Part 23 (2/2)
”Everything,” he gasped. ”Filthy, stinking monsters.”
Pendantics are so unattractive. I thumped the Warwolf on the back of the head. ”Roll over and put your hands behind you before I throw you into traffic again.”
He did as he was told. I like that in a suspect. I got the handcuffs on one of his wrists and started to reel off his Miranda. ”You have the right to remain . . . oof. oof.”
His foot came up and back and got me in the gut, the tender section just above the belly b.u.t.ton that makes all of your air vacate your body at once. I doubled over on my knees in the gutter between the sedan and a fire hydrant, making loud sucking sounds as I tried to breathe.
The Warwolf took off up the sidewalk, spinning Sunny around as she tried to catch him by the jacket, my handcuffs jangling merrily from his wrist.
That was the second time I'd lost my handcuffs to a recalcitrant were, and I vowed then and there it would be the last.
Sunny crouched next to me. ”Luna, are you all right?”
”No . . . ,” I wheezed, and then abruptly retched and vomited onto the pavement. ”Better . . . now . . .”
”Come on, hon,” said Sunny, maneuvering me gently to my feet. ”Let's get you home.”
”No . . . ,” I insisted. ”I gotta . . . get that guy . . . before he tells the other packs and screws the case.”
”If you vomit in my car,” said Sunny matter-offactly, ”I am going to kill you slowly. Buckle up.”
I protested, but by the time Sunny supported me upstairs to bed, the combined events of the day had piled on my shoulders and all I wanted to do was sleep.
I rocketed out of a muddled dream about Lucas and blood on naked skin and an ancient, aching hunger inside of me to the telephone shrieking next to the bed. Sunny had left a scrawled note on my pillow. Gone to airprt., back after G-ma @ home. Gone to airprt., back after G-ma @ home.
I jerked the old-style rotary phone out of its cradle. ”Yeah?”
”Luna?” the voice said. I recognized it immediately, straight and biting as edged metal.
”Lucas.”
”I hope you don't mind me calling,” he said. ”I need to know what the morgue hours are so I can identify Jason and . . . well . . . I thought it'd be better to call you.”
G.o.ds, why did he have to sound so lost? Maybe I was just turning into a paranoid gun-toting nut who saw everyone as a liar. It would be easier to believe if 90 percent of the people I came in contact with in daily life weren't weren't liars, of one stripe or another. liars, of one stripe or another.
”They open tomorrow at nine,” I said, ”but Lucas . . . one of the packs that the dead weres belonged to got wind that Wendigo were involved.” I didn't go into how because I already felt bad enough without feeling like a dumba.s.s on top of everything else.
”I'm coming,” said Lucas, a snarl creeping into his voice. ”Jason was my brother.”
”I really think this is a bad idea,” I said. ”I know what I said, but pack justice is taken very seriously and as an Insoli, I can't protect you.”
”I'm not worried,” said Lucas. ”You're going to be there with me. You're all I need.”
Yup, I was definitely a paranoid nutcase.
”You really trust me? I gotta warn you, that hasn't worked out so hot for a few other people.”
Lucas gave a short chuckle. ”Luna, the only thing you could possibly do is make this a little easier. I'm not doing so hot, but I'll hold it together because that's what Jason would have wanted. Will you meet me there in the morning?”
”Of course,” I said, feeling my core and other parts of me warm slightly at the tone of his voice. I felt a ridiculous surge of happiness at the thought of visiting the morgue. ”Don't worry about anything, Lucas. This treaty bulls.h.i.+t won't cause any unpleasantness for you when you come to get Jason.”
”I'll see you tomorrow, Luna.”
”See you tomorrow,” I agreed, and hung up the phone with a huge, irrational smile on my face.
Lucas finally showed up at the morgue an hour late, after I'd worn a groove in the stone steps, pacing and waiting. There was a hot, wet wind off the bay and I kept scenting the salt, thinking I'd catch another were.
He climbed out of the pa.s.senger's side of a rusty pickup, and waved the driver off when he saw me. ”Let's get this over with,” he said, shoving his hands into his pockets.
”All right,” I said. ”Have trouble finding the place?”
”Not as much as I would have liked.” Lucas was stiff, and his eyes moved from face to face as we went through the gla.s.s doors and across the lobby. He also looked shredded-like he lost ten pounds since I'd seen him last. His face was covered with uneven stubble and his eyes were sunken and red. He coughed, and it rattled inside his rib cage with a wet sawing sound.
I put a hand on his shoulder. Lucas wasn't putting out any heat-he was the temperature of the air. ”You okay?”
”Peachy,” he coughed. ”Just perfect.”
The guard at the metal detector glared at Lucas. ”Going to have to search your backpack.”
”He's with me,” I said, moving my T-s.h.i.+rt to show my badge. ”Let us through.”
Lucas breathed out and shook his shoulders. ”This is going to be harder than I thought.”
”You just have to look in through the viewing window,” I said. ”And tell the morgue attendant where to release the body to.”
”We don't have any G.o.dd.a.m.n money for a funeral,” Lucas muttered. I led him over to the elevator and punched the down arrow.
”The city has a few forms you can fill out for help with that.”
Lucas hissed. ”I don't want your help.” His eyes silvered for a moment.
I held up my hands. ”Look, Lucas, I know this is tough but n.o.body here is trying to give you a hard time. I'm trained to be sympathetic at times like this. If you think I'm being disingenuous, that's your problem.”
As soon as I snapped at him I felt awful, and to see Lucas's eyes fill up with apologies made it ten times worse. ”Lucas, I'm sorry . . . I open my mouth when I shouldn't a lot and . . .”
”No,” he said. ”You're right. Jason's dead. He's gone.”
I touched his hand. ”That doesn't mean that you have to pretend like it doesn't bother you,” I said quietly.
A grim smile flickered across his face. ”Wendigo once ate their dead. He's less than nothing to me.”
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