Kelly Meding - As Lie the Dead

“You’re a Hunter, and she’s your superior—”

“I was a Hunter. That woman died.”

“So what now? You’re going to go freelance and turn your back on the people who made you what you are?”

“They turned their backs first.”

“And this is your revenge.” It wasn’t a question, and Felix held my gaze intently, his dark eyes full of accusation and frustration.

I was struck dumb. This wasn’t about my getting revenge on the brass for ordering me neutralized. It was about the Owlkins. It was about finding out if someone up the food chain meant to slaughter the other bi-shifting Clans. It was about someone with power finally taking some fucking responsibility.

It wasn’t about my vengeance.

It’s not about me .

“Nothing personal, Felix,” I said, “but give Kismet a message for me.”

He quirked an eyebrow in silent question. I smashed the gun butt into his temple. His head dropped against the steering wheel, eliciting a brief honk from the horn. I rifled through his jacket until I produced a cell, slipped it into my pocket, and tucked the gun into the waistband of my jeans. With my bag on one shoulder, I climbed out of the car and bolted.

Back into my city. Alone.

It took time to get across town without a car. I’d managed fifteen blocks of ducking in and out of alleys, avoiding known Dreg hot spots, and generally melting into shadows—not terribly easy with a carry-on strapped to my back—before Felix’s cell rang. I ducked into the gloom of a gated storefront and fished the phone out of my pocket.

“You get my message?” I asked.

“What the hell are you trying to prove, Stone?” Kismet snapped.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

“Not until I have proof.”

“And you think you’re likely to find proof?”

“Give me until noon today.”

“I can’t do that.”

I stomped a foot on the ground. “Dammit, Kismet, trust me.”

“I did, Stone, but my trust goes only so far when you’re acting like the rogue you tried so hard to prove you weren’t. You need to come in.”

“Not happening.” I wanted to tell her about Phin, about Leonard Call, and our meeting with Black Hat’s crew. Not yet. It was too much to explain over the phone. “I’ll call you at noon.”

“Stone—”

I hung up and turned the phone off. No more interruptions. Kismet didn’t want to listen to reason, which meant Triad backup was off the table. Getting access to Rufus now would be beyond tricky—nearly impossible was a better assessment. My only real option was to go forward with Plan A and meet up with the gremlins. And hope they had my promised information.

With another dozen blocks to go before I made it to their factory, and the time inching ever closer to sunrise, I started jogging. The stab wound in my stomach was mostly healed—only the faintest ache remained. My back continued to itch and smart, punctuated by the occasional flash of real pain. I briefly considered a couple of teleports, anything to get me closer in a hurry, but chose to hoof it instead. I hadn’t tested my teleportation powers in such a manner; I didn’t know how far I could jump and with what consequences.

The sun was peeking rays of pink and gold over the skyline when I finally reached the factory. The weed-spotted parking lot was empty, the surrounding buildings quiet. I crouched by the perimeter fence, partially hidden behind a cluster of unkempt bushes. Thirty yards of open pavement to cross before I reached the safety of the entrance.

Wyatt and Phin were the only people who knew I was coming here. Neither had any reason to report my activities to one of the other Handlers. Still, better safe than sorry.

I closed my eyes and imagined the little room just inside the factory’s back entrance. The same foyer I’d entered twice before, right next to the stairwell. The Break sparked and spit. Loneliness was easy to find, and then I was moving with the familiar sensations of being smashed and twisted into nothingness. A sharp twinge between my eyes marked passage through the solid wall. I felt the floor beneath my feet and the cool dampness around me.

The room tilted briefly. Fatigue and hunger were catching up to me faster than I liked. When this was over, I was so taking a vacation. I needed to get out of this damned city for a while. My entire life I’d never been farther than twenty miles away. I’d never seen the ocean; I wanted to see the ocean. That settled it—once this was over, road trip to the coast.

I almost believed it would happen.

After another moment’s rest, I left my bag on the ground floor and began my long ascent.

On the fourth-floor landing, I paused and listened. Not because I heard anything amiss but because I heard nothing at all. During my other two visits, I’d heard the distant hum and scuffle of gremlin activity moments after entering the factory. Thousands of the small creatures lived here; silence was next to impossible. But the factory felt hollow, empty.

I retrieved my borrowed gun and checked the ammo clip. Regular rounds—Felix had probably expected trouble from me. Gun by my side, I pressed my ear to the landing door. Tried the handle. It moved without hesitation, squealing sharply as old metal moved for the first time in years. From the layers of grime on its surface, I couldn’t imagine the gremlins used it.

It opened into a narrow corridor. The dim shaft of light from the stairwell did nothing to illuminate its interior. It carried the faint, familiar alcohol odor of gremlin urine, with no signs of gremlin activity. I let the door squeak shut, then went up to the top floor.

Faced with a familiar door, I paused, every sense on alert. No one was waiting for me. I heard no movement from behind the door. Something was very wrong. Had someone come after the gremlins without my knowledge? Had they vacated on their own whims, without any thought to the deal I’d made with them? The latter was less likely, given their literal tendencies.

Did I shout the proper greeting? Try the door first? Everything about it felt wrong, but if I turned and left, I might never get the information I wanted.

I was doing everything a Hunter was told not to do: entering an unknown situation alone, without proper weapons, and without backup en route. Not much I could do about the circumstances, with all my allies either hospitalized or against me. Circumstances that hadn’t much changed since my resurrection four days ago.

I retrieved the cell phone and turned it on. It was just something Kismet had said, something she seemed to imply during our last conversation. I hit Redial.

Something musical rang out on the other side of the steel door.

I turned and bolted back down the stairs. Sixth floor, fifth floor. On the fourth-floor landing, the door swung open. I sidestepped but wasn’t fast enough to miss the plank of wood that swung at my head. Vivid lights exploded behind my eyes, and then darkness.

6:08 A.M.

“Shit, she’s already waking up.”

“Dose her, then.”

“And here I thought I hit her too hard.”

The voices swirled through a haze of pain. I pushed against the brain fog, trying to swim out of the darkness shrouding my mind. I was lying on something hard and cold and uncomfortable. Something sharp pricked my shoulder. My hands instinctively reached out for anything familiar and solid … only they didn’t move right.

Metal dug into my wrists. More around my ankles. Old fear as sharp as flint and chilling as frost settled into my stomach. Squeezed my heart and set it pounding impossibly loud.

Trapped. Bound. In the dark.

No! I thrashed, terrified of hearing the clank of chains and squeak of an opening door. Positive the torture would come within minutes and cast me back into that dark place I hadn’t survived the first time.