Misery shakes her head. “Owen has a network of informants and thinks that Councilwoman Selamio or Councilman Ross might be behind this. Others might be involved, too. In a way, it’s not a bad thing. If they are caught participating in something that might start an interspecies war, they’ll be instantly killed, and their seats will pass to their heirs. Selamio Jr. and Baby Ross are assholes, but they’re not stupid. They know that entering the trilateral alliance would be for the best.”
“So . . . why are their parents still alive?” Koen asks. His leadership philosophy seems to be if inconvenient, why not dead?
“They’ve been covering their tracks,” Lowe admits reluctantly. “Without proof, Owen can’t make accusations.”
Koen grunts, unhappy with the concept of due process. “What do they even want with Serena?”
“To prove she’s an imposter. To use her DNA to dilute the symbolic power of a Were-Human hybrid by creating Were-Vampyre or Vampyre-Human hybrids. Who knows?” Misery massages her forehead, like the sheer idiocy is giving her a headache. “But they’re willing to part with a lot of money to have Serena delivered to them, alive, and . . .” She presses her lips together. Stares at me with those unblinking lilac eyes. “Serena, did you just shrug?”
“What? No.”
“She did,” the redhead mutters.
“I saw her too,” Jorma says.
“Yup.” Saul.
“Could it have been a shiver?” Amanda asks.
“I . . . Maybe I shrugged.” I glare around the room, defensive. “Is it, like, against pack rules?”
“It’s just, you know.” Misery gestures vaguely. “A weird reaction to have when someone tells you that there are hordes of financially strapped assassins after you.”
“For one, they’re not assassins. They want me alive so they can scrape DNA off the inside of my cheek and use it to grow baby werebananas. And honestly . . .” I shrug again.
Consciously, this time. “I knew my name was in a bunch of little black books. Now it’s in more, bigger black books, but I’ve maxed out my levels of distress.” Perspective is a hell of a drug. “It’s fine, really,” I tell several increasingly understanding pairs of eyes, proud of the way I seem to have convinced everyone- and then I meet Koen’s gaze.
Who, clearly, has never encountered a lie of mine he couldn’t shuck like sweet corn.
“I am concerned for Ana, though,” I hasten to add, tearing my eyes away. “She’s already a bunch of stressors stacked in a trench coat. There are only that many kidnapping and murder attempts a child can endure before developing serious issues and self-destructive behaviors. We wouldn’t want her to grow up and, say, go to grad school.”
“Don’t worry,” Misery reassures me, “every day I drill into her that we’ll be disappointed in anything but a DJing career.”
“You’re such a good role model.”
“I know. Right, Lowe?”
Lowe just looks exhausted, like he did every day of the weeks I spent at his house. In his defense, we are a lot.
“How did the Vampyres even learn about Ana?” I ask. “I thought her hybrid status was strictly on a need- to- know basis?”
“It is. So far, only high-ranking Northwest and Southwest members and her physician know. And the Vampyres, they’re not sure,” Misery says. “But they’re hoping. Put yourself in their shoes: someone’s offering a shit ton of money in exchange for a hybrid. You’re a sure bet but hard to track and known for having disposed of multiple Vampyres. Ana’s a child. Much easier to take.”
“Serena,” Lowe interjects, “the most important thing right now is to make sure that you and Ana are safe and off the radar. We’re going to get you back to the Southwest by tomorrow, and- “
“But that’s a terrible idea.”
Once again, everyone turns to me. Except for Koen, who keeps looking ahead as though . . . I can’t shake the impression that he knows what I’m about to say.
“Excuse me?” Lowe says.
“They’re going to come back for me.”
“They’re not going anywhere near you,” Koen mutters, arrogant and a little too certain. No one else can hear it, but my cheeks feel hot anyway.
“With a financial incentive that high, they’re not going to give up.”
“That’s the point.” Misery looks at me like she suspects that my brain fell off into a septic tank. “They’re not going to stop, and so we need to hide you away- “
“No. You need to hide
Ana away.”
She frowns. “Ana, yes.
And you- “
“And
I’m going to be hidden so poorly, it’ll take them no effort to find me. I’m going to be in plain sight. I’m going to be such an easy target, it won’t ever occur to them to expend resources to locate another hybrid.” I smile. “And when they come for me, we’ll use them to figure out who’s behind the bounty.”
He’s going to take her lies and peel them off one by one. Then he’ll force her to show him what’s underneath.
MY PERFECTLY REASONABLE PLAN, AIMED AT PREVENTING the slaughter of a very cute child who once pointed at a drawing of an antelope and asked me if it was a “duocorn,” is received less than marvelously.
The protests are so vehement, I cannot help wondering whether they misheard me. Maybe they think I’m planning to hijack an SUV and run over the mother of newborn kittens? It would explain the full-throttle stream of objections, which includes words like “unacceptable” (Lowe), “death sentence” (Saul), “terrible idea” (Alex), “must be the Human half speaking, ’cause this sounds crazy” (Amanda), and “this feels wrong on so many levels, some of which must be legal
” (Jorma), as well as an additional assortment of grunts and protests.
Misery, who’s taking to being an Alpha’s mate a little too well, commands me to “come to bed in the Southwest right now.
Without dinner.
“
“Wrong meal, Misery. Also, I don’t take orders from the chick who once gave me toenail fungus.”
“Shut up. Acknowledge me as your Alpha!”
“Love, we’ve been over this,” Lowe murmurs, patting her knee. “It’s not how it works.”
“And bring me gifts of gold, frankincense, and peanut butter!”
“Misery, I’ve seen you flick boogers at passersby.”
“I was a child.”
“You were seventeen.”
But she won’t stop protesting, and snarls that I’m “too valuable, too important, too loved” to be used as bait. God. What an inconvenient time for her to finally get in touch with her emotions.
“I’m not suicidal,” I tell everyone, “nor am I suggesting I walk unarmed into Vampyre headquarters. We can safely arrange to- ” I stop to hide a yawn in my palm, and that’s when Koen declares the meeting over and stands.
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