bristled. “If I’d even considered letting her in on the full story of what’s going on right now, you can be damned sure that after this little performance, she’s getting nothing from me.”