Zthane whips around to face Will. Karl sighs, but then winces as his lungs expand. His mouth opens, but Zthane lets loose a string of biting reprimands.
“These stitches are good,” Sjharn says, cutting Zthane’s rant off. He glances over at Erik. “Your work?”
Erik stands up and comes over to where we are. “Yes.”
The Shaman’s eyes narrow as he takes Erik in. “You look familiar.”
“As I tend to look more like my mother than father,” Erik says flatly, “I am not surprised.”
Zthane throws his hands up. “Somebody better start talking, and they better do it soon.” He rounds on Karl. “You do not get into skirmishes with the Elders without telling me about them! Gods, Karl! You helped me write the most recent sets of Guard protocol, and now you’re choosing to only selectively follow them?” He switches over to Erik. “You obviously know about our kind—and I want to know why!” To Will and Cameron, “The same for you two! Why a non is fighting Elders with two Council members . . .” His fists clench. To me, “And for the gods’ sakes, where the hell have you been for the last half year, Chloe?” He snaps his fingers. “I want answers, people! NOW.”
So we give them to him. I tell him everything, including the truth about my Connections to both Whitecombs. We tell him about the Métis, their colonies, and how the Elders are attacking them, too. We explain how Cailleache tracked me down in Anchorage, how I discovered I could destroy her kind. Of what happened in the warehouse just days ago. Hours pass, people are healed, and Zthane finally gets all his answers.
“Holy hell,” is what the head of the Guard says when the truth is laid bare for him to see. And then, to Karl, “Well, this is a game changer, isn’t it?”
Karl laughs quietly, but any mirth is replaced with exhaustion.
Zthane rubs at this hair, pacing the room for a good ten seconds before coming back over to where I’m sitting with Will. “This has been an official debriefing, Councilwoman Lilywhite. I will send you the paperwork concerning just such to review and sign tomorrow. Until then, I advise you not to talk to anybody else about what you’ve just told me.” His dark eyes flick over toward Karl. “I know you are tired, friend, but we have much to discuss tonight. You might as well call Moira and tell her you won’t be home until late.”
Karl nods and pulls out his phone.
“Will you be heading to your old address?” Zthane’s question is quiet in the already sterile room.
Is my old address even still mine? I shake my head. “I’ll be staying with . . .” I turn toward Cameron, who smiles and finishes for me, “Us. Let me give you our address, in case you have need for further clarification.”
While Cameron types in his address in Zthane’s proffered phone, the Goblin says, “I’ve heard tales of Molliaria Hellebore’s work before. She could do things to metal that many Smiths only dream about. There’s still a plaque in the front of HQ that she fashioned.”
Will stands up and goes over to one of the windows to peer out into the fading sun. “Too bad she had to go and have me, right?”
“Son,” Cameron warns softly, but Will is already issuing a bitter apology of his own.
Awkwardness fills the room; Zthane’s feet shuffle uneasily against the parquet floors. My next question only adds to the unease. “The team that went missing while protecting me from the Elder attack in the Elvin forest . . . were they ever found?”
Zthane’s lips thin. “Unfortunately, no.”
I swallow back the rising guilt. “What about Jens Belladonna? Was he ever found?”
Zthane slowly shakes his head.
As much as I disliked Belladonna, my heart sinks over his continued disappearance just as strongly as that of my team. “Are you guys still looking for them?”
A sigh precedes, “No. We don’t have the resources or the time to spend searching anymore.”
Not when they were searching for a runaway Creator, is what he isn’t saying to me.
I ask quietly, “When will Jonah be back?”
“If all goes as planned, tomorrow morning.” Zthane steps forward and hugs me; I sink into his familiarity, grateful for his willingness to not treat me like the pariah I deserve to be. “Go easy on him, Chloe. Go easy on them both.” He smiles sadly. “That said, don’t be mad at the escort I’m sending with you to the Danes’ apartment. I don’t want a repeat of that melee outside of the Transit Station.”
He’s worried I’ll run again. I bite back my own sadness and nod. I really have no one to blame but myself for the doubt that’s replaced years of hard-earned trust.