Frost Burned mt-7 Page 23

  Warren gave Adam a cautious look and settled in the other love seat, pulling Kyle down beside him. Tad had been planning to go out to the swimming pool, too, but Adam had asked him to come after Armstrong protested Tony and Sylvia. At Adam’s direction, Tad sat rather uncomfortably on the couch with Tony and Sylvia. There were no more seats in the room.

  Ben—human again and wearing a set of Kyle’s sweats that said, “Taste This Rainbow”—glanced around and sat on the ground at Adam’s feet without a quibble or change of expression. That left Armstrong standing alone.

  The lack of seats was on purpose, I thought, glancing at Adam’s face. He was not happy with Cantrip, and poor Agent Armstrong was the only representative present.

  Asil came in late. He glanced at Ben and at Agent Armstrong, who was contemplating the reason for his seatless state. Asil raised an eyebrow at Adam—though he didn’t really look him in the eye—and headed back downstairs. He brought two of the dining room chairs and pointedly set them on either side of Warren’s love seat. He took the side that left him as far from Adam as he could get without leaving the room and, at his gesture, Armstrong took the remaining empty chair.

  “You all here know everything Mercy told the police, right?” Adam said as soon as everyone was seated. “So let me begin with last night.”

  For all that we’d talked about the whole truth and nothing but the truth, Adam’s story was edited a little. He was quite clear on the point that he killed the Cantrip agents responsible himself—while I and all the werewolves in the room knew he lied. He wasn’t the only one who had killed, but he was the one responsible. I understood that just fine.

  “I considered holding them for justice,” Adam told us, told me, really. “But they had a kill list that included all of the humans associated with my people—children not excepted.” He looked at Sylvia. “Gabriel was on that list. You were not wrong to tell him that his association with us put him in danger.”

  “Maybe not,” she said, “but I was wrong to expect that to matter to him.” She looked at me, and her lips quirked up. “A friend in danger is not someone who should be deserted. Safety is not always the right path.”

  “They were willing to kill children?” Armstrong asked, not as if he were questioning Adam but as if he couldn’t quite wrap his head around it.

  “Like Joshua at Jericho,” said Adam. I put my hand on his leg and squeezed it. “They felt that they needed to dig us out plant, root, and seed so that our corruption was truly destroyed. You’ll have to accept my word for it because the whiteboard went up with the winery where we were held.”

  He paused. “There were three fresh graves in the vineyard that held some of their own people. Maybe they objected—maybe they just got in the way. We didn’t kill them, we didn’t kill anyone until our escape. From the state of the bodies, the Cantrip agents in the graves died a couple of days before we were taken.”

  “How did they get you all?” asked Asil.

  “We thought they were government agents, so we did not initially respond with lethal force.” Adam breathed deeply, but it must not have helped because he got to his feet and began to pace. “That is a mistake, Agent Armstrong, that we will never make again. You might pass the word along.” For a moment, his menace was such that no one, not even me, dared take a deep breath. He shook his shoulders loose and spoke more moderately. “At any rate, we did not kill or harm anyone when we were taken. So two dead women and the dead man are the responsibility of either the Cantrip agents or the mercenaries they hired.”

  “If you please, Mr. Hauptman,” said Armstrong. “Renegade Cantrip agents. My agency was not responsible for their actions, and both officially and unofficially, we find this business appalling.”

  “I just bet you do.” Warren’s voice was heavy with rage. Warren was usually the voice of sanity in the pack.

  “Warren,” said Adam—and Warren looked up, then away. “Do you need to leave?” It was a real question, not a reprimand, and Warren took it the way it was meant.

  “You need Kyle here,” he said, his voice low and his head tipped slightly away from Adam’s. “In his legal capacity.”

  “Not as our lawyer,” Adam said. “Not yet. But his presence is useful, yes. I’d like him to stay.”

  “Then I’ll stay, too. I can deal.”

  Adam looked at Tony. “I asked Sylvia to come because Gabriel was endangered. I asked you to stay because I do not want to keep the police in the dark about what happened. You are safer if you know everything. However, we cannot afford to let this go to trial in human courts. We … I will not allow it.”

  Tony narrowed his eyes. “I am a servant of the law, Adam.”

  “There will be hearings, just not in the human court system,” Adam told him. “I answer to a higher power—that power that kept werewolves from being the monsters Cantrip is afraid we are for all the years that humans knew nothing of us. If my actions are deemed excessive, I will pay for them with my life.”

  “Those werewolves who killed that pedophile in Minnesota this past spring—they died within a few days of it. All of them. Natural causes, we were told, though their bodies were cremated very quickly and no autopsy was performed,” Armstrong said neutrally, his eyes on me rather than Adam.

  “A force of nature, anyway,” I said obliquely. Charles was a force of nature, right?

  “I’m a servant of the law, too, Tony,” Kyle said too hastily to be as smooth as his usual redirection. “And no one knows better than I how the law and justice do not, can not, always coincide. I swear to you now that werewolf justice is swifter and more just, if more brutal, than our court system can manage.” He leaned forward earnestly. “We humans are not equipped to deal with a werewolf fairly. And if the police had tried to arrest those men in Minnesota, some of them would have died. I am content that justice will be served in this case.”

  There was a long pause.

  “Even if I agree it was self-defense,” Tony said, “you have just confessed to killing federal agents. I am not qualified to give you a pass on that, Adam.”

  “Agents who attacked law-abiding citizens without provocation,” murmured Kyle. “Adam is a security expert. I imagine that he has the attack on his house on camera somewhere.”

  Adam grunted. “With nice face shots of several of the Cantrip agents, Gutstein informed me tonight. And we have Peter’s body.”

  “Where is Peter?” I asked.

  “Safe,” Adam told me. “They’d buried him in the vineyard next to their own dead. We dug him up, and arrangements are being made.”

  “Suspicious deaths require autopsy,” said Tony.

  Adam looked at him and nodded. “Yes. We’ll talk. There is nothing suspicious about his death. He was murdered right in front of me. He has a bullet hole in his forehead.”

  No one said anything for a moment after that. The expression on Adam’s face might have accounted for the silence.

  “I have the power to say that Cantrip and the federal government is satisfied that Adam acted in self-defense when he killed those people,” Armstrong said. “Mr. Brooks is right, it would be a political nightmare for Cantrip if the actions of these men were to come out even though they were not acting in any kind of official capacity.” He took a deep breath. “It would be a similar disaster for the werewolves. In the current climate, I don’t know that you could get a judge to declare self-defense, Mr. Hauptman. If the trial went to a jury, a decision either way could lead to riots and unrest that might break out into open fighting in the streets.”

  Armstrong looked at something none of us could see, then he met my eyes and held them. “I am a federal agent, sworn to uphold the interests of my country. I am a patriot. I have seen fear and hatred cause men and women who have likewise so sworn to forget their oaths and give in to their hatred. I don’t want this to go to court.”

  Tony threw up his hands. “I agree with you,” he told Armstrong. “Both about the self-defense and Adam’s chances in court—though if t
he case is kept local, I think he would do better than you think. Still, there are bodies.”

  “The buried Cantrip agents were shot execution style, with the same gun that killed Peter,” Adam said.

  “You run ballistics?” asked Tony.

  “No.”

  Tony frowned at him. “Then how—” Then he shook his head. “Never mind. But those aren’t the only bodies.”

  Adam’s face became even more expressionless. “There will be no other bodies. After we escaped, there was a fire at the winery.”

  Another silence followed.

  “I can accept a separate justice,” Tony said, finally. “I’ve known you. I and my department have called you for help, and you have never failed us. I’ve seen you meet violence with soft words. And I’ve never seen you lie. I’m in agreement with Agent Armstrong. I have a few ideas, and I think if Armstrong is willing to help, we can sell this to the department.”

  “You said there was a fire at the winery?” asked Armstrong.

  Adam sat down and rubbed his hands over his face. “Yes. We are used to cleaning up our own messes. We’ve found fire to be very effective.”

  “Teeth and the denser bones,” said Tony with extreme neutrality, “tend to show up after a fire.”

  “I’d be very surprised if there are any teeth or bones,” I told him half-apologetically. Adam had left Elizaveta out of his explanation. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

  Armstrong gave me a sharp look, but he didn’t say anything further. Instead he asked, “What about the mercenaries the renegades were working with? Did you identify them?”

  “No,” Adam said. “They’re out of it, and of no more concern to me. I think there are only three players left.”

  Asil held up a finger. “The money man.” He held up another finger. “The turncoat in Senator Campbell’s security detail.” And a third. “The person who gave the Cantrip agents the contact information for the mercenaries and the dossiers about your pack and werewolves in general.”

  “I have a friend looking into the information man,” Adam said. “He’s pretty sure that he can find the contact name from the mercenaries without causing an international incident.”

  On Kyle’s landline, Adam had been able to get in touch with Charles. Charles was scary good at finding out things no one wanted anyone to know. Charles was just plain scary in general.

  “But,” Adam continued, “I think the damage the information man can do is done. So there is no great urgency in running him down.”

  “Let’s be clear here, in this room,” said Armstrong. “Are you talking about killing him?”

  Adam shook his head. “Killing him is a lot more problematic than just keeping an eye on him. The past few days aside, we try our best not to go around killing humans, Mr. Armstrong.”

  “You don’t consider yourself human?” asked Armstrong.

  Asil raised his eyebrows at Adam, who shrugged, and said, “‘Humans who are not werewolves’ is too wordy to say more than once. We are as human as we can be.”

  “So we’re left with the money man and the potential assassin in Senator Campbell’s security team.” Tony was leaning forward intently.

  Adam leaned back and stretched out his legs. The tension in the room ratcheted down four notches, proof that werewolves aren’t the only ones who can read body language. “Let’s deal with Senator Campbell’s problem as the more manageable evil. I’ve sent word to Senator Campbell through people I know in the security industry, but it might be better, Agent Armstrong, if you warned the senator yourself. Keep in mind that whoever this traitor on his security detail is, he is not necessarily driven by any agenda other than money. If he is only a gun for hire, taking out the Cantrip people who wanted to kill Senator Campbell might be enough to stop him. If he is a zealot, of whatever stripe, he’s likely to get impatient and try on his own.” Adam paused and raised an eyebrow. “You can tell the senator that I am happy to send a couple of trained security professionals who are werewolves to ensure his safety if he would allow it. No charge.”

  Armstrong’s mouth quirked. “Have you ever met the senator?”

  “No, sir.”

  “I have. He might just take you up on your offer. He is not as anti-werewolf as he is painted. He just doesn’t like it when they go around eating people.”

  Put like that, he didn’t sound so bad. But I’d heard some of his speeches.

  Adam nodded, but his voice was reserved when he said, “It would please me if he accepted. If something happens to him at this point, it will cause people to blame the werewolves. I’d rather he and his family be safe and sound for years to come.”

  “And that leaves the money man,” said Kyle.

  “Yes,” said Adam. He looked at Armstrong. “Do you have any idea where the money is coming from?”

  “No. Alexander Bennet—he was the man in charge, and probably the one who shot your man—Bennet’s financials show nothing unusual and neither do those of any of the people who were likely associated with him. FYI, identifying those people is going to be a nightmare. Looking for people in Cantrip who have problems with werewolves and the current legislation is like looking for cheese in Wisconsin. Bennet just didn’t show up for work one day, and there are two more like that. One of them had a heart attack and is in the emergency room of a hospital, the other is likely to be ashes here—unless she ran off and got married or something. We have to check out everyone who is working from home, on leave, on vacation—or used to work for Cantrip at some point in time. If you had left the bodies, it would have made that part of my job much easier.”

  Warren, who until that point had been silent, said, “I have driver’s licenses for you—though we don’t have any ID for the people that were buried next to Peter. You’ll be able to figure out who they are from their bodies.”

  Adam looked at him.

  “If you’ll pardon me, boss, you weren’t in any condition to be thinking of things like that. But it occurred to some of us that we might find it useful to know who our enemies are.” He looked at Armstrong. “I’ll give you copies and keep the originals.”

  Armstrong looked as though he’d like to argue, but under Warren’s scrutiny, he subsided.

  “Okay,” said Tony. “One more thing. Adam, you are going to have to come up with a story to tell the press that will fly with my superiors.”

  Adam nodded. “Jim Gutstein is going to call in a few favors, and tonight I’ll talk to the press out of Kyle’s office. I’ll take Mercy’s story and run with it.”

  “Let me help,” said Armstrong. “I have some experience in taking scary things and making them ordinary.”

  “This is all well and good,” said Sylvia. “But you need to explain to me why Maia told me she rode here with a dead body.”

  “That is my fault,” Asil said.

  “More bodies?” said Armstrong.

  “I thought there weren’t any bodies at Sylvia’s?” Tony was frowning.

  “Someone sent a team of assassins after Jesse and Mercy,” Tad said, and looked at me. “They were waiting for you, Mercy. Now that I’ve had time to think about it, I think they were in place before I even got to Sylvia’s to watch over the kids.”

  Tad cleared his throat and gave me a sheepish smile. “I felt them when I got there. It’s one of the reasons I got close enough that the kids spotted me. After a while, when nothing happened, I figured that there was someone like me living in the apartment complex—half-fae and not required to be in the reservation.”

  “I thought all fae were required to go,” Armstrong said. “That was our briefing.”

  Tad shook his head. “No. Only those deemed powerful enough to be of use. But these assassins, like Agent Armstrong’s people, were renegades—”

  The door popped open, and a wet and bright green swimming-suit-clad Sofia Sandoval flew in. “Mercy, Mercy. Gabriel says come quick. Someone hit your car. Smooshed the trunk.”

  I was dead. Marsilia was going to kill me
for killing her car, and I didn’t really blame her at all.

  Everyone in the meeting boiled out to look—as much to get out and move than because anyone else was concerned. It wasn’t quite five o’clock, but this late in the fall, the sun had set while we’d been talking, and the rear of the car was beyond the streetlight. I have good night vision, but even my eyes need a minute to adjust between indoor artificial light and darkness.

  But it didn’t matter, because I didn’t get to the car before Gabriel snagged me and pulled me aside with some urgency.

  He spoke quickly and quietly. “I think we are in real trouble. We’d just finished getting the kids out of the hot tub in the backyard. Jesse and Mary Jo took everyone else upstairs to dry off and change, but Sofia stayed out to help me put the cover back on the hot tub. We heard a crash and came out front to see what happened. I thought at first someone had just done a hit-and-run on the car.”

  He gestured, and I could see the top of the trunk, which had a reverse dent rising from the middle. “I sent Sofia in for you so I could shut the trunk before she saw the body. I didn’t see anyone driving off. Just a woman on the street. Looked like she was jogging, you know? Making good time, too. I thought about heading after her to see if she’d seen anything, but then I noticed just how odd the trunk was, so I took a better look.” He leaned in, and said, very softly. “The body was gone, Mercy. And the sound we heard was her hitting the lid of the trunk so she could get out.”

  All of the werewolves—Asil, Adam, Ben, and Warren who had been looking down the street, presumably for whoever hit the car—turned to look at Gabriel and me. Asil opened the trunk.

  “She was dead,” he said. “I swear to it. I know she was fae, but I have killed them before. She was dead. When we walked by here earlier, I could smell the body starting to decompose.”