I looked up into his face and made a decision.
“I was a Hunter. The Illuminati are real. And no one leaves them and lives.”
His eyes flicked over me, taking in my body and then focusing on my face. “A Hunter. Training to be a Hunter?”
I shook my head. Unable to meet his eyes, I bowed my head and looked down at my lap. “I formally entered the Hunters’ Guild and took my first assignment when I was nineteen. I’ve killed more than two hundred people on orders from the Illuminati. I killed five vampires tonight. Unarmed. If I had my sword, I wouldn’t have needed any help to kill them all.”
“Where is your sword?”
“Gone. Destroyed along with the rest of my weapons. I left that life behind me.”
He sat back and surveyed me in silence. Then he said, “Did you grow up with them?”
“From when I was fourteen. The power storm that came when I hit puberty almost killed me. My parents went looking for help, and someone contacted one of the Illuminati. They came and tested me, then they gave my parents some money and took me away. I didn’t see the outside world again until I was eighteen, when they took me outside as part of my training.”
He shook his head. “Well, that explains a lot. On the one hand, you’re one of the toughest, smartest women I know. And sometimes you act like a naïve little girl on her first trip to the store by herself. I guess you’re both of those.”
I felt a tear roll down my cheek. “I’m just trying to do the best I can. I watch people to try and figure out the everyday things that everyone seems to know. Cooking is a lot harder than it looks.” I glanced at him, trying to read his face. “People give me weird looks sometimes when I ask questions.”
Taking a deep breath, I looked back down at my hands and closed my eyes. I didn’t want to say it, but I knew I had to.
“I did so many bad things, and when I found out what the Illuminati really was, how evil and corrupt they were, I didn’t know what to do. When I found out that I’m a monster, I struggled with whether to kill myself. Do you know how hard it is to admit you’ve done horrendous things? That you’re an evil person?” I shook my head. “But I didn’t. I judged myself and decided I could put it behind me.”
I opened my eyes and looked at Sam. “Fuck anyone who thinks they have the right to judge me. I’m really trying to be a good person, and sometimes I’m not sure how to do that. What I do know is that I’ll never let anyone else decide right and wrong for me ever again. And anyone who tries to hurt me had better watch their ass, because I’ll fight to be left alone and live my life.”
After a moment, Sam got out of the truck. I watched him walk around, and then open my door. I cringed. He pulled me out, but instead of throwing me away like I expected, he folded me into a hug. Stars and comets, the man was huge, and it felt like being enveloped by a feather bed.
The dam broke. All my emotions, everything I had bottled up from the moment I killed William Strickland burst out. The fear, the rage, the feeling of being utterly alone in the world. Everyone had a place but me. I found myself clinging to Sam and sobbing. Something in the back of my mind shouted, Hunters don’t cry! And I shouted back, Shut up! I’m not a Hunter anymore!
I don’t know how long we stood there, with me crying on his shirt and him patting me on the back. But finally, there weren’t any more tears to shed, and the aching pain inside me faded a bit. I looked up at him, and all I saw in his face was kindness.
“You’re pretty damned naïve yourself,” I mumbled, “falling for that old crying female trick.”
“Ah, yes,” he said with a chuckle. “I’ve always been a sucker for that one. Old Softie, they call me.”
He bent down and kissed me on the forehead. “Come on. I’ll walk you inside in case your old comrade left you another present.”
We didn’t find a head, or anything else out of place. After I unlocked my door and assured Sam that I didn’t have any visitors, he wished me good night.
And for some reason, I felt lighter. My sleep was untroubled by dreams.
Chapter 24
Frankie called Eleanor, who came to my apartment. “Assistant District Attorney Francis Jones asked you to call her,” Eleanor said, handing me a piece of paper with a phone number. “If you need to use the phone, come by the office.”
I showered and got dressed, then went down to the office.
“Thanks for calling, Erin,” Frankie said. “Can you please come downtown to my office? I need a formal statement from you so I can file an insurance claim for my car.”
“Oh? What do you want me to say?” The thought of telling the insurance company about magic amused me.
“Just what happened. My car was parked in front of your building, and when we came out, we found it on fire. They’re trying to say I must have done something to make it burn. Essentially accusing me of insurance fraud.”
“Well, that is what happened,” I said with a chuckle.
“I also would like to talk with you about some other things,” she said. That sounded ominous.
So, I took the bus to the train and rode it downtown. It took me a little bit of time, getting lost twice, to find her office. I found the DA’s office rather easily in the courthouse, but Frankie’s office wasn’t on the fifth floor with the other assistant DAs. Nor was it in the basement with Blair’s crew. Instead, she was located in the back corner of the building on the third floor.
The receptionist was a witch. The tall, blonde woman who came to get me and take me back through the labyrinth was a mage. We passed the cubicles of several more mages and witches. I got the feeling that Frankie’s hiring process was a bit biased.
Frankie stood when I was shown into her office and shook my hand. The assistant stayed, shutting the door.
“Thank you so much for coming,” Frankie said. “If you can just read the statement you gave me over the phone, and sign it if it’s correct, we can get this bureaucratic irritation out of the way.”
I grinned at her. Basically, the statement said that we found the car burning when we went outside and had no idea what caused the fire. I signed it and handed it to her.
“I’ll bet it was a disgruntled criminal,” I said. “If you stopped prosecuting people, you’d be more popular.”
Frankie and her assistant chuckled.
“Erin, this is Debbie McCauley, my chief investigator. We received a disturbing report about a mage battle near the old flour mill on Sloman’s Creek last night. Would you know anything about that?”
I considered my answer. I was pretty sure Frankie wasn’t my enemy. “Some vampires tried to kidnap me. A few good Samaritans objected.” I shrugged. “It was dark. I didn’t really get a good look at anyone involved.”
McCauley snorted.
“Any idea why they would want to kidnap you?” Frankie asked.
“Any idea why three magical thugs would want to kill you?” I replied.
“Touché. No, I don’t. I also don’t know why several prominent mages here in town have suffered violent deaths in the past couple of weeks. Those were subtler attacks than the one on me.”
“I heard about that,” I said.
“You told me once that someone was stirring the pot,” Frankie said, “trying to take advantage of the chaos in the paranormal communities.” She leaned forward. “I asked you once about the Order of the Illuminati. Most people think they’re a myth, but certain people in law enforcement and intelligence have heard rumors about the Order for some time. And this kind of thing is exactly what they seem to foment. Assassination and disruption aimed at furthering their own aims and removing those who might oppose them.”
“I wouldn’t know anything about the Illuminati,” I said, “but removing a Master of the City is, as far as I know, unprecedented. Vampires have a very structured society. You used the word chaos. I’m sure that is how the vampires in this city view things at the moment. There’s nothing they can rely on—no stability.”
I actually had a lot of sympathy for the vamps. Struggling with a lack of structure and stability, trying to figure out how they fit into the world was something I could relate to. I wondered if there were counselors for young castaway vamps and if they took ex-Illuminati patients.
A knock sounded at the door, and McCauley went to answer it. A man walked in, and I recognized him from his pictures. Daniel Nava, District Attorney. He was of medium height, with an athletic build, brown skin, and slicked-back black hair.
“Sorry to interrupt,” he said, “but I heard that Miss McLane was here, and I wanted to meet her.”
Jones and McCauley exchanged a look.
I stood and he shook my hand. “I want to thank you for the assistance you gave Assistant DA Jones. The city of Westport is in your debt.”
Nava didn’t leer at me the way Mietzner had, his expression more that of a benevolent grandfather. He made small talk for a while, mentioned that he used to spend time at Rosie’s when he was younger, and asked me how I liked working there. I had seen politicians operate, and Nava was good at it. He was definitely a mage, but either he shielded better, or he was weaker than Mietzner.
When he left, I talked with Frankie and McCauley for a few more minutes, then they let me go. I grabbed lunch before I got back on the train and went home to change for work.
George Flynn came into the bar and slid onto a barstool near the taps.
“Good evening. Macallan?” I asked.
He studied the top shelf, then said, “How about Midleton? I haven’t had any Irish whiskey in ages.”
“I enjoy serving a man with taste,” I said.
“You’re a Midleton fan?”
I laughed. “I think one has to have the means to afford something in order to be a fan.”
I dragged the stool over so I could reach the bottle and climbed up to get it.
“Will you join me?” Flynn asked.
I jerked around so quickly I almost fell off the stool. People buy bartenders shots all the time. The trick normally is to minimize the number of those occasions. But they rarely offered to buy me top-shelf liquor.