Living with the Dead

Page 95

 
All Adele remembered was Rhys coming to her late one night, Colm sleeping in his arms, telling her it was time.
For weeks he'd promised to get her out and find her grandmama. It had been their secret.
Niko and the other men had caught him and hauled him before the phuri, while Colm and Adele were bundled back to bed. Then Rhys had been gone. The kumpania said he'd been exiled and, a few months later, died in a car accident –
a fitting punishment from the gods.
Even when Adele had been old enough to suspect the kumpania had murdered Rhys, she'd cursed him. He'd promised her freedom and he'd failed. He was weak. He hadn't been willing to take chances, to make the bold moves.
Maybe he had planned to sell them to a Cabal. It didn't matter. Whatever happened thirteen years ago, Rhys would be a fool to return. Yet the phuri were convinced he was coming to see Neala now that their son was dead. Sentimental and silly. Why would you want to grieve with the wife who'd tried to kill you?
Unless...
If Rhys had escaped and the kumpania had been convinced he was dead, he couldn't have done it alone. Who would have helped him, if not Neala?
She remembered how Neala had acted when told her husband might still be alive. She'd been quick to protest. Too quick.
Adele straightened, backpack dangling from her arm.
If Neala had rescued Rhys from a death sentence, that would be treason. Prove it, and Adele would be rid of her enemy. She wouldn't need to run.
No, after what Adele had seen in Neala's face, she knew the woman wouldn't rest until Adele paid for Colm's death.
Threat of exposure for treason wouldn't stop her. And now if Rhys was coming, if Neala told Rhys she thought Adele was responsible for Colm...
Time for Adele to settle her future as she should have done the moment she'd realized that killing Portia Kane hadn't solved her problem. Get out, contact Irving Nast and finish the negotiations. Don't let him know she was panicked. Use his greed to cut a fast deal.
The kumpania wouldn't come after her right away. They'd be too busy grieving for Colm and worrying about Rhys.
They'd presume, in her own grief, she'd run. By the time they started their search, she'd be safely with the Cabal.
She heard Hugh shout outside. A car door slammed. She raced to the window.
It was Rhys. Worse, he'd brought Robyn Peltier's friends.
All three had their hands up – Rhys and the young woman holding theirs high, the dark-haired man's at chest level, a halfhearted effort as he surveyed his surroundings.
Rhys was talking. Adele cracked open the window. Someone answered – Bernard, she thought, but couldn't be sure.
Hugh and whoever was with him were on the front porch, out of her sight line.
"Who're they?" Bernard demanded, turning to Rhys.
"Delegates from the interracial council."
The council? No way. Rhys was bluffing, and she had to run down there and warn –
How? The kumpania knew nothing about Robyn Peltier. Explaining that these were Robyn's friends would do no good.
"You brought the council here?" Niko – she'd know his voice anywhere. "On our property?"
"I left my gun in the car, Niko, not my brain. The council knows these two are with me. We've arranged to have the kumpania coordinates delivered to them in three hours if we don't make it back to L.A."
"And what's going to stop these two from bringing the council back?" Hugh said.
"When you hear what I have to say, that's going to be the least of your problems. Niko, you and I both know your bullshit about the council being part of the Cabals is just that. But regardless of who works for whom, you don't want either the council or the Cabal out here."
"We'll go inside," Niko said.
"No, we'll speak in the meeting – "
"Rhys!" Robyn's friend yelled.
Rhys spun as Hugh charged. Lily – stupid Lily – screamed in terror. The dark-haired man shot forward, grabbed Hugh by the arm and swung him off his feet. Swung the brawny young man up like he was a misbehaving child, then held him by the collar at arm's length. When Hugh struggled, the man only shook him.
"Before we talk, I should explain." Rhys pointed to the young woman. "She is an Expisco half-demon. You don't know what that is, I'm sure, but you just got a demonstration. She can read negative thoughts. If you try to attack, like Hugh did, she'll know before you make a move."
"And... that?" Lily had stepped off the porch and pointed at the dark-haired man.
 
Even from the window, Adele saw the man lift an eyebrow. " That? Hardly polite." He threw Hugh toward her.
"What am I? Let's just say I won't fetch a stick for you. I won't beg for treats. And, no matter how nicely you ask, I will not roll over and play dead."
"A werewolf?" Lily squeaked, and for once, Adele didn't sneer at her terror.
If this man was a werewolf and the woman a half-demon – and whether they were or not, they were obviously supernaturals – then Adele had made a horrible, horrible mistake.
Robyn Peltier was no human, easily killed, quickly forgotten. She was a supernatural. Maybe even on the council herself. Or maybe being in L.A. meant she was part of the Nast Cabal. If so, then whatever deal Adele had with Irving Nast had evaporated the moment she set her sights on Robyn. Adele's imagination scampered about like a mouse caught with the lights on, running this way and that in a panic, imagining death in every corner.
Adele slammed her hand down on the heat register, the metal vent biting into her skin. By the gods, she was as bad as Lily, sniveling and cowering in fear. Yes, this was a problem, but it wasn't her fault. There was no way she could have known Robyn Peltier was a supernatural. The woman had tricked her, by hiding her powers and luring Adele in.
All that mattered right now was that those two were friends of Robyn's, meaning they were about to expose Adele.
She glanced at the window. Everyone had retreated elsewhere to talk. When they came for her, she had to be gone.
She took a few minutes gathering her money. Her brain still scampered and gibbered, and she couldn't concentrate, checking three past hiding places before remembering the latest.
She stuffed the cash into her pocket, down with the seer's room key she'd grabbed on her way over. She'd planned to visit Thom one last time, get a quick fix on Robyn Peltier, maybe on that detective too. No time for that now, but she would keep the key. One more problem to distract the kumpania. Tending the seers would be more important than hunting her.