Malice in Wonderland (22 page)

Remembering Bram telling me to disguise myself, I shook my hand until a mound of fairy dust appeared. Then I dumped the dust over myself, imagining my long hair suddenly short and black, with thick bangs to frame my face. Looking down at my outfit, I pictured a long-sleeved, black T-shirt and black jeans. Then, figuring I might need them, I pictured twin daggers strapped to the tops of each of my thighs. When I felt the cold metal against my skin, I grinned. Sometimes it was damned good to be a fairy. Yes, I could have tried for an
Op 6
or
7
handgun
, but I wasn’t convinced of my magic ability when it came to more complicated weapons. With one last look at myself in the mirror, I hoped no one would recognize me as I started for the door. Then, thinking longer on it, I imagined a ball cap, for good measure.

I secured the hat on my head and left the keys in the ignition since you never know when you’re going to need a quick getaway. Then I closed the door behind me and started down the street, checking the street numbers, while still trying to figure out where I was supposed to go. There was no one anywhere to be seen, which was good because the last thing I wanted was to be noticed or recognized. After passing the second house from where I’d parked the Porsche, I decided I was taking too big a chance by being out in the open and moved to the rear of the house.

My feet were nearly silent on the wet grass although I did come close to slipping. Hoisting myself against the rough stucco of the house, I peered around the corner and noticed a small graveyard right in front of me. It was adjacent to the house and at the end of the cul-de-sac. The graveyard was maybe twelve feet wide by fourteen feet long, and enclosed by a decrepit iron fence. There were maybe a dozen tombstones, all cracking with age.

At the sound of voices, I hung back in the shadows and watched two people walking into the graveyard to meet a third, who’d already been standing there. All three wore long, black cloaks that dragged in the dirt, their faces obscured by their hoods. If I
hadn’t known
better, I might have thought they were a trio of monks.

Eyeing the entry to the graveyard, I noticed the wrought-iron fence stretched maybe ten feet high above the double iron gates at the entrance. It looked like cursive writing in the curlicues of the ironwork. Even though it was written in reverse, I could make out the name “
Culligan
” on the gate. So I
was
in the right place. Well, right place or not, I needed to get much closer, but I couldn’t find anything to hide behind. After watching a fourth hooded figure enter the graveyard and join the other three waiting at the rear, I realized time was slipping through my fingers.

I shook my palm until I felt my dust, then as I dumped the particles over my head, I imagined myself shrinking to the size of a pixie (or a baby carrot) and sprouting wings in the process. I suddenly felt light-headed as my magic did its job and transformed me into Thumbelina. I felt my wings catching on my shirt, so I simply imagined the shirt ripping in order to allow for them, and the fabric complied.

Once I was
Mini-Me, I tried flapping my wings and felt myself lifting into the air before fluttering to a nearby tree branch. I was still too far away from what now appeared to be giants in the center of the graveyard, so I flew to
the iron fence post closest to me,
concealed
in the shadows. Still not able to eavesdrop adequately, I took a deep breath (flying was damned hard exercise!) and fluttered to a tombstone. Not wanting to call attention to myself, even in my mini form, I drifted down to the base of the stone and hid behind it. Poking my head out, I could still see the goings on of the four cloaked people who were now only twelve feet from me.

“Mr. S, I presume?” one of the cloaked beings began. He reached out his hand to the other man, who refused to take it.

“Yes,”
came
Bram’s succinct reply. Hmm, he must have been Mr. S. Why? I had no clue, but I prepared myself for quite a few rude awakenings where Bram’s history was concerned.

“Thanks for
comin
’,” the other man responded. I didn’t recognize his voice. It was deep and sounded like he had a mild lisp.

“Where is O’Neil?” Bram asked. It was Bram’s voice like I’d never heard before—there was no trace of flirtation or levity. He was all seriousness—lethal and dangerous.

“He decided it wasn’t safe enough for him to come,” the man with the lisp responded. “He sent us instead.” He motioned to the taller of the two figures standing behind him.

Bram didn’t respond right away. I had the gut feeling that he wasn’t happy with this news because I guessed he was expecting my father.

“Is she with you?” Bram asked. I could tell by the way he inclined his head, that he was studying the smallest cloaked figure,
who
was standing just behind Mr. Lisp.

The taller figure, whom Mr. Lisp had referenced earlier, suddenly stepped forward. In the moonlight, I could only see the lower half of his face, his lips too narrow for his ample cheeks. I watched his mouth part into a smile, revealing uneven and yellowed teeth. He tugged the cloak of the smaller person who was beside him.

“She’s right here,” the man said in a raspy tone. It sounded like a voice subjected to too many years of cigarettes and alcohol.

The small woman in the cloak stumbled as she was tugged forward. The black cloak fell off her face, revealing long, dark hair and big, brown eyes that I would know anywhere. It was Christina.

Anger began gnawing at me.

Here she was, standing right in front of me, representing my father’s side. She’d lied to everyone! She’d somehow managed to maintain ties to my father even while she pretended to be completely invested in our cause.

Why? I had no clue. I just couldn’t understand how we’d never picked up on it, on something! As soon as the anger flared up inside of me, though, I focused on Christina’s face and felt my ire begin to subside.

Something was wrong with her. She looked, for all intents and purposes, like she was in a daze. Even though she was standing on solid ground, she kept wavering as if she were drunk, and staring straight ahead, but focusing on nothing. She looked as if she were sleepwalking.

“Since we’ve got her right here, we should just kill her and put an end to it,” the man who was standing closest to her said.

“You are a fool,” Bram responded. “She has much more value to us alive.”

I felt a sigh of relief hearing Bram’s words. I wasn’t sure what I could do if they tried to kill Christina right here and now. I’d definitely blow my cover, of that much, I was sure. Luckily, I didn’t have to worry about it, at least not yet.

“There are many questions she can answer for us,” Bram said a
s he
approached Christina. He held out his hand, taking hers. As soon as their skin touched, she faced him, her eyes still hollow and nearly lifeless. She stared up at him, with no sign of recognition in her deep brown eyes, just continued to study him as if she’d never seen him before.

“How was the Netherworld informed of a war between O’Neil and The Resistance?” Bram asked her, his voice soft.

Christina didn’t respond right away, but when she did, her voice was flat. “
The
Netherworlder
Today
,” she said. “I contacted them to run the article.” Her voice was almost unrecognizable. There was no inflection at all—
it sounded robotic
.

“Bitch!” the man closest to her yelled out as he held his hand up as if to strike her.

“Watch yourself!” Bram growled and the man dropped his hand, but the grimace on his face remained, the upper half still concealed by his hood.

“Why don’t you tell Mr. S what happened with the car explosion,” the man continued, obviously mocking her. “Why don’t you tell him how you can’t do one fucking thing
right!
”

At the mention of the Denali explosion, I felt myself stiffen. Was Christina responsible for it?

Christina didn’t shift her almost sightless eyes from Bram. She just continued to stand there, wavering, opening her mouth and answering in a monotone. “I obeyed my orders.”

Bram glanced at the man beside her. “Explain this explosion.” His lips were tight, and his posture even more rigid than usual.

“O’Neil told me to get rid of Vander. So I gave this little bitch the
Maegon
and told her exactly what to do with it. ‘Course the little idiot just fucked the whole thing up.”

Christina didn’t respond, but continued staring straight ahead. She seemed oblivious to everything going on around her.

“Why was I not informed of this?” Bram
demanded,
his voice suddenly furious. He frowned and his fangs lengthened, the moonlight reflecting against them.

The man shrugged but took a step back, holding his hands up in surrender. Apparently, he’d
detected
Bram’s fangs as well. I noticed the other man also taking a step back.

“Ask O’Neil. He tells me to shit an’ all I say is, ‘where, boss?’”

“This is between you and O’Neil,” the other man said. “We just follow orders.”

“I brought the fairy to you as you instructed,” Christina suddenly piped up, as though programmed to announce it. She didn’t address anyone, though, so I wasn’t sure who the statement was aimed at, although I imagined it must have been Bram. I also guessed she was talking about me.

“Very good,” Bram said with a nod as he offered Christina a slight smile.

“You got O’Neil’s daughter?” Mr. Lisp piped up.

“I do,” Bram answered. “And unless O’Neil prefers I drain her lovely, little body of all its blood, he better start playing by my rules.”

“I
ain’t
gettin
’ in the middle o’ this,” Mr. Lisp responded. “All I was told
ta
do was get this bitch on the
Blueliss
,
and tell her what the hell
ta
do with the
Maegon
. An’ that was it! The rest is between you and O’Neil.”

Suddenly, everything was crystal clear.
Blueliss
was an illegal narcotic, which I hadn’t seen nor heard of in the past five years, at least. I actually thought we’d wiped it out of existence, but apparently, that wasn’t the case.
Blueliss
was incredibly dangerous because it basically cleaned the user’s brain of all of
he
r memories. Victims had no idea who they were, where they lived, whom they knew, nothing. The biggest kicker, though, was that whoever provided the potion to the victim could imprint his or her will upon the victim. The effects usually took about an hour or two to wear off, allowing the victims to return to being themselves again. Except they’d have no idea they’d ever been drugged in the first place.

So somehow, Melchior was able to track Christina down, but rather than killing her, he’d decided to turn her against herself. By forcing the
Blueliss
on her, he could also force her to tell him everything The Resistance was planning. As to the Denali explosion, even though Christina had been the one responsible for attempting to kill Knight and me, she’d been drugged into doing it and, furthermore, had no memory of it. And when she’d forced all of us to take the tests which would confirm or deny our loyalty to The Resistance, the only person she hadn’t tested had been herself, for obvious reasons.

I suddenly felt nauseous as I wondered how long my father had been using Christina as his puppet. It didn’t seem like Bram knew anything at all about
The
Netherworlder
Today
running Christina’s article. Maybe that meant she hadn’t been under my father’s influence for very long? Or maybe Bram just wasn’t as much in the know as he purported to be?

As to Bram being the mastermind responsible for keeping me under his roof, he must have thought it was the sa
fest place for me to go, after realizin
g that Christina had become a well-planted bomb that could go off anytime. In bringing me to his home, Bram
had
been looking out for me, just like he promised he always would. But he
’d
also had another purpose—to provide me with the clues that would eventually lead me here, so that I could understand exactly what was going on.

“What the hell do you want us
ta
do with her now?” Mr. Lisp suddenly piped up, facing Bram.

Bram approached Christina and took her by the arm, pulling her closer to him. “Leave her with me. I will inform O’Neil of our subsequent steps.”

“You
hopin
’ for a threesome or what?” the other guy spat out, laughing. “Lucky bastard’s got O’Neil’s hot ass daughter an’ now this hot one. Maybe we should invite ourselves, Donahue.”

“You will not be invited,” Bram replied coolly.

Then he simply started forward, with Christina right beside him. I watched him walk through the gates of the cemetery to the sidewalk where a black limo suddenly pulled up. I wasn’t sure, but I thought I recognized the goblin driver. Bram seated Christina in the back before spotting the two men who still remained in the middle of the
cemetery. He said nothing to them as he removed his hood and sat down before closing the door behind him. I watched the limo as it rolled down the street, and the red taillights disappeared into the darkness.