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“Well, it looks to me like his top advisors are beginning to notice and are taking steps to ensure their own survival.”
“So the Bonecrusher is focused on self-preservation. I can’t blame her for that, but we can’t work with her.” I let out a long sigh and dug into my sandwich. The burst of flavor in my mouth from the roast beef and the mustard cut through my taste buds, making me smile.
Smoky leaned forward, elbows on the table, resting his chin on his hands. “We have to take her out. Even if she is standing against Shadow Wing, it’s not because she loves humankind or the Fae. And meddling with the portals is dangerous, no matter what the reason. No—we have to defeat her without alerting the daemons or Shadow Wing.”
“If they’ve guarded against demons but not human or Fae, that means we can sneak in through the back. They may be protected up the wazoo out front, but it sounds like she left a hole, thinking the demons would be her main threat.” I picked out an apple from the bowl of fruit on the table and bit into it.
“This isn’t going to be easy,” Iris said. “But you can count me in. I want to pay her a little vengeance in Henry’s name.”
I smiled at her. “Count all of us in, Iris. Because we’re going to need every last body we can get.”
CHAPTER 23
Fueled by a constant stream of tea, cookies, and sandwiches, by the time Menolly awoke we’d managed to sketch out a brief plan of action. The thought occurred to me more than once that we were potentially destroying one of Shadow Wing’s enemies, but I couldn’t see any way to harness her help. Stacia wouldn’t care about us. And who knew what she had planned once she took over his reign? And then—only if she was successful.
We cleared the guys out of the kitchen shortly before it was time for Menolly to wake up. Only Smoky, among all the men, knew the secret entrance to her lair and he was good for the secret. But I still didn’t want to take a chance. The more people who knew where to find my sister when she slept, the more danger there would be of the information leaking out.
Menolly silently slipped from behind the bookshelf-door against one kitchen wall. She stared at the pile of papers on the table and the maps, then at the jumble of dishes on the counter. She was wearing a pair of skin-tight leather pants, a sky blue turtleneck, and she’d caught her mass of burnished braids back into a high ponytail, both chic and arresting.
“Okay, what the hell is going on? Something’s up.” She opened the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of blood, then popped it into the microwave.
“As soon as we brief you, we’re heading out. We’ve got a nasty fight. Delilah’s calling Chase now, asking if he might be able to join us, and Morio’s off asking Wilbur to come with us. I’ve already called Nerissa—she’s on the way.”
“Nerissa? What’s going on? She’s not a trained fighter—not in the way we are or Zachary is.” Nerissa was Menolly’s girlfriend, a werepuma in the Rainier Puma Pride. While they saw men on the side, they were exclusive in that they didn’t take any other women lovers. I had the feeling they were in this for the long haul, though neither would even consider the thought. But a gut feeling told me they made a wonderful pair.
“No, but she can babysit Maggie for us. She’ll be here in about an hour.” I let out a long sigh and waited until Menolly’s blood was warm and she brought it to the table. “Henry’s dead. Stacia blew up my shop this morning and killed him.”
“What?” Menolly’s eyes shifted from pale gray to bloodred and her fangs descended. As I told her the rest, she sipped the blood, carefully wiping the corners of her mouth, saying nothing. When I finished, she filled the bottle with soapy water and set it in the sink. She didn’t mention Henry’s death, but she placed her hand on my shoulder and leaned over the back of my chair to give me a rare kiss on the cheek. “What are we waiting for? Let’s get ready to rumble.”
Marymoor Park was on the Eastside. The Greater Seattle Metropolitan area is made up not only of Seattle proper, but of numerous suburb cities that flowed into each other, divided by manmade boundaries rather than natural divisions. Many of the bedroom communities had grown large enough to be central metropolitan areas themselves.
The GSM area surrounded several lakes, including Lake Washington, Lake Union, and Lake Sammamish, while Seattle proper was on Elliot Bay and the Puget Sound Inlet, which led out through the Straits of Juan de Fuca to the Pacific Ocean.
The Eastside was east of Lake Washington, connected to Seattle by two floating pontoon bridges, one of which—the 520 Floating Bridge—was one the longest of its kind in the world. Both the I-90 Bridge and the 520 were marvels of engineering in the earthquake-prone area, and the 520 was in desperate need of rebuilding, both to service the increased load of cars that crossed it daily, and to prevent it from going belly up during a major trembler.
We were headed for a city called Redmond, the home of Microsoft. It abutted Bellevue—a city of over one hundred and twenty thousand people—and was a little less urban but still a growing community. The two cities were divided by Bel-Red Road, short—of course—for Bellevue-Redmond Road.
As we headed toward the exit off of the 520, which had been sparsely trafficked thanks to the fact that we’d headed out shortly after eight P.M., I glanced over my shoulder to make sure that Chase’s SUV was following Morio’s Subaru. We’d brought two cars, considering that we had eleven people and all our gear to transport. Morio was driving me, Menolly, Trillian, and Smoky. Chase ferried Delilah, Rozurial, Wilbur, Vanzir, and Iris.
We sped along the 520 freeway until we came to the exit, which opened onto Leary Way. Straight ahead and we’d be in Redmond proper. Morio swung a right onto West Sammamish Parkway. Less than five minutes later and we were at the entrance of Marymoor Park. He eased into the left-turn lane at the light, and pulled into the park, followed by Chase.
There was some sort of event going on, and the park was still open though it usually closed at dusk. We eased into the parking lot near Clise Mansion: a community hall that had once been a country estate and now was available for meetings, weddings, and other special occasions.
As we scrambled out of the cars, I looked wistfully at the mansion. “It’s beautiful. It would be so nice to have some sort of party where we didn’t have to worry about all this other crap.”
Trillian put his hand on my shoulder. “Perhaps for the holidays, we can throw a party here?”
I stared at him, touched. Trillian usually wasn’t so keen on social claptrap, as he put it, but now the look on his face told me he meant it. I kissed him lightly on the nose. “Thank you for that.”
We gathered our gear and headed out of the park. The towering firs and cedars were interspersed with maple and birch and hawthorn and alder, and numerous other types of trees and shrubs. The park was over six hundred acres. We were on the west side. A five-minute walk took us back to West Sammamish Parkway, and a few seconds later we were across the street.
Menolly looked around—nobody was on the road so she quickly hovered up to the top of the restraining wall and, perching on it, tossed down a light rope. We made light work of climbing up, even Iris, who was a lot stronger than she looked. On the other side of the wall, we found ourselves facing a shallow ravine filled with trees. It was easy enough to scramble down into the cover of foliage.
“Okay, where’s Stacia’s place?” It was dark, and the ground uneven. I was glad I’d traded my stilettos for granny boots. It was also cold and I was equally glad I’d worn a light jacket over my leather bustier and rayon skirt that fell to my calves.
Vanzir gauged the area, then pointed. “Up ahead. It’s new. Looks like it was built in the last year or two. They cleared out another patch of woods for it.” He led us under the shelter of leaves that were dripping water from the rain. At least the weather had let up a bit, and we were only facing a drizzle. But the mist was rising from the ground and, before long, it would be rolling through the area.
We silently followed him to the edge of the ravine, clambering up the embankment without much trouble. At the top, we were at the edge of the tree line, staring into the backyard of a large estate.
