Oblivious, p.19
Oblivious, page 19
What if he’s right?
Again the question prodded me, refusing to be ignored. Michael knew about the Federation of Supernatural Affairs. How could I dismiss the possibility that this whole situation was nothing more than a combination of misunderstandings? The drugs were the syndicate, the screwy paperwork nothing more than a case study for this organization. Madison could learn more about them. She could go through the files again to see if Eric’s explanation fit with what we’d found. Maybe there was paperwork we’d missed that showed the transfer of funds.
Madison. I have to tell her about Gideon.
I swallowed a groan, tightened my grip on the door handle, and steeled my spine. I would give Eric’s explanation the benefit of the doubt for now and let Michael send me after the lead he was following, but in the end, evidence would guide my steps.
So in response to Eric silently begging me to toe the line, I nodded and said, “I understand,” and hoped he understood. No hard feelings. We both had to do what we felt was right. Let our consciences light the way.
I didn’t give him time to say anything else. Finally finding the use of my fingers to open the door, I stepped onto the sidewalk under the bright afternoon sun and closed the door behind me. The car idled a while longer, but as I walked past the few people sitting on the front stoop, Eric drove away, leaving me on my own.
With shaking hands, I let myself into the building and, on wooden legs, climbed the stairs to my apartment.
It felt strange to be back. Yesterday, I’d fled from my team, using everything in my arsenal to help Gideon and me disappear. We’d made it out. We’d survived.
Now here I was, dropped off by the very people I’d run from, Gideon gone, and me stripped of everything. Our escape had been a false victory. I should have known the house would win in the end.
My apartment was dark and quiet. It didn’t feel any more like home than it had from the car.
I tossed my keys on the side table by the door and stood in the living room, staring around as though I’d never been here before. A clock on the wall ticked the seconds away. Shouts and laughter came through the open window from the museum across the street. The curtains billowed gently in the breeze.
So peaceful. So at odds with the static in my head.
I needed to get out of here. To get back to Madison and tell her what had happened. To get away from the memories that crushed whatever part of me still had the capacity to feel.
But I clung to the voice that told me I shouldn’t leave yet. Eric might have driven away, but if I walked out of here minutes after being dropped off, I couldn’t be sure word wouldn’t get back to Michael, and he would think I was going against his orders. I needed Madison’s help, but I couldn’t risk her safety or the newfound trust I’d formed with my commander. Now more than ever, we needed to play it smart. Michael was right: together we stood a better chance of stopping Dougall and O’Malley than we ever would separately. I needed to stay in the loop, even if officially I was in disgrace.
I forced myself to move around my apartment as though I were glad to be back, but when I turned away from the window, my gaze fell on Gideon’s bloody T-shirt draped over the edge of the garbage can. I froze, my heart forgetting how to beat. I brushed my fingers over the stiff material, remembering what an asshole I’d been the whole time he was stitching himself back together. Recovering from what my department had put him through. Grief threatened to kick in, but I pushed it down, wadded up the shirt, and chucked it into the bottom of the trash.
Determined to think of anything other than him, I headed to the bedroom. The closet doors were open from our hasty getaway, a few clothes strewn across the bed. I ignored the mess, grabbed a clean outfit, and went into the bathroom. Although the apartment was empty, I closed and locked the door, then turned on the shower as hot as it would go. Steam filled the room and floated out the window, and I watched the way it danced on the breeze as I sat on the edge of the tub, not yet able to get undressed and leave myself so vulnerable. I felt bare enough as it was, naked without my authority, my dignity. Without my friends.
As my gaze landed on the blood-stained towel hanging on the rack, a small, broken laugh echoed through the steam. I’d even lost my anger at Gideon, the constant flame that had motivated me to prove I was smarter than the silly woman who’d fallen for his charms. Much as I’d been furious with him, that fury had pushed me to become stronger. Finding out he’d come here to do my job had given me the courage to stick to my guns and keep digging.
Look where it had brought me.
Now, though, that anger had burned up, leaving me cold. Having him far away in the States would have been better than not having him at all.
I wrapped an arm around my middle to hold in the lurking pain and raised my other hand to weave the water droplets through my fingers. With the barest effort, I manipulated the draft in the room, causing the water to ebb and flow around my skin, creating shapes in the air. For a brief moment, they might have formed a face, but I released them before I made out whose.
After a few minutes of sitting, I turned off the water and sank to the floor to rest my head against the cool tiled wall. Eric’s explanation sat like a lead weight in my gut, and I couldn’t help but wonder how badly I had fucked things up. If I had turned to Michael at the start, backed down and followed orders, would anyone else have died? Gideon might already be home. He’d only stayed to watch out for me.
Tears streamed down my face and my nose ran, and I rushed to the toilet to bring up all my guilt and confusion about what was real and what was bullshit.
I spat the foul taste from my mouth and sat back on my heels. In the car, Eric’s explanation had made sense, but now that his sad blue eyes were gone, I saw it didn’t cover everything. The syndicate’s reach within the department was wider than mooching our empty community centres. They wouldn’t have dropped Carstairs into the task force if all they wanted was warehouse space. The three of us might have been off base, but our assumptions weren’t as far off as Eric and Michael claimed. The monsters were real, and they were growing, and if we didn’t stop them soon, they would consume us, just as they’d done to so many people already.
When my stomach finally settled, I returned to my spot with my head on the tile. I had to think of anything else. I would drive myself crazy if I imagined how bad things could get. But when I wrenched my thoughts away from Gideon and the others, they had no happy place to land.
I knew I couldn’t give up. Even as I stared down the barrel of my shame, I knew I had to keep moving for the sake of those who had fallen, but for now, I could only sit here, paralyzed, needing to face the inevitable truth: my decisions had cost me allies every step of the way, and the harder I pushed, the more I would lose. Whoever was behind this, they were winning, and from where I stood, I didn’t see any way of catching up with them.
I was boxed in. One foot out of line and not only would I lose my stripes, but Michael would have to choose between protecting me from myself or Eric from SilverGuard. I couldn’t reach out to my team because one word to them about the conspiracy and they would be in the same line of fire as I was—my poor remaining pack that hadn’t heard from me in days. I couldn’t even check in on the group chat now that I’d ditched my phone.
When I’d visited the hospital, Zeke had given me his support to push as hard as I had to. Luvy, Mandy, Ray, Marc-André—they’d looked at me with faith and confidence. Would they look at me that way still, or would I find the same confusion I’d gotten from Xander and Katie? The same doubt.
But there was nothing I could do yet to confirm how far I’d lost my team.
I could only wait.
My stomach curled in on itself, and I pulled my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around my legs to hug them closer.
Wait for the syndicate to make another move.
Wait for Michael to get his lead lined up so he could give me some direction.
Wait for the world to stop spinning for one second so I could regain my balance and stop myself from spiralling out of control.
Chapter 20
Madison
Hours had passed since I’d hung up with Serc, and I was still waiting for an update from, well, anyone. Over an hour ago, a news reporter had announced the protest on the Hill was being broken up for security reasons, and after receiving no explanation from either the media or Jet or Gideon, I was doing my best not to worry. We had agreed radio silence was the way to go, and I cursed myself for recommending it. Until they were sure the coast was clear, they would neither get in touch nor return to the safe house.
Which left me trapped in a spiral of uncertainty, and the knots in my stomach wouldn’t loosen.
To distract myself, I made more phone calls. I’d gotten things started with Serc, but he was right—he was limited in what he could do. Most groups would be. For some, their allegiances were tied too tightly to the queen’s court; for others, the personal stakes were too high. That didn’t stop me from trying. At the very least, I could warn people of what might be coming.
So far, of the five groups I’d contacted, I’d recruited a total of none. The goblins had already evacuated the city and debated leaving the country. Of course they were. They were usually the first to see the writing on the wall and the last to offer support or forewarning to the rest of the community. The brownies had hung up on me, either not wanting to face the truth or believing they wouldn’t be affected. The witches had called me a traitor to the queen and told me I should step aside and let her take her proper place.
“Maybe a war is exactly what we need,” their coven leader had said. “A chance to strike a new balance.”
I doubted anyone on the Shadow Council would agree but hadn’t bothered to argue.
The fae had thanked me, and although they didn’t intend to leave the safety of their borders, they would pass along any information they heard. Only the shifters had caught on that they should take steps to ready their defences. Whether they would help us directly was another question, but at least they would be prepared to fight.
Not that it would matter much to me. Soon enough, I would be saying my goodbyes and doing Meril’s bidding for the rest of my long, long life.
I checked my phone again, scrolling through my read messages hoping a new one from Jet would pop up, and meandering over to my private messaging app, crossing my fingers for a new message from Colm. I didn’t expect one, but I hoped. I also feared, because when the time came to leave, I couldn’t disappear without saying anything. Somehow I would have to say goodbye to him and to everything that might have been or could never have been. How the hell was I supposed to do that?
Doesn’t really matter. Break his heart, make him think you’re crazy. He’ll never see you again, so who cares what his opinion of you is?
I closed my eyes as my chest tightened. I had to stop. Stressing over the inevitable was a waste of energy. I had to make peace with my situation, erase whatever desire I had of maybe, one day, letting him into my life and doing everything in my power to protect the world I was leaving behind.
Another scan of the news and more of the same nothing, just a brief commentary about security concerns cutting the protest short.
Had Jet reached out to Eric and convinced him to clear the place out, or had they found something?
I tapped my fingers on the dining table in an impatient rhythm. Only a few days left on this side of the wall, and I was sitting on my ass waiting for someone else to bring me news?
To hell with this.
I stood up and went into the bedroom to grab my shoes. If no one was going to update me, I would head downtown and find out for myself. Enough waiting around.
I was on my way to the door when my phone rang.
“Hello?” I answered, but the line remained silent. I paused by the dining table and repeated my greeting, wondering if my caller was stuck in a dead zone. Some of the folk I’d called straddled the unseen wall, and the interference often caused issues with mundane electronics. The silence stretched on. “If you’re speaking, I can’t hear you. You might want to change location and call me back.”
I started to pull my phone away from my ear to hang up when I heard a quiet voice say, “Gideon’s dead.”
I froze. “Jet? What do you mean? What are you talking about?”
Please tell me you misspoke. That you meant Dougall. O’Malley. Carstairs. Please tell me you found the mole and stepped on him. Tell me this is over. That we’re safe. That I don’t need to leave.
“He was shot. He’s gone,” she said, her voice strained, working so hard to be steady.
I dropped into the closest chair at the table, but the way the room spun, I still felt like I was about to fall.
“How?” It was the only question I could get out, though a thousand more ran through my head. Where was she? Was she all right? What the hell had happened at that protest? “Start at the beginning. Tell me everything.”
“Dougall was there. At the protest. We were right.”
Her voice carried a strange echo that gave an eerie quality to her forced, even tone. I tried to imagine what might create the tinny sound and guessed she was in a bathroom, every syllable bouncing off the tiles. Was she at home?
“He planted a bomb.”
My heart caught in my throat and my gaze jumped to the television, expecting to see a breaking news report about mass deaths on Parliament Hill, but before my panic settled in, she added, “Gideon found it. Destroyed it in time.”
Gideon had saved them all. So what had happened? How had he gone from hero to dead?
“Did Dougall…” I started. As if we needed more of a reason to throw him into a deep, dark pit.
“No. He got away. It was Eric.”
I swore my chair was tipping. Eric. Jet’s Eric. One of her favourite people in the world. I couldn’t find my balance. I closed my eyes to block out the weight of her grief, the loss of our ally—our friend—but the spinning in my head worsened, and I had to open them again to steady myself.
Eric had killed Gideon?
“My team. They were there when I went after Dougall.” She sounded as though she were dragging the words out from the void. I wanted to tell her to stop, worried she would tear herself apart if she kept going, but she had to say it aloud. She had to get it out and make it real before it destroyed her. “They followed me away from the protest and went after me instead of him. They think I’m a traitor.”
Her voice hitched, and my throat closed. Why hadn’t she come back here? I didn’t think I had it in me to soothe her emotions when my own were so fraught, but I could have put my arms around her while she talked.
“Then Gideon… He wasn’t supposed to follow me. He did. Carstairs collared him, but Gideon had my key. The look on Eric’s face...”
“We knew they’d figure out you helped him,” I said. “It can’t have come as that much of a surprise.” It was the only solace I could provide, though it counted for little.
“I thought he’d left, gotten himself to safety, but one of the recruits freaked out, fired her weapon, and Gideon pulled me out of the way. Eric thought—I don’t know what he thought. He shot him.”
The silence returned, and I couldn’t tell if Jet had broken down into tears or lost herself in the numbness of her pain.
Although I didn’t want to imagine the scene, didn’t want to put myself in Jet’s shoes, I couldn’t help myself. Her agony was so deep, so primal, it sucked me into the moment and dropped me into her mind. Caught between my two partners. My two lovers. One who’d known me almost half my life and had shared every challenge of my career; the other who had sacrificed so much, suffered so much, and was still standing by me. Both of them fighting to protect me in their own way. Both of them willing to do whatever it took.
And one of them had paid the price.
And Jet. My poor, dear Jet left to watch as one person she loved snuffed the life out of the other. Not an attack, not an act by a heartless crime boss or a megalomaniac chemist, but a rational decision based on training and experience. Now she had to live with the memory.
The pain around my heart squeezed my lungs and I forgot how to breathe, as though every bit of her grief were my own, but I clawed myself out of the quagmire. I couldn’t afford to get stuck in someone else’s loss. By understanding it, I might help Jet through it, but I couldn’t possess it. To do so would be selfish and a waste of time. And I couldn’t afford to waste time.
Not now.
We’d lost Gideon.
Not only would he and Jet never have a chance to work out whatever crap had prevented them from being happy, but we’d lost the third piece in our fight against thousands. Jet and I were all we had left, and any hope I held that some miracle would let us save the department within a week evaporated.
After that, Jet would be alone.
How the hell am I going to break it to her that I’ve been called back?
Unless she came with me. Offered her services to Meril and helped us win the war from the unseen realm if we couldn’t win the battle here. I doubted she’d say yes, but I would feel better about leaving if I weren’t going by myself.
“I’m coming to get you,” I said. “Where are you?”
No matter what she decided, she needed someone beside her, and we needed to come up with a plan. I didn’t normally encourage distraction as a coping mechanism, but right now we didn’t have many other options.
