As Lie The Dead (34 page)

Hearing the tumultuous beginnings of an organization I’d always seen as rigid and uncompromising was as disturbing to me as it was a relief. It was difficult to imagine Wyatt ten years ago, his fury at life driving him away from his own brother, blinded by vengeance for the dead. So unlike the man I knew—and yet, still so much the same.

“It was ten years ago last month. By sheer luck, I found out who one of the bounty hunters was. I
wanted to rip his lungs out through his throat and wear them like wings. Nicky tried to stop me, wouldn’t let me leave our apartment. He said if I went after this guy, I’d be killed, too. I was so angry, I didn’t care, and I told him so. We fought, and I pushed him.”

Although Wyatt’s voice remained calm, he looked lost, caught up in the memory of such awful pain. I could guess how his story ended, and I wanted to stop him from saying anything else. Wanted to save him the emotional agony. But something thick and heavy clogged my throat and stole my voice.

After a deep exhalation, Wyatt said it: “Nicky tripped and hit his head on the corner of the dining table. It fractured his skull and killed him instantly.”

I don’t know when I’d started to cry—tears skimmed my cheeks. His story broke my heart—his tone of voice as much as the content. He’d spoken with a matter-of-fact clarity usually reserved for unemotional topics while still loading each word with fury and humiliation. Admitting to the tragic consequences of his temper had to have been as hard to verbalize as my own earlier monologue had been for me.

“I think he knew it was him or me,” Wyatt said, his voice almost a whisper. “He knew one of us was going to die that night, so he did what he always did, and he protected me.”

“Because he loved you.” I almost choked on the words, the perfect echo of Wyatt’s own death. Taking a bullet meant for me, risking permanent death to make sure I wasn’t the one to die.

“Yeah.”

Ten years last month.

A memory returned with a sudden rush of clarity. I was barely a week over the flu and home alone when I found him in front of the apartment door with a bottle in his hand. It was the only time in my life I’d seen Wyatt drunk. And not just a little drunk—totally and utterly hammered. He’d muttered something about an anniversary but never elaborated. I hadn’t asked, and he eventually passed out in my room. But not before he kissed me—something I’d written off and filed away as a liquor-induced Bad Idea. We’d never spoken of the uncomfortable encounter. Hell, I hadn’t even
thought
of it again until today. I’d put myself to sleep with a couple of Jesse’s lagers and convinced myself I’d dreamed the kiss.

Did Wyatt remember it—or anything he’d said that night? Would things have been different between us if I’d pried the information out of him then? If I’d kissed him back?

It didn’t fucking matter. Not anymore.

I stood and crossed the room, unsure if he’d want me or turn away. He leaned back in his chair, arms open, eyes sparkling. I curled into his lap, and it should have been awkward. I should have been embarrassed by the position. I wasn’t. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, while he looped one around my waist and the other around my knees. We hugged each other, speaking volumes in the silent embrace.

“I went out and killed the guy anyway.” Wyatt’s voice rumbled through his chest and into mine, breath hot on my neck. “I hated that I could do it only once. We never did find the second one.”

Drawing back a bit, I met his gaze. “After ten years?”

“After ten years.”

“What would you do now if you did find him?”

His eyes unfocused as he went somewhere internal. Considered what I’d asked. It gave me hope that he hadn’t answered right away. “I honestly don’t know, Evy. I’m not Andreas Petros, son of a Greek immigrant, anymore. I buried him with Nicandro and the rest of his family.”

I touched his face, featherlight, tracing features I knew by heart. Strong jaw, straight nose, perpetual stubble, thick eyebrows. The man I knew and cared for was right there, a man named Wyatt Truman. I believed him when he said Andreas was gone. I also knew what it was like to carry the anger of another lifetime. It would always simmer beneath the surface, waiting for the right spark to be struck and ignite an inferno.

Wyatt tilted his head to the side. “Are you sorry you asked?”

“I wish I’d asked sooner. It’s amazing the things we don’t know, even about people we consider our closest friends.”

“We’re both private people, Evy. Most people wouldn’t understand our kinds of pain anyway.”

“True, but some will try if given half a chance.” I put my head on his shoulder, and we held each other for a while. I listened to the thrum of his pulse and the gentle rasp of his breathing. Let the minutes tick away in companionable quiet, until my curiosity got the better of me. “It took three years to come up with the system we have in place now?”

“Give or take, yeah.” His fingers drew light lines up and down my arm, tickling. “You put six strong, angry personalities into one room and no one likes to give in and take orders. Plus our antics were getting noticed by the real police, so we needed protection from them. Someone to make the right reports disappear or to turn a blind eye to certain activities.”

“The brass.”

“Right. We needed to have people on the inside.”

“Wyatt, are any of the original six—?”

“No. Two of them are dead; two are trainers at Boot Camp.”

I pictured the four trainers who’d tortured us through Boot Camp. They were all Wyatt’s age, maybe up to ten years older. Any of them could be the original Hunters, but I couldn’t bring myself to intrude further into Wyatt’s memories by asking. “And the other two are you and Rufus,” I finished for him.

“Yes. I don’t know how she recruited the cops who help us, but she did, and their identities are one of the most guarded secrets in the Triads.”

“She?”

“Amalie set that up for us.”

My entire body jerked. Amalie knew the brass, and I felt like an absolute idiot for not thinking of her sooner. She’d had a hand in the Triads since their conception. Would she really be party to tearing them down from the top?

“Don’t even think it, Evy. If Amalie had any idea of the deal you made with Phin, she’d—”

“What? Use her supersprite abilities and have me killed?”

“She’d probably use all of her vast influence and power to prevent you from succeeding. She believes completely in the mission of the Triads. She helped create us, for Christ’s sake.”

“Because she didn’t want to see humans overpowered by the other species?”

“Yes. If we lose control of this city, then First Break becomes more vulnerable to others. We saw what almost happened with Tovin. If we hadn’t been there to stop him, the city would be crawling with demons.”

“I know, okay?”

He squeezed my knee. “Phineas said he wouldn’t ask for Rufus’s life if we helped him. We’re doing that. What’s the point in exposing the brass now? Wasn’t the point to save Rufus?”

I hated that he was right. Exposing the brass had been a means to an end. Now that the end was met, the path was no longer viable. Only, once I had an idea in my head, I had a hard time letting go. If orders like the Neutralization on Sunset Terrace and on me—orders that came with no proof and no positive results—could make it through unchecked, the system needed an overhaul.

Phin wanted Therians included in the Triads. The races wanted more influence in governing themselves without living under the constant threat of human smack-down. It wasn’t a completely unreasonable request. Maybe it would have prevented all the conflict with Call and his militia. Saved everyone a lot of heartache.

“Do you still believe in this system?” I asked.

“You mean the system that tried to kill you twice,
wiped out an entire were-Clan, and puts all the blame for what you kill on the shoulders of your Handler?” He sighed. “Yeah, I do. It’s flawed, sure, but our intentions are right. It’s all we’ve got.”

“And if you could change it?”

“I think it would be an uphill battle the entire way. Some people embrace change, others resist it. Still others resist violently.”

“Which one are you?”

He was quiet for a moment. “I think the only thing I’ve got to lose is right here, and that we make one hell of a team.”

I considered that, head comfortably nestled against his shoulder. We were on the precipice of a war—one the rest of the city would never see coming. But they’d see it when the violence spilled out into the streets. Fear had kept the rogue vampires and Halfies in line—fear of swift death at a Hunter’s hands. Only now they were organizing. The choreographed attack that had left my two Triad partners dead was well planned and better executed. Even if someone was pulling their strings, they were listening. Call’s militia stood to destroy everything.

If we didn’t rip apart from the inside first.

“So …” I let the single syllable drag out into three. “You know how you said the Assembly was calling you a killer?”

“Not tonight, Evy, please? I’ll tell you about it, but ripping open one wound a night is my limit.”

“They said I should ask the killer I protect about Snow and his connection to the Triads. If you’re who they were talking about—”

“I don’t know who Snow is.” His voice hinted at truth, but the hard tension thrumming through his body told otherwise.

“Then why would the Kitsune Elder call you a killer and seem not terribly surprised at what Snow’s planning?”

Someone knocked on the door. Annoyed at the interruption, I almost told whoever it was to fuck off. But Phin was due in, so I regretfully left the warmth of Wyatt’s lap.

“Don’t think this conversation is over, Truman,” I said as I trotted to the door. Sure enough, Phin stood back far enough to be fully visible through the peephole. I unlocked the door, and he breezed inside without waiting for an invitation.

“Jenner called me,” he said. “I’m sorry about the Assembly. You deserved that information.”

I shrugged as I closed the door and relocked it. “The more I talk about it, Phin, the less sure I am that they’re in danger. I just …”

“What?”

“Something Jenner said that day in his office still bothers me—that line about fairy tales. What does that even mean?”

A smile tugged the corner of his mouth. “He was giving you a hint as to the identities of the bi-shifting Clans.”

“Really? Because as clues go, that one sucks.”

“We’ve been here a long time, Evy, long enough to have inspired quite a few myths and legends among humans.”

I flashed back to Tattoo the Halfie’s reaction to Phin on the gym roof. “Like angels?” I asked.

“Precisely.”

It made an odd kind of sense. Part man, part animal. Greek myth had a story about something half man and half horse. Huh. Maybe after this was over, I’d hit the library and try to guess which of the other Clans were bi-shifters. Or I’d make Wyatt do it; he was way better at the research thing. “Thank you, Phin.”

He nodded.

“Anyway, there’s nothing left to be done on that front.” I took a step closer, as he’d retreated deeper into the room. “Did you meet Call?”

“Yes.” Phin’s nostrils flared. His gaze flickered to Wyatt, still sitting comfortably in his chair, then back to me. What was …? Oh. Heightened sense of smell—a little bit of Wyatt must have rubbed off. I quirked an eyebrow at Phin.

He continued. “Average human male, about your age, lanky build, maybe three inches taller. Brown hair, dark eyes, no discernible scars or birthmarks. Pretty forgettable fellow, except that he’s cut like an Olympic swimmer.”

“No one you’ve ever seen before?” I asked.

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Don’t think so, or you know so?” Wyatt asked.

Phin narrowed his eyes. “I know I’ve never seen him before. From the way they talked, Call and Snow have a history. They sounded like old friends, comfortable with each other.”

“So looking into Snow’s past might be useful in conjuring up Call,” I said, giving Wyatt a meaningful glare.

Ignoring me, he said to Phin, “I don’t suppose you brought a snapshot?”

Phin shook his head. “I couldn’t manage one without being obvious. I do have other news. He wants to meet you.”

For a moment, I thought Phin just forgot to look at me. But he was gazing right at Wyatt, whose eyebrows shot up into his hairline. “Me?” he asked at the same time I said, “Why?”

“He didn’t tell me why,” Phin said. “I never admitted I knew who or where you were; he just assumed. He said to bring you with me tonight.”

“Just Wyatt?” I asked.

“Believe it or not, Evy, not everyone knows that you’re alive—for the first time, and certainly not the second.”

“Maybe it means Call knows me,” Wyatt said.

He was actually considering it. I planted both hands on my hips. “Or Snow knows you and Call’s playing along, and one of them wants to put a bullet between your eyes. You can’t—”

“No?” He stood up, hands balled into fists. “He’s the big bad, Evy, and he wants to meet me face-to-face. How the hell often does that happen?”

“Like I said, usually before the bad guy kills the unsuspecting hero. Way to walk right into his plan, Wyatt.”

Something dangerous flittered across his face. “If Call had asked for you, you’d be the first one out the door, and my objections be damned.”

“I …”

What? He had me pegged, and we both knew it.
Any protests I tossed at him would be deflected, because I had no good reasons for them. Just selfish ones. I didn’t like being the one on the outside looking in.

“If it helps at all,” Phin said, “I didn’t get the impression Call wishes to kill him. He seemed more interested in a conversation.”

“Did he hint at the topic of conversation?” Wyatt asked.

“He didn’t say much of anything at all. Snow did most of the talking. A lot of his same spiel about the races policing themselves and holding accountable those responsible for crimes against them.” His words held no direct accusation; Wyatt still flinched.

“Wyatt,” I said, “why would the Kitsune Elder tell me to ask you about Snow’s beef with the Triads? Why you, specifically? What did you do to the Kitsune Clan?”