Bayou born, p.22
Bayou Born, page 22
“Me as a mass murderer you believe,” I said, stunned, “but me as a cop—that’s suspicious to you?”
“When you’ve known Conquest for as long as we all have, yes. It is. She doesn’t turn over new leaves. She crushes them in her fist just to hear them crinkle, then sets the tree they fell from on fire after chopping it down and marking all the acorns from its line for death by boll weevil. That’s a thing, right? No? Maybe I’m thinking about cotton.”
“I can’t absorb this.” I tossed back the sugary soda, hoping the caffeine might kick my brain into gear. “There’s a tiny voice in my head that’s screaming and running in circles.”
“You do appear to be mostly human,” she mused. “Maybe we should have been more strategic when dropping our truth bombs.”
The rumble of an engine and the sound of gravel crunching under tires announced we had company.
“Who goes there?” Portia called. “Luce and I are bonding over old war stories. Mostly hers. She doesn’t even remember them, which is heartbreaking when you reflect on it. I mean, that’s her lives’ work gone. Poof. She could live and die as this skin sack she’s wearing, and all that history would be lost.”
When no smartass response was forthcoming, I got a bad feeling and pushed to my feet. Portia rose beside me, and together we crossed the deck and circled around to the parking area where five SUVs sat, one of them idling.
“Thom.” I recognized him first, blood smearing his cheek, and broke into a run. “He’s hurt.” Portia beat me to the SUV and yanked open the door. He spilled out into her arms, and she lowered him onto the ground. I dropped to my knees and checked his pulse. “Thom, can you hear me?”
His eyelids fluttered, and a string of rasped words impossible for me to untangle eased past his lips. Portia didn’t have that problem. She launched into a fluid glide of conversation while I sat there worse than useless. Who could I call? Not the paramedics. Not even Cole. Dragons didn’t carry cellphones.
A moan rose from the darkened interior of the SUV, and I ducked in to check the backseat.
“Portia,” I called. “Santiago’s on the bench.” I killed the ignition, slid out, then yanked the rear door open. “Hey, asshat. Open your eyes if you can hear me.”
He cracked his lids a fraction and growled. “Hands off.”
“I’m certified in first aid, CPR and AED.” Touch was unavoidable, so I tugged my sleeves down over my palms and pinned them in place with my fingertips. Hooking my arms under his, I hauled him out and then eased him onto the ground. “Show me where it hurts.”
Santiago grimaced and curled in on himself. “Nothing hurts.” He hissed at me. “Get lost.”
“Stop being a dick,” Portia snapped. “Let her help.”
Snarling at us both, he exposed his stomach and the ropes of intestines spilling through his fingers. “Do not vomit on me. I’m already pissed off as it is.”
Grateful as I was when that frost crackled over my heart, and the panicked voice shrieking in my head silenced, I questioned for the first time if it was—as I had always assumed—a byproduct of my training, or if it was a remnant of Conquest’s battle-hardened personality embedded so deeply into my psyche I could wrap that calm around myself like a blanket.
“How fast do you heal?” I gripped his shoulder and pushed him flat on his back. “I can stuff this back into you, but I need to know if it’s going to take. Do I need to sew you shut?”
“Fast,” he snapped. “I might heal . . . before I can . . . ”
“Bite down on this.” I leaned to the right and hauled a dead limb closer, then snapped off a fat stick. “Scream if you feel the need.”
Teeth flaking bark into his mouth, he growled, “I’m not going to—”
I sank my hands into the slimy wet lengths of his innards, shoving them into the bulging gash across his lower stomach, and his eyes rolled back in his head. I packed it all in and pressed my palms end-to-end to hold his guts where they belonged. As I watched, his skin knit together, fusing in an angry red line. I had a fingertip in the wound below his navel when the flesh began mending, and when I withdrew, it nursed on my nail.
The icy calm might have admired his rapid healing ability, coveted it even, but I suppressed a disgusted shudder. Even cocooned deep within myself, I had limits. Santiago had been right to worry I might lose my lunch on him. With him out of danger, I jerked out of that headspace and gave myself a minute to get used to the rush of heightened emotions around me again.
“What did you do?” Portia asked in a quiet voice. “Where did you go just now?”
“I locked down my panic at seeing a man’s guts writhing like worms on the ground, and I handled the situation.” I sucked in a few more breaths, grateful for the humid air warming me from the inside out. “How’s Thom?”
“Better off than Santiago.” She scratched her nails over his scalp. “It’s hard to take down Thom. He’s our medic. Most of his bodily fluids can be used for medicinal purposes.” Her eyes danced when she caught me wrinkling my nose. “You should see your face right now. You’re wondering how you healed from your injuries so fast, and which of his body parts donated the miracle drug.”
“What could have done this to them?” I asked, knowing full well the answer.
“Another demon. A higher demon.” She glanced back at the SUV, but I assured her it was clear. “We need to touch base with Miller.”
“This morning he was working on the Claremont case.” It had been hours since his last update, which I had taken to mean good things since the alternative sucked. “Where would he go?”
“Anywhere with strong brew and quick refills.” Portia frowned at Santiago, reaching out to ruffle his hair. “He’s such a bastard.”
“No argument here.” I read between the lines. “He’s your friend.”
“Yeah, I guess I’d piss on him if he was on fire.” She thumped him on the head. “Just don’t tell him about the friends thing, or I’ll never hear the end of his proposed benefits list.”
“My lips are sealed.” I couldn’t bring myself to look at my hands. “Let me wash up, and I’ll call Miller for a check-in.” I got to my feet and decided swamp water would have to do. I didn’t want to leave gore on the doorknobs while I searched for a bathroom. Assuming these demons used the facilities in the same sense as me. “Will you need help bringing them in?”
“Nah.” She crossed her legs and sat in the gravel. “I’ll wait for them to wake. It shouldn’t take long. An hour or so. Thom worked some mojo on Santiago, or he’d be dead right about now. They need rest, and I don’t want to risk moving either of them.”
Nodding, I set off to the water’s edge and knelt to scrub my hands clean with grit from the silty bottom. I risked a glimpse at my wavering reflection, but she only stared back at me. I blinked first, too afraid of what might emerge if I watched her for too long. After wiping my palms dry on a clean part of my shirt, I dialed Miller. He answered on the first ring. “That was fast.”
“I was expecting a call from Santiago.” Irritation spiked his voice. “He was doing a wipe job at the hospital and promised to get back with me—”
“Damn it.” Shocked by the guys showing up wearing their insides on their outsides, I had overlooked a serious problem. “Jane is at the hospital without a guard.”
“Come again?”
“Santiago and Thom were attacked.” I blotted my knuckles long after the skin dried. “They’re in bad shape, but Portia says they’ll recover. Both of them will be out of commission for a while, though.”
“Meet me there?” he said a beat later.
“Like you have to ask.” I ended the call, jogged to Portia and filled her in on what few bits she hadn’t caught with her super hearing. “Can I borrow a car?”
“Take number three. She’s usually mine, so she’s full on gas and not overflowing with takeout garbage.” She tossed me a set of keys from her pocket. “Stop waffling. Miller needs backup. I can cover these two.”
“What about Cole?” I closed my fingers over warm metal. “Do you have a way to warn him?”
“He never stays gone long,” she assured me, a heaviness in her gaze. “I’ll fill him in when he gets back. Be careful out there.”
“You too.” I climbed in the berry-scented SUV, cranked up the AC, then spun gravel in my haste. Juiced on adrenaline, I almost ignored the ringing of my cell, but I couldn’t afford to miss an update. Not with so many irons on the fire. “Boudreau.”
“Dougherty,” the detective grunted in response. “Thought you’d want to know we traced the call Maggie made at the emergency vet clinic to Justin Sheridan. Turns out he routes his calls through an answering service during his business trips. The phone system went down the night before Maggie disappeared, and their rep says when the service is interrupted, messages accumulated during that time don’t automatically resend. Sheridan had no idea there was an issue until we contacted him.”
“Did you hear the message?” The air whooshed from my lungs. “What did Maggie say?”
“There were two, actually. The first one came in around seven on the morning she disappeared. She mentioned leaving her phone at your house and told Sheridan to call the school if he needed her before four. In the last call, the one from the vet clinic, she confirmed she was with Robert Martin and apologized for running late for dinner. She promised to be home soon.” He hesitated. “We’ve issued an APB on Martin. I’ll let you know when we have him in custody.”
“Thanks.” A lump clogged my throat, and I couldn’t swallow past my guilt. Had I returned her phone, she could have called for help. We might have tracked her cell signal. But I hadn’t prioritized her, and I might not get the chance to correct that mistake. “I appreciate the update.”
“Anytime, Boudreau.” He gentled his tone. “I’ll do my best for your friend.”
“I know you will.” And because it was my fault his workload had just doubled, I forced out, “I’m sorry about Buck. I heard he’s expected to make a full recovery.”
“Bastard just wanted a vacation if you ask me.” He huffed, trying to sound miffed while concern thickened his voice. “His sister is going through an ugly divorce. She moved in with her three kids, all under five, and his house is a zoo. He probably broke his own leg to escape.”
I shared a laugh with him because he seemed to need one and signed off with my thanks.
Thanks to Maggie, we had a lock on Robert Martin. Now it was time to nail his ass to the wall.
But first I had to meet Miller and secure Jane. Even if choosing them felt like letting Maggie down. Again.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Hungry vultures kept watch on the hospital entrance, so I cruised around to the pharmacy where Miller had let me out the first time and parked. We must have been surfing the same wavelength, because he joined me a minute later. His first point of business was removing the White Horse magnets from the sides of his SUV and stowing them in the trunk. He slapped logos that read Thom’s Plumbing on each of our vehicles then slung a laptop bag over his shoulder and met me on the sidewalk.
“Do you have a way in?” He adjusted the strap while he scanned the area for roosting cameramen.
“Follow me.” I led him around back, waded into the bushes then hauled him along behind me. “Sit tight. We could be here awhile.”
Fifteen minutes later, a tall man with a vaporizer pen between his fingers emerged. The door hadn’t closed before he was sucking down lungfuls of aerosol and expelling white curls of mist through his nose that managed to remind me of Cole’s dragon. After the first several huffs, he exhaled with relief then wedged the brick into place and moseyed over to the usual alcove.
I gestured for Miller to follow, then led the charge through the back door. This time Ida wasn’t around to run interference, and we had to flash badges to assure the nurses who stopped us that we had a right to be in this section of the building. We zipped up to the fourth floor and eased into the hall. Three steps later, Miller stiffened beside me.
“Blood.” Chin tipped back, he breathed deep. “Santiago and Thom’s . . . and Jane’s.”
My feet wrested control away from my brain, and I bolted for her room. Miller caught me by the wrist and almost dislocated my shoulder hauling me a safe distance from the door.
“Let me go.” I snapped my hand up, applying pressure against his thumb and breaking his grip. “She’s hurt. We have to—”
“She’s the threat, Luce.” Pity filled his gaze, and his voice came out raw. “Think about it.”
Portia had told me only a higher demon could have savaged Thom and Santiago. Well, apparently, it didn’t get much higher than me. And Jane’s markings were a carbon copy of mine. Hers weren’t singularities like the others in the coterie but the full treatment. Meaning she must be from Otilla too.
“I’m an idiot.” I rubbed my forehead with the heel of my palm. “She’s like me, like Cole, like us.” I had known about demons for twenty-four hours, and my brain had been the consistency of oatmeal for a large portion of that time, but I couldn’t blame either of those for my willful ignorance. “The bruises. Goddamn it. Why didn’t I see this sooner?”
Better make that two months of brushing with bar soap.
“You didn’t know sooner.” Miller let me work it out on my own while keeping me corralled. “None of this is your fault.”
“All this time it’s been her.” From what I had observed of demons, they all cloaked themselves with humanity. Jane was the skin. The gator was her true face. Jane was the gator. The gator was Jane. Jane tried to kill me. “That bitch.” Fury crackled through my veins. “She punched holes through my house. Five minutes earlier, and Dad would have been home.” The demon had almost been too fast for me. He never would have made it across the field. “She could have killed him. She would have killed him.”
“We should have told you last night, but you were so hopeful.” He bowed his head. “We had no idea if Jane had been reborn the same blank slate as you. All we could do until we had proof was wait and watch. It’s the only reason Cole accepted the commission from your father.”
“The same as me,” I echoed, shoulder blades hitting the wall as that final puzzle piece snicked into place. The size of my hurt couldn’t be contained. It bled from my pores, a vicious ache that shattered me on a fundamental level. Family stood together. Family stuck up for each other. Family loved one another. Those were the lessons I had learned during my short human life, and she had blown them all to smithereens. “Jane is one of my sisters.”
“No.” Miller brushed his fingertips under my eyes to dry the tears I hadn’t noticed falling. “She’s one of Conquest’s sisters. War. Breaker of the Second Seal.” Preoccupied with the liquid on his fingertips, he sniffed them and then tasted the salty residue. “These are heart’s tears. They taste of pain and betrayal.”
“Does that mean you believe me?” I sniffled, unable to articulate what it would mean for at least one person to believe I was real, that I was Luce. “Cole called me a fiction, but I’m not. I’m me.”
“Cole has earned his right to bitterness where Conquest is concerned, and you may never outstretch her dark shadow with him. Perhaps that means his opinion of you, Luce—” he emphasized my name over hers “—is not the one you should hold closest to your heart.”
I offered him a watery smile, certain any demon cred I had was ruined. Not that I minded all that much. I’d take blubbering human over stone-cold bitch any day. “You’re a good guy.”
His lips quirked. “For a demon?”
“Did you hear a qualifier?” He flushed and glanced away as an unsavory thought occurred to me. “If Jane is my sister, and she’s also the super gator, does that mean Conquest is a spring-loaded fish trap too?”
“No.” He dragged a hand over his mouth, as though unsure what or how much to tell me. “Jane mated the former general of Czar Astrakhan’s army, a Drosera by the name of Thanases. Otillians are chameleonic. It’s how they infiltrate the other terrenes with ease, how they spread their genetic material throughout the worlds, but there are limits.”
Chameleonic implied I was a shapeshifter of some kind. After Cole that shouldn’t surprise me, but it did. Maybe Cole was right. Maybe Luce was my skin suit. Maybe that’s why I didn’t identify with the woman in the mirror. Perhaps my truest self was the one invisible in this form.
What a terrifying thought.
“Each Otillian can possess only one core identity. Usually, they take the shape of their mate, and once the bond is permanent, they’re no longer able to shift to their birth form. War took Thanases’s form so they could . . . ” red splotches mottled his cheeks “ . . . procreate. He joined her coterie and travels with her.”
Demons wearing people suits. Demons wearing alligator suits. Sure. Why not? At least the latter was more palatable by human fashion standards.
“The super gator who almost bit off my head, the one swimming around Jane—War—that was him? Thanases?”
“He was protecting her.” Miller tilted his head. “Aren’t you going to ask what your true form resembles?”
Honest curiosity burned in the question, and I sensed its answer would render me to cinders.
“No.” I shook my head. “I’ll be able to sleep knowing I’m not going to shift into some villain from Peter Pan, and that’s good enough for me.”
The amusement dancing in his eyes hinted at pleasure over keeping the secret. I wondered if he thought I would enjoy the eventual revelation. I hated to burst his balloon, but if birthdays had taught me anything, it was that I didn’t deal with surprise well.
I nudged him aside with a gentle sweep of my arm. “The crime scene isn’t getting any fresher. Let’s go.”
