The Burning City (3 page)

The glaring omissions to this celebration stood out in June’s mind. Jason and Diego should have been there, but they weren’t the only ones. Someone else should get to sit in front of the crowd of reporters and finally be avenged for the sins committed against him.

Micha had been hospitalized and was under guard at said hospital. No one clarified why he was there—hopefully for study and not because his health had deteriorated due to the serum; however, his absence today presented a worrying sign it was the latter.

He deserved this day, and he’d been robbed of that, too.

Sam returned. He held a water bottle in one hand and a small plastic wastebasket in the other. Her hero in a tailored suit.

He plunked the wastebasket on the floor next to her and twisted the lid off the bottle. A few people glanced their way. Just what she needed, more attention.

He handed her the bottle. “Take it slowly.”

She took it, smiling weakly. How did she not realize he was such a kind, patient man? Maybe she’d always realized it, but she just didn’t want to realize she realized it, because that would mean facing her conflicted emotions. Or maybe he was just nice to broads he dated.

Dating. Were they actually dating? They’d never gone out on a date. They’d never been able to.

“Thanks.” She took a tiny drink.

He knelt in front of her. Mary had her hands on her hips, lips pursed, her patience seemingly starting to wane. Sam kept his back to her.

“It’s all going to be okay.” He touched June’s knee. “We’ll get through this day, and then we’ll start dealing with all the other crap we have to deal with. Just smile for the cameras and look pretty. That won’t be hard for you.”

“Oh my God.” She rubbed her forehead. “If I knew you were like this, I would have run the other way.”

“Sorry, you old sea hag. Maybe we should put a sack over your head before we go out there, so you don’t scare the small children.”

“That’s better.” She took another sip.

“Mr. Haain?” Mary said. “You have to go out in fifteen minutes. I need to fill you in on what’s going to happen.”

Sam rose. June stayed in her chair, close to the trash can. At least the vitamins would have absorbed by now. She hoped.

Mary, Aaron, and Cindy walked over to join them, since Sam didn’t move from his spot, standing before her like a guardian, or a shield. A puke shield.

Mary looked at Cindy, arching an eyebrow. Cindy didn’t seem to notice, stroking her fingers through her curls.

“Cindy,” Sam said.

Cindy blinked a few times and then snapped to attention. “Oh!” She squeezed Sam’s arm. “I’ll see you out there. Knock ’em dead.” She made a pouty face at June and blew a kiss to her before hustling out of the room.

“Okay,” Mary said. “The conference is being capped at an hour, with only forty-five minutes of questions. Everyone in the audience knows this. Mr. Morton has told me there are things you’re not allowed to talk about, so it’s better if we keep this short to avoid too much questioning and pressure. If you wish to speak to anyone on the way out, that’s your prerogative.”

“This is our show today,” Sam said. “We get the upper hand, finally.”

“I’ll present a general overview of the panel, and then you can each have a few minutes to say what you like. After that, we’ll open the floor to questions. We do have moderators to keep things running smoothly and weed out any inappropriate pressure.”

Sam huffed. “Good luck.”

“We don’t want this to become a free-for-all. I realize emotions are running high, but try to put your best face forward and we’ll try to control the media. After the questions, you may supply some additional closing statements, if you like.”

“Who do you work for?” Sam asked her.

This was all about to roll down the proverbial hill and explode.

“I work for the Tribune.” She frowned. “I’m the media relations director.”

“Then you know who I am,” Sam said.

“Of course.”

“And you know how we’ve been treated. Mistreated, I should say. Hunted. Vilified. Maligned.”

“Disenfranchised,” June added.

“Mr. Haain—”

“This is our day to tell those who ground us under their heels they can go to hell.”

“Mr. Haain.” Mary glared at him. “While what you’ve been through is traumatic, I’m sure you know as a public figure there’s a certain decorum you must—”

“Never.” Sam made a chopping motion with his hand. “If you know me, you know I don’t give a damn about decorum. My brand of decorum is to slap them in the mouth if they’re running it too much. These folks are going to sit down and listen to me today.”

Aaron adjusted his tie. “I think, Mrs. Rourke, you’ll agree that holding this press conference was the most foolish thing you could have done. Giving a voice to the wrongfully accused is just throwing more fuel on an already raging fire. A fire we intend to stoke.”

She turned her glare on Aaron. “If you turn this into a fiasco, it’s on you. Today is about triumph. I would strongly advise you not to turn it into a circus. State your side of the story with dignity and gain their respect.”

“I have plenty of dignity.” Sam drew himself up. “You’re about to see how much dignity I’m capable of.”

June’s head spun. Their words swirled around her like a tornado. She clutched the bottle. Her mouth watered.

“What’s left of the Paranormal Alliance is here,” Sam said. “They’re here to rally to me, and I will not disappoint them.”

Mary drew a breath through her nose. “As I said, we have moderation in place, and that goes both ways, Mr. Haain.”

June lurched forward and grabbed the wastebasket. She heaved into it. She didn’t have much to bring up except the water, and it sucked. In the midst of her retching, Sam’s comforting hand touched her neck. He couldn’t have asked for a more attractive girlfriend.

After the puking stopped, she felt immensely better. She remained bent over the wastebasket, though, just in case. She would have to fix her damn lipstick again. She mused she should invent a lipstick line for chronic pukers. The commercials would be awesome.

Sam caressed and squeezed her neck. “Well, that’s what we think of your moderation, Mrs. Rourke.”

Sitting in front of the crowd, June vividly remembered the field house at Promontory Point, when she’d had to face the press about her and Jason. A million cameras were focused on them. Eager faces, blinding lights. A constant murmur filling the hush between questions.

Gratefully, most of the attention was directed at Sam. Probably because he wouldn’t shut up.

“Mr. Haain,” a blond man near the front called out. “What are your thoughts on the massacre that Robert Beecher perpetrated against your group in Jackson Park?”

June rubbed her stomach, avoiding eye contact with anyone in the crowd. She was glad she’d thrown up before she came out.

“What do I think?” Sam snorted. “I think if I get my hands on him, he’s going to wish he were in prison instead.”

Sam sat in the middle, June on his right, Aaron silent and stoic on his left. June declined to give an opening statement, allowing Sam more floor time. The back of the room was filled with Paranormal Alliance members, and they started clamoring every time he talked.

“I’m grateful for every person who survived him and is here today,” Sam said. Shouts rose in the back. “I’ve vowed to all my people that Robbie will pay for what he did to their fellow members, their friends, their families. He’s worse than the Institute. He’s insidious, and he destroys his own kind. He doesn’t need to be put in prison. He needs to be burned alive like he did to my friends.”

June winced. The shouting in the back got louder, mixed with cheering and clapping.

Mary sat tight-lipped to June’s right. Just offstage was their squadron of FBI babysitters.

“So what do I think?” Sam spoke over the continuing commotion. “I think I’ll send him to Hell where he belongs.”

The moderators had to wrangle the crowd back into order—not the first time in the past fifteen minutes. June was watching the time on the big clock on the wall.

The commotion died down, and a woman asked, “Is it true Micha Bellevue isn’t here today because he’s suffering ill effects from the administration of the serum?” The serum was originally supposed to be kept confidential, but due to the leaked video, that bombshell was impossible to withhold from the public.

Aaron sat forward. “Mr. Bellevue is currently under the care of the Greater Chicago FPS. They will be doing all they can to assist in his examination and study.”

The FPS were the Freelance Paranormal Scientists—in other words, “not the Institute”—the organization that Trina worked for.

The reporter added to her question, “Is it true the serum worked, and Mr. Bellevue is a normal who is now exhibiting paranormal symptoms?”

Aaron spoke as they’d been taught to. “We are not at liberty to discuss that at this time.”

“Symptoms?” Sam said. “Did you just say paranormal symptoms?”

Mary interrupted. “We should move on to the next question.”

Hands shot up.

A reporter stood. “Is it true what Mr. Bellevue has told the press? That the research his wife conducted on vampires was entirely fabricated by her, and that she was working in collusion with the Institute to perpetuate lies about and toward the paranormal community?”

June glanced at Sam. They couldn’t blow apart that story, not if they wanted to get Jason and Diego back in one piece.

“It’s true,” Sam said. “At least from what I understand and the things Mr. Bellevue told me while we were in seclusion. I’m sure we’ll learn much more about all the Institute’s lies in the coming months. I wouldn’t put anything past them.”

June looked down.

“Ms. Coffin.”

She lifted her head and stared into the crowd. A man toward the front had addressed her.

“Your brother,” the man said. “The case against the Institute states that he was held prisoner there, while you managed to escape. Why is he not here today to talk about his role in the crimes committed against you?”

She’d told the FBI Jason left Chicago a long time ago and she no longer had contact with him, nor knew his whereabouts. They wanted to question him. She and Sam had agreed setting the FBI on Occam would sign Jason and Diego’s death sentences. Occam didn’t seem the kind of vampire to react well if the Feds swooped down on him.

She cleared her throat. “He didn’t want to speak today. He’s suffered enough during this ordeal.”

Sam reached under the table and squeezed her thigh. “June and her brother have both suffered enough. They were victims, as so many of us were. She was forced to lie in January, at the press conference with Eric Greerson, to save her brother.” He looked over at their babysitters. “I trust the FBI will get justice for both of them and for every paranormal person wronged by that despicable place.”

Several encouraging shouts sounded from the back. Sam kept his hand on her thigh.

“What about you, Ms. Coffin?” the man followed up. “What have these past six months been like for you?”

She boggled. Everything she wanted to say would get her in trouble. Suddenly, everyone in the room stared at her, every camera focused on her.

“Um…it was…”

“What do you think it was like?” Sam snapped. “We’ve been hunted, menaced, lied about, mistreated—”

“Mr. Haain,” Mary said. “Please let Ms. Coffin answer the question, if she wants to.”

Sam snapped his mouth shut. June took a deep breath. Her chest wouldn’t expand far.

“I’ve been through a lot.” She didn’t make eye contact with anyone. “I’ve been taken prisoner. I’ve been shot. I watched people die. People I cared about.” She swallowed. “It sucked.” She focused on the man. “It really, really sucked, if you wanna know.”

Sam removed his hand from her thigh and rubbed her shoulder.

“But I stayed when I could have left.” She looked down. “Because we were fighting for something important. The truth.”

Sam stilled his hand.

“And Sam and Aaron didn’t deserve the lies that were told about them. I had to stick around and see their names cleared.”

“We were struggling in solidarity,” Sam said. “June was invaluable to our plight. She was invaluable to me. She still is.”

A hushed murmur passed through the crowd. At least they had something new and less horrible to gossip about.

“My story isn’t the important one,” June said. “Robbie needs to pay. And so does the Institute.”

The moderators returned to fielding questions. Sam continued dominating the panel. Aaron announced he was in the process of dismantling the SNC. His intention was to filter any willing members into the Paranormal Alliance, since for the first time Sam was opening the group to normals in the form of a “normal allies” branch.

This announcement met with some derision from the back of the room.

“It’s in our best interests,” Sam explained. “In fact, I’d like to announce that on Saturday, four days from now, we will be having a gathering at North Avenue Beach, starting at noon. I welcome all good-standing members of the Paranormal Alliance and our future allies from the Secular Normalists to attend and get to know each other.”

June blinked. This was the first she’d heard about a beach party. Aaron stared at him too, gaping.

“We’ll be having an overnight gathering,” Sam said. “Food, friends, camping, unity. I want us to come together and see that to win our fight we need help and solidarity. The coming months are going to be trying as we search for Robbie and watch the Institute go up in flames.”

Was this his big announcement? It certainly seemed to stir up the crowd.

June leaned toward him. “We’re going camping on a beach?” she whispered.

“Hope you like that sort of thing.”

“I don’t.”

The rest of the questions largely centered around what they’d been up to the past six months, where they’d been, and how they managed to prove their innocence. Many of these questions they weren’t allowed to answer.

Mary kept to her word, and at forty-five minutes, questions were halted. June breathed a sigh of relief. She declined to give a closing statement, but Aaron spoke.