Dying Is My Business (27 page)

“Who are they? How do you know them?”

“Bethany—”

“Damn it, Trent, tell me what’s going on!”

A tension headache stabbed my temples like a knife. Why did she have to be so damn infuriating? We didn’t have time for this. It wouldn’t take long for Tomo and Big Joe to figure out where we were. That was their job, what they were good at. They hunted people on Underwood’s orders, and when they found them, they did terrible things to them. “Just give me the damn box,” I said, and tried to grab it out of her hand.

She jumped back, dropping the box on the floor behind her. In a flash, the Endymion wand shot out of her sleeve and into her hand. At the same time, instinctively, I pulled my gun out of my coat. We stood in a silent standoff for a moment, Bethany aiming her wand at me, me aiming my gun at her.

Thornton’s eyes went wide. “Whoa, whoa, what the hell?”

I ignored him. “Drop the wand, Bethany.”

“Sooner or later I’m going to have to trust you again. That’s what you said,” she said bitterly. “I should have trusted my instincts. It was no accident you were at that warehouse.”

“Guys, come on,” Thornton pleaded. “We’re on the same side, here.”

“No, we’re not,” Bethany said. “It was all a lie, wasn’t it, Trent? You were after the box all along.”

Thornton turned to me, shocked. “Is that true?”

I swallowed. It went down like broken glass. “Yes,” I said, “but it’s not the whole—”

Bethany snapped her wrist. A jagged, white arc of energy burst out of the Endymion wand’s tip and instantly struck my forehead. It felt like a slight electric shock, the kind you get when you touch metal on a cold day, and then … nothing happened.

“The sleep spell won’t work on me,” I said. “I don’t sleep.”

Her face fell. I expected anger, or defiance, but mostly what I saw was disappointment. Somehow that was worse. It stung me deep in my chest. I clamped down on it, forced myself to stay cold and focused. I’d gotten pretty good at that over the past year, so how come it was so damn hard to do now?

She lowered the wand and let it fall to the floor. “Why are you doing this?”

“I’ve got something hanging over my head, something bad, and the box is the only leverage I’ve got,” I said. “Please, just step away from it so I can pick it up. You too, Thornton.”

Thornton didn’t move an inch. His face was stony, defiant. “Make me, asshole.”

Bethany didn’t move, either. “What happens once you have the box? You kill us?”

“Good luck trying,” Thornton said.

“Once I have it, I’ll leave, I promise. I don’t want to hurt anyone.” I lowered the gun to show them I meant what I said.

It was a mistake. Thornton immediately changed into wolf form, and this time I saw it happen. In an instant, his human form melted like water and re-formed itself as the timber wolf. But because he acted so quickly, he hadn’t taken off his coat and clothes first. The material stretched and tore around him, dangling in strips off his back and clinging tightly to his haunches and hind legs. He let out an angry growl, but he was too weak and too tangled in his clothes to do anything but limp over and nudge at me feebly with his snout in an attempt to knock me over. He bit my leg, but his jaws were too frail to give the bite any power and his teeth didn’t even penetrate my jeans. I sighed. Seeing the once formidable wolf reduced to this was heartbreaking.

“Stop,” I said softly. “Thornton, just stop.”

The wolf backed away, growling hoarsely. He stumbled, fell onto his side in the shadow of the car, and remained there, drained and depleted, his eyes still fixed angrily on me. The lights on the amulet pulsed weakly.

Bethany reached for her cargo vest, but I lifted the gun again and she stopped.

“Bethany, please,” I said. “Just step away from the box. I don’t want to hurt you.”

She moved to stand in front of the box, squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin defiantly. “That’s funny, coming from someone pointing a gun in my face. No, if you want the box, this time you’re going to have to pull the trigger.”

She wasn’t bluffing. Bethany wasn’t the bluffing kind. She would die to protect that goddamn box. She was brave and dedicated, I’d give her that. She had been since the moment I’d met her. I respected her for it. In another world, one that was more just, we could have been good friends. I would have liked that, but there was no hope of it now, not after this.

I thought about all the terrible things Underwood had manipulated me into doing, and all the while I’d naively believed he’d get the answers I wanted in return. I thought about the chair with the straps, and the drain in the floor, and the monster I worked for, and knew it couldn’t go on like this. I had to get out, and the box was my only ticket. I swallowed, my throat dry as sandpaper. My palms were sweaty against the grip of the gun. My finger trembled on the trigger. I’d been so sure about what I had to do, but now that the moment was here it felt like everything was unraveling, spinning out of control. It shouldn’t have come to this. There should have been another way, but I was so used to acting alone, so used to relying on the intimidating power of a gun to get what I wanted, that, ironically, I’d fallen back on what I’d learned from Underwood. But my training hadn’t prepared me for this, for pointing a gun at the only people who’d ever treated me with kindness.

I guess you can only wonder if you’re a monster so many times before you become one.

Bethany must have read the conflicting emotions in my face because her tone softened. “Whatever’s going on, whatever’s hanging over your head, this isn’t the way.”

But it was too late now. After you pull your gun on someone, there’s no going back. “Just hand over the box, okay?”

“Why?” she demanded, incredulous. “What could you possibly want with it?”

“I’m going to destroy it,” I said. “It’s the only way out for me, and believe it or not, for you, too. Destroying that thing is the only way any of us will be safe.”

Her reaction surprised me. She shook her head. She looked almost sorry for me. “You can’t.”

“Watch me,” I told her.

“Trent, just put the gun down and we can talk about this. Don’t you think others have tried to destroy what’s in this box? Hell, I would destroy it myself if I could, but it can’t
be
destroyed. It just heals itself, puts itself back together again. It’s like you that way.”

I stared at the box on the floor by her feet. “It’s
alive
?”

At that moment, the garage door motor roared, startling me. The door rolled up, revealing Chaz standing on the sidewalk outside. He grimaced at us as he pulled his key out of a key box on the outside wall.

He wasn’t alone. Big Joe held Chaz tightly by the arm. Beside him, Tomo flashed me a malicious, triumphant grin, and said, “Why are you always runnin’ away from us, T-Bag? Don’t you wanna play with your friends no more?”

Twenty-two

Keeping a tight grip on Chaz’s tattooed arm, Big Joe pushed him forward into the auto body shop. “Thanks for unlocking the door, kid. Remember when I said we’d let you go afterward? I lied.” In one swift motion, he grabbed Chaz’s head with both hands and twisted. Chaz’s neck snapped with a muffled crack.

“No!” I shouted, but it was too late. He shoved Chaz’s limp body into the corner of the shop.

Big Joe sneered at me. “You’re not gonna act all holier-than-thou, are you, T-Bag? You know you’ve got just as much blood on your hands as I do.”

“You know these men?” Bethany demanded.

“They’re the ones I warned you about,” I said. I looked at Chaz’s body. The kid was dead and I might as well have painted a target on him. They must have caught him running away from the auto shop. I glared at Big Joe and Tomo. My jaw went tight. My finger twitched on the trigger, but as much as I wanted to take them down, I kept the gun pointed down at the floor. I didn’t want things to get any more out of hand than they already were.

Tomo nudged Big Joe with his elbow, chuckling and pointing at Thornton. “Dude, that’s gotta be the most fucked-up dog I’ve ever seen.”

Thornton growled and pushed himself up onto his feet. His legs trembled under his weight.

Bethany reached for her vest, but I held up a hand to stop her. Tomo and Big Joe hadn’t drawn their weapons yet, but there wasn’t a doubt in my mind they were armed. They always were, and they were quick on the draw. Bethany would be dead before she could pull out a charm.

“So, you got the box or what?” Tomo demanded. “Underwood’s waitin’.”

“The girl’s got it,” Big Joe said, nodding his chin toward Bethany and the box at her feet. “Yo, T-Bag, you gonna introduce us to your friend? She’s smokin’ hot.”

“Short as hell, though,” Tomo said. “What is she, a kid? You bangin’ her, you fuckin’ perv?” He and Big Joe laughed, and my temper flared.

“Come on, T-Bag,” Big Joe said. “Grab the box, waste the girl, and let’s get out of here. Unless you think we should take turns with her first. Share and share alike, right, T-Bag?”

“Charming,” Bethany said.

I’d had enough. “Back off,” I said, and lifted my gun, pointing it at them.

“Whoa, what the fuck are you doing?” Big Joe demanded. He stared at the barrel of the Bersa semiautomatic for a moment, then grinned. “Look, if this is about before, I’m sorry we kicked your ass, but you had it coming.” When I didn’t say anything or put the gun down, he sighed. “Ah, I see. You’re making a big mistake. A big fucking mistake.” He and Tomo reluctantly put their hands up.

“Tell Underwood he’s not getting the box,” I said. “Tell him I’m done being manipulated and lied to. If he comes after me it’s his own funeral.”

Big Joe shook his head. “Keep dreaming. Underwood wants that box. One way or another, we’re not leaving here without it.”

I kept my gun trained on them but glanced over my shoulder at Bethany. “Bethany, give me the box. It’s the only way I can be sure.”

“Not on your life,” she said.

The moment I took my eyes off them, Big Joe and Tomo moved like lightning, reaching into their jackets and pulling out their guns. I cocked my gun. “Don’t,” I warned.

Big Joe kept his gun trained on me. Tomo drew a bead on Bethany. Thornton growled louder, his hackles rising. Somehow he found the strength to lope toward them, but he was slow and his whole body shook from the exertion.

Tomo kept his eyes on the wolf’s approach. He swallowed nervously, his instinctual aversion to the undead kicking in. “Call this fucking thing off,” he yelled, his voice wavering.

“Thornton, get back,” I said, but the wolf ignored me. He inched closer to Tomo, snarling and baring his fangs. Then, without warning, one of his front legs gave out and he tipped forward, off-balance. Tomo kicked him hard across the snout. Thornton skittered backward, tripping over his tangled clothes and collapsing to the floor.

Big Joe locked eyes with me and spat on the floor. “You dumb piece of shit. You’re fucking with the wrong people.”

A voice from behind him said, “No, gentlemen.
You
are.”

Tomo and Big Joe turned.

Standing in the doorway of the auto body shop was a man in his late fifties with a mane of coppery red hair on his head and a neatly trimmed beard that matched it. He wore a long, hunter-green duster that flapped behind him in the breeze. He wasn’t alone. To one side of him stood a tall, statuesque woman in a black leather jacket, her skin as smooth and dark as onyx. She had black, braided dreadlocks tied back behind her head. On his other side stood a lean, sinewy Asian man in a black turtleneck and mirrored sunglasses.

“Who the fuck are you clowns?” Tomo demanded. He and Big Joe turned their guns on the newcomers.

The red-bearded man grinned. “The name’s Isaac Keene. These are my associates Gabrielle Duchamp and Philip Chen. Commit those names to memory, gentlemen. The next time you hear them, you’re going to want to run.”

The two enforcers cocked their guns. Big Joe said, “Sorry to break it to you, pal, but there ain’t gonna be a next time.”

They both pulled the triggers in quick succession. At the same time, Isaac waved a hand in the air before him as if he were tracing a giant circle. The bullets hung in midair, frozen just a few inches away from Isaac. He thrust his arm out in front of him, palm forward. There was a quick, bright flash, and suddenly Tomo and Big Joe were off their feet and hurtling back toward the shop wall as if a wrecking ball had hit them.

But Isaac’s hand was empty. He wasn’t holding a charm or artifact the way Bethany and Thornton did when they worked magic. The flash—the
spell
—had come directly from the palm of his hand. Isaac, I realized, was carrying magic inside him.

Tomo and Big Joe crashed hard into the wall, their guns flying from their hands, and then fell in a heap on the floor, unconscious. The suspended bullets fell harmlessly at Isaac’s feet, tinkling like wind chimes.

A loud squeal of tires came from the street outside. Underwood’s black sedan pulled away from the curb and sped past the auto body shop. He would be back, though. I was sure of it. He wanted the box too badly to let it go.

The man in the black turtleneck and mirrored shades, Philip Chen, moved away from Isaac’s side so fast he was little more than a blur. In a second he was in front of me, grabbing the front of my shirt in his fist and slamming me back against the wall. He wrenched the gun out of my hand, his grip so strong I thought my fingers would break under the pressure. Philip pocketed my gun. Then he
smelled
me. He brought his face right up to the bloodstains on my collar and shirt and sniffed me like I was a bouquet of flowers.

“I can smell your blood,” he said, his face close enough for me to feel hot breath on my throat. Where he gripped my shirt, his stone-like fist pressed so hard into my chest it felt like my ribs were going to crack. I couldn’t breathe. In the reflection of Philip’s mirrored sunglasses, I saw my own face turn red with asphyxiation. “Your fear and confusion make your blood smell like candy to me,” he said.

“Philip, don’t,” Bethany said.

Philip scowled. “I saw him through the wall when we were coming up on this place, Bethany. He was holding a gun on you. Give me a reason not to open him up.”