Firebug (29 page)

I couldn't stop checking out Olive's face, the skin puffy and pink with scar tissue—though even that was fading as I watched, melting as if it had never been. Fascinated, I couldn't not look. Well, until Olive glared at me and very pointedly said, “It's rude to stare, you know.” I stumbled over an apology, and Lock busted up laughing. I kicked him, but he didn't stop. He just tucked his legs to the side so I couldn't reach. Jerk.

The phone in my pocket buzzed and my heart leapt with it. I'd handed this number out to only three people. Cade, Duncan, and the Council. I wished I'd given it to Ryan so I could tell him what an utter bastard he was, but my focus was really on Cade. I could track Ryan down later and scream at him to my heart's content.

I didn't recognize the number, but I hit answer anyway. “Hello?”

“Ava, so wonderful to hear your voice.”

Owen.

“You have a lovely home, Ava. Charmingly quaint. Like something out of a catalog. I helped myself to some tea. I hope you don't mind.”

I could picture Owen sitting at my table, his fingers slowly drumming across the top, a soft
tap tap, tap tap
. Pause.
Tap tap, tap tap.
“You didn't come home last night.” His words caressed my ears in a hum. “I heard a motorcycle drive by a few times. Was someone supposed to be watching the house? For me? I'm touched.”

My breath was a harsh scrape in my ear as it rasped over the phone. I couldn't think of anything to say. Owen had that effect on me.

“Then again, maybe they were looking for someone else? Your guardian, perhaps? Such a gentle man. You know his eye does this little twitch when he tries to not scream? Simply adorable.” He paused, and I heard him swallow. He really had raided our tea stash. “So where did you rest your little head, firebug? Hmm?”

When was the last time I'd heard Owen speak this much? I couldn't remember. He was something to be avoided—a filthy puddle in the road, a pile of rusty nails and broken boards, thong underwear made of scratchy lace. Thong underwear period.

“A friend's,” I said, my voice coming out thick.

“I told Venus you would come back here. She said you were too smart for that. It looks like I lost the bet. I rather dislike losing.”

“Oh?” I asked.

“You've given us a merry chase, but its time to face the music,” Owen said.

“I've never really understood that saying,” I said, nervously. “How exactly does one face music?” I knew what he was offering. Return to the Inferno. Take my lashings and everything would slide back into normal. Only it was a big ol' stack of lies covered in maple syrup. Venus wouldn't let anything slide back to normal. I'd cost her too much, both financially and politically. She had to save face and restore order to her bloodthirsty little kingdom.

“You're obviously too untrustworthy to work in the field anymore,” Owen said, and I was terrified by the joy in his voice. “Pity, really. Still, you have your uses. We were hoping to wait until you were a little older, but your defiance has sped things up a bit. You'll have to live under lock and key of course, but at least Venus will let you live. Maybe if you're really good, Venus will let you name one of our children after your mother.”

Stars and sparks—a breeding program. All those years my mom talked about it, but I hadn't actually seen any evidence of one since I'd been at the Coterie. The idea of Owen touching me made bile rise in my throat.

“Why now?” I managed to whisper. “Why not as soon as…” I couldn't even finish the sentence. I was going to be sick.

“We would have lost a valuable field operative. What sense would that have made? Now, however, you've made it quite impossible for us to use you for anything else.”

I know people throw around the phrase “I'd rather be dead” a great deal, but I'd rather be dead. As usual, all my options were shit. And overlying all of these was the fact that, if I wasn't careful with how I handled the situation, Cade might get hurt. Owen certainly wouldn't lose any sleep over burning him to death.

We were at an impasse, which I hated. It meant delicate treading, and let's face it, I'm crap at that.

I cleared my throat. “We both know I can't go back.”

“And we both know I can't let you go.”

My mind whirred, flitting about here and there, desperately trying to come up with any way out. A few of my fingers sparked, and I cursed.

“Language, Ava. Can't have you saying such things in front of our children, now, can we?” He had me spooked and he knew it. Damn.

Unless … wait. I could use this. Let Owen think I was scared out of my mind—overwound and frantic. It didn't really matter that I was all of those things. I could spin it to my advantage.

“Maybe we can make some sort of deal,” I said, my voice intentionally high and breathy. “Venus wants me back in, right? And I don't want anyone hurt. So why not initiate some sort of trade? Me for Cade.” I stumbled over my guardian's name. “Ryan, too. I don't know what Venus has planned for him, or what he thinks he's getting into, but if he wants to walk away, he can.” If only so I could beat the tar out of him myself. “Me for two lowly humans,” I said, wiping my sweaty palms on my jeans. “No muss, no fuss. Venus can even bring an audience.” She would like that last bit. Venus loved humiliation and abasement.

I could almost hear him thinking it over. “Yes, it has potential.” I heard the clink of Owen putting his mug in the sink. My sink. We might be twitching with fear and anxiety, but Owen was tidying up. “I'll run it by Venus and see what she has to say. Keep your phone handy. If we call,
you'd
better answer.” he said. Then the line went dead.

15

N
OTHING
L
IKE
A
F
RIENDLY
I
NVASION

THERE WAS NOTHING
to do but comply. Sid called the drove and reported in while Ikka steered the van back to Duncan's. The drive was quiet after that except for Ez and Olive's heated discussion of the best pickpocket techniques.

“It's plain to see that I'm just going to have to take over your training,” Ezra said, scrutinizing his nails. He had dirt under them, which was probably driving him mad.

“What's wrong with my training? I'm the best pickpocket we have!” Sid grunted. “Except for Sid.” Ikka cleared her throat. “And Ikka.”

“Best of the fuzzy bunnies? Please. What do they know about being tricky?” There were several noises of protest, but Ez ignored them. “No. It won't do. We'll start immediately.”

“Shouldn't we wait until we're out of danger?” Olive asked.

“See? That's rabbit thinking—you can't think like prey.
They
are the prey. You're the mighty hunter. Besides, you're always in danger, so you have to learn how to twist it to your advantage. During some trouble is the best time. People are distracted.” He held up a few crumpled bills with a flourish and handed them back to her. “See? You didn't even know this was missing.”

Olive took the money with a look of irritation on her face. Then she shoved the money into one of her many pockets and took a wallet out of the pocket under it. “Since you gave mine back, it's only fair.”

Ezra took back his wallet, his eyebrows arched in appreciation. “Yes, I will train you now. Ignore the rabbits.” He shoved his wallet into his back pocket. “You're obviously part fox anyway.” Sid and Ikka took offense to that and started arguing with him, but I tuned them out for the rest of the drive.

When we got back to Duncan's, I took a hot shower. The great thing about showers? You can't tell if you're crying. I let the hot water roll off me and worried about Cade and fumed at Ryan and told myself it was just regular water on my face. I hate crying. It makes me feel helpless.

Once I was done, Lock took his turn. I vacated to my temporary room. I noticed that Ezra had swiped a few framed photos from my cabin. One of us, and another of me, Mom, and Cade. How old was I in that photo? Nine, maybe. I couldn't tell. There weren't any for me to compare it with. Life in hiding meant I didn't have many photos. No school pictures, no family vacation footage. In fact, the only ones I'd seen belonged to Duncan and Cade. In this picture my mom and Cade were laughing and holding me up. We were outside, and I recognized the fire pit in Duncan's backyard. I loved that photo when I was younger. I could look at it and pretend we were a real family. Now it hurt just to look at it.

Ezra had set the frames on a shelf, shoving aside the photos that were already there. A young Cade next to Duncan, both of them holding up the fish they'd caught. Another of Cade and Lilia, dressed up and clearly going to prom, or something like it. My chest constricted.

Ikka found me on the edge of my bed, trying in vain to get my hair to behave. When I was younger, my mom used to help me braid it. I had a lot of hair, and it was too unmanageable for me. After she died, Cade took over. I'd tried to do it myself the last few years but, to be honest, I'd never quite mastered it. Whatever Ikka had been planning on saying when she walked in, I'll never know. She took one look at me and grabbed the brush out of my hands.

“Here, let me do it. You're just making a nest.”

I held up my hands in surrender. Half-assed ponytails I can manage, but not braids. I'm not so proud that I can't admit when I'm licked.

We didn't talk while she climbed onto the bed behind me and unsnarled the mess I'd made. She hummed a tune I didn't recognize, and I closed my eyes and for a second—a guilty, heart-wrenching second—I pretended my mom was still alive. That Ikka's soft song and gentle hands belonged to an impossible someone.

It made it hurt that much more when I opened my eyes.

“Ta-da,” Ikka said, handing me the brush.

“You're fast.”

She stood up and examined the new photos Ezra had brought. “The drove goes with the ‘It takes a village' approach to child rearing. I've braided a lot of hair over the years.” She picked up the photo of me, Lock, and Ez. “You look happy here.”

Ikka didn't seem to be expecting a response, so I said nothing as she peeked into my life. She held up another photo, this one in a smaller frame that had been tucked in behind the one of Cade and my mom. I peered over her shoulder and realized it was of Lock, Ezra, and me soon after we met.

“Is this…?”

I nodded. “Yes, and if you think that's bad, you should've seen the mustache.”

Ikka shuddered. “You're all so
scrawny
.”

“Are you saying I'm fat now?” I asked with a straight face.

Ikka gave me a flat look, then dismissed me and went back to the photo. “Ugh, he looks like the great god Hipster threw up and made a person.”

I leaned over her shoulder. There I was: frail, awkward, and way too skinny, but too depressed and growing too fast to really put manageable weight on. And there was Lock, floppy black hair, eyeliner—an underfed puppy. Ezra didn't even have the decency to look awkward in his younger years. It looked like he was posing with misfits he'd taken pity on. “I kind of miss the eyeliner.”

Ikka traced our faces in the photo with the tip of her finger. “You all look so young and innocent. What happened?”

“The Coterie happened,” I said, sighing. “Lock had to get further up in the chain—for protection. He isn't…” I waffled, trying to think of a good way to phrase it.

“He's not scary,” she said.

“They didn't think so at the time.” After the pool incident, I bet Venus was reassessing my friend. “They know better now.”

I sat down on the bed, unable to look at the photo any longer. “He volunteered himself as a tithe so that Venus would leave the dryads alone. Since he was supporting himself, he needed to get one of the better-paying positions. There was no way they were going to let him onto the Purgatory floor looking like a half-starved Ichabod Crane. He started lifting weights, swimming, eating more. Ezra helped him change his wardrobe. And then they started sending him out with me.” I could feel my voice hardening. “That's what really did it. He changed because of the Coterie. They made him change.” One more thing stolen, one more thing to punish them for.

Ikka looked at the photo again before setting it back onto the shelf. “He had to grow up, Ava, that's all. It looks good on him.”

I wanted to argue with her, to say that growing up had nothing to do with it, but she changed the subject before I could.

“Everyone's coming back,” she said, picking up a paperback and flipping it over in her hands.

“Everyone? Who's everyone?”

She turned and blinked at me, more owl than hare. “The drove. Duncan. You know, everyone.”

I wasn't used to having help or functioning in a group—especially not like to Ikka was. “Oh,” I said, pulling an old sweater over my head while I considered this. “Should I … do anything?”

Ikka seemed to understand what I was asking. Small-unit work, like with Ez and Lock, I was used to, but for the most part I was more sniper than general. You wouldn't come to me for ideas on how to lead the troops.

Ikka leaned against my dresser, her arms folded. “Not really. Sid has some snacks going. Lock is handling the logistics of where we'll put everyone since we're not used to having the entire drove all in once place like this. Ezra is showering finally, and Olive is checking the cabin's defenses.”

“Olive? Isn't that kind of … you know, something one of you guys should be handling?”

Ikka laughed. “Oh, I'll double-check her findings because it's customary—two pairs of eyes, and all that—but you won't find anyone more thorough than Olive. Or more vicious.”

I remembered how quickly she'd held a knife to my throat. Nope, couldn't really argue with Ikka there.