Living with the Dead

FINN



“KARL’S IN THE BARN,” Damon called as he raced to Finn, striding through the wooded border, Rhys at his heels.

Finn was about to say, with all respect to Karl Marsten, that he didn’t give a rat’s ass where the man was. Then Damon caught up and continued. “He’s trying to get to Bobby and Hope.”

“Where are they?”

“Hold up a minute so I can show you. Man, you’re as bad as that guy from The Fugitive. You’ve caught Bobby and now you’re not about to let her get away, huh?”

Was there a twist of sarcasm to those words? Before Finn could comment, Damon directed his attention to a tool shed fifty feet behind the barn . . . and a pair of fake cops standing guard between the buildings.

“What the hell are they doing in there? Of all the hiding places—”

“It’s a bomb shelter.”

“What?”

“It leads to an underground shelter. Bobby and Hope were coming out when they noticed those guys making a beeline for the shed. They ducked back down. Those two took a peek inside and didn’t see the hatch. But that seems to be their assigned post so they aren’t budging. And Karl’s getting tired of waiting.”

“Guide us in.”



“THIS WAY,” Damon said as they slipped into the barn.

Rhys stepped in the other direction, toward the dark stalls.

“No!” Damon said. “Stop him.”

“What?”

Rhys motioned that he wanted to check the rest of the barn, be sure it was clear.

“Tell him I already got it,” Damon said. “He doesn’t need to—”

Rhys was already disappearing into the stalls.

“Shit! Call him back, Finn.”

Finn wasn’t about to raise his voice. He jogged after Rhys, rounding the corner to see the other man dropping beside a woman lying in the hay. Finn picked up his pace.

It was a couple, a man beside the woman, arms around her, her face against his chest.

“The gas,” Finn whispered. “It must have knocked them out.”

“No.” Rhys rose and extended his hand. In it lay two small vials.

Finn strode over for a closer look. There were no lights in the barn, but a sliver of sunlight through the beams illuminated the face of the young man on the floor. His features were contorted in agony. The woman’s face was hidden against him, but Finn recognized her dark hair and blue dress. The girl who’d held a gun on Adele.

“Hugh and Lily,” Rhys murmured, his voice thick.

Damon murmured he’d go check on the women. As Rhys took off his ball cap, Finn looked around. Deep in the shadows he could make out two more bodies. Rhys hadn’t noticed them, and Finn wasn’t about to point them out. Whatever Rhys’s connection to this place, these people weren’t anonymous victims to him.

Rhys looked up sharply. “The others. I have to—”

“You have to get Hope, Robyn and Adele Morrissey.” Marsten appeared from nowhere. “As for the rest? What’s done is done.”

Harsher than Finn would have put it, but Rhys only pulled his ball cap back on and straightened. Then he dropped the vials and crushed them under his shoe.

“Those are stashed all over the property,” he said. “Anyone who hasn’t been captured will have already done what they were taught. They’ll presume it’s a Cabal.”

“But these people had rifles,” Finn said. “They could have fought back.”

Rhys shook his head. “Then some could be captured. They wouldn’t risk that.”

“It’s the Nasts, isn’t it?” Marsten said, keeping his voice low. “I believe I suggested we switch cars in case they’d planted a tracking unit.”

“And I said that my car has a device to scramble the signal. They’d be in North Hollywood by now.”

“Whoever is here, I think it’s my fault,” Finn said. “I called for backup, and this is what I got. I have no idea how or why—”

“They diverted calls from your radio,” Rhys said.

“That’s not poss—”

“Believe me, it is. Cabal technology. Almost certainly the Nasts. As for why . . . I have my suspicions—”

“Unimportant.” Marsten walked back from peering out the window. “We have a rescue to launch. Hope, Robyn and Adele’s trail seems to lead to that building behind the barn. But the guards have already checked in there, so—”

“They’re underground.” Finn explained what Damon told him, as quickly and quietly as possible.

“Don’t worry about Adele,” Damon said as he returned. “There was a situation. Hope took her down. Shot her.”

Again, Finn relayed. Seeming less pleased with that than Finn would have expected, Marsten frowned and walked to the window.

“What we’ll do then is create a distraction,” Finn began.

Marsten didn’t turn from the window. “At this point, I’m not looking for a humane course of action, Detective. It’s too risky.”

As Rhys answered, Finn thought he saw a movement behind the dead couple. He peered into the shadows. A hand moved across the hay. A ghost? Finn took a step toward it. The ghost lay facedown, as if too shocked to stand. His hand was moving toward a rifle. The straw crackled and shifted under the man’s fingers . . . and told Finn this was no ghost.

Finn slipped up over the man, bent and pressed his gun to his skull. “Stop right there.”

Running footsteps pounded the concrete pad outside the barn. Finn looked up sharply, but the stall blocked his view. Rhys wheeled, gun rising. Two pairs of hands lifted over the stall. Women’s hands. Rhys lowered his gun as Marsten strode over.

“There’s a guy in the hay. He’s—” Hope saw Finn with his gun trained on the man. “You found him. Good. Rob and I were running beside the barn when I caught a stray thought.”

“Niko?” Rhys strode over, kicked the rifle aside and hauled the middle-aged man to his feet. “Playing possum, were you?”

“Th-the poison,” Niko said. “It didn’t work for me.”

Rhys cold-cocked Niko and sent him flying into the hay pile.

“I’m not going to fight,” Niko said, struggling up. “I claim sanctuary.”His gaze swung to Hope. “With the council.”

“The same council you’ve always sworn was in league with the Cabals?”

“You don’t understand, Rhys. You never did. To give clairvoyants the community they need, we lie. It’s a blueprint created by bulibas has long before my time.”

“Lies? Like the one about hiding from the Cabals? Protecting the kumpania from them?”

“We do protect—”

“You brought the Cabal here, Niko. When Adele told you the Cabal chased her and Colm earlier today, you knew she was wrong. The Cabal wouldn’t do that because they own the kumpania. It’s not a safe haven. It’s a clairvoyant farm.”

“That’s—”

“I’ve been following the trail for ten years now, and finally figured out where it ended. You tried to stop this—” He waved to the dead young couple. “—from happening by telling the kumpania not to worry, not to panic.”

“Of course, I didn’t want—”

“Because if they killed themselves, it would be your fault. You alerted the Cabal. You told them about me. They somehow linked it all to Detective Findlay’s investigation—”

“Because he visited the Nast offices today,” Hope said. “He met with Sean, who went digging for information on clairvoyants to help me, which must have triggered an alert. They found out about Detective Findlay’s visit, and put it together.”

“And the Cabal wouldn’t want the police descending on their kumpania. They rerouted Detective Findlay’s calls, and probably all emergency calls from that motel.”

“Because they wanted to protect us!” Niko said. “As they have always protected us, Rhys. That protection comes with a price. One clairvoyant every ten years. A pittance to pay. But you couldn’t leave well enough alone. And look what happened.” He pointed to the couple.

“The Cabal swooped in because of Adele,” Rhys said. “Adele was your creation, Niko. Her actions brought everyone to your door step—”

“Uh, guys?” Damon ran in. Rhys and Niko were still arguing. Damon leapt between them. “Finn, get them to shut up. Now. We’ve got—”

Marsten strode in. “They’ve figured out where we are. Process of elimination or he—” A chin jerk toward Niko. “—alerted them. We have eight armed men heading this way, led by one old man—”

“Rhys Vaughan? Hope Adams? Karl Marsten?” a voice boomed. “This is Thomas Nast. We have the building surrounded.”

“Come out with your hands raised,” Hope muttered, sounding surprisingly calm.

“Split up,” Finn said. “Take the windows. How many guns—?”

“No, Detective,” Hope said. “Fortunately for us, this isn’t going to end in a hail of bullets.”

“We can negotiate,” Rhys said.

Hope took a deep breath. “Okay, as the council representative and chaos-sensing half-demon, I should be the one—”

“No.” Marsten grabbed her arm. “Rhys wanted to go this alone. I think it’s time we let him.”

“Really?” Rhys said. “And I thought you were about to volunteer. Silly me.”

“Stop it.” Hope brushed off Marsten’s hand. “I’m—”

“Bobby!” Damon shouted.

Finn spun to see Robyn disappearing out the barn doors, armed men closing in, eight guns trained on her. Finn broke into a run.

“Mr. Nast?” she said. “We’d like to declare a truce.”





HOPE





This was one of those cases that happens more often than anyone cared to admit, where the council and the Cabal were not on opposite sides. The council wanted to stop Adele. The Cabal wanted to protect its kumpania. Killing Adele had accomplished both. Now they just needed to tidy the loose ends. So they negotiated.

It helped that neither side had taken casualties. Even Irving Nast wasn’t dead. Karl had tied him up and locked him in a closet, figuring that once they were done at the kumpania, they could notify the Nasts that he’d kidnapped a Pack wolf. The threat of diplomatic fallout would have the Nasts scrambling to punish Irving, a minor and relatively inconsequential family member.

With Adele dead, there was no way to pin the murders on her, not without the danger of exposing the clairvoyants. The Nasts vowed Robyn’s name would be cleared, at their expense—lawyers, bribes, whatever it took.

In return, the Nasts got Niko, two of the seers and the remnants of his kumpania. Five members were dead, including Neala. Niko would regroup and spin lies, and the kumpania would carry on. Rhys wasn’t happy with that, but it was a fight for another day. The Nasts granted him custody of Thom, and that was all that mattered for now.

Rhys had been right about the Cabal operating the kumpania. That was the real reason he’d taken the job with Irving Nast—hoping to prove his theory. The Nasts and the kumpania had been linked from the beginning, centuries ago in Europe. It was a secret pact between the bulibasha and the Nast CEO, which is why neither Sean nor Irving knew about it, leading Irving to negotiate with Adele.

The Nasts protected the kumpania from threats, including other Cabals. In return the kumpania provided them with clairvoyants. In fact, they’d been negotiating to provide one in the next year. The last clairvoyant had been a disappointment, so Niko had promised Thomas Nast the brightest star of the new generation: Adele Morrissey.



DETECTIVE FINDLAY TOOK ROBYN to the station. Hope stayed with her as long as she could. The detective swore Robyn would be fine and he’d get her to the hospital as soon as he could.

When Hope and Karl left the station, Rhys was outside waiting.

“I’ll walk with you to your car,” he said, falling in beside them.

“How’s Thom?” Hope asked.

“Confused. Angry. I had to sedate him.” He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. “It’ll be a big adjustment for both of us. We’re flying tonight to a supernatural hospital. I wanted to touch base with you two before I left. First, Karl, I didn’t get a chance to say it earlier, but you were right to leave Irving Nast alive. A better plan than mine.”

Rhys braced, as if expecting Karl to sarcastically thank him for his approval, but Karl only nodded, knowing Rhys’s admission wasn’t easy—or necessary.

“Also, I have a business proposition for Hope. Well, for both of you, since I assume it’s a package deal. All the better, because I know I’d never have a chance of hiring you otherwise, Karl.” They turned the corner before he continued. “Earlier today you called me a mercenary, Hope. I could argue the nuances of that, but it is, in essence, what I am.”

“I already—”

“—work for the council. I respect that. I respect the council and what they do, though I meant what I said about them not being as effective as the supernatural world needs. That’s the nature of the beast. A body of justice cannot afford to slide into gray areas. That’s the arena of other organizations.”

“Like yours?”

“I’d like the chance to make my case, Hope.” He handed Hope a card with a phone number. “A pressure-free pitch. What you’re doing for the council is great, but I think you can do more.” His eyes met hers. “I think you might need to do more.”



KARL AND HOPE STOOD on their hotel room balcony. She leaned against the railing, watching the line of cars below, a parade of lights slow-marching to the beat of overamped music and horn blasts. Two motorcycles weaved through the traffic, leaving glowing trails like lightning bugs.

“I have a decision to make, Karl. A tough one.”

“I know.”

“I’m not sure that the council is where I belong anymore.”

“I know.”

Hope crossed her arms, still leaning against the railing, face averted, fists balled where he couldn’t see them.

“Karl . . . ?”

“Hmm?”

“About us . . .”

She felt him tense, a jolt of chaos escaping before he reined it in.

She turned around. “Karl, I need . . .” Her throat closed there, refusing to let the next words out, only letting her reverse and repeat. “I need . . . I need . . .”

He took a slow step toward her, struggling to keep those chaos vibes in check, hands lifting as if he wanted to stop whatever she was going to say. A foot from her, he halted, hands going into his pockets.

“Hope . . . whatever . . .” A surge of chaos, then he blurted, “We’ll work it out.”

“I-I hope so.”

A rush of breath. “All right then. Tell me what you need.”

“You.” Hope’s voice was barely audible even in the silence. “I need you. Too much.”

He put his arms out and she moved into them, his hands going to her back, her cheek against his chest, and that was easier, so much easier, resting there, listening to his heart, where she could feel his response but didn’t have to see it. Cowardly, maybe. But it was the only way she’d get through this.

“I need to go back to the council and explain what happened. Then I need to make some hard decisions and . . .” A deep breath. “You can’t fix this for me, Karl. And if you’re here, you’ll want to. I know you try not to, but you do, and I let you, and I don’t think either of us is happy about it.”

He went quiet and she braced for him to argue, to say he’d give her space, and she knew he’d try, maybe succeed, but she wouldn’t. Even if she managed not to ask his advice, she’d take her decisions to him, watch his face and monitor his chaos vibes. If they didn’t support her choice, she’d change it.

She trusted Karl more than she trusted herself. That had to change. Time to grow up. But it was one thing to hint she needed time alone. Another to insist. She didn’t think she could do that.

“There’s a job in Australia,” he said finally. “I wasn’t going to do it, because it would take more than my usual two weeks and I certainly don’t need the money, but . . .”

She pulled back to look at him. “How long are we talking?”

“Six weeks at least. Probably closer to two months.”

“Two months?”

“If you need more—”

“No, I was just thinking . . . two months. That’s . . . long. But, yes. I might not like it . . .”

“But you need it.” He put his hands on her hips and turned her around, backing to rest against the railing. “I can’t stop wanting to help, and by ‘help,’ I really mean guide, and by ‘guide’ I mean protect. That has nothing to do with you and whether you can take care of yourself. It’s about me and what I want, which is to make life easier for you, because I know it isn’t easy and it’s only getting harder, and I’m scrambling madly to smooth those rough edges before you get hurt.”

“I’m going to get hurt, Karl.”

His hands tightened on her hips, as if the very idea was a threat to fight and defeat. After a moment, he said, “I know.”

“I need to know I’ll be okay, Karl. That I can do this on my own. That as much as I appreciate your help, I don’t need it.”

They were quiet for a minute.

“Two months . . .” she whispered.

“And then I’ll be back. You know that.”

“I think that’s part of it. Yes, I know you’ll be back, and yet . . .”

“You don’t quite trust it. You can’t help thinking that I’ll meet some glamorous Aussie at the opera house, seduce her for her jewels and decide this ‘life mate’ business isn’t what I want after all.” He looked down at her. “I know we don’t discuss my past and I’m glad of it. But my past means I know exactly what else is out there, what I’m ‘missing,’ and I don’t miss it at all.”

“But don’t you . . . get tired of it? My endless angst, my issues . . .”

“And don’t you get tired of mine? Overly protective. Overly territorial. Ambivalent about the Pack. And forget the werewolf issues—I’m a jewel thief. I have enough money, so why don’t I settle down, get a nice office job so you don’t have to lie to your friends and family—”

Hope cut him off with a kiss. “I understood from the start that’s what you are, what you need to be. I bought the whole package.”

“As did I.” He shifted her aside. “Wait here.”

He went inside. A minute later, he returned.

“Put out your hand.”

She smiled. “Do I have to close my eyes?”

“Of course.”

She did. Something small and cold dropped into her palm. She opened her eyes to see what looked like a figure-eight charm. When she held it by the ring, though, the eight lay on its side. The symbol for infinity.

“I considered a ring, but feared that might be pushing my luck. A more abstractly symbolic gesture seemed appropriate. I’d have hung it on your charm bracelet, but I don’t know where you’ve put it.”

“Some thief you are.”

“I could take a look . . .”

She caught his sleeve, closed her hand around the charm and lifted her arms to his neck.

He caught her wrist. “There’s an inscription.”

She found it. Three words, repeated on the front and back. No matter what.

“Yes,” Karl said. “Quite possibly the least poetic inscription ever written.”

“No it’s . . .” She clasped the charm. “It’s perfect.”

“And I mean it, Hope. I’m here for you, no matter what. I always will be. You can never do anything that will scare me away. No matter how hard you try.”

She laughed, the tears jolting free. He wiped them away.

“You’re right,” he said. “You have decisions to make and I shouldn’t be a part of that. I don’t need to be. You’ll make the right choice, and whatever you decide is fine with me . . . as long as it doesn’t involve handing back my condo keys.”

“It won’t.”

“Then, I meant what I said the other day. I’m just along for the ride. Council, Cabal, mercenary, I don’t care. I come willingly, and it’s not about following you or protecting you. I enjoy it. You aren’t the only one who’s finding that what satisfied those ‘uncivilized urges’ in the past isn’t doing the job the way it used to. So consider your options, make your choice and call me home.”

“I will.”