Deadly Descendant (23 page)

Anderson had saved my life by killing me.

But that was a paradox to ponder at another time. I still had to get Logan and myself out of this mess, preferably without either of us being bitten.

I could tell Kerner was still curious about my continued existence, but he didn’t press me on it. “All I’m asking is that you stay out of it until Konstantin is dead,” he said. “I’m through with the civilians, and I have no quarrel with you or your friends.”

“No? Then why did your damn dogs bite me?” Once again, I was failing to humor the crazy person, and the jackals growled their displeasure. I checked on Logan out of the corner of my eye. He was lying very still, eyes closed, and he looked very Zen about having a rabid jackal’s fangs pricking the skin of his throat.

“That was unintentional,” Kerner said with an edge in his voice that said he was getting tired of my attitude. “For future reference, you might want to avoid shooting my jackals. They’re a manifestation of my death magic, and if you take one out, the magic comes back to me. The rebound effect makes me a little cranky.” He gave me a teeth-baring smile that was closer to a snarl.

“I’m not a fool, and my mind is still reasonably intact, at least when I have a recent kill under my belt. I understand why you feel the need to stop me. I’m just asking you to put it off for a while.”

He averted his eyes and ran a hand through his lank, greasy hair. “I know I’ll end up in the ground again eventually. I’m just one guy, and you’re all out to
get me. But I can’t ever die.” He met my gaze again, and I saw a shimmer of tears in his eyes. “I can’t ever be released from the horrors of the prison you will put me in. And if I have to go to that prison knowing that Konstantin still walks the earth, then I will be spending eternity in hell.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. “I’m begging you to let me have my revenge before you condemn me. Give me the one thing that will make my eternity bearable.”

Bleeding-heart alert—I was standing there facing a psycho who’d killed innocent people just because they vaguely resembled Konstantin, and I was feeling sorry for him. Not to mention the vengeful side of me that was overcome with glee at the idea of Konstantin getting killed by a man who was one of his victims.

Of course, it wasn’t like I was in any position to stop Kerner at the moment. Not unless I didn’t mind letting Logan get savaged. Sure, he’d probably live through it if they didn’t tear out his heart, but it would seriously suck. And while I’m a good shot, I’m not a quick-draw expert. With the gun still in my pocket, in all likelihood, the jackals could make short work of both Logan and me before I got a shot on Kerner.

“I’m attempting to show you a sign of good faith,” Kerner said with a little edge in his voice. I guess he was getting tired of my hemming and hawing. “I could have killed both of you before you even knew I was here.”

“Yeah, thanks for not doing that. But you’re asking me to stand by and let you kill people. I have a hard time saying yes to that.” And I had a hard time believing that Kerner would
believe
me if I said yes. So what was he really after?

“All right,” Kerner said, and there was now an angry glitter in his eyes. “Let me be more blunt: I’m hunting the Olympians now. Keep out of my business until I’ve finished with Konstantin, and the Olympians will be the only ones who get hurt. But if I see you or any of your friends near me again, civilians are going back on the menu. I’ve been controlling the death magic, only letting it loose for one kill a week, but the death toll if you don’t keep your nose out of my business will be considerably higher. Are we clear?”

Funny how I felt a lot less sorry for him all of a sudden. “Crystal,” I grated out.

He smiled, looking very pleased with himself all of a sudden. “I knew we could work this out. And if you or your friend make any attempt to follow me, I’ll take that as a sign that you’re rejecting our agreement. If that’s the case, check out the local news tomorrow to see how many people I chose to punish for your mistake.”

He winked out of sight before I could answer, as did all the jackals. I could tell he was still nearby, because I could smell his rancid stink. Logan lay still on the sidewalk, his breaths shallow, as if the jackal’s jaws were still around his throat.

“Is the jackal still there?” I asked, because it was
abundantly clear that just because I couldn’t see it didn’t mean it was gone.

Logan just blinked at me, which I figured was answer enough. I wouldn’t want to talk if I had a jackal’s teeth at my throat, either.

Kerner’s stink was fading, which told me he was leaving, though he was still completely invisible. I had no idea which way he was going, and I wasn’t about to move until I was positive he was gone.

As positive as it was possible to be with an invisible man, anyway.

After maybe three minutes, Logan finally sucked in a deep breath and slowly sat up. We both tensed for an attack, but none came.

Kerner and his jackals were gone. Maybe.

Later that night—or,
more accurately, later that morning—we regrouped in the kitchen at the mansion. We were all tired and dejected from the failed hunt. I started a pot of coffee brewing, then did my best to recount everything Kerner had said, word for word, with Logan filling in a few details I had missed.

The coffee maker’s death rattle announced it was finished brewing, and those of us who were so inclined filled our mugs. Logan got a bottle of Jack Daniel’s from the cabinet over the sink, and Maggie boiled water for tea. When everyone had their beverage of choice, we gathered around the table in the breakfast nook. There weren’t enough chairs for everyone, so Jack hopped up onto the counter, and Jamaal, who had waited up for us, stood leaning against the wall. Emma stood practically in the doorway and looked like she was bored and wanted to slip away while we weren’t looking.

Jamaal’s knee was bouncing, which worried me. He’d seemed relatively calm in the week since he’d unleashed his death magic, but I didn’t think the fidgets were a good sign. Kerner said the killings had calmed his death magic, and his one-per-week schedule seemed to suggest the calming effects lasted for about seven days. Which might mean Jamaal was creeping back toward his usual dangerous edge. Then again, he
was
drinking coffee, so maybe he just had a caffeine buzz going.

“If Kerner was in Georgetown killing Phoebe,” Jamaal said, “then how did he create the diversion at Fort Totten Park?”

No one had an answer to that.

“If it was a diversion engineered by Kerner,” I said, thinking out loud, “then either he has an accomplice with a bunch of dogs, or his jackals can cover a hell of a lot of territory without him being nearby.” That was not a thought that put me in my happy place.

“Or he can travel between cemeteries a lot faster than human beings can,” Anderson suggested. We all turned to him with varying expressions of inquiry.

“I’ve known some death god descendants who’ve been able to use cemeteries as gateways to the Underworld,” he continued. “When they leave the Underworld, they can reenter our world anywhere there’s a cemetery or burial ground. They need to draw power from the dead to open the gateway. It’s a rare power, but it does exist. And I suspect our man has it.”

“You’re telling me he can teleport from cemetery to cemetery whenever he wants?” I asked. I wondered if
this was something Anderson could do himself. After all, he was Death’s son.

“Something like that. It would explain how he’s getting around.”

“So what do we do now?” Logan asked. “How do we stop Kerner without getting a bunch of innocent people killed?”

“We don’t.”

Everyone turned to look at Emma, who rarely participated in these little staff meetings of ours. I didn’t get the feeling she cared about much of anything, and she certainly wasn’t eager to talk to anyone except Anderson. Though she yelled at him more than she talked to him.

“Emma …” Anderson said in a warning tone, which she completely ignored.

“If he wants to take out the Olympians, I say more power to him.”

Anderson looked pained. “I’ll admit, they’re not good people, but—”

“But nothing!” she snapped, eyes flashing. “Anything Kerner does to them, they deserve. And I quite like the idea of Konstantin watching as his people get savaged one by one, knowing what’s coming and unable to stop it.”

She was dead serious and had a fanatical gleam in her eyes that reminded me a little of Kerner. She’d moved away from the doorway, finally interested enough in the subject matter to join in. As far as I could tell, the only thing she truly cared about was getting her revenge.

“We’ll talk about this later,” Anderson said with quiet authority, but Emma wasn’t finished.

“No, we’ll talk about it now! It’s past time you get off your ass and avenge me! You don’t want to go to war with the Olympians because you like your status quo so much? Fine. But if there’s another
Liberi
out there willing and able to go get that pound of flesh, then you’re damn well not going to stop him!”

Everyone in the room must have overheard snippets of this argument before. It wasn’t like Anderson and Emma were quiet when they fought. But they’d usually at least made a show of keeping it private.

Emma stalked through the assembled chairs toward Anderson. The anger that radiated from her was palpable, and I don’t know about the rest of Anderson’s people, but
I
wanted to get the hell out of the room before things went any further. But I don’t think any of us wanted to draw Anderson’s attention or Emma’s ire, so we sat still and silent, unwilling witnesses to what could soon become something truly ugly.

Anderson rose slowly as Emma approached, his full attention on her. “Konstantin deserves to suffer for what he did to you,” he said. “But not like this. Not when innocent lives are at stake.”

Emma snorted and tossed her hair. “Innocent lives! There’s no such thing as an innocent Olympian. The only way more innocents get hurt is if you insist on playing the fucking hero and Kerner decides to make you pay.”

“You don’t know that.”

Considering Emma was in complete battle-ax mode, Anderson was remaining impressively calm. In fact, he looked more sad than angry.

“He may mean what he said,” Anderson continued, “or he may not. Either way, I don’t trust him, and if you were thinking straight, you wouldn’t, either.”

I thought for a moment Emma was going to hit him. She looked that pissed.

“I’m thinking perfectly straight,” she said in a low growl that reminded me of an angry cat. “Even if there turns out to be some collateral damage, it would be worth it if Konstantin dies.”

Anderson gaped at her like he couldn’t believe she’d just said that. Maybe whatever she’d been through at Konstantin’s hands had warped her beyond recognition, because I had a hard time believing Anderson had married someone this cold and vindictive. I hated Konstantin for what had been done to my sister on his orders, but it would never have occurred to me to let innocent people suffer in order to hurt him.

“You can’t mean that,” Anderson said weakly.

“Yes, I can.” She lowered her voice, attempting to sound calm and reasonable. It would have worked better if there weren’t so much insanity and hatred in her eyes. “I don’t understand why you’re so dead set against it. If you don’t care enough about what he did to me, then surely you care about all the hundreds of others he’s hurt and killed in his lifetime. If he dies, it will save untold innocent lives. You know that.”

She was probably right. Konstantin and his Olympians were a scourge, wiping out whole families of
Descendants and taking whatever they wanted without a thought. But there was no great conviction to her argument, no sign that the saving of innocent lives meant anything to her whatsoever. She was merely looking for the angle that would convince Anderson to do what she wanted.

“Everyone out,” Anderson said without taking his eyes off Emma. “I need to have a private conversation with my wife.”

The haste with which the rest of us jumped to our feet and stampeded toward the door might have been funny in other circumstances.

Despite the coffee, I was dead tired. I could hear Emma’s
and Anderson’s shouting voices behind me, and I suddenly realized I had had all I could take of them, of this house, and of my new and not improved life. For the last two weeks, I’d lived and breathed the
Liberi
and their troubles. I had not once stopped by my condo, nor had I even thought about spending the night there. I was letting myself get drawn in more and more deeply, letting the life I had once known slip through my fingers.

While the rest of the
Liberi
trooped upstairs to get some sleep, I found myself heading out the front door. I might have thought someone would try to stop me or at least ask me where the hell I was going at oh-dark-thirty, but either they were in too much of a hurry to get out of earshot of the argument, or they didn’t give a damn. I assumed the latter and felt sour about it.

I let out a breath of relief as I drove through the front gates and pointed my car toward Chevy Chase. I wasn’t free of the
Liberi,
not by a long shot, and I still had a lot to do in the fight to stop Kerner. In a few hours, I would be back at the mansion, hard at work. But maybe for a precious few hours, I could take a mental vacation from the turmoil.