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.Chapter FiveChapter FiveKismet s seven-seat SUV was the perfect size for our mismatched band oftravelers.Amalie got shotgun by default of status.The man she called Deaem satdirectly behind her, stiff as a board and wary as a pit bull.Milo took the othersingle seat, which left me in the rear, uncomfortably sandwiched between Felixand Wyatt, who d changed his ripped shirt before we left.I was practically inWyatt s lap, repelled by the poisonous glare Felix couldn t seem to lose asthough I caused him great pain by my proximity.Kismet had yet to retract herdeath sentence on me, but she also hadn t ordered them to accost me.Smallfavors.East Side encompassed a large portion of the city, south and east of the pointwhere its two rivers connected into one.Kismet crossed at the Lincoln StreetBridge, and I felt a slight twinge of loss.A not-quite-friend had once made hishome beneath that bridge a troll named Smedge, who d helped me out onassignments and been a good source of intel on various Dreg activities.I hadn tspoken to him in nearly two weeks.Amalie might know where he was, but it was definitely not the right time to ask.No one had spoken a word since we d begun the trip, and I wasn t about to breakthe silence first.The familiarity of Kismet s route startled me, and it wasn t lost on Wyatt, either.We stared out his window at the length of train tracks running along our chosenstreet, taking us away from the busier portion of the neighborhood and into asection of empty lots and cracked pavement.Ice settled in my chest as Kismet slowed and turned toward an open gate.Wyatt clasped my hand; I squeezed back.Through the gate, into a large,overgrown parking lot that was surrounded by a chain-link fence.Ahead of us wasour destination.I shuddered just looking at it.A run-down, paint-peeling, gabledtrain station that hadn t seen regular use in over a decade stood near a swath ofcrisscrossing tracks.The trains no longer stopped at the passenger station, butthat didn t prevent people from coming here.Three other cars were parked near the building, including the stripped and tire-less car Alex and I had driven and left there once upon a time.One person pacedaround outside, a pistol steady in one hand.Dark clothes, tense stance a HunterI didn t know.My chest ached. Evy, breathe, Wyatt said.I exhaled hard, unaware I d been holding my breath.I tasted bile in the back ofmy throat.Heat flushed my cheeks, even though my entire body was numb.Cold.This was where I d died.What the hell were we doing here?Kismet parked near the other cars and got out without a word.The rest of usfollowed.My limbs didn t want to cooperate.I forced my feet to move forward,past the sullen glare of the Hunter standing watch by the vehicles.He barely gaveme a look but had acknowledging nods for Felix and Milo.I hadn t known everyHunter during my tenure (no one did), but those three were acquainted.Up the steps and onto the porch went everyone except me and Wyatt.My feetUp the steps and onto the porch went everyone except me and Wyatt.My feetjust wouldn t move.Wyatt hadn t let go of my hand, and I concentrated on him his warmth and stability.It was the only thing keeping me from freaking out. Why are we here? I asked, finally finding my voice.Alarmed at its shakiness.Kismet turned, and her glare softened a fraction when she looked at me. Someone left a message here, she said icily. Given the location, it seemed likea message meant as much for you as the rest of the Triads.Oh God.I don t want to see this.Nothing good was waiting for me inside.Allsigns pointed toward someone having been killed, or worse.And it was the orworse that nearly rooted me to the pavement.I d been or worse once; I didn tthink I could witness that sort of suffering again.Wyatt took the first step and tugged at my hand.I swallowed, gathered the lasttattered remnants of my courage, and followed.One foot in front of the other,across the warped and rotting platform.Through the door and into the dusty ticketoffice.Following a familiar path of footsteps through grime that led toward a doormarked Stairs.This was the third time I d come to this damnable place and had gone downthese creaky stairs into the dank basement corridor.The first time was as ahostage, and I d been taken out in a body bag.The second time I d entered alone,with no memory of having been there before, seeking answers.Now I was herewith the full weight of what I d experienced.Clarity of detail had lessened a bitwith time, as violent trauma often does, the sharp edges taking on a fuzzy hue likea sepia-toned photograph.Dulled, but not gone.Another Hunter stood down the corridor, across from an open door.I didn t haveto look to know which door the one marked with a black X, painted in my oldbody s blood.He looked up, ebony face as blank as a coma patient, dark eyesdevoid of emotion.He just stared, glazed.I d seen him around he d been at theOlsmill battle, but I couldn t remember his name. Perimeter s been set, he said to Kismet as she approached.Even his voicewas detached, and I realized it wasn t apathy it was shock. No one else hasbeen inside.She turned with visible effort and looked into the room (although room wasgenerous, as it was barely larger than a linen closet).Blood rushed from her face;her hands shook, and she couldn t help releasing a startled cry.Felix and Miloscrambled to her.They looked in as they moved her away, protective of theirHandler, and as visibly sickened by what they saw as she.Deaem glanced at the room probably doing his duty to check for danger then let Amalie go in.I couldn t go farther.Ten feet from the door, I was still toodamned close.The humid basement air tickled my nose.The odor made mewant to retch.Memory was trying to overcome common sense, and I had half amind to let the former win.Amalie emerged moments later and waved me forward.I swallowed, certainthe lump in my throat would choke me before I made it to her side.Wyatt stuckclose.I squeezed his hand so hard I was sure I d break it.As expected, the telltale X was still on the door.Lingering odors of blood and rot and death wafted outlike black fingers, caressing my skin with their awful touch.I wanted to run, asmuch from what I remembered about this room as from what was waiting insidemuch from what I remembered about this room as from what was waiting insidefor me now.I looked.Past did not superimpose on the present as I thought it might.The mattress I ddied on and the shackles I d been bound with were gone.Old splatters and spraysof my blood were washed away, the cement floor scrubbed clean.The odor of oldbleach made me want to sneeze.Yesterday s gore was gone but today s wasnailed to the far wall.At first, I couldn t tell who it was.He was bare-chested, stripped down to hisboxer shorts.Long metal spikes had been pushed through his shoulders, chest,abdomen, and upper thighs, but very little blood had fallen.No, the majority of hisblood had come from the wide gash in his throat and was collected in a metalbucket near his feet. Fuck, Wyatt snarled.I squinted at the man s face, hard to see from its downward angle.It dawned onme moments later Rhys Willemy
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