Thirteen
Page 62
Sean straightened suddenly. “Bryce.” He got to his feet and started for the hall. Lucas came in, Adam behind him. Sean said, “I need to be the one who tells Bryce about Granddad.”
Lucas nodded. “I thought you’d want to. I already told my father that, though I believe he’d presume the same. Bryce woke up about an hour ago, but they’ve put him back under.”
“Put him under?” I said.
“Medically induced coma,” Sean said. He drew in a deep, ragged breath. “He’s not doing so well, Savannah. I need to get back to him.”
“Me, too. I mean, not that he wants to see me—”
“He does. But I should go now, even if only for a day.” He needed to stake his leadership claim with the Cabal. But his brother came first. He always would.
“We’ll go to Miami right away,” Adam said. “Is the jet here?”
“It is,” Lucas said. “You should go soon.”
“You aren’t coming back?” I said.
“Not yet. I need Adam to stay here, too.”
“What? No.” Adam stopped as he’d been about to sit beside me. “Sorry, Lucas, but whatever’s going on, I need to sit this one out. I’m in rough shape.”
“He is,” I said. “Those bruises aren’t all from today. The guards who arrested him beat the crap—”
Adam cleared his throat.
“Sorry. There was a fight. His ribs are cracked. He needs a break.”
Adam nodded.
“Never thought I’d hear that,” Sean said, managing a smile.
Adam looked abashed, muttering that he’d be fine in a day or two.
There was a moment of silence. Adam squirmed. I did, too. We both wanted to go back to Miami so we could have some time alone together. Under the circumstances, it was selfish, and we knew it. Finally, with an apologetic look my way, Adam said, “Lucas, if you really need me …”
“I do. I’m sorry. I don’t need you to fight, just to get us into some difficult places.”
Adam looked up. “If you need me to disintegrate doors when you’ve got werewolf strength and unlock spells, we’re talking heavy fortifications.”
“We are. Also multiple points of entry and multiple security systems.” He turned to Sean. “When Bryce woke up, he told us where he thinks they’re holding the Dahl boy.”
Larsen Dahl was the clairvoyant toddler whom Bryce had helped the liberation movement kidnap. Bryce been trying to infiltrate the group by giving them something they wanted so he’d be able to gather information. He’d been planning to take Larsen back and then give the info to the Cabal. Giles had seen through the ploy, though, and Bryce’s “reward” had been that shot they’d injected him with.
Getting the boy—and his parents—back was a priority. Equally important was the chance to take their captors hostage—they might be able to answer some questions about the movement. I offered to help, too, but Lucas said no, that I really had been through enough. They needed me back at headquarters to explain everything. And for another reason: they needed me there to keep me safe, because as far as a faction of the Nasts was concerned, I’d just murdered their CEO.
Thomas and Josef had hoped to somehow overthrow the Cortezes by putting me on trial with false evidence. How? As Sean said, it was likely just a step in a long plan. It didn’t matter now, because Balaam had twisted their plot to his own advantage.
The murder of Thomas Nast would drive the Nast Cabal into chaos when it could least afford it. Since Balaam had pretended he’d done it to save me, I became the scapegoat. Make me—Lucas Cortez’s ward—the scapegoat and you ensured there would be no alliance between Cabals to fight the liberation movement. Put Sean on the run with me, and you further divided the Nasts, rendering the biggest Cabal impotent in the face of this threat.
Such an elegant play. A move truly worthy of a lord demon. I’d be whole lot more impressed if I wasn’t at the heart of it.
We left shortly after that. The Cortezes had moved the jet to another regional airport, not yet being monitored by the Nasts.
*
Sean and I spent the flight talking. I was worried about him. Really worried. He’d just lost his grandfather. He might be losing his Cabal. He’d severed any relationship with Josef, and I knew that stung, because while they hadn’t been on good terms lately, they had been close once. Josef’s son had died shortly after our dad, and they had bonded over their shared loss. Now Bryce was sick. Very sick. If he died, what would Sean have left? Me? He loved me, I knew, but I was still the outsider who didn’t really understand where he came from, what it meant to be a Nast.
So I was worried. And I had no idea what to do about it except sit there and listen, and offer words of hope about Bryce and the future. So that’s what I did.
PAIGE
Troy pulled the SUV into a tiny lot near the private airstrip.
“We’ll sit out here and wait for the jet,” he said.
Paige nodded. If she got out, the guards in the SUV behind them would need to get out in order to watch over her. Then she’d need to make conversation with them. Maybe not “need,” but “should.” Any other time, that wouldn’t be a problem. But she’d passed the point days ago of being able to make small talk. She just wanted to curl up in the backseat and disappear for a few minutes.
When her cell rang, she was about to ignore it. Then she realized it was Lucas.
“Is this a bad time?” he asked when she answered.
“Never.”
She bit back her next words. The usual words she’d say when they weren’t together. I miss you. Now it would only remind him that this wasn’t one of their usual little separations, off chasing cases, hating being apart, but still loving what they were doing. There was nothing to love here, and with each passing day that weighed on him a little more.
“Is Savannah’s flight on schedule?” he asked.
“It is. She’ll be here any minute.”
“Good.” A long pause. Then his voice dropped. “I miss you.”
Paige gripped the phone tighter. “Miss you, too.”
More silence.
She cleared her throat. “So … how’s the weather?”
Lucas nodded. “I thought you’d want to. I already told my father that, though I believe he’d presume the same. Bryce woke up about an hour ago, but they’ve put him back under.”
“Put him under?” I said.
“Medically induced coma,” Sean said. He drew in a deep, ragged breath. “He’s not doing so well, Savannah. I need to get back to him.”
“Me, too. I mean, not that he wants to see me—”
“He does. But I should go now, even if only for a day.” He needed to stake his leadership claim with the Cabal. But his brother came first. He always would.
“We’ll go to Miami right away,” Adam said. “Is the jet here?”
“It is,” Lucas said. “You should go soon.”
“You aren’t coming back?” I said.
“Not yet. I need Adam to stay here, too.”
“What? No.” Adam stopped as he’d been about to sit beside me. “Sorry, Lucas, but whatever’s going on, I need to sit this one out. I’m in rough shape.”
“He is,” I said. “Those bruises aren’t all from today. The guards who arrested him beat the crap—”
Adam cleared his throat.
“Sorry. There was a fight. His ribs are cracked. He needs a break.”
Adam nodded.
“Never thought I’d hear that,” Sean said, managing a smile.
Adam looked abashed, muttering that he’d be fine in a day or two.
There was a moment of silence. Adam squirmed. I did, too. We both wanted to go back to Miami so we could have some time alone together. Under the circumstances, it was selfish, and we knew it. Finally, with an apologetic look my way, Adam said, “Lucas, if you really need me …”
“I do. I’m sorry. I don’t need you to fight, just to get us into some difficult places.”
Adam looked up. “If you need me to disintegrate doors when you’ve got werewolf strength and unlock spells, we’re talking heavy fortifications.”
“We are. Also multiple points of entry and multiple security systems.” He turned to Sean. “When Bryce woke up, he told us where he thinks they’re holding the Dahl boy.”
Larsen Dahl was the clairvoyant toddler whom Bryce had helped the liberation movement kidnap. Bryce been trying to infiltrate the group by giving them something they wanted so he’d be able to gather information. He’d been planning to take Larsen back and then give the info to the Cabal. Giles had seen through the ploy, though, and Bryce’s “reward” had been that shot they’d injected him with.
Getting the boy—and his parents—back was a priority. Equally important was the chance to take their captors hostage—they might be able to answer some questions about the movement. I offered to help, too, but Lucas said no, that I really had been through enough. They needed me back at headquarters to explain everything. And for another reason: they needed me there to keep me safe, because as far as a faction of the Nasts was concerned, I’d just murdered their CEO.
Thomas and Josef had hoped to somehow overthrow the Cortezes by putting me on trial with false evidence. How? As Sean said, it was likely just a step in a long plan. It didn’t matter now, because Balaam had twisted their plot to his own advantage.
The murder of Thomas Nast would drive the Nast Cabal into chaos when it could least afford it. Since Balaam had pretended he’d done it to save me, I became the scapegoat. Make me—Lucas Cortez’s ward—the scapegoat and you ensured there would be no alliance between Cabals to fight the liberation movement. Put Sean on the run with me, and you further divided the Nasts, rendering the biggest Cabal impotent in the face of this threat.
Such an elegant play. A move truly worthy of a lord demon. I’d be whole lot more impressed if I wasn’t at the heart of it.
We left shortly after that. The Cortezes had moved the jet to another regional airport, not yet being monitored by the Nasts.
*
Sean and I spent the flight talking. I was worried about him. Really worried. He’d just lost his grandfather. He might be losing his Cabal. He’d severed any relationship with Josef, and I knew that stung, because while they hadn’t been on good terms lately, they had been close once. Josef’s son had died shortly after our dad, and they had bonded over their shared loss. Now Bryce was sick. Very sick. If he died, what would Sean have left? Me? He loved me, I knew, but I was still the outsider who didn’t really understand where he came from, what it meant to be a Nast.
So I was worried. And I had no idea what to do about it except sit there and listen, and offer words of hope about Bryce and the future. So that’s what I did.
PAIGE
Troy pulled the SUV into a tiny lot near the private airstrip.
“We’ll sit out here and wait for the jet,” he said.
Paige nodded. If she got out, the guards in the SUV behind them would need to get out in order to watch over her. Then she’d need to make conversation with them. Maybe not “need,” but “should.” Any other time, that wouldn’t be a problem. But she’d passed the point days ago of being able to make small talk. She just wanted to curl up in the backseat and disappear for a few minutes.
When her cell rang, she was about to ignore it. Then she realized it was Lucas.
“Is this a bad time?” he asked when she answered.
“Never.”
She bit back her next words. The usual words she’d say when they weren’t together. I miss you. Now it would only remind him that this wasn’t one of their usual little separations, off chasing cases, hating being apart, but still loving what they were doing. There was nothing to love here, and with each passing day that weighed on him a little more.
“Is Savannah’s flight on schedule?” he asked.
“It is. She’ll be here any minute.”
“Good.” A long pause. Then his voice dropped. “I miss you.”
Paige gripped the phone tighter. “Miss you, too.”
More silence.
She cleared her throat. “So … how’s the weather?”
