Kelly Mendig - Three Days to Dead

“Vampires and goblins do not work together.”

“Traditionally, no,” Wyatt said. “But it’s been a week for trying new things, hasn’t it? Like answering a simple question.”

Max’s heavy brow furrowed, a sure sign of deep thought. “Please believe that I wish to help.”

“I know you do,” I said.

Wyatt took a step forward, fists clenched by his sides. “Then try answering the question.”

“Wyatt.” I reached for his arm, but drew away, stung. Energy sparked around him like static electricity in a wool sweater. I’d never felt such a burst of power from him before.

“What do you know about an alliance between Bloods and goblins?” Wyatt asked, his voice adopting that low, measured tone he reserved for the moment before attack. The residual energy forced Max backward two steps. Wyatt was preparing to use his Gift. Brute force against a gargoyle was dumb, so what the hell was he going to summon?

I backed off and let him work. I trusted Max, but he was still a Dreg. I trusted Wyatt more.

Max growled—a scarier sound than any angry dog has ever uttered. “The full measure of my existence is a vast ocean to the small pond of yours, Wyatt Truman. I know much, and yet there are things I am unable to reveal. Things that will come with the recovery of Evangeline’s memories.”

My hand jerked. Was that an admission of guilt? Some ass-backwards way of saying he did know something, but couldn’t tell me? I gaped, finally seeing Max as he truly was. No longer a trusted confidant, but as another Dreg who deserved my suspicion and skepticism.

“Did you see me the night I disappeared?” I asked.

Max continued to watch Wyatt. “We did not speak that night.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It is the only answer I have, Evangeline. I am sorry.”

Wyatt raised his right hand and held it palm-up, level with his eyes. Light sparked above his palm, at first just a glimmer. It grew, coalescing into a baseball-sized sun that radiated heat and glowed yellow-orange. Max retreated to the deep corner of his nest, out of the arc of the orb’s light. Awed by the unexpected reaction from the gargoyle, I studied the offending object, trying to figure out what had frightened Max into the corner. I felt the heat, both from the orb and Wyatt. Felt the enormity of what he’d done.

Wyatt had summoned sunlight.

He stepped toward Max, increasing the power of the sun orb. Max roared, the sound shaking the stone walls around us. A soft snap-crackle sound filled the room, along with the odor of ozone.

“You will kill me and still know nothing,” Max said.

“I don’t want to kill you,” Wyatt said, taking another step closer. “I just want to know what you know, so unless you want the world’s worst sunburn, I suggest you spill it.”

“I can reveal nothing to you or your species. No threat can change that fact.”

“Really?”

The sunlight grew brighter, the snap-crackle more pronounced, like someone walking across a floor littered with peanut shells. A low whine followed—the two sounds linking and creating a symphony of Max’s pain. More than the effect on Max, however, I was stunned by the display of power from Wyatt. A few times in the past, I had witnessed him summoning small objects, weapons, sometimes even a spark of flame when he needed a match. But never the power of the sun itself, concentrated and perfectly under his control.

Ozone continued to fill the room, nauseating me. Max did not move again from his corner. Standing straight and tall, he did not flinch from the threat or his impending death, because I had no doubt that Wyatt would turn him completely to stone.

“He won’t tell, Wyatt,” I said. “He can’t.”

Wyatt flinched, but did not look away from Max.

I tried again. “He’s a gargoyle. His word is his bond. Once he gives his word in a promise, he can’t break it. Whatever he knows, he’s promised someone not to tell us.”

No one spoke; no one moved. Wyatt’s fury at Max bubbled just beneath the surface, but Max was only reacting according to his nature. For that single fault, I couldn’t let him die. He had been a loyal friend in my old life, and for that he deserved mercy. I circled around in front of Wyatt, blocking his path to Max.

Our eyes locked over the hot glow of the sun sphere. Orange light reflected in Wyatt’s gaze, illuminating the black depths I knew so well. Tangled with the light was something else, something more sinister—a deep-seated desire for vengeance at any cost. Hatred of certain Dregs projected to all of them without reason or direction. Sweat beaded on his forehead and red tinged his nostrils—sure signs of his Gift’s physical toll.

“Don’t kill him,” I said. “Please.”

Wyatt closed his fist. The sun orb disappeared, the residual warmth fleeing a split second later. The orange light remained in his eyes for a brief moment, flickering like living flame, before extinguishing.

With that light went the careful control Wyatt had erected over his body. He swayed like tall grass in a breeze. Sweat ran in thin rivulets down his cheeks.

“Wyatt?”

“I’m fine,” he said, the hitch in his voice indicating he was anything but. He wiped his hand under his nose, smearing blood on his fingers. Even in the bad light, I could tell he’d gone pale. He glared and snapped, “I said I’m fine.”

I almost called him on it, but Wyatt would never admit to the pain he was in. Especially in front of Max, who hadn’t moved, and any damage done was hidden by shadows. Only his face was visible, and it revealed nothing.

“Is there anything you can tell us, Max? Anything at all?” I asked.

“Only that if you return, I will not be here,” he said. “A war is coming, Evangeline. I hope you choose the correct side.”

The chilling words buried in my heart like a blade. “Max, if we meet again in this life, will it be as enemies?”

“We will not meet again.” He spoke with such finality that my heart broke a little. There is an old joke about not making friends with your food. As a Hunter, I never should have allowed my friendship with Max. Gentle or vicious, kind or cruel, at the end of the day—or the world, as events were slowly pointing toward—he was still a Dreg. He had betrayed me.

Wyatt touched my shoulder. “Let’s go, Evy. We’re done here.”

I let him guide me back to the exit, toward the bright morning sunlight.

“Trust no one, Evangeline,” Max said. “Not even your own people.”

The warning rang in my head as I climbed back out to the gravel path. Traffic rumbled and honked below, going about its morning routine, oblivious to the goings-on high above. Wyatt shadowed me, as pale in sunlight as I’d suspected in the dark. He moved slowly, carefully, like an old man afraid of falling and breaking a hip. He caught me checking and glared, his point clear.

Ignoring him, I led the way back to the stairwell and down into the bowels of the library.

At the bottom of the service stairwell, I reached for the utility door with trembling fingers. My knees wobbled. The enclosed space tilted. I grabbed for the wall, but my legs turned to jelly. Trembling arms looped around my waist, and we sank down to the steps. Wyatt engulfed me with his arms, holding me warm and safe. Chills racked my body. Gooseflesh broke out over my arms and chest. I leaned against him, grateful for the support and hating myself for the sudden weakness.

His breath was hot against my ear, whispering words I couldn’t hear over the roar in my head. Tears stung my eyes. I blinked rapidly and bit down on the inside of my cheek to chase them away. Freaking out right now was simply not an option. We still had too much work to do, and the clock never stopped, ticking away my last hours on Earth with unflinching steadiness.