Redemption Alley

I dreamed of yellow hellfire chuckling and groaning to itself. I dreamed of scuttling, crawling things that forced themselves through cracks in the walls and licked up the corruption ru

I struggled a quarter of the way into consciousness while someone carried me, the heat and a deep rumbling purr reminding me of Saul. But my body mutinied again and dragged me down, and in this fresh darkness there were no dreams.

Chapter Thirty-one

Sunlight poured through the window. I lay and stared at it for a long time before moving, wincing a little bit as my head and body both protested. Even hellbreed strength has to be paid for, and I’d cycled enough etheric force through my body to give myself a hell of a hangover.

Get it, Jill? “Hell” of a hangover? Arf arf. I groaned, stirred slightly, and pushed weakly at the covers. I was tucked into Galina’s own bed, the huge mission-style monstrosity she’d hung with white netting to make a sort of cloud to sleep in.

I heard footsteps. Voices. Nobody was yelling, and one of the voices was Galina, calm as always. So she was okay.

Good.

I lay in the bed a few moments longer, staring at the fall of sunlight through the window. My trench, battered and still smelling of smoke, was draped over a high-backed wooden chair. It was cool in here, air conditioning soughing through a vent near the door. Mellow hardwood shone through layers of polish and care.

My fingers were back to their regular size. I was still filthy with crusted blood and smelling of smoke, and my head ached, ached, a pumpkin on the stem of my neck. I felt the bruises from Shen’s narrow delicate hands still digging into my throat.

How long was I out? Is it darkmoon yet? I killed that evocation site, but maybe Shen had another one. Irene didn’t think so, but she could have been lying.

Coherent thought halted. I didn’t have enough energy for it.

I blinked. My cheeks were hot and chapped. There was grime ground into my face and under my nails. I almost never fall asleep without washing my face, even if I’m covered in guck I like scrubbing my shiny little flower smile, as Sister Mary Ignatius called it in kindergarten.

I tried moving again. Rolled over on my back.

Get up, Jill. Get moving. You’re not done yet.

Footsteps on the stairs. I listened—Galina’s softly distinctive tread, and someone else’s. Probably Leon, the way he pushed lightly off of each step was familiar. I pressed myself up on my hands, ignoring the shaking in my arms, and found out I was wearing a T-shirt reduced to bloodsoaked, bullet-holed rags, and my leather pants stank of hellbreed guck.

And here I was in Galina’s nice clean bed. Why hadn’t she put me in the spare room? Was Carp still in there?

Rest easy, Carper. It’s all tied off. Well, mostly. I hoped he was sleeping. I hoped he’d pulled through.

“You’re awake.” The Sanctuary’s sweet face was solemn. “I’ll have to let Theron know. He threatened to kill you as soon as you woke up.”

I cleared my dry throat. Leon came into sight behind her, expressionless, with a beer can in one hand and a bottle in the other. The copper in his hair gleamed, and Rosita was snugged safely against his back.

“Charming.” My voice was a dried husk of itself. I coughed, and Leon slid past Galina, offered me the chilly bottle of microbrew. Why he drank ca

“Don’t worry.” My fellow hunter settled himself on the end of the bed with a sigh, easing down as if he hurt all over too. “We found a primary evocation site at that nasty-ass nightclub. I took care of it.”

I sagged in relief. So the one at the airfield had been Shen’s backup. One worry down.

“Jill—” Galina began, but Leon interrupted her.

“Why don’t you go get her somethin’ to eat, darlin’? I’ll make sure she doesn’t hurt herself. You go call Theron too, so he can stop worryin’.” Leon’s dark eyes were steady, and his mouth was drawn in a tight line.

Oh, shit. What’s gone wrong now? “More scurf?” I hazarded, but Leon shook his head. Copper chimed in his hair. There were dark circles under his eyes.

“Naw. Town’s clean as a whistle. Go on now, Lina.” He toasted her absently with the Pabst can, and she made a face as if he’d told her to drink it.

“I’ll bring up coffee.” She cast one short, troubled glance my way, but I was too aching and muzzy-headed to decipher it. Instead I took a pull off the bottle and winced at the havoc it was going to play with my headache.

We listened to her go down the stairs. Leon shifted a little bit inside his clothes. Copper clinked, and he touched one of the amulets hung around his neck, then put his hand down with an effort. “Talked to that lieutenant. Your contact.”

“Monty,” I supplied. Thank God he’s okay.

“Big fucking mess for him to clean up. I guess this Harvill asshole came down with a serious case of the dead.” Leon’s tone was a careful nonquestion, and my silence a careful nonanswer. “Dangerous, being in bed with hellbreed.”

I shrugged. Took another pull off the bottle. Waited for him to get to the point.

“Your town should be clean, but you know how scurf are.”

I knew. I nodded. One of my earrings was lighter than the other; it had probably broken sometime or another. My skin crawled. I couldn’t wait to get cleaned up.

“That cop you brought in from that nightclub.” Leon sank a little heavier into the bed, took another long swallow from his can. Condensation beaded on the aluminum, I could hear the liquid going down his throat. Downstairs a refrigerator door opened, and Galina began to hum.

My heart turned to a stone inside my ribs. Oh, shit. “Carper? Is he okay?”

Leon sighed. “He talked Galina into letting him go home yesterday. Waltzed out, went home, and ate his Glock.”

No. Oh, no. “What?” I sat bolt upright, then wished I hadn’t because my head immediately started pounding. “What the fuck?”

“Galina blames herself. Said she never should have let him go. I was with the Weres, cleaning out that nightclub.” His shoulders hunched. “She said she figured the cop was up and walking around, and everything was tied off…”

“Carp?” I couldn’t wrap my brain around it. “Andrew? It can’t… he wouldn’t…”

Leon’s face set itself. “He wasn’t too tight-bolted, Jill. Sometimes when civilians see the nightside, they go nuts. He was in that hole run by that Asian bitch for a while and they played with him, Lina said.”

While I sat outside and worried over who would report me as not dead. “Jesus,” I whispered. “You’re sure it was suicide?” Because Kutchner’s death looked like a suicide too, but maybe someone pulled the trigger on Carp too. Because… oh, God. Carper. Why?

But I knew why. Sometimes, when you pull a civilian out of a tangle with the nightside, they don’t stay out. They go into the black hole. A peek under the surface of the normal world throws them off the back of reality, and they never return.

Leon spread one hand, made a helpless gesture. “I’m sure, Jill. That’s where I talked to that lieutenant—Montaigne. Good ol’ boy, that one. Worried about you.”

“I’m sure he was.” The words tasted bitter. I drained the bottle in a few long, long swallows. It was ashes going down. The carbs would give me a quick flush of strength, but I needed protein if I was really going to bounce back. “Jesus Christ. Carper.”