Part 29 (2/2)
David joined her. His face had that blank expressionless look that Miranda recognized, and her heart sank.
”Keep pressure on the wound,” he said quietly.
Their eyes met over Drew's battered body. Miranda knew what he was thinking. There was too much blood, and they had no healer. He'd been lying there bleeding for nearly ten minutes and it would take an ambulance another two to reach them.
”Miranda . . .” Drew whispered raggedly. ”Give . . . give me the phone . . . please.”
Miranda grabbed the cell and said into it, ”Kat? Kat, honey, are you still there?”
Kat practically screamed, ”What's happening? Miranda, where is he?”
”Here.” Miranda choked on a sob, lowering the phone to Drew's face.
”Hey, baby,” he said, coughing. His breath came in shallow gasps.
Miranda could hear Kat talking to him, could hear her crying.
”It's okay,” Drew said. ”Kat . . . just listen to me.”
Miranda could hear the paramedics coming down the hall.
”I love you,” Drew told Kat. ”Very much. The baby, too. I think . . . you're going to make a great mom. I love you.”
Softly, Miranda heard Kat say the same to him.
”Thanks,” Drew managed weakly, looking up at Miranda. ”Take care of her, okay?”
Miranda nodded. ”I promise.”
”Good . . . that's good . . .” His fingers barely returned the pressure of Miranda's, then slowly relaxed . . .
. . . and it was over.
The paramedics and two additional units of Elite entered the cla.s.sroom to find the Queen weeping into the Prime's arms, as both knelt in a broad pool of blood, and a woman sobbed quietly over the phone that lay on the floor.
Miranda stared dumbly at the printout David had given her, trying to understand what she was seeing. Her wornout, bewildered mind simply refused to accept it.
”What do we do?” she asked.
”I don't know,” the Prime replied. He looked as exhausted and heartsick as she felt. ”I honestly don't know.”
Outside the car windows' heavy tint, the countryside scrolled by. Miranda wanted nothing more than to fall asleep and not wake up until the world made sense again. She was completely drained, both from the fight with the a.s.sa.s.sin and from her first real Mist-it was remarkable she hadn't ended up scattered across Austin. Between that and the weight of sorrow and guilt from Drew's death, she was perilously close to losing it.
It was only an hour before sunrise, and Harlan was breaking several traffic laws to get them home before it began to get light out. Dealing with the police had taken a lot longer than Miranda expected-the first responders had not been the people the Haven normally dealt with, and they wanted to take a lot of pictures and ask a lot of questions that were unnecessary and tedious. Finally David had simply called the chief of police and cut through all the red tape.
Kat had been taken to the Hausmann for observation in case the trauma had affected the baby, but so far all she'd done was sit and stare off into s.p.a.ce, barely rousing enough to answer when the paramedics asked her for details that she hadn't been able to give. She had, as Miranda had asked, stayed in the car until the Queen came to her and led her over to the gurney to provide a positive ID on Drew's body. She had nodded at the police and then gone essentially unresponsive.
Miranda had directed the Elite to make sure Kat was brought to the Haven as soon as the doctors deemed her fit, probably the next evening.
Finally, the Pair had headed home. They had changed into the spare set of clothes that they kept in the trunk, so at least Miranda didn't have to spend the whole drive back to the Haven soaked in Drew's blood, but she could still smell it, though she'd washed her hands and face and everything she could in the school's restroom.
”This is how it goes, isn't it?” Miranda said softly, staring out the car window. ”One by one we lose everyone we knew.”
David looked at her, and she could tell he wanted to be rea.s.suring but couldn't lie to her. ”That's what we are, beloved. We stand outside time and watch it slowly consume everything. My son died, his children died, their children died . . . the line continues, spread throughout the gene pool, but everything that made me human has long since faded.”
She half smiled. ”You're still more human than most of the men I've ever known.”
”Thank you.”
”I don't know if I can do this,” she said.
”You can. You are Queen, Miranda. The strength you need is part of who you are.”
”Sophie told me once that this life was a gift, and that I had to think long and hard about whether I was worthy, because there was no giving it back.”
She looked down at the sword that lay across her lap, and the one lying on the floorboard wrapped in fabric-the a.s.sa.s.sin's blade. ”I wasn't fast enough to kill her,” Miranda lamented. ”I wish I could have. I wish I had seen her bleed to death instead of Drew.”
”So do I.”
”What did Faith say?”
David sighed. ”They lost her trail. She dropped off the network again about two miles into the pursuit, then detoured and disappeared into the city. After that it was so close to dawn I had to call them back. By dusk whatever trail is left will be cold.”
”But she showed up on the sensors for a few minutes . . . why?”
”I think this has something to do with it.” He held up the thing that had fallen from the woman's neck: a silver disk on a chain with some kind of script carved into it. ”Whatever it is, I think it disrupts the network signal. After she dropped it, we could track her, but somehow she got her hands on another one, or had a spare she activated. I sent images of it to Novotny, and I'm going to run the symbols through my database before I hand it over to him.”
”Why bother?” she asked. ”We already know who's behind it, David.”
He met her eyes. ”We might be wrong.”
The car slowed, then stopped, and a moment later the door opened. Lali stood by while they disembarked, then shut the doors and went ahead of them into the Haven with Aaron to clock off duty for the night.
”I thought you said you were sure,” Miranda said, falling into step beside David as they walked down the hall to their suite.
David's face and voice both were bleak. ”I'm sure. G.o.d help us, but I'm sure. The symbol, the handwriting . . . I've seen both a thousand times.”
As David nodded to their door guards and opened the door into their suite, Miranda looked down at the page still in her hand, an image of the back side of Janousek's sc.r.a.p of paper, which had been digitally restored by Novotny's people. She had never seen the symbol before, but she had heard of it: A waning crescent moon and the Greek symbol of infinity.
David froze midstride and made a feline hissing noise. ”Son of a b.i.t.c.h.”
Miranda nearly ran into him but stopped in time to look over his shoulder into their suite.
There, sitting calmly in one of the chairs by the fire, sipping a gla.s.s of whiskey, was the Alpha.
”h.e.l.lo, darling,” Deven said.
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