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“The one her dragon butthead managed to thoroughly trash?” Wilbur forced a pained grin at Camille.
She leaned over the railings, making sure her boobs were in full sight. “Dude, they aren’t stupid. I’ll bet they recognized your abilities and decided to dig up dirt on you in case they ever needed to use you.”
“And how do you figure that?” His eyes lit up, but she stayed out of reach of his good hand.
“Because that’s something we would have thought of. And if we could have thought of it, you know the bad guys are smart enough to.”
“Martin!” Wilbur suddenly panicked, struggling again to sit up. “Martin—is he okay? Did they…”
“He’s fine. We’re looking after him until you’re back on your feet.” I reassured him and, calm again, he rested his head against the pillows.
“I’m sorry,” he said after a moment. “I’m sorry I didn’t think. I’m sorry I put you guys in danger. I know what you’re doing—by now you know that. I know what you’re fighting against. I wanted to make sure you weren’t out to take over the country but…just…I’m sorry.” He closed his eyes, breathing softly, and I realized he’d fallen asleep.
I patted his hand and motioned to Sharah as we walked outside. “Keep a guard on him. He’s in danger until we catch those sorcerers.”
She nodded as we walked toward the front of the ward. “He’s not out of danger from his injuries either, though I think he’ll pull through. But he’s probably going to lose that leg. It’s so crushed that despite Mallen’s needlework, we couldn’t connect most of the blood vessels. We’ll know in twenty-four hours whether we have to amputate.”
“I wish we knew just how much he told Van and Jaycee about us.” I held up my hand as Camille started to speak. “I know he didn’t mean to—he didn’t intentionally betray us, but the fact is that he did talk. And now we have no clue if they know about where we took the spirit seals or not.”
Camille let out a long breath. “You’re right, of course. That’s our biggest danger here, isn’t it? If they find out Queen Asteria has the spirit seals, Elqaneve will be on the pointy end of the stick. They’ll marshal the goblins from Guilyotin and march on the Elfin city. Even if they can’t gate enough demons through, they’ll use goblins and ogres and whoever else they can pull into their dirty little war. So, where do we go from here?”
“We make sure Martin’s okay, and then visit Carter. And then, we head out for the Supe Community meeting.” I slid into the passenger seat of the car.
Camille slid into the driver’s seat, drawing her feet in and slamming the door before fastening the seat belt. Morio and Shade rode in back; I took shotgun. As soon as we were all situated, she pulled out the parking lot, and we headed over to visit Carter.
Carter, the son of a demon and a Titan, was far more than he appeared to be. He walked with a limp and a brace on one leg, and his shaggy red hair was meticulously kept in a trendy do. Two horns rose, spiraling, from his head, to belie his demonic heritage. Carter kept tabs on the demonic visitations to Seattle, and he had records going back for several hundred years. He also was a member of the Demonica Vacana society, a secret society that observed and—at times—interfered in the goings-on with demons in human society.
He lived in a modest basement apartment in the Broadway district, a haven to junkies and hookers. But he was in no danger, and a magical “go-away” zone surrounded the sidewalk outside the steps leading down to his apartment, discouraging lowlifes and criminals from hanging around.
I knocked at the door and, after a moment, it opened. Carter peered out, eyeing us, then stood back to allow us in. We hadn’t been around much the past couple of months and weren’t sure just how eager he was to see us.
“What can I do for you?” He was as polite as ever but seemed a little more aloof. Carter had been the foster father to a beautiful mute daughter named Kim, until recently.
“We have something to tell you, and we want your take on the issue.” He motioned for us to sit down in the worn but genteel living room. The velvet sofa was spotless; so were the thick rugs that covered up the concrete floor. Everything looked as it always had, but the apartment felt a little more empty.
Then the curtains to his kitchenette opened, and a man walked out, probably in his early thirties, carrying a tea tray with tea and cookies on it. He looked human, but that was no guarantee he was. But Carter smiled up at him, and motioned for the man to sit with us.>“They scammed him. Van and Jaycee…you want to make a bet?”
“Not throwing away money on that one. Of course it was them. But he thought they were old buddies from his military days. They must have done some research on his background.” She paused, then added, “He wrote that they were looking for a favor but couldn’t talk about it on the phone. He thought they probably needed a place to crash.”
“Apparently not. Wonder what they wanted?”
“I can tell you what they were after.” Shade looked up from the bag. Morio had examined it, then shook his head and handed it back.
“What?”
“This.” He withdrew a small journal and flipped through it. “Background information on you three, on Smoky, Morio, Trillian. On Iris, Nerissa…” As Shade flipped through the pages, his frown deepened. “Carter. He knows about Carter and Vanzir—that they’re demons. And…fuck. A page about the history of the spirit seals. Wilbur knows all of your secrets, including that you’ve been taking the spirit seals to Queen Asteria.”
“How the crap did he get all of that?” I jumped up, panicked. “He knows about Shadow Wing, doesn’t he?”
Shade nodded. “Yes, it appears he does.”
“Holy fuck. I just found out what the connection between Martin and Wilbur is.” Camille looked up, a pained expression on his face. “Wilbur…Martin was his brother.”
“What?” I cocked my head, frowning. “What do you mean?”
“Martin was Wilbur’s little brother. He was an accountant, and he died a few years ago of cancer. Three weeks ago was the anniversary of Martin’s death and Wilbur wrote about it. About how he still didn’t understand why someone so caring…had to die that way.” She pushed back the journal, looking vaguely ill. “I guess Wilbur decided to do the only thing he knew how. He brought Martin back, to be with him. Martin’s not his slave. Martin’s his family.”
Her words echoed in the room as we stood silent. That Wilbur even had a family seemed extraordinary. But then…everybody had a family. Even if they were no longer here.
