Chapter 34

Ch. 34: Dane

Julian and I share a glance, as if we're each making sure the other heard the same thing. Slowly, I raise my hands.

"Erickson. Put the gun down," I say. "You're making a mistake."

Unmoved, Erickson tightens his grip on Freya's arm and forces her to her knees on the dusty floor. She bites her lip but doesn't make a sound, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing he's hurting her.

"Oh, there's no mistake," Erickson says, huffing with exertion and excitement. "And don't tell me I don't know what I'm talking about. Thanks to your pal, Halloran, I know exactly what I'm talking about, Hunter.

He spits my name like it's a disgusting piece of gristle he found between his teeth, and Julian grimaces.

"All offense intended, Erickson, but why would Halloran tell you anything?"

Erickson leers at him. "We have an arrangement."

I keep my eyes on his gun. "Okay, what's your plan? There's three of us and one of you."

Erickson shrugs and thumbs the hammer of his firearm. "I figure if none of you want a bullet 'tween the eyes, you'll cooperate."

Julian moves in front of me. "And I figure your 'boss' wants me alive," he says.

Scowling, Erickson redirects his aim, pressing the barrel to the side of Freya's head.

"Listen up, Hunter. Get your twink on a leash or I put a bullet through this one's brain. I only came here to give you a message—Julian for your sister, an exchange, tonight at the reservoir. Didn't expect to stumble on this little scene, but given the opportunity, I figure I'll deliver the bounty in person, then wrap this case of 'burglaries' up at the same time. It's not unheard of for P.I. scum to make their own work, and now I've got all the evidence I need."

He hauls Freya to her feet and gestures with the gun.

"Alright. Out to my car. You can drive, Hunter. Keep your hands glued to ten and two. I'll keep an eye on your boytoy and your... 'sister.'"

He sneers at Freya, but despite her badly watering and bloodshot eyes, she arches a brow at him, undaunted.

"Bitch, I am already gonna fuck you up," she says. "You do not want to disrespect me right now."

He snorts derisively. "I think you're confused about who's gonna—Hey!"

Having picked up on Freya's almost imperceptible signal, I grab Julian and shove him to the side, drawing Erickson's attention. At the same time, Freya twists free of his hold.

In one smooth, practice motion, she drops, sweeps her legs in a wide arc, and knocks Erickson's feet out from under him. He lands heavily on his back, momentarily stunned. With far more flexibility than I could ever hope to master, Freya lifts her hips, slips her cuffed hands over her butt, rolls to the side and plants an elbow in Erickson's throat.

He makes an "Urkh!" noise and drops the gun reflexively as both his hands fly to Freya's arm, attempting to dislodge it from his neck.

"Stop struggling," Freya snaps, as I retrieve the weapon.

Defeated, Erickson obeys. Slowly, she lifts her elbow so he can breathe.

"What the fuck... are you?" he rasps between ragged gasps as he rubs his throat.

"I'm a lot of things, hon," she says. "Among them, a beauty queen, a bounty hunter, and a badass bitch. Oh, and a werewolf. Guess your boss forgot to mention that."

Her eyes flash a bright red-gold and her teeth show long and sharp as she grins. Erickson makes a frightened noise—a sort of strangled gurgle—but lies still and says nothing more.

"You got him covered?" Freya asks, looking up in my general direction. I get the sense she still can't see very well, which makes her brutal takedown all the more impressive.

"Yeah. Julian—get the cuff key."

"Where is it?" he asks.

"Right front pocket."

That's where many officers carry their spares, anyway, and thankfully, Erickson is no exception. Julian finds the small, rodlike key and quickly frees Freya's hands.

"What do we do with him?" she asks, rubbing her wrists and grimacing at Erickson. "Wolf's out the bag, now."

"That depends," I say, and nod at Erickson. "Why are you working with Halloran? Talk."

Erickson sits up slowly, fear and anger equally in conflict on his face, and glares at me. The fear is a little stronger, though, and all it takes is a growl from Freya before he startles and gives in.

"I made a pass at him, alright?" He spits to the side, having bitten his own lip when he fell. "At Halloran, I mean. I pegged him for straight, but I guess I was feeling lucky, or dumb, and I gave it a shot anyway. Shoulda listened to my instincts."

He spits again and wipes his mouth on the back of his hand, the self-disgust on his face evoking a shred of pity. It doesn't excuse his actions, but I know what it's like to do something stupid out of sheer loneliness.

"What happened?" Julian asks. "If Halloran's a homophobe, he hides it really well."

Erickson looks up at him, a smear of blood on his chin and his eyes rimmed in red. He looks patently pathetic.

"He threatened to bring it up with HR—sexual harassment." He sneers. "But it turned out he wanted a partner after all. In exchange for his silence, I had to help him with shit like this."

He nods at us collectively.

"What did he tell you?" Julian asks.

Erickson grimaces. "Everything. All about the fae Council, and how they help protect the world from monsters and shit. He said he'd come here hunting one, and for some reason, he wanted you two kept out of it."

He nods at me and Julian.

"He had me play lookout for him. Drive around this damn block in the middle of the night while he ran around, looking for who-the-fuck-knows what. Got pretty miffed at me for taking my goddamn union-sanctioned break the one time you two managed to spot him."

Something clicks into place. "Hold up. The 'thief' we chased. That was Halloran?"

Erickson nods. "You interrupted a delicate operation, and let the real thief get away. Good job."

"And the phone call?" I ask, ignoring the gibe.

"He tried to warn you off. I did, too. Guess you didn't listen."

I glance at Julian. Clearly, Halloran had known what we were dealing with all along, and had lied through his shiny white teeth more than once. But if Julian is upset by this, he's doing a good job of hiding it, and it seems we're thinking along the same lines.

"Lagrange's body. That was you, wasn't it?"

"Fuckin' Lagrange." Erickson laughs unsteadily and shakes his head. "I didn't buy it, at first—all the shit about monsters and 'skin-changers,' but I played along, anyway. Then 'Hal' tells me to get a body out of the morgue before anyone gets a good look at it. And Jesus Christ." He shudders. "That made me a believer. That thing wasn't Lagrange. Looked like a half melted wax mummy. Never seen anything like it, and never want to again."

"That son of a bitch," I growl. "All this time, and he—"

"It was for my protection," Julian interrupts, his gaze unfocused as he pieces things together in his head. "Halloran told me he'd come here searching for Rhiannon, and that he had strict orders from the Council to keep me out of it. I think that much was true. If Darragh and his rogue fae wanted me from the beginning, Halloran had plenty of chances to turn me over to them." He sighs. "There's more going on here than we know—a deeper history. Something that goes way back. Something to do with the Shadowlands and with... my family."

"The Fae?"

"Nope. The human side," Freya chimes in. "Grace and Chlo' found something interesting. Juju's got some deep roots in this town."

Julian takes a breath. "My grandfather's side of the family—the Harts—were huntsmen. It looks like there was some sort of incursion from the Shadowlands back in the late 1800s, and children were vanishing. A Hart came here—an architect. He built the tunnels over the caverns, sealed them off, and the disappearances stopped. I think that's what Rhiannon was trying to tell us with the rune. 'Hart' wasn't for me or my grandfather. It was a clue about what happened in the past, and wat's happening again now."

"That's what we were doing here," Freya says. "Juju figured if we could just get Rhiannon to talk, she could tell us everything we need to know. Unfortunately, it seems like the skin-changers got here first."

"Danni..." Julian murmurs, looking towards the ragged entrance to the tunnels. "We can't leave them."

"Can't leave Ingrid, either," I remind him.

He looks at me, his purple eyes gleaming faintly in the gloom of the shuttered shop, and I see my own thoughts and feelings reflected there.

"I have an idea," he says, "but you're not gonna like it."