As Lie The Dead (28 page)

“Nothing so far. We’ve been watching the location all night and day, but beyond the occasional homeless person, there’s been no activity in any of the four buildings on that corner. Baylor took his Hunters and a rookie, and they’ve been patrolling the entire waterfront, keeping an eye on things.”

Baylor had a rookie on his team? I chewed on my lower lip. He must have lost a Hunter at Olsmill. I’d been so preoccupied, I still hadn’t bothered to find out the names of the other four Hunters who had died that night.

“Besides a storage-unit auction this afternoon,” Kismet was saying, “and some sort of charity benefit tonight, nothing’s happening within six blocks. Perimeter sensors are in place, so if anyone larger than a sparrow goes in those other buildings, we’ll know about it.”

“Don’t underestimate their numbers or their cleverness.”

“I haven’t underestimated a Dreg in a long time. You taught me better than that.”
No, she only underestimates humans
. “Look, come in—”

“If I learn something useful, I’ll let you know. Otherwise, don’t expect me.”

“Wyatt—”

He hung up. I bit back a retort about rudeness. Knowing his temper, I should have been amazed he’d made it through the entire phone call without letting loose more foul names. He hadn’t turned his back completely, though. He never would. He’d been there for the birth of the Triads; he had trained Kismet and
countless others. This was beyond personal for both of us.

“Well, that was somewhat useless,” Phin said.

Wyatt grunted. “Depends on your point of view.”

Someone knocked on the door, and we all turned to look. A timid, curly-haired head peeked around the edge of the half-open door, and a wide blue eye crinkled as she smiled. “You’re awake,” Aurora said.

I grinned. Seeing her with my own eyes lifted a bit of worry from my chest. She stepped fully into view, cheeks flushed and arms full of a squirming baby girl. Wrapped in a blue blanket, she waved small fists in the air, as if demanding attention. Eyes as round and blue as her mother’s gazed around the room, and she squealed when she saw Phin.

“She’s beautiful,” I said. “She was born yesterday?”

Aurora laughed in her songbird voice. “Our children grow quickly.”

“What’s her name?”

“I wished to honor you, Evy, but tradition requires the same first letter as the mother. So I chose Ava.”

Few things in my life could render me utterly speechless, but Aurora had with her generosity and my namesake. What the hell had I done to deserve that sort of honor?

“It’s a beautiful name,” I said finally.

“Would you like to hold her?”

“I’d probably drop her.”

“You won’t.”

Despite my protests, Aurora deposited the baby in my arms. The blanket slipped from my shoulders and
puddled around my waist. I was beyond self-conscious, sitting like that with a baby in my lap. Her heart beat so fast and precious, her life so fragile, smelling of that fresh baby smell. Surrounded by people who truly cared about her welfare. And mine. Safe.

Wyatt traced his finger down Ava’s arm. She clutched his finger in her small hand and drew it into her mouth to chew on. He laughed.

“Evangeline, may I ask a favor of you?” Aurora said. Her tone shifted from giddy to serious, and the change reflected in her face. Round eyes were hooded, the color more intense.

“Of course,” I said.

“Be Ava’s
Aluli.”

Phin’s head snapped toward her, which clued me in that the unfamiliar word carried some weight.

“What is that?” I asked.

“The closest word you have is ‘godmother,’” Aurora replied. My heart fluttered. “Phineas is already her
Agida
. If anything happens to me, I want you both to protect my daughter.”

“Nothing’s going to happen to you.”

“You can’t know that. I may live to see Ava grow into a beautiful woman with children of her own, but I can’t know for sure. Please say yes.”

I had no experience with children. I avoided them in public places and had never possessed the desire to raise my own. I’d never changed a diaper, babysat, or even held a baby until now. I had every reason to say no, that she’d chosen the wrong woman for the job.

“Yes,” I said. “I’m honored.”

“You are a warrior, Evangeline. You honor
me
with your acceptance. I have no fear for her now.”

Wyatt nudged me gently with his shoulder. I looked at him, curious. His mouth was quirked in an amused half smile, and one eyebrow was arched dramatically. I shot him a withering look, and he laughed out loud. I started to say something, but a strange odor killed the words. He sniffed. I sniffed. What the hell …?

“I think she needs a diaper change,” Wyatt said.

I groaned. Aurora smiled, took her back with a practiced ease, and left. I wiggled my toes, testing the muscles up and down my legs, still wrapping my mind around the latest conversation. I was now the Therian equivalent of a godmother to Aurora’s daughter. Yikes. At least my legs felt stronger, more able to hold my weight. Being unconscious for twenty-four hours had probably atrophied the muscles.

“So just to summarize,” I said, “we have no more leads to follow and no inkling as to Call’s next move.”

Wyatt started nodding, but Phin said, “Not exactly.”

My head snapped up. “Care to elaborate?”

“Snow said he would introduce me to Call tonight. I’m supposed to meet him at four o’clock.”

“And when the hell were you going to tell us?”

“I almost wasn’t.” Before I could snarl a protest, he continued. “I knew if I did, you’d want to go with me, and I’d have to remind you that Snow thinks you’re my sexually aggressive girlfriend, as well as dead, and I wanted to save the inevitable argument about wearing a wire or something.”

He’d nailed me on that one.

Wyatt’s hand drifted to my blanket-covered
thigh—a light and protective touch. “Does Snow thinking you’re dead have anything to do with him stabbing you?”

“Yes,” I replied, covering his hand with mine. Partly for the comfort of his warmth and partly to make sure he didn’t act on the anger that flashed across his face. To Phin, I said, “So you meet Snow alone, and then what?”

“I hope he takes me to Call. I’ll get what answers I can before anything goes down, then pass them on to you. We go from there.”

“I hate that plan.”

“Why? Because you can’t play?”

“Yes, and because you’re going in there alone and with no way for us to back you up.”

Phin smiled patiently. “That’s sweet.”

I frowned. “I’m serious, Phin.”

“You know I can take care of myself.”

“Against half a dozen boxers, yeah. What if sixty-odd Dregs decide they don’t trust you and want to turn you into osprey fillets?”

“Won’t happen.”

“You’re damned sure of your acting abilities.”

He laughed and crossed his arms over his chest. “Actually, I’m more sure of my position within the Assembly. Call knows who I am, and no matter how many of his recruits are Therian, he won’t tempt the ire of the entire Assembly by killing me. Maiming, perhaps even some form of torture, but not death. Whatever his goal, this man wants support, not enemies.”

“Unless they’re Triads,” I said with a derisive snort.

“Yes.”

“We can follow you at a distance.”

“They’ll know, Evy. Whether they see you, hear you, or smell you, they’ll know someone’s watching.”

I wasn’t going to win the argument, and I hated losing. Phin was meeting Snow that afternoon no matter what I said. We couldn’t bug him, and we couldn’t follow him. I was out of options. “Okay, fine. Just promise you’ll be careful. I’m not sure of the specifics of this
Aluli
thing, but something tells me part of it is not letting the
Agida
die.”

Phin nodded, smiling again, but there was no mirth in his eyes. Just a hard determination. “I’ll be as careful as I can, I promise. Now if we’re done arguing in circles, I’ll go check on lunch.”

“Thank God. I’m starving.” My stomach grumbled at the mention of food. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten. “Tell me it’s hamburgers or spaghetti or something—”

“You’re getting broth for now,” Wyatt said. “You haven’t eaten in a while, and we don’t want to shock your system.”

I groaned. “You’re cruel.”

“Only because I care.” The hand on my thigh went around my waist, and I leaned against his chest. Heard his thrumming heart, so strong in my ear. Inhaled his scent—clean and masculine, but missing that hint of cinnamon. Must be a soap or aftershave he’d not had access to since leaving the hospital.

Phin had left at some point, closing the door almost completely.

I nuzzled a little closer, calmed by Wyatt’s embrace.
So much had happened, and so quickly, it felt like a month since that night in First Break. What we’d thought was our last night together. I’d wanted so badly to be with him then, and couldn’t. I’d wanted to say I loved him the way he loved me, and couldn’t. He’d said he understood, which amazed me, since I hadn’t understood. I still didn’t understand.

His fingers combed through my long hair. “You should rest up while you can,” he said, breath tickling the top of my head.

“I’ve been sleeping for a day, Wyatt. I’m not tired anymore.”

He laughed. The sound rumbled through his chest and into mine. “Okay, then consider that my thinly disguised plea for a short nap. Not all of us heal like you.”

I pulled away so quickly he jumped. “Am I hurting you?” I felt like a fool, finally noticing how pale he still was.

“No, you didn’t hurt me.” He reached out and brushed a lock of hair off my cheek. “But ibuprofen helps only so much, and my back aches like a son of a bitch.”

I scooted around him, toward the wall side of the twin bed, dragging the blanket with me. My legs barely protested, the only real pain coming from my knee. I lay down on my left side and opened the blanket up to Wyatt.

He accepted the invitation without a word, stretching out next to me. I poked him gently until he rolled over to his left side, and I snuggled up against him. I felt the bandage beneath his shirt, the beat of
his heart through his back. It was a complete reversal from the last time we’d “slept together.”

I draped one arm across his waist, and he twined his fingers with mine. I lay awake for a while, listening to him breathe, wondering if this was all we’d ever have. Quiet moments of recovery, scattered among skirmishes and double-crossings and the threat of impending war. One hour of peace every couple of hellish days.

My body had craved his touch since the moment of our first contact six days ago. This new body that I was still trying to understand, full of sensations and memories I had to reconcile with my own. It made my attraction to Wyatt as exciting as it was terrifying. I wanted to love him, but I didn’t know how.

And I still couldn’t convince myself it was worth it. He had died that night at Olsmill, and it had shattered me. What if, the next time, death stuck?

Wyatt grunted softly, and I loosened my grip, unaware I’d held on so tight. “What is it?” he whispered, voice raspy with sleep.

“Nothing.” I kissed the back of his neck. “You rest.”

“Hard to if you keep doing that.”

I smiled and kissed the same spot, just below his short hair. “Doing what?” I asked, and planted another.

He squirmed, his breathing a bit erratic. “I mean it. And the fact that you’re practically naked over there isn’t helping.”

I ceased teasing. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

No, it’s not. But thanks for trying
.

He drew my hand up and kissed the knuckles. I settled my head back against the pillow, holding him. Glad to have him for a while.

And for a while, it was enough.

Sunday, 3:37
P.M.

The chicken broth went down easily, and I managed to negotiate for three plain crackers. Wyatt was kind enough to eat his ham sandwich in the hallway, out of sight and out of scent. We were in the process of some steady hobbling around the bedroom, with me in Jenner’s bathrobe, when Phin popped back in.

“I have to leave,” he said.

I nodded. “As soon as you know something—”

“I’ll call.” He left again before I could reply. Saying “Good luck” would have been redundant anyway. I had to trust him. Stabbing aside, he’d kept his promises. I just hated being left behind.

“Think we can get these bandages off?” I asked Wyatt. “It’s hard to know if my knee can bear weight with it wrapped up so tight.”

“Yeah, go sit.”

He retrieved a pair of scissors from the nightstand while I plunked back down on the bed. The bandages kept my legs almost completely straight, and I was eager to make sure the bones had healed right. If they
hadn’t and something went down tonight, I’d be hard-pressed to help.

Wyatt knelt in front of me and raised my right leg so that my heel rested on his thigh. Inch by inch, he cut through, revealing pink skin mottled by the tight pressure of the bandages. Up past my knee to where it ended mid-thigh. I flexed, feeling only a little pull as taut muscles started to loosen. I bent the knee, twisted the ankle, and put my foot flat on the floor.

“So far, so good,” I said. “Left leg.”

He repeated the pattern, and on the surface, my left leg looked the same as my right. I moved my ankle first this time. Then lifted, bending gently at the knee. No pain. I bent it farther, drawing my thigh completely to my chest, stretching out the calf and thigh muscles. He stood and stepped back, offering his hand.

I ignored him and stood up. The gentlest twinge crawled through my left knee, but it didn’t buckle. No more aching, no more pain.

“Well?” Wyatt asked.

“Good as new.”

“Just don’t push yourself too hard.”

I couldn’t help it. I started laughing.

He scowled. “What?”

“Don’t push myself too hard? You realize you’re talking to me, right?”

“You mean telling you to be careful is like teaching a cat to read?”

“Exactly.”

He started laughing along with me, and the euphoria felt great. A release of tension and worry I hadn’t had in a while. It started in my gut and spread
outward, from toes to fingertips. Tears trickled down my cheeks. I laughed so hard I lost my balance and flopped onto the bed, gasping for air.