Tara Moore
John, Travis and I hadn't wasted any time getting started on the assignments Kerry had doled out before we'd all parted company.
Having Gina and Hank Bishop on our side opened a lot of doors. We were given free range of the Archives and the Repository, with the exception of the Vault, which made it easy for us to dive right in.
We brought Kyo Yumi into our confidence, too. Since he knew so much about Amanda and the situation in general, it would have been foolish not to. John said Kyo had a good heart and, since John could detect lies and deceptions even without his power, I trusted his judgment.
One task proved more difficult than I would have thought. I don't know if Clem was shielding her, the Council was interrogating her, or her own preference for privacy was keeping her in seclusion, but I was fended off every time I tried to contact Amanda Greenaway. When I griped about it, Kyo volunteered to try, and I was happy to have that off my to-do list.
I had my own mission. I was determined to find out how Aspen Abernathy had gotten her hands on a gun, something that was not a common item in nephilim communities. She had been enthralled by Reilly Argaud, a former classmate, for several months and, while I understood why that may have driven her it, I needed to know how she got the gun she used to commit suicide.
I ruled out a drive into the bigger cities that probably had gun stores. Most residents rarely left the Sanctuary, unless it was for holiday shopping trips. Those events were hard to arrange for those of us still in high school and dependent on our wardens, although there were usually a few bus trips around Christmas time and then again during summer vacation.
Still, I didn't think she would have gone that route. For one, how would she have hidden it from her warden or the ones chaperoning the bus? For another, how would she have purchased it? All underage nephs were given an allowance, but the spending was tracked. And human gun stores couldn't legally sell to minors.
That left me with two theories. Either there was a black market on weapons here at the Sanctuary, or someone gave it to her. I doubted it was the former. It would be super-hard to keep secret, someone would have to be the supplier, and there would be incidents of gun violence. According to Travis, there hadn't been a weapons-related crime or reported accident here in more than a century.
So who would have given her a gun, and why?
I was fairly certain it was Reilly Argaud, but how had he hidden it and kept it secret at his trial?
When I talked it over with John, he brought up an even more disturbing question: What had happened to it after Aspen killed herself?
That's where I decided to start. I went to her warden, Ms. Fey, who was not one of my favorite teachers, and made the mistake of flat-out asking her if she knew how Aspen got the gun she'd shot herself with.
"And why would it be any of your business, Ms. Moore?" she all but sneered at me.
And that was the end of that conversation.
I decided to try Hank and Gina Bishop next. I tracked them down at the Street of Gold Cafe one afternoon, and she invited me to join them for a cup of coffee.
I almost hesitated to bother them after taking a good look at Hank. Deep lines scored his face and there were purplish bruises under his eyes. He was tearing a paper napkin into long, even strips, but stopped long enough to give me a curt nod.
"Ms. Weatherbee— I mean, Mrs. Bishop—"
"Call me Gina outside of the classroom," she invited with a smile.
I told her what information I was looking for.
"Hmm. I don't remember it coming up at Argaud's trial." She looked at Hank, but he was tearing up napkin number two.
Or maybe three, judging by the pile next to his coffee cup.
"Seems like a lot of things didn't come up at that trial," I complained.
"Most of the focus was on his connection to the Diabolical." Hank gathered all his torn-up napkins and crushed them into a ball. "Let me make some calls. I'll see what I can dig up. Be right back."
He pecked Gina's cheek, then stood and left the cafe. As he passed by our window, I saw him pull out his phone.
"He's worried that he's letting Kerry down by not being with him," Gina told me, "but we need to be here if the Council decides to vote on whether or not to issue a lockdown."
"If there is a lockdown, I know everyone would be sent an alert to retreat here or to an outpost, but what about teams that are actively engaged in the field?"
"It's the old complaint of war office generals giving orders that boots-on-the-ground soldiers can't follow. Some teams are embedded in delicate situations. Others have finally managed to infiltrate an enemy stronghold. Either way, to pull out now would be disastrous."
"Well, could you ask the Council to consider exempting teams on active missions? That would take care of Kerry."
"Ms. Chapman suggested that, too. There's precedent for it, and it only makes sense to remain flexible." She sighed. "Of course, in Kerry's case, anyone who wanted to be a stickler could say his mission ended with the Hellhounds."
"Like you said, boots-on-the-ground soldiers sometimes have to play things by ear." I shrugged. "You'd think the elders at least would understand that."
"People forget. They grow complacent, I suppose. And growing older doesn't guarantee wisdom. Those who were foolish when they were younger sometimes remain foolish no matter how much they age."
I laughed and she grinned.
"There was no gun." Hank plunked himself down in his seat. "I guess I should say, no physical gun. No physical bullet, either."
"But she shot herself— Oh!"
Horrified, I covered my mouth with both hands. I remembered the night Kerry had shown John how to manifest a gun out of power.
Surely not. Surely Reilly didn't—
"Reilly Argaud manifested a gun and bullets out of power, didn't he?" Gina turned to Hank. "He made her shoot herself while under enthrallment."
"There is no evidence of any of that." He braced his elbows on his knees and laced his fingers together.
"He should be charged with murder," she muttered.
"Why wasn't he?" I asked.
"As I said, there is zero evidence against him." Hank shook his head. "Reilly had the Council's sympathy when Aspen committed suicide because he said they were dating. He had Travis retrieve the enthrallment necklace before she went to the morgue, so there was no reason to suspect anything."
"But he admitted it at his trial!" Gina argued.
"Probably to deflect us away from looking harder at what happened to her." Hank unlocked his fingers and scrubbed his hands over his face.
"Can he still be charged and tried for her murder?" I shivered.
I should have brought John with me. This is disturbing.
"She could have gotten any warrior to make that gun for her. Granted, it wouldn't have lasted long unless the warrior was a level nine or ten, but a few seconds is all you need to put a gun in your mouth and pull the trigger."
I gasped.
"Hank, she's a child," Gina scolded him.
"It's okay," I mumbled. "I've seen some things."
She reached across the table and wrapped her warm hand around my clenched fist.
"I'll try to find out if Aspen was friends with any warriors. I doubt it, but, if so, I'll talk to them next." I made my hand relax and gave her a small smile.
"Why is this so important all of a sudden? Do you think it has something to do with Gemma's kidnapping?"
"It was always important to Maddy," I told Hank with quiet dignity. "She knew there was more to it. She said Aspen would never have taken her own life."
Gina patted my hand twice, then drew her arm back.
"In all likelihood, it was Argaud who made the gun and, yes, he probably forced her to shoot herself. What I want to know is why?" Hank frowned. "My guess is she either outlived her usefulness or was breaking through his hold."
"We could go to the Box and ask Reilly a few questions." Gina looked at him with raised eyebrows.
"If the Council votes for a lockdown, we aren't going anywhere," he reminded her.
"If the Council votes for a lockdown, it might be a good idea not to be trapped here." I drummed my fingertips on the table. "You two could do far more good out in the Real World than stuck here with us kiddies."
Looking from Gina's face to Hank's, I narrowed my eyes.
"You're planning that, anyway, aren't you?"
"Well, we need to be going." Hank stood and held his hand out to Gina.
"Lovely talking with you, Tara." She took his hand and got up, too. "Why don't you and John join us for dinner one evening? Travis, too. You have Hank's phone number, right?"
"Yes." I stood and walked with them to the door. "I'll talk to John and get back to you. I doubt Travis will come, but I'll ask him."
"Yes, I'm worried about that boy."
She wasn't the only one. Travis sunk deeper into depression by the hour, and the residual enthrallment taint only made the situation worse. Most of the time, he snapped and snarled like an injured animal until even John's patience wore thin.
Understandable, though. If it had been John who died instead of Maddy—
"Anyway," Gina broke into my grim thoughts, "send Hank a text letting us know which day."
"I will."
Hank tucked her arm in his and led her down the sidewalk. Before they turned the corner, she looked back at me and winked.
Oh, they are definitely planning to skip out of here before a lockdown.
That made me feel a little better. I had no doubts that Kerry would find Gemma. Even if he had to raze Heaven or raise Hell, he'd get her back. With Gina and Hank's help, it might happen even faster. So, while I wished John and I could help with that, I knew we had important work to do here.
And Travis needs us right now, whether he wants to admit it or not.
#
Travis Peale
Kerry Harker was going to regret what he did.
We should have known better than to trust him. A cold-blooded killer and demon-tainted, he didn't even understand mercy. I doubt he even grieved for Maddy.
But her death would be avenged. I was going to make sure of it.
A quiet voice in my head reminded me it wasn't Kerry's fault. He'd asked us all to go and we'd each said yes. She could have declined. Any of us could have.
He protected her, remember? the voice whispered. When Argaud attacked her at the Halloween dance. He took a bullet for her. In fact, he took five of them.
I shook my head and swiped a hand through the air near my ear, as if I could swat those memories away.
"He was showing off for Gemma," I muttered. "That's all. He didn't care about Maddy. He cares about himself and Gemma and no one else."
Gemma could be hurt. Your other friends, too. Any of them, even all of them, could be killed.
That jab found its mark. Gemma had been kindness itself to me, overlooking or forgiving how I was part of Arguad's plan to terrorize and enthrall her. As for the others, they'd never so much as mentioned my taint, even though I knew at least two of them could sense it. They'd been my friends since that day at the pool when Kerry had saved me, Gemma had healed me, and Maddy had—
Maddy.
"It would be unfortunate if anyone else was hurt or killed," I told myself, "but there are casualties in war, and that's what this is. The Divine at war with the Diabolical. So it is and so it will always be."
He saved you, too, my conscience whispered. He realized you were enthralled when no one else did and got that necklace off you. He never held your taint against you, either. Not once.
"Shut up! Shut up shut up shut up!" I balled up my fists and ground them into my forehead. "He killed Maddy! That's all that matters! And I'm going to be the one to make him sorry for it!"
Just as soon as I figured out how.