Inked. Part 8

I frowned. This case was getting murkier, not clearer, as I went along. I needed some answers, and I knew of only one person who might have them.

"What are we waiting for?" Jamie echoed my thoughts. "Let's go!"

"Go where?" I asked, starting to worry.

"Don't tell me you don't know who did this!" He glared at me, hands on hips, red-gray hair flying, face fierce. His whole five-three frame was quivering with emotion.

"I have an idea, yes."

"Or where to find him?"

"Yes to that, too. I was waiting around to ask if you know anything about the drain over on Decatur."

"I know everything about it," Jamie said impatiently.

"Can you draw me a map of the interior?"

"I'll do better than that. I'll show you!" He hopped back into the drain, splashed over to where I'd left my bike and threw a leg over.

"Jamie!" He waved, started the engine despite not having a key and took off in a cloud of dust, leaving Caleb and me staring after him.

"I didn't know he could ride," Caleb said, as Jamie ripped through a median, slung across the path of an oncoming truck, jumped the sidewalk, clipped a streetlight, wobbled, corrected, and tore away in a squeal of my tires.

"He can't."

"Maybe we can get a ride with the ambulance," Caleb offered after a moment.

Well, c.r.a.p.

9.

THE ambulance let us off on a patch of raw desert by Decatur Road. Jamie was nowhere to be seen, but my bike was leaning against a chain-link fence. The fence protected what had been an open air channel and was now a raging river. ambulance let us off on a patch of raw desert by Decatur Road. Jamie was nowhere to be seen, but my bike was leaning against a chain-link fence. The fence protected what had been an open air channel and was now a raging river.

A few dust-dry areas still ringed the sides of the channel, but through the middle, the wash seethed. Water with a skim of oil and gas rushed past a corroded stove, lying on a rapidly diminis.h.i.+ng sandbar. Trash-beer bottles, cigarette b.u.t.ts, and fast-food wrappers-bobbed in the current, swirling madly toward a tunnel protected by a large grate and a patch of weeds.

I stared at it dubiously. This had seemed simple enough in my head: the gang lost their old hideout this morning, so they burnt out their rivals in the shantytown to make themselves a new one. But the reality wasn't looking so cut and dried. I glanced around, but there didn't appear to be any lookouts. Maybe they thought that with Were hearing they didn't need any.

Or maybe no one was crazy enough to want to hide out in the middle of a river.

"Could we have the wrong address?" I asked hopefully.

"My luck's not that good," Caleb muttered, swinging himself onto the fence. I hauled myself up after him and we dropped to the other side.

Even standing on the bank, I could feel the ground tremble. Angry gray floodwater rushed around my legs and threatened to sweep me off my feet as we angled into the channel and sloshed across to the grate. It was festooned with newspapers and old crime scene tape, which it was attempting to keep out of the maybe four-by-four tunnel opening. Caleb shone his flashlight inside. "See anything?"

"No." Nothing good, anyway. Water churned around a small area just inside, like acid in a stomach. It foamed along grimy walls, mixing with bits of trash that had made it past the grate, before being sucked down the dark gullet of a tunnel. I could feel the current growing, pus.h.i.+ng relentlessly against my s.h.i.+ns, trying to shove me inside the hungry mouth.

And my doubts grew along with it.

What if all the gang knew about was the death of the old man? Yes, I wanted them brought in for that, but waiting a little while wouldn't do further harm to Wilkinson. The same couldn't be said for Cyrus. And this little trip seemed less and less likely to yield results the longer I thought about it.

With a setup like that, I was surprised Wilkinson hadn't been murdered long ago. And although it hadn't looked like anything had been taken, I didn't know what he'd kept on hand. As for the Were, maybe he'd followed me from the first drain, waiting for the opportunity to reclaim his property. He might not have had anything to do with Wilkinson at all.

Likewise, the fact that that body had been dumped along 91 might have nothing to do with the gang. Maybe the Hunter had placed it there at random. Maybe he'd learned that the gang was using the drain for a hangout and was taunting them. Maybe a lot of things. Because the other alternative was that a bunch of Weres were hiding a Hunter. And why did I have trouble believing that?

I started to pull back, but stopped when the drain flickered out, like a T.V. switching stations. For a moment there was nothing, no rus.h.i.+ng water, no dark tunnel. And then I was staring at Cyrus.

He was standing in his living room, clutching a small plastic guitar. "I Love Rock 'n' Roll" was blasting from the T.V. And a woman who looked a lot like me was standing in the kitchen behind him, holding a small ca.s.serole dish.

"Okay, rock star. I think it's done," she said, sounding dubious.

"I'm almost through," he told her, fingers flying. He was going to win this with human speed, d.a.m.n it. If every nine-year-old in the country could do it, how hard could it be?

"You realize that's only level one, right?"

"You mean, sort of like making a souffle?" She'd been at it all day, with much creative cursing. It still amazed him that a woman who brewed her own potions couldn't cook worth a d.a.m.n.

"A souffle is Freebird on expert," she said crossly, as the last few notes faded away.

Your mother doesn't count as a fan, the screen informed him. the screen informed him.

d.a.m.n nine-year-olds.

He joined her in the kitchen to find her staring into a small white container and biting her lip. They watched as the contents slowly melted, like the witch in The Wizard of Oz. The Wizard of Oz. "We could try it," he offered manfully. "We could try it," he offered manfully.

"Try what? There's nothing left!" She poked at the sad remains with a spoon.

Cyrus threw an arm around her shoulders and kissed her flour-streaked cheek. She was warm and smelled like b.u.t.ter and spices and Lia. He was suddenly starving, but not for food.

"You know what they say about the best way to a man's heart?"

"Yeah."

"They lie."

An hour later, she dropped a daub of sauce from the calzones they'd ordered in, and he leaned over the kitchen table and caught her wrist, putting his mouth over the pulse point. He slowly licked the sauce away, daring her with his eyes. The taste of her pulse under his tongue was enough to escalate the slow rolling pleasure of her company into something more. He wanted. Now.

They'd been dating for months, but he sometimes wondered if she realized it. Lunches and dinners spent talking about her cases had slid into movie nights at his place, laundry dates at hers and weekends spent riding the motorcycles they both loved. Yet she still treated him more like a colleague than anything else.

It was driving him out of what was left of his mind.

She grinned, and it was purely her, the insolent charm that made him respond to her from the very beginning. "All right, rock star. Let's see what you've got." He just sat there for a moment, sure he'd misunderstood. Until she laughed and pulled him up from the table. "You keep looking at me like that, and we won't even make it to the bed."

They did, although he was never quite sure how.

The scene abruptly flipped back to the drain and I staggered, the water almost sucking me through the opening. A hand came down on my shoulder and Caleb said sharply, "Lia," "Lia," in the tone that meant he'd said it at least three times before. in the tone that meant he'd said it at least three times before.

I grabbed on to him, breathless, queasy and more than a little freaked out. That just didn't get any easier. Especially not when viewed through someone else's eyes.

"What is it?" he demanded. "What happened?"

"Nothing." I got my legs back under me. "It's just...I think we might be in the right place, after all."

Caleb looked uncertain, staring past me into the drain like he thought something was about to jump out at us.

And then something did.

"What! Hold!" Jamie threw a s.h.i.+eld up, which knocked Caleb's spell awry. It bounced off and crashed into the water on our left, sending a great wash of steam into the air. "Are ye daft, man?"

"Sorry." It looked like I wasn't the only one who was a little jumpy. But Caleb recovered fast. "Why'd you go in without us?" he demanded. "What if you'd had a seizure in there? What if it left your head under water?"

"What if you stop acting like I have one foot in the grave?" Jamie shot back. "And I went in because I needed to check on conditions."

"How are they?"

"Bad. And going to get worse. It's raining in the mountains."

"So? We're here," I pointed out.

"Vegas sits at the bottom of a basin," he said impatiently. "It's surrounded by mountains and a lot of hard desert soil used to four or five inches of rain a year. a year. When it gets a couple all at once, like the forecast for today, it can't handle it and all that water comes running down here. That's why the drainage system was created in the first place." When it gets a couple all at once, like the forecast for today, it can't handle it and all that water comes running down here. That's why the drainage system was created in the first place."

"I think we can handle a few inches!"

"Inches in the mountains translates to feet here. And of all the drains in the system, this is the worst to be caught in during a flood. It runs all the way under the Strip, with no manholes or cross tunnels to catch you. If a wall of water came up behind us, we could be washed for miles."

"We have s.h.i.+elds," I reminded him.

"And how long do you think they'll last when we're slamming into concrete like three idiots in a pinball machine?"

"So you're saying we need to do this fast?"

"I'm saying we need to do this later!"

I shook my head violently. "Cyrus is in there. It has to be now!"

I pushed into the drain, which at this point mostly involved just letting go of the outer edge of the inlet. It swept me through the mouth of the tunnel and onto what remained of a sandbar. The noise was deafening, with the small, enclosed s.p.a.ce amplifying every sound. Each car rattling overhead sounded like a 747 taking off, and the river around my legs roared like the ocean. But at least I couldn't hear Jamie cursing anymore.

Once I got back to my feet, I discovered that the tunnel itself was fairly s.p.a.cious. But that was the only good thing. The air was murky and the same shade as the water, but I didn't dare use a flashlight. In the inlet, it could be mistaken for sunlight; farther in, it would immediately announce the presence of an unwanted visitor.

But without light, it was difficult to imagine how I was supposed to find anyone in here. There were no markers, no stuttering wards, no anything. Just a long, dark tunnel and me. If there was ever a time for metaphysical bread-crumbs, If there was ever a time for metaphysical bread-crumbs, I thought, just before an image vivid enough to touch slammed into me. I thought, just before an image vivid enough to touch slammed into me.

Cyrus ended up on his back, with Lia prowling up his body. She'd left her hair undone and it flowed over her shoulders in a dark wave, tickling his chest after she stripped his s.h.i.+rt off. His hand slid under that s.h.i.+ning ma.s.s, the strands sliding silken-slick between his fingers, to grasp her nape. He brought her down for a scorching kiss before skimming down her back and over the sweet curves below. She groaned and that combined with the skin-to-skin contact to bring a growl to his throat.

"Down, boy," she told him, sitting up to straddle his shoulders. Her eyes were a perfect ice gray in the moonlight filtering through his bedroom curtains. Wolf eyes.

The brief glimpse into Cyrus's brain flickered out, leaving me staring into the dense gloom of the drain. That was all right, I told myself as I pushed off from the wall. It looked like I had a guide.

The pressure against my legs doubled as I moved forward into the channel, because the water was compressed into a smaller area. Making things even more interesting were the seams in the concrete where the rectangular drains had been slapped together. They formed dangerous ledges underwater, vying with rocks and bottles and submerged sandbars to see which could trip me first.

"Why would the gang kidnap your boyfriend?" a voice demanded.

I whirled to find Jamie right behind me. All the noise had m.u.f.fled his footsteps, and I hadn't heard him approach. "I'm not real clear on that yet," I said, lowering my gun. "But Caleb's right. You shouldn't be here."

"And you should?"

"This isn't Corps business. It's personal."

"And what d'ye think it is for me?" Jamie demanded. "I'm not about to let Toby's killer walk free!"

"You're the one who just said we should leave!"

He threw his hands into the air. "Because no one's here! Tartarus dwellers are very conscious of the weather-they have to be. They probably cleared out hours ago-"

"Not this group."

"Are we going to do this or not?" Caleb asked, appearing out of the gloom.

Jamie rounded on him. "I don't even know why you're here!"

Caleb raised an eyebrow. "I see better in the dark than either of you. And you can't take on a whole gang on your own."

"There is no gang! If they were here, they'd have to be in the old shantytown. There's no other caves in this drain." Jamie sloshed around a bend and up the tunnel with the surefootedness of someone who knew where he was going. Caleb and I followed as best we could. "There!" He pointed at a decaying ward that was buzzing fitfully, showing glimpses of the room beyond. "And as you can clearly see, there are-" If they were here, they'd have to be in the old shantytown. There's no other caves in this drain." Jamie sloshed around a bend and up the tunnel with the surefootedness of someone who knew where he was going. Caleb and I followed as best we could. "There!" He pointed at a decaying ward that was buzzing fitfully, showing glimpses of the room beyond. "And as you can clearly see, there are-"

"A whole lot of Weres in there!"

Caleb threw out a s.h.i.+eld as Jamie dove for one side of the entrance. I stayed where I was, scanning the group for Cyrus. He wasn't there, but the guy I'd fought at the market was. He was easy to pick out with all his hair singed off on one side. He met my eyes and a s.h.i.+ver went through the group, a ma.s.s change that left us staring at eight full-grown Weres-for about a second. Then they melted into the back wall and were gone.

I ran after them-or tried to. But the ward over this entrance wasn't just for show. I hit what felt like solid rock and bounced back. I watched the ward flicker on and off while Caleb and Jamie were debating whether or not the tunnel could hold up to the blast necessary to take it out. And then I jumped through the next time it failed.

I lost the tail of my coat when the ward flicked back on again, but no skin. I was across the room in a heartbeat, barely slowing down at the wall. It was an illusion-it had to be-because Weres could do a lot of things, but dissolve into thin air wasn't one of them. I missed the hidden door slightly, and banged my left shoulder on hard stone, but then I was through.

A long tunnel stretched out in front of me, supported by wooden braces every few feet like an old mine shaft. It wasn't lit, and visibility was no better than it had been in the drain. But unlike the tunnels outside, this one was absolutely quiet-no rus.h.i.+ng water, no rattling cars, no pounding footsteps. It was as silent as a tomb, and wasn't that a great mental image.

I jumped when Jamie and Caleb came in behind me, even though I'd been expecting it. "Something's wrong," Caleb said, an array of weapons hovering around him like a lethal cloud.

"What gave it away?" Jamie asked testily, throwing up his own s.h.i.+elds. He looked p.i.s.sed, maybe at me for rus.h.i.+ng ahead without backup, maybe at himself for overestimating the gang's intelligence. Or possibly the long, silent corridor was creeping him out, too. "The fact that with Were hearing, they should have heard us coming a mile away?"

"Yet instead of ambus.h.i.+ng us in the tunnels or attacking when we showed up, they run?" I added, ripping the leech off my wrist. There were no civilians here.

"All of that," Caleb agreed, just as a Were came out of nowhere, slashed at his face and leapt back through the opposite wall.

"Caleb!" I saw him fall, but didn't have time to grab him before the tunnel was suddenly full of Weres.