Midnight Blue-Light Special (19 page)

“They may not want to come with us, and we won’t force them. They’re Madhura.”

“Huh,” said Mike, and kept driving. After a few minutes had passed, he added, “Guess that’ll save us a few bucks on spoiled food.”

I smiled a little. “Guess so.” Having a Madhura around retards food spoilage and decay of all types. Bread stays fresh for weeks if there’s a Madhura in the neighborhood. No one’s exactly sure why. Alex thinks they may be natural bacteriophages or something, but it’s hard to say without a lot of invasive lab work—something none of us are particularly interested in performing, and absolutely zero Madhura seem to be interested in volunteering for.

“You really think we’re driving into a trap?”

This time I was the one who was quiet for a few minutes, thinking about the question. Finally, I said, “I honestly don’t know, Uncle Mike. I want to believe him. I want to believe that Margaret being at the Port Hope was just a horrible coincidence. I can’t, quite. At the same time, I never gave him credit for being this good of a liar.” I glanced toward my adopted uncle. “Either way, I guess we’re going to find out in a little while.”

“Two against four.” Mike smiled. It wasn’t a comforting expression. “Sounds just about fair.”

“Assuming we don’t plan to walk away.”

“Who does?” He shook his head. “You know you can’t trust him anymore, hon. He’s trying to serve two masters—the Covenant, and his heart. That never works out for anybody in the long run.”

I sighed. “I know. I’m just . . . I guess I’m still holding hope for him picking the right side.”

“Right for him, or right for you?”

This time I didn’t have any answers at all. We drove down the streets in silence, and I hoped as hard as I could that when we reached Gingerbread Pudding, we would find Sunil and Rochak alive and well, and I wouldn’t have to make up my mind about Dominic De Luca. I wasn’t ready for that. Soon, maybe, but not yet.

Luck was on my side for once. We found a parking space a quarter of a block from the café, and even from there, we could see that the joint was jumping. The line wasn’t quite out the door, but people were pushing their way both in and out, and happy tourists with their cups of cocoa and squares of gingerbread choked the sidewalk.

Dominic freaked out when I mentioned monsters in public places. There was no way the Covenant would try to pull off an ambush with this many civilians around. Too many centuries of secrecy weighing them down.

Mike took a few quick steps forward, putting himself in front of me, and proceeded to clear us a path to the door simply through dint of walking with his elbows out and his legs a little farther apart than strictly necessary. People got out of the way without seeming to realize they were doing it. One more advantage to being a large male, rather than a small female.

Then again, being a petite woman has advantages of its own. Once we were inside, I slithered around him and flashed a radiant smile at Sunil, who was manning the counter. He blinked, looking concerned for half a second before plastering an artificially radiant smile on his face and declaring, “There you are! I was starting to worry that you’d forgotten about me, and were leaving me here to die of a broken heart.”

“Never,” I said flirtatiously, and worked my way around the people between us to slip behind the counter. I leaned up onto my tiptoes, close enough that onlookers would assume I was kissing his cheek, and whispered, “The Covenant is coming. We need to get you out of here.”

Sunil laughed nervously. “Of course, sweetheart. Take your friend back to the break room and I’ll send Rochak to bring you some gingerbread while you wait.”

I nodded as I dropped to the flats of my feet. “See you soon, honey.” Motioning for Mike to follow me, I started toward the back. A few people grumbled, but not many. Everyone’s forgiving when romance is in the air. (Too bad it wasn’t real. My parents would have been thrilled if I’d come home with a nice cryptid boy, and Sunil was sweet. Literally.) Mike trailed along behind me like a silent shadow, and I led him into the little employee break room where I once shared gingerbread and secrets with Piyusha, just hours before she died.

True to Sunil’s word, Mike and I were barely in the room when Rochak arrived with a tray of gingerbread, and a white to-go bag of the same stuff. “What’s going on?” he asked.

“Nothing good,” I replied, taking a piece of gingerbread. “Rochak, this is my uncle, Mike Gucciard. Uncle Mike, this is Rochak, one of the owners of Gingerbread Pudding.”

“Charmed,” said Uncle Mike, claiming his own piece of gingerbread.

“Likewise,” said Rochak automatically. He turned back to me. “What’s going on? You don’t normally drop by like this.”

“How quickly can you close down and get out of here?” I asked. His eyes widened. I shook my head, and continued, “Dominic—who may or may not be compromised, but that’s a matter for later—just called me. There’s going to be a Covenant sweep of this neighborhood tomorrow. You need to leave, and you need to leave
now
. “

“Now?” Rochak glanced at the clock over the door. “We close in an hour. If I try to clear this place out before then, it’ll be a madhouse. I think the best thing to do is close normally, then put a sign on the door saying that we’re doing inventory and will reopen after the weekend. That should buy us a few days.”

“That sounds good,” I said. “Do you have someplace to go?”

Rochak shook his head.

I could practically feel Candy’s glare on the back of my neck as I sighed and said, “Well, we do. Providing you can agree to stay inside until this is over, I’ve got a place you can go to ground.”

“Is it safe?”

“It’s as safe as anyplace else in this town. Safer, if everyone stays careful and follows the rules. Kitty at the Freakshow would also be willing to give you sanctuary, if you don’t mind bunking with her entire staff.”

Rochak made a face. “I’d rather not. I’m unhappy enough at the idea of leaving the café without adding a bunch of strangers to the equation.”

The Nest was full of strangers, too, but there would be fewer of them; maybe that would help. I decided not to mention it for the moment. “Then you come with us. We’ll stay here long enough to let you shut things down, and then we’ll take you back to our current haven.”

“Thank you.” Rochak put the tray down and seized my free hand in both of his, holding tightly. “I don’t know how I can possibly thank you enough. Thank you. You have no idea how much this means to us.”

“It’s my job,” I said. Then I blinked, and repeated, almost wonderingly, “It’s my
job
.”

“Very?” Uncle Mike frowned. “You okay?”

“I’m fine. I just need to go upstairs and make a few phone calls. Rochak, can I use your apartment?”

He nodded, reclaiming his hand. “Please. What’s mine is yours.”

“Great. Have some more gingerbread, Uncle Mike. I’ll be right back.” I turned on my heel and left the room, heading for the stairs up to the second-floor apartment that Rochak shared with his brother. I didn’t look back.

My dance partner wasn’t home. “Hello, world. You’ve reached the home of James and Dennis Garcia. Leave your message at the tone, and we’ll call you when there’s enough of a pause in the glorious adventure of our lives.” James’ gleeful monologue was cut off by the sound of a shrill beep.

I cleared my throat. “James, it’s Verity. You need to take Dennis on a nice vacation, and you need to go
now
. Something nice and far away. Maybe a cruise to Hawaii. Leave tomorrow, and don’t come back until you hear that the city’s clear.” I hesitated before adding the second part of my message: “When you get back . . . I think it’s time for you to start looking for a new partner. We both knew this was coming. I wish it didn’t have to end this way, but it’s not fair of me to keep holding you back because my heart isn’t in it anymore. Thank you so much, for everything. You’ve been wonderful to dance with.”

I hung up the phone and stared blankly at the wall of Sunil and Rochak’s apartment for several minutes, waiting for my heart to start beating normally again. There it was; that was it. I was done. I could teach dance classes, I could participate in local competitions, but with one little phone call, I had finally put the nail in the coffin of my professional ballroom dreams. And oddly, it hurt less than I had expected it to. Maybe my parents were right when they said that spending a year away from home would be exactly what I needed to set my priorities straight. At the time, I’d laughed at them, saying that all a year in New York would do was make damn sure I never took off my tango shoes . . . when really, a year in New York was what it took to teach me that dancing was my heart, but cryptozoology was my soul.

I shook my head, clearing away the cobwebs, and lifted my phone again. This time, I dialed the Freakshow office. Kitty picked up, with a sultry, “You’ve reached the Freakshow, how may we fulfill your midway fantasies today?”

“Okay, you have
got
to stop answering the phone like that. You sound like you’re running a bordello, not a perfectly respectable titty bar.”

“Sometimes people can’t tell the difference, and it helps bring in business,” said Kitty, dropping the artificial seduction as quickly as she’d put it on. She was all business now. “What’s the news, Verity?”

“I won’t be coming to work tomorrow.”

“I didn’t expect you.”

“Neither will Istas.” Istas wasn’t aware of it yet, but with as many noncombatants as we now had at the Nest, either she or Ryan would need to be there at all times. It was a security measure. “She’s staying with me.”

“That’s fine. Let her know that she’ll be getting paid regardless, since you wouldn’t be keeping her away if you didn’t really need her. Anything else?”

“There are three Covenant operatives in town.” I sketched out their descriptions and provided their names, adding, “Dominic may be traveling with them. I think he’s still on our side, but it’s hard to be certain, and there’s evidence both ways. Watch for anybody seen in his company. He doesn’t know where I am, and we’re keeping it that way. The new Covenant folks have telepathy blockers that may work on other forms of psychic ability and confusion charms. Keep them away from the hidebehinds if you possibly can.”

“Honey, I’m keeping the Covenant of St. George away from
everyone
if I possibly can.”

“That’s a good approach. I’ll keep you posted to the best of my ability. Things are about to get pretty messy around here, and I’m not sure how much time I’m going to have.”

Kitty sighed. “Verity, you’ve done more than anyone could ask you to. This isn’t your fight.”

I looked around the perfectly domestic little apartment where, once, three siblings sat and dreamed of a new life, one that involved owning a dessert café of their very own. Below me, the two who survived would be shutting things down, getting ready to abandon their dream—even if temporarily—for the sake of their lives. They shouldn’t have had to do that. No one should have to do that.

Dreams mattered. I shook my head, even knowing that Kitty couldn’t see it. “No,” I said. “This has always been my fight. This is everyone’s fight.”

“Fine, then,” said Kitty. “What do we do now?”

I smiled into the darkness. It felt good. “We win.”

Fifteen

“I ain’t sorry. You got that? I have never regretted a single minute of my life, and I ain’t sorry.”

—Frances Brown

Back in the Meatpacking District (still nicer than it sounds), in an increasingly full converted warehouse

I
T TOOK US
almost two hours to get back to the Nest, thanks to Uncle Mike’s evasive driving techniques, which included a trip through the Lincoln Tunnel. I spent most of the drive watching the mirrors for signs of pursuit. They never came.

Sunil and Rochak goggled shamelessly as we entered the Nest. Each of them had a suitcase, and Rochak was dragging a cooler filled with gingerbread, cookies, and jars of assorted types of sugar in both liquid and granular forms. I’d never realized there were so many kinds of natural sweetener. Watching a Madhura pack his kitchen was definitely an education.

Istas was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the room, carefully stitching lace around the edge of one of her seemingly endless supply of parasols. She looked up as we approached, assessing us to see whether we presented any threat. The way her posture tensed told me she didn’t know what Sunil and Rochak were. I started walking just a little faster, putting myself between Istas and the others.

“Istas, this is Sunil and Rochak,” I said, indicating them each in turn. “They’re Madhura.”

Her expression—a mixture of wariness and blank incomprehension—didn’t change.

I tried again: “They’re cryptids, they’re harmless, and they brought cookies.”

“Why did you fail to open with the word ‘cookies’?” Istas set her sewing supplies aside and stood in a single fluid gesture. The smile she turned toward Sunil and Rochak contained a few too many teeth. “Baked goods are one of the primary accomplishments of civilization.”

“Along with . . . ?” prompted Uncle Mike. I couldn’t blame him. I’d been tempted to do the same thing.

“Waterproof mascara, conditioner, and bleach,” said Istas. She cocked her head to the side, still studying the two Madhura. “My name is Istas. I am a waheela. Do you know what a waheela is?”

“No,” said Sunil. He hesitated before adding, “Ma’am.” Always play nicely with the predators of the world—and whether or not he knew what Istas was, she was clearly a predator. Nothing else could hold so still while staring so intently.

“I am a therianthrope from the upper reaches of this continent,” Istas said, with perfect calm. “My people come from the ice and the snow and the tundra without end. I live here because I am considered a ‘human-lover,’ too soft and fond of people to be an effective hunter. Do you think I am soft?”

There was absolutely no good answer to that question. Sunil and Rochak shot me matching panicked looks. I sighed. “Istas, please play nicely. Sunil and Rochak are going to be staying with us while the Covenant is in town.”

“We bake,” said Sunil. “Constantly. And we share.”

“Hm.” Istas considered them. “I will extend my protection to you in exchange for cookies.”

“Deal,” said Rochak.

I rubbed my forehead with one hand. Between Istas and the mice, it was probably a good thing we were importing our own dedicated bakers. Probably. “Okay, guys. Any open office is available for you to use as a bedroom, and we’re going to get more inflatable mattresses. You’ve met Uncle Mike, and Ryan is—Istas, where’s Ryan?”

“He has gone to the Freakshow to collect some things, and to confirm that Kitty does not require our services.” Istas bent and picked up her parasol. Then she paused, sniffing the air. “I smell gingerbread.”

“Like I said, they brought cookies.” I gave Rochak a meaningful look.

I like smart people. He opened the cooler, grabbing one of the medium-sized bags of gingersnaps and tossing it to Istas. She caught it one-handed. It took her less than five seconds to open the bag, snatch out three cookies, and cram them into her mouth.

“Okay, that’s Istas taken care of, and you can meet Ryan when you get back. I should probably introduce you to the mice. That’ll go better if you’re willing to give up some more gingersnaps. That just leaves one more person. Hang on a second.” I cocked my head, “listening” for the telepathic static of Sarah’s presence. As soon as I started looking for it, I found it, lingering at the back of my mind like so much white noise.
Sarah?
I thought, as loudly as I could.
Can you come to the main room for a minute? There’s someone I need you to meet.

I’ll be right there,
she replied.
I just need to get off the phone.

If she was on the phone, that meant she’d managed to reach Artie. That was a good thing. She’d be calmer after talking to him, and I didn’t want to introduce her to her new roommates while she was still all worked up about losing her hotel room. Sarah was funny about privacy. That telepath thing again. She liked putting space between herself and other minds, the more, the better. I made a mental note to tell Sunil and Rochak not to take the office directly next to hers.

They were frowning at me, looking confused, while Istas did her best to eat her way through the entire bag of cookies without pausing for air. I offered an apologetic smile. “Sorry,” I said. “My cousin is coming down to meet you. Her name’s Sarah. She’s a telepath, but she’s a very polite one, and she won’t poke around in your head without permission.”

Somehow, they didn’t look particularly reassured. Rochak put down his suitcase and coughed into his hand before indicating the cooler, and asking, “Is there someplace we can put all this? A cooler isn’t exactly ideal for long-term storage.”

“There’s a kitchen,” said Uncle Mike. “Come on, I’ll show you. There’s even some masking tape so we can label the stuff you don’t want anybody else touching.”

“Thank you,” said Rochak. He glanced to Sunil. “Will you be all right here with Verity?”

“If she were going to kill us, we’d be splattered all over the inside of the café by now, not standing in this godforsaken excuse for a refuge,” said Sunil. He sounded tired. “Go on. Make sure everything is put away. I’ll get us a room.”

“All right,” said Rochak, and followed Mike out of the room. Istas glanced between us and the cooler, and then went after the cooler, choosing the potential for more cookies over company. I couldn’t exactly say that I was surprised.

“So,” said Sunil.

“So,” I agreed. I spread a hand, indicating the slaughterhouse around us. “This is home for the duration. The dragons lived here for centuries without getting caught. It should work for us for a few weeks.”

“You really think this will be over in a few weeks?” asked Sunil dubiously.

“If it’s not, I think it’s unlikely to be my problem anymore, because I’ll be dead,” I said, and shrugged. “It’s a hazard of the job. When you decide to be the immovable object standing in front of the unstoppable force, you’d better pray that you’re right about being immovable, and they’re wrong about being unstoppable.”

“Otherwise, you’ll wind up like a bug on a windshield,” said Sarah. She sounded exhausted. I turned to see her coming down the stairs from the second floor walkway. Her hair was loose, and her feet were bare, but apart from that, she was dressed exactly as she’d been when I left to get the boys from Gingerbread Pudding. “I don’t want to be the one explaining that to your mother, you know.”

“So hopefully, you won’t be. Sarah, this is Sunil. Sunil, this is Sarah.”

“Hello,” said Sunil. His eyes were a little wide. Not unusual in men meeting my cousin for the first time—or in anyone meeting her for the first time. It’s not that she’s pretty, although she is. It’s that her cuckoo mojo goes to work with word one, trying to find a way into their heads. If Sarah wasn’t careful, she’d have him thinking that they’d been friends since childhood. Or that they were dating, or married, or who knows what else.

“Sarah . . .” I began.

She flinched a little. “Sorry. I relaxed while I was on the phone, and I just . . . sorry.” Her eyes flashed white as she clamped her shields down tighter. The telepathic static increased in volume at the same time, like keeping herself from changing the minds of people around her meant that it was harder for her to stay out of “sight.” That was good to know.

Sunil blinked and shook his head, like he was trying to clear away cobwebs. His expression changed, going from bedazzled curiosity to fear as he took a large step backward. Then he bowed deeply toward Sarah.

“What the hell?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” said Sarah. Louder, she asked, “Um, sir? Do you think you could stand up, maybe, and stop being weird?”

“My lady Johrlac, if you allow me to take my brother and depart your hive, I swear, we will never darken your door again.” Sunil was talking almost too fast for me to understand him. It didn’t help that he was facing the floor. “I did not know. I am sorry. I did not realize.”

“What are you
talking
about, Sunil?” I asked. “Sarah’s my cousin. This isn’t her ‘hive,’ it’s our hiding place. If it belongs to anyone, it’s mine, since I’m the one renting the place from the dragons.”

He lifted his head enough to shoot me a deeply apologetic look. “I can’t save you. I’m so sorry.”

Right. “Okay, I think I see what’s going on here. You called her ‘lady Johrlac.’ That means you know what Sarah is, doesn’t it?” The Covenant of St. George never figured out that the cuckoos existed. That didn’t mean the other cryptids weren’t aware—and “Johrlac” was the proper name for her species.

Sunil’s apologetic look turned panicked. “You mean
you
know?”

“Johrlac,” said Sarah, sounding not only tired, but suddenly depressed. Discussion of her actual species tended to have that effect on her. “No one knows where we come from, no one knows how to send us back there, and most people don’t know how to kill us. Everybody calls us ‘cuckoos,’ because a thing can be less scary when you have an easy name to hang on it. We steal lives, and then we end them. Is that what you think I am?”

“Please, I meant no offense,” whispered Sunil.

Sarah closed her eyes. “Verity . . .”

I stepped closer to her, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Sunil, Sarah is my cousin. Not by birth, maybe, but by adoption.
Voluntary
adoption. My grandmother—her mother—is also a cuckoo. She raised my Mom. So my whole family is sort of resistant to the instinctive brainwashing. We like Sarah because she’s Sarah. We love her because she’s family. And she’s not going to hurt you. She’s here to hide from the Covenant, just like the rest of us.”

“I’ve always done my very best not to take advantage of the people around me,” said Sarah, opening her eyes and looking plaintively at Sunil. “It’s hard sometimes. You can’t even imagine how hard. But I swear, I’m not going to mess with your head.”

“This is . . .” Sunil frowned, finally straightening up. “I’ve never heard of a Johrlac deciding to live among others as one of them, and not as their master.”

“I do dishes, too,” said Sarah.

“Sunil!” Rochak reappeared from the direction of the kitchen, Mike tagging along behind him. Istas was nowhere to be seen, possibly because the kitchen now contained a great deal of unguarded gingerbread. I hoped that Mike had asked her to leave some for the rest of us. “Who’s this?”

“My cousin, Sarah,” I said, and braced for the explosion that was sure to follow.

It didn’t. Rochak stopped next to Sunil, looking speculatively at Sarah. Then he turned to me, and asked, “Your cousin is a Johrlac? How is that even biologically possible?”

“See, I’m a little more curious as to how you’re identifying her on sight, but yes, she is,” I said. “Is that going to be a problem?”

“No. I’m fully mature. She can’t get inside my head.” He put a hand on Sunil’s shoulder, turning back to Sarah. “If you hurt my brother, I will destroy you. Then I will find the rest of your hive, and destroy them as well.”

“I’m not going to hurt your brother, and I don’t have a hive,” said Sarah. “I just want this to be over before I miss too many classes.”

“Then we’re in agreement,” said Rochak.

I blinked. “Mature? What?”

“Madhura are immune to the lure of the Johrlac once we pass our third molt,” said Rochak. He nodded toward Sunil. “My brother has only passed his second.”

“Thanks for announcing that to the world, Rochak,” said Sunil, looking mortified.

“Don’t worry; the world has no idea what it means,” I said. “Uncle Mike, can you show them to an empty office? Not one of the ones to either side of Sarah, please, I think we’ll all feel better if we’re not stacking people on top of each other.” And maybe later, when all this was over, I could sit down with Rochak and grill him on exactly how the Madhura were able to resist the call of the cuckoo—something no other known species was able to do, except for possibly the Apraxis wasps, and those weren’t something we could sit down and talk to. Not unless we felt like being stung to death and used to feed the hive’s larvae.

“I’m on it,” said Mike. “If you two gentlemen would follow me, I’ll show you to your quarters—and to the bathroom, since you’re probably going to want that eventually.” He started toward the stairs. Sunil and Rochak followed him.