Wrong Side Of Dead (25 page)

“Are there infected at the black dot, too?”

“Yes.”

“It’s somewhere along the Black River, right? The docks?”

“Yes. Sit on water.”

Gremlins were completely literal creatures. I dug through my own vocabulary to figure out what it meant. “It floats? The place where the captured Therians are? It floats on the river?”

It blinked at me. I took that as a yes, which likely meant a boat. Some of the still active docks had cargo ships coming and going. A few rusted, abandoned ships were docked here and there, slowly becoming part of the waterfront’s permanent landscape—those were very likely locations to stash dozens of Halfies.

Wind in the walls
. Token’s rough, garbled voice repeated the description of the place he’d been imprisoned. I hadn’t consciously thought of the missing goblin/human hybrid in weeks. He’d tried to kill me, then tried to help
me, only to disappear with no reported sightings these last two months. If our initial plan had worked as expected, he might have led us to this location ages ago. If only.

“Thank you,” I said. “This is more than worth the price I paid for it.”

It nodded, then turned and slunk away. I gazed at the map, hand trembling slightly. It was the break we needed. My desperation to find the kidnapped Therians before any more were killed threatened to overtake my good sense. I wanted to charge down to the docks, procedure be damned, and start hurting things. And I’d succeed only in getting myself killed. Or kidnapped. Probably the latter, then the former.

Dammit
.

I jogged back to the waiting car; Tybalt looked ready to climb out of his skin. As I slid back into the passenger seat, his expression switched from pensive to curious.

“Good news?” he asked.

“Great news.”

By the time Tybalt and I returned to the Watchtower twenty minutes later, two things had happened. Astrid called demanding a noon meeting in the War Room of all available squad leaders. My gremlin information got me an invite, but she didn’t offer any hint of what she’d learned from Zeigler’s lawyer. And I found out that the Assembly of Clan Elders was officially in their emergency session discussing what was to be done about Michael Jenner’s murder.

I handed the map over to Tybalt for delivery to Operations. Smarter people than me could go over the Black River waterfront and decide the best places to start looking for a target. The only thing I could think was to call the place where the Therians were being held, and Thackery’s
possible headquarters. My curiosity as to the condition of Isleen and her fellow vampires took far second place to my need to see Wyatt, so I ignored the questions being thrown at me from various sources and beelined for the infirmary.

Dr. Vansis was in Wyatt’s room, making notes on a chart, his body blocking my immediate view. He glanced up, eyebrows arching in surprise. “Ms. Stone,” he said.

“Hi.” I also noted with rising annoyance that we were the only ones in the room. “Where’s Gina?”

“Restroom. She’ll be back shortly.”

I stepped around the bed, really taking in Wyatt’s appearance for the first time. His skin was blotchy with fever—deathly pale in some places, marred by spots of red and pink on his face and chest. He’d been intubated, and the various tubes and wires were awful reminders that Vansis had induced a coma to try to save him. He was so still. Even asleep, Wyatt had always seemed vibrant and alive. Now he looked much like he had three months ago, dead in my arms in the mountains north of the city.

“I’m doing what I can,” Vansis said, “but next to nothing is known about how the Lupa virus interacts with human physiology. No one has seen its effects in centuries.”

Wyatt’s hand was cool in mine. I held it tight between my palms, hoping to warm it just a little. “What do you know about rabies, Dr. Vansis?”

“It’s treatable, if caught early. However, this virus is acting more like rabies that has gone undetected and traveled to the brain. Once it reaches that stage, cranial inflammation begins, and it’s often fatal.”

Vansis turned, as if to leave, then paused in the doorway. “I know it’s little consolation now, Ms. Stone, but the Lupa are alive and well, and anything we learn from Mr. Truman’s illness may help us treat the next human
they infect. If we’re lucky, his is the only life we’ll lose to them.”

His is the only life we’ll lose
. Pragmatically, it was a nice thing to hear. In reality, the idea of losing him to the Lupa’s bite broke my heart into sharp, frozen pieces. I didn’t want to be pragmatic, or to look at the bigger picture. It was Wyatt, goddammit, and I wanted him alive.

Vansis left, and I perched on the narrow space between Wyatt’s arm and the edge of the bed. “Hey,” I said. “We’ve got good news. We might even have Aurora, Joseph, and Ava home by dinner. I want you there when we bring them home.” Wanted him there so badly that my chest ached with the need.

Or was that with unshed tears?

“I’m an idiot. Did you know that?” I could almost see him nodding at me, agreeing with a teasing smile. “Of course you do, but I’m going to share this little epiphany with you anyway. Most of my life, I thought love was just something people did in movies. That in real life, people hurt each other and left and you just picked up the pieces for the next person who came along to hurt you. I mean, let’s face it. My role models have sucked.

“I never wanted to fall in love. Not before I died, and not after, but I guess we don’t get to decide who we love. Whoever I am—this person I became the night you died and this body switch was made permanent—this person loves you. I love you. I haven’t said it much, but I like to think you believed me when I did.”

My throat closed; hot tears stung my eyes. “I didn’t want to love you, but I do anyway. And I think I finally grew up and realized a few things. I realized being in love doesn’t exempt you from hurting each other, but when you do, you don’t give up. You fix it. With Thackery … I was a coward, and I didn’t want you to see that side of me. I didn’t want to admit I’d been so weak. That
I was weak with Felix. Pushing you away was easier than talking about it, and I’m so sorry for that.”

Warm wetness splashed my hand. I allowed the tears to fall, not caring anymore who saw me cry. “We flirt with death every single day. It’s always around the corner, Wyatt, waiting to take one of us away. And I can’t keep allowing death to control my life. Not anymore. Loving doesn’t make me weak, Wyatt, I know that now.”

Images of him, of Alex and Phin and Aurora and Ava, even of Jesse and Ash—they telegraphed through my memory, reminding me of people I cared about. Loved. Some I’d lost. Others I was still battling against all odds to protect.

“Loving makes me stronger.” I laughed, choked, and wiped my nose on my arm. “That sounds like a fucking greeting card, I know. But it gives me something more powerful to fight for than just honor and nameless, faceless innocents. There’s real power in loving someone, and I know it now.” I leaned down and pressed my forehead to his, aware of the heat of his skin, the machine that drew his breath, the monitor that ticked off the beats of his heart. “I just hope I didn’t learn it too late.”

I sat like that awhile, pretending he felt my presence and could feed off my strength. Sat until my back hurt and my neck ached, and I simply had to sit up again and stretch. He hadn’t moved; I hadn’t really expected him to.

“I have a meeting,” I said. “A meeting that will hopefully lead to a plan that includes reconnaissance, invasion, extraction, and lots of enemy decimation.”

“That was kind of poetic,” Milo said.

His voice startled me right off the bed. I barely had my balance back before snapping, “Make some noise or something next time.”

He leaned in the doorframe, hands in his pockets, wan and fairly simmering with untapped energy—rage, grief,
frustration. He wanted to be out in the field, part of the solution, instead of left behind due to his recent gunshot wound.

“Everyone’s buzzing about your information and wondering where you got it,” he said.

I blinked. I hadn’t asked Tybalt, Astrid, or anyone else in Baylor’s squad to keep my informants a secret. They’d just done it. In the Triads, we’d often operated on a version of “don’t ask, don’t tell” when it came to acquiring information. The more people who knew about your informants, the less likely you were to get good info when you asked them. Nice to see that the policy was still alive and well.

“Doesn’t matter where as long as it’s accurate,” I said.

“I know, but the Therians aren’t used to working like that. I did float the idea that you probably got the info from the gremlins.”

“You what?”

He lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. “Shelby didn’t believe me. The Felia he was with thought it was a ridiculous idea, that the gremlins are nasty little creatures who don’t help anyone except themselves.”

I very nearly laughed. Apparently, humans weren’t the only ones with hidden prejudices against other races. Recalling Phin’s violent reaction to the odor of vats of gremlin urine, I imagined that Therians and gremlins didn’t mix it up very often.

“That
is
where you went, right?”

“Yeah,” I said. “With Tybalt, no less.”

“How was that?”

“Nostalgic.”

“Things have a funny habit of blowing up when you’re nearby.”

A sharp retort died on my tongue. He was right. Rufus’s first apartment, the potato chip factory, the half-Blood in the hospital parking garage, Felix … “They
do, don’t they?” I said. “I’m sorry you had to see that happen to Felix.”

Milo frowned. “Felix died two—”

“I know, he died two weeks ago. But that doesn’t make seeing his shell explode any easier, right?” It certainly hadn’t made shooting Alex Forrester in the back of the head any easier for me. The Halfie I’d killed wore the face of a man I’d once cared about; the Halfie who’d blown up in our jail wore the face of a man Milo had once cared about. Loved.

“No, it doesn’t,” Milo said. “At least he’s at peace now.”

“You’re not.”

“No, I’m not. Not even close.” He clenched his jaw, seemed on the verge of adding to his statement. Then he swallowed hard. “I, ah, Gina asked me to stay here during the meeting.”

I didn’t know what time it was, but probably damned close to noon. “Thanks for sitting with him.”

“Nothing better to do.”

“Even so.”

He nodded. A heavy weariness settled over him and he seemed the oldest twenty-year-old I’d ever met. I gave Wyatt’s hand another strong squeeze, and then left.

The War Room was packed with more than just squad leaders—every human ex-Handler, a handful of ex-Hunters, and quite a few of the higher-ranked Therian squad members were there, alongside their squad leaders. The only noticeable absences were the vampires stuck in quarantine.

An unexpected face stood out from a cluster of ex-Handlers near the far wall, and not just because he was sitting while the others were standing. Rufus St. James had been invited more than once to join us as part of the Operations staff. His experience as a Handler was invaluable, and he had a terrific tactical mind. His old
Triad had rivaled my own in effectiveness, until they were all killed and he was shot by Halfies, effectively crippling him.

I guess an epic crisis really does bring people together, because Rufus was in Operations, chatting quietly with Nevada, Sharpe, and Tybalt.

He watched my approach with a steady gaze, studying the telltale signs of my minor breakdown. “How is he?” he asked.

“Dying,” I said, in no mood to sugarcoat what my mind told me to be true. Unless Thackery had a cure hiding up his sleeve. I just had to find the bastard first.

Rufus gave a slow nod and blink. “With everything happening, I thought I might be of some use here.”

“We’ve been saying that for weeks, buddy,” Nevada said.

“All right, people,” Astrid said, voice booming around the crowded room, “let’s do this.” She stood near the head of the long conference table, whiteboards behind her covered in scrawled writing. A laptop was open, and a projector light shone against the only clear section of the board. Baylor and Phineas flanked her on either side, with Gina and Marcus nearby. Heads turned and all other conversation in the room ceased.

Astrid looked as agitated as I’d ever seen her. Her long black hair was in a hasty, messy braid, her clothes were wrinkled and dirty, and a soot streak still lingered on her neck. The shadow of her true self seemed to pace just beneath the surface, tail twitching, eager to hunt and punish.

“I doubt anyone hasn’t heard the news by now,” she continued, “but just in case you’ve had your head in the sand these last twelve hours, here’s a recap. First, a half-Blood was captured tonight, brought back for questioning, and a few hours ago he blew up from the inside out. The purpose of this was to infect our vampire comrades
with an unknown agent that is negatively affecting a good percentage of them, so they are all in quarantine until further notice.

“Second, seven Therians were kidnapped from their homes, and it is confirmed that the wanted human Walter Thackery and several Lupa are involved. At least three more Lupa are currently at large in the city, and it’s possible there are more.” She paused, wetting her lips. “We have a working theory on how they’ve remained concealed from us for so long.”

They did find something out from the lawyer, and it wasn’t good. That much was evident in Astrid’s expression, and in the way Marcus stood a little straighter.

“Third,” she said, “is the threat these Lupa present to humans. No other Therian’s bite has proved harmful to humans in the past, but the Lupa is the exception, and its bite is still harmful now. One of ours is fighting for his life against this Lupa virus, so my warning to the humans here is this: do not let them bite you. As of now, there is no cure.

“Fourth, we know where to start looking for Thackery, the missing Therians, and all the half-Bloods we’ve been hunting these last two weeks.”

A murmur ran through the room. Apparently, this tidbit hadn’t yet made the rounds.

Baylor stepped forward, and attention shifted to him. “Reliable intel places our target along the Black River waterfront, roughly between West Chestnut Street and Cottage Place.” He touched the laptop’s keyboard, and a satellite image of that section of the river appeared. “Our research has narrowed that field down to three possible locations. First is the old Waylander Shipping Company building.”