Karl.
I bent beside him and swallowed hard. I flashed on him at headquarters, holding Hope, so worried about her, always worried about her. I remembered his expression. Lost. He'd looked lost. A man who always knew exactly what he wanted and exactly how to get it, faced with the knowledge that the woman he loved was hurting and there was nothing he could do about it. That she was in danger, and there was nothing he could do except stay by her side and fight for her.
He'd done everything he could. Given everything he could. And still it wasn't enough, because it was never enough, could never be enough.
It took me a minute to realize Adam was beside me, touching Karl's neck.
"He's been shot in the head," I murmured. "He's not going to be--"
Adam took my hand and pressed my fingers to Karl's neck. Warm skin. Faint pulse. Oh God, there was a--
I leaped to my feet. "We need a medic. Fast."
THIRTY-NINE
Karl was alive. Barely. The medics carried him out to a van. We went with him. I presume a second van took the paralyzed guy. Didn't ask. Didn't care.
The medic warned us that he didn't expect Karl to survive the trip. The head wound was actually only a bullet graze. It was the shots through his back that had done the damage. The medic couldn't tell exactly how much damage, only that his heart hadn't stopped. Not yet.
It didn't stop on the trip, which was surprising, considering how long it seemed to take. When we got there, the medics hurried Karl into the hospital ward, where a surgeon and her team waited.
I overheard the surgeon tell Benicio that it was a miracle Karl had lived this long and maybe they should just keep him comfortable and try to revive him long enough to say good-bye to his Pack. Benicio told her to get Karl into that operating room and make sure he lived long enough to say hello to his daughter. A tall order. One I don't think even Benicio believed could happen, but his tone was the incentive the surgeon needed.
As soon as Karl was rushed into surgery, I went to sit with Bryce. He was still comatose, but I wanted to sit with him. Sean was back in L.A., dealing with the fallout.
When Jaime and the werewolves arrived, Elena took it the hardest--she was the closest to both Hope and Karl. Clay stayed at her side, but didn't try to calm her down. Calm wasn't what she needed. She took charge, getting all the details on Karl's condition, even if she needed Jeremy to translate the medical lingo. Then she turned her attention to the efforts to track Hope, marching upstairs with Clay to see what was being done.
"You want to be with them?" Adam whispered as they left.
I looked toward the operating room. I wanted to know what happened in there, but sitting with Jaime and Jeremy wasn't going to help Hope. As long as someone was here to speak for Karl, I needed exactly what Elena needed--action.
We got as far as the elevator before Jaime came after us.
"I know this might be the last thing on your mind right now, Savannah," she said. "But your mom figured out who took your spells. It's a long story, but the short version is that she's working to make contact with him. That's not easy. He's . . ."
"Someone who's not supposed to make contact with us," I said. "A deity, right?"
"Er, no. Not exactly. He's a eudemon." She hurried on. "Which means he's not the kind of demon we're used to--" She glanced at Adam. "And why am I telling you this? You're the demonologist. Sorry."
"I know what it is, too," I said. "Cacodemons are the type that make deals and babies. Chaos demons. Eudemons don't have a chaos hunger, which means they have little interest in our world. They're impartial observers. Not demonic, not celestial."
"Yes, well this one has trouble with the impartial part. I think he's been observing for too long, and he's itching to get out of his seat and get involved. It's not the first time he has. Both your mother and I have had run-ins with him."
"Aratron," I said.
"Yep. We don't know why he's done this. He's been helpful before. This is not helpful."
"Actually, he thinks it is. And he may be right."
I told her about Aratron's master plan--take my spells and teach me to learn to fight without them. "Lousy timing, it's true, but I guess if he took away my spells when I was just manning the agency reception desk, I'd have no incentive to learn the lesson. And he hasn't let anything catastrophic happen. When I needed to protect Cassandra in L.A., he gave me full power plus."
I hesitated and glanced at Adam. He nodded.
"Tell Mom to hold off," I said to Jaime. "If I need help, I'll ask for it, but for now, I'm going to trust Aratron to let this play out. If he's a eudemon, he's not going to screw me over for a chaos feast." I looked at Adam again. "Right?"
"Right. Historically, the role of eudemons is said to be one of balance. We've rarely seen them get involved, so they've been considered irrelevant. But in this case, it seems Aratron is fulfilling his role--trying to restore balance. We'll trust him until he shows us that we can't."
Upstairs, we found Elena and Clay with Benicio interrogating the man whose neck Karl had broken. It looked like the guy was going to be paralyzed for the rest of his life, which was likely to be very short anyway--I doubted Benicio planned to fund long-term medical care for him. But no one was telling him that.
When we arrived, a doctor was reporting that they could move the man to the Cabal hospital for "further examination and treatment" as soon as Benicio was done questioning him. The doctor said nothing about his condition or prognosis, but his calm tone would suggest to the panicked man that treatment was possible, and that the sooner he answered Benicio's questions, the sooner he'd get treatment. When you're lying on a gurney, paralyzed, you'll take your optimism wherever you can find it.
Brett--that was his name--started with the whole "it's all gone wrong" lament we'd heard from Roni. At least she'd had the sense to turn stool pigeon and alert us to the attacks. Brett was only experiencing his epiphany now that his life was on the line.
In Brett's case, his loyalty had one advantage. Giles seemed to have shut Roni out because he'd questioned her commitment to the cause. With Brett, he'd been more forthcoming.
"He's going to use Hope Adams to summon Lucifer," Brett said. "I'm not exactly sure how."
"Just tell us what you can," Benicio said.
"People started leaving the movement, but they didn't completely break ties. They just stopped checking in regularly. They made up excuses. They needed to get back to work. Someone in their family was sick. Whatever. They're keeping in touch, though."
"Waiting for something to happen," I murmured.
"Exactly. That's what pissed off a lot of us. We're doing the real work, the dangerous stuff, and they're hanging back, waiting to see if we succeed before they'll commit again. Giles promised he'd get them back. He just needed to do something really big."
"Like kidnap Lucifer's daughter."
Brett nodded. "He was keeping it all hush-hush, so it'd be a big surprise. Once he had her, he'd let everyone know. If they didn't return, they'd be kicked out."
Now, if some guy had said to me "Hey, come watch me summon Lucifer and threaten to kill his daughter and his first grandchild," I'd have caught the next plane heading in the opposite direction. But these were regular supernaturals, and they had no more experience with demons than your average human. They didn't know any better.
"When is this demonstration supposed to take place?" Benicio asked.
"As soon as possible. But he has to give people time to get to the compound. He was talking about doing it tomorrow night if they got her tonight." He paused. "Or I guess it's tomorrow already. Tonight, then. After people have had time to arrive."
"And this compound? Where is it?"
That's where Brett--like Roni--was a lot less helpful. Only select members knew the location. The rest only knew that they flew into the Indianapolis airport, were picked up in a van and were driven out into the countryside for a couple of hours.
"We can try contacting Kimerion again," I said. "Or e
ven Asmondai. A demon will be able to find it."
"No, they won't," Brett said. "Giles knew demons and deities would get involved and interfere. He chose a location they can't find. He can summon them there, but they can't locate it on their own."
There was nothing else he knew that might prove useful, so we left him then, to the ministrations of the Cabal medical team.
When we stepped out with Benicio, I asked Adam. "Do you know what kind of locations he's talking about? Ones that demons can't find?"
"I have some ideas--" He stopped. "Demons and deities. That would cover demons and demi-demons, demi-gods, angels and presumably anything higher up the celestial hierarchy. But there are other entities. Lower spirits."
"Which we have no way of communicating with," I said. "I've summoned elemental spirits by accident, but they don't speak."
"Whether they're even sentient is in question," Adam said. "There are older entities that might try to pass on a message, but don't really know how."
"They would be limited to old languages," Benicio said. "Their knowledge of even those might not be sufficient to communicate coherently."
"Hope's message," I said. "Someone was giving us directions."
"Directions" was pushing it. The spirit had done exactly what you'd expect from a being that doesn't have a lot of experience communicating with humans. He'd given lots of details that were useless until you plugged in the theory that the place was in or near Indianapolis and had magical properties that would keep out trespassing major entities. Then you could start plucking out the geographic references and making sense of them.
Benicio called the entire research department in early, along with a few people from HR, and put them to the task of finding all staff--from janitors to managers--who'd lived in Indiana.
By seven, the research wing was busier than I'd ever seen it. The employees weren't thrilled to be dragged out of bed so early, but they were a bit happier when they found a gourmet breakfast buffet waiting for them, and a lot happier when Benicio promised them all three paid days off for the inconvenience, plus bonuses for anyone bringing him useful information.
I hoped Adam qualified for those bonuses, because he showed up the Cabal's entire team. He focused on sites that supernatural historians called "spirit blocked." In other words, sites that higher order spirits were said to be unable to locate.
Most were on ley lines and other geographic locations that humans think have special powers. They don't. But like ordinary humans, supernaturals hold a mishmash of beliefs, human and otherworldly. So they, too, often seek out these "special" spots to conduct powerful rituals. Maybe out of honest belief or maybe like clutching a rabbit's foot while picking the lottery numbers--you're pretty sure it's not going to help, but it can't hurt.
Now if your average person is asked to locate the nearest ley line, he's going to have some trouble. Same with supernaturals. So there are about a hundred "hot spots" that get passed along among practitioners. When supernaturals flock to these sites and conduct rituals for a century or two, mystical or not, you're going to screw with the mojo of that place. It becomes spirit-blocked, which is great, because then you don't have to worry about unwanted guests. Which means the places become even more popular.
There were six spirit-blocked sites within a four-hour drive of Indianapolis. With that list, and staff familiar with the areas, plus researchers analyzing satellite photos, we soon found our spot.
Karl was out of surgery. He'd survived, but now the surgeon was saying it would be a miracle if he made it to noon.
After she left, Clay said, "Bullshit. You know what she cares about? Same thing everyone else here cares about. One, impressing the boss. Two, not pissing off the boss."
"They do appear to be erring on the side of caution," Jeremy said. "Extreme caution. Before you arrived, I tried to get more details of his injuries. I may not be a doctor, but she knows I understand the terminology. She stayed vague, which suggests his condition wasn't as bad as she feared before she started operating."
"She just doesn't want us to know that," I said. "If she says the bullet wounds weren't critical, and he dies, she's in trouble. If she pretends he's at death's door and she saved him, she gets a big bonus."
"Either way she's motivated." Adam glanced toward the ward. "Is Karl still sedated?"
Jeremy nodded. "He should wake in an hour or two, but I'm considering asking them to keep him under until we have news. Preferably good news."
"Yeah," Clay said. "He wakes up and Hope's gone? He's not staying in that bed. I wouldn't."
"He'll kill himself going after her," Elena said. "I say keep him under."
Jeremy nodded. "Agreed."
Elena drew Clay aside for a moment. She whispered something to him, and he whispered a response, and then she stepped back to us, turning to Jeremy.
"I'm not going to Indiana. Karl should have someone here who knows him, to speak for him if things go wrong. As Alpha, you need to lead the rescue. As Alpha-elect, I should stay with Karl."
"No," Jeremy said. "You're more capable of taking an active role in the field. You'll go in my stead."
Elena shook her head. "I don't bring any skills that Clay doesn't have. You do. If Hope's in an underground compound, your kitsune powers are going to be a lot more useful than my nose."
Jeremy looked uncomfortable, as he always did when someone brought up that side of his heritage. "They didn't help when you were trapped in an underground cell, and I'd really rather--"
"Elena's right," Jaime cut in. "We know the place is warded, and that was the problem when Elena was captured, too. Maybe your powers will work this time; maybe they won't. Point is that it can't hurt to have you there."
"So it's settled," Elena said. "Now, please go. In order to keep Karl calm when he wakes up, I really need good news."
FORTY
Three hours later, we were in the middle of freaking nowhere.
"It's not nowhere," Adam said as we paced outside the crumbling farmhouse the Cabal had declared mission headquarters. "It's Indiana."
"It's a cornfield," I said, waving my arms. "Even the people who lived here had the brains to bail."
"The land is owned by a farming conglomerate," Adam said. "The farmers sold their fields--"
"I'm venting," I said. "Not looking for a lesson in modern agriculture."
"Believe me, I feel your pain. And I'm going to do something about it."
He pointed past the tent they'd set up as a base. There was a decrepit shed twenty feet away. I glanced around, then cast a quick blur spell over us. When we were behind the shed, Adam caught me up in a big hug. I hugged him back and waited for phase two. When it didn't come, I pulled back to look him in the face. "We're hugging," I said.
"Were you hoping for something else?"
"Um, kinda. Yeah."
He grinned and kissed me. A smack on the lips that lasted about two seconds.
"Better?"
I glowered at him.
He laughed. "Personally, I'm with you on the whole distraction idea, but I have a feeling it's going to be about three minutes before someone notices we're gone and phones us, which really isn't going to help the frustration issue."
"True."
"So this is the best I can offer, as lame as it might be."
"It's not lame," I said and put my arms around him, buried myself in his neck and closed my eyes, listening to the slow beat of his heart, the tension sliding from my back as he rubbed it.
"I was sure I heard them." Paige's voice drifted over.
We disentangled fast, but it was too late. Lucas was right there, with Paige behind him.
Lucas looked from me to Adam. His gaze stayed on Adam.
"We were . . ." Adam began.
"I can see what you were doing." Lucas's voice was so cool I shivered, but it wasn't me he was staring at.
"There's a conference call," Paige said. "Trouble with the Boyds. We'd like Adam to help explain a few things."
"It'
ll be under the tent," Lucas said. Then to Paige. "I should--"
"Good idea."
They exchanged a look, and he walked away, ramrod straight. I felt like I was fifteen again, caught letting a guy in the house while they were out. From Paige, I'd gotten a long talk about personal safety and the expectations that could be raised by inviting a guy into an empty house. From Lucas? Silence. Disappointment, I think, but confusion, too, as if he really had expected better of me. Smarter of me.
"Shit, I'm sorry," Adam said to Paige when Lucas was gone. "I'm really sorry."
Paige had her arms crossed, but she didn't look angry.
"That was stupid," Adam said. "Really stupid."
"Not arguing," she said.
I stepped forward. "It was just a hug."
"Oh, that's not the issue," Paige said. She jerked her thumb at Adam. "He knows the issue."
Adam glanced at me. "I should have told them about us. Responsibility fail. Big responsibility fail."
"Again, not arguing," Paige said.
"I could have told you guys, too," I said.
Adam shook his head. "This one should have come from me." He looked at Paige. "I am sorry. Savannah and I talked, and we agreed you should know. We just . . . with everything . . . we hadn't gotten to it. I know you're not going to be happy about the whole thing--"
"I never said that. He's the one who's not going to be happy." She gestured at Lucas, now disappearing into the tent. "I told him it was coming. He thought I was 'misreading the situation.' Pfft. After eight years, you think he'd know enough to trust me on that sort of thing, and to accept that as brilliant as he is, he has absolutely no emotion-reading skills whatsoever."
She smiled at Adam's expression. "What, you didn't think I'd figured it out? How long have I known you? I can even tell you when things changed. Last year. After Savannah saved your butt on that that demi-demon case in Ohio. Am I right?"
"Um, yeah."
"So you knew and didn't tell me," I said to Paige.
"Of course I didn't tell you. I figured it would happen when you were both ready. If that took a few years, well, given the age difference, that wouldn't necessarily be a bad thing. This is fine, though. The maturity gap isn't that big."
"Thanks," Adam muttered.
She grinned at him. "You're welcome. You're still in deep shit with Lucas, and I'm not fixing that for you. This isn't the time to fix it, but making a start wouldn't be a bad idea."