Kelly Mendig - Three Days to Dead

“Evy, it’s okay, I’ve got you.”

I fell against Alex’s chest, letting strong arms fold me into his embrace. I pressed my face into his neck and sobbed. I cried for the woman who had died in that room, tortured and left for dead. Only one, final piece of the puzzle was missing—my rescue and moment of death.

It would come, just as the other memories had. It was only a matter of time, and I didn’t want to remember any more today.

Alex stroked my hair and whispered. I couldn’t hear him, but it didn’t matter. The words were not important. I just needed his strength until I found my own again and the memories drifted back into the past. As I brought my emotions back under control, the torrent of tears subsided. My head ached. My nose was stuffy. My entire face felt swollen, but I could think straight.

“I am sorry,” Isleen said. “I did not realize how overwhelming your memories would be.”

“It’s okay,” I rasped. “I needed to do that. I had to remember it.”

“You said things while you were in the trance, Evangeline. You mentioned the name Istral. What does that mean to you?”

I studied Isleen’s face. The intensity in her stare surprised me. I realized why she had seemed so familiar at our first meeting. It wasn’t because we’d met before, but because I’d seen someone who looked just like her. “Istral was your sister, wasn’t she?”

Isleen nodded. “She has been missing this past week. I have feared for her.”

“I’m sorry, Isleen, the goblins killed her. I was there; I saw it.”

She bowed her head, and I found myself torn between wanting to comfort her and not caring for her pain. She was a vampire, for crying out loud. Maybe my ally today, but she could easily be my enemy tomorrow.

“The goblins were holding me on purpose,” I said, putting the clues in a row, trying to make sense of it all. “The female told me as much. They wanted Wyatt to find me, to know what had been done to me, but why? Why incite his hatred?”

“To divert his attention, maybe?” Alex offered.

“Maybe, but they should have picked a better target. I wasn’t exactly the poster child for the Triads, at that …” A scenario presented itself, one I had briefly considered that morning with Rufus. One that pointed to so many truths I didn’t know how to face.

“What is it, Evy?”

“What if it was all a diversion?” I said. “I know someone set me up for Ash and Jesse’s deaths. I was framed for their murders, which put me on the Triads’ Most Wanted list, right? So they’re spending time looking for me, instead of watching the Dregs. Other stuff, like a potential alliance, gets missed. Wyatt finds out about the alliance from Isleen, which makes him a threat. I’m already on the shit list, so kidnapping me keeps Wyatt off the alliance scent and looking elsewhere. They probably hoped that finding me torn to pieces would make him crazy enough to give up the rumors.”

“It makes sense, save one part,” Isleen said.

“Which part?”

“The part about making him crazy. Goblins do not understand mental illness or grief, but they do understand the concept of revenge. Hence your treatment under their care. They wanted Truman to find you, but not to grieve for you or to lose himself in that grief.”

“Then, what?” Her explanation made sense, but she hadn’t given me an alternative. “They wanted him to seek revenge for me?”

“Perhaps. But this is merely speculation on my part, as it is speculation on yours.”

Damn her and her good points. “So let’s end the speculation. We need to track down this Kelsa and extract the truth from her. Preferably with a straight razor.”

“We’re going to see goblins now?” Alex asked. His look was black.

“The offer to stay behind is still good,” I replied. “The things she did to me, Alex … If we get caught—”

“I’m staying with you, Evy. I said I would.”

I smiled, energized by his steadfastness. “Thank you.”

“We require another mode of transportation,” Isleen said. “My car is damaged and quite noticeable.”

“I guess you don’t keep spares in any of the empty storefronts?”

“This is a place of Sanctuary, not a used-car lot.”

Sarcasm from a Blood. Who knew? I stood up and nearly fell over when the room tilted. Alex looped an arm around my waist to steady me. I waited for the world to stop spinning before I gently pushed him away. I rubbed my hands over my face and through my hair. I still felt the cuts and burns, even though my skin was unmarred. It was like post-traumatic stress in fast-forward.

“We’ll just have to play this by ear, then,” I said. “Let’s go.”

“There is a serious flaw in your plan, Evangeline,” Isleen said as we left the mall the same way we’d entered. “We do not know how or where to find Kelsa.”

I rolled my eyes and ignored the statement of the obvious. This time though, I studied what I’d previously assumed to be a wall. It was a cleverly disguised entrance that made me think of the old Road Runner cartoons where a fake train tunnel was painted on a rock and the Coyote smashed right into it. Vampires were clever; I had to give them that.

The sun was dipping low on the horizon. The passage of time alarmed me. “Kelsa may have to wait,” I said. “I gotta get to that phone booth before dusk.”

“You still trust this Rufus guy?” Alex asked.

“I don’t know. I really don’t. But I have to do something proactive to find Wyatt. I just need to know that he’s still alive.”

I started down the sidewalk, unsure of my exact direction, but determined to find a car I could steal. Tufts of grass grew in the cracked parking lot, some of them sporting early dandelions. I plucked one as I passed and started tearing the tender yellow petals off one at a time. Something to keep my hands busy.

Half a dozen yards from the exit, I heard a distant hum. The air stirred. I stopped. Alex crashed into me, and I stumbled a step.

“What is it?” he asked.

“I hear it, as well,” Isleen said before I could answer him.

I looked up at the darkening sky. Thick clouds covered much of the blue. A bird flew too high to be disturbed by what had caught my attention. My stomach knotted.

“Get back inside,” I said.

Alex blanched. “What—?”

“Just go!” I gave him a shove. He started running, and I followed, Isleen somewhere behind me.

The helicopter rose up over the west side of the mall, ten times louder the moment it was in sight. The pavement exploded by my feet. Alex shouted. The trail of automatic gunfire followed us like a shadow, marking our trail until we burst into the safety of the mall’s interior.

We came to an ungraceful stop near the fountain, panting and red-faced. Even Isleen seemed ruffled, disturbed by the change in events. Through the entrance, we watched the helicopter land in the middle of the U-shaped parking lot.

“Who the hell are they?” Alex asked.

“No idea,” I said.

Isleen raced back to the car, as light as a shadow. She ducked into the car’s interior and withdrew almost immediately, gun in hand. She rejoined us at the fountain. Past the bulk of the ruined car, two familiar faces leapt from the helicopter.

Tully and Wormer, decked out in flak jackets and carrying enough ammo for six men, once again opened fire on the mall’s fake wall. Bullets pinged off the car bumper. Surprise colored their faces even from a distance.

“Christ,” I muttered.

“Aren’t those the guys from my apartment?” Alex asked. He’d gone pale, mouth tight. “They look pissed.”

“Wouldn’t you be?”

“You know them?” Isleen asked. She aimed at her targets, but didn’t fire.