“Wait!” The word flew out before I could stop it.
Tristan smiled and lowered his gun. “That’s my girl.”
“I want to negotiate,” I said. “I made a mistake.”
“Yes, Hope, you did.”
Tristan hand-signaled for one guard to search in the direction of my voice.
“Uh-uh,” I said. “I’m not coming out. Not yet.”
Tristan jerked his chin, motioning for the guard to circle around from behind.
“Don’t tell him to sneak up on me, either,” I called, my voice ringing in the stillness. “I can sense supernaturals, remember? He comes anywhere near me, and I’ll do what you threatened to do to Karl—put a bullet in his head.”
“Ah, a bullet.” He pulled my pistol from his pocket. “From this gun, maybe?”
I unscrewed the silencer and fired the gun into the ground below. “No, this gun.”
“So you have a weapon. Wonderful. It would be even better if you knew how to use it. But they don’t teach marksmanship in debutante classes, do they?”
“Do you really think I’d let you go to all the trouble of getting me a gun and not even learn how to use it? I’m a keener, Tristan, remember? I was at the gun club an hour after you handed it to me. Oh, and yes, the West Hills Country Club does have marksmanship facilities. Excellent facilities. You’d like it … if they’d ever let you in.”
Tristan stiffened.
“I made a mistake,” I said. “Marsten tricked me.”
Tristan smiled. “Charmed you, more like.”
“No, he lied to me,” I said as I looked around, babbling while I searched for a way to help Marsten. “He said I’m working for a Cabal, not the interracial council.”
One of the guards shot Tristan a confused look, mouthing, “Council?”
So they didn’t know?
The other two guards had been in on Tristan’s scheme, but these ones apparently had no idea what I was talking about. Marsten said Tristan was working on personal revenge, that the Cabal would never have sanctioned his death. The other two guards had known that. They must have been moonlighting outside the Cabal with Tristan. But these two weren’t? Interesting …
“I don’t know what you hope to gain by killing me, Tristan.” I pulled out the business card Marsten had given me. “We’ve already called—”
Earlier, I’d glanced at it just long enough to register the last name—Cortez—and I’d remembered Marsten saying he’d done work for Benicio Cortez’s son, Lucas, the one who wasn’t part of the Cabal. So that’s the name I expected. When I saw what was really printed there, my heart thudded.
I turned it over. A handwritten phone number. Oh God, was that real? What if it wasn’t?
“Yes, Hope? You were saying?”
I’d been about to say that I’d called the person on the card and told him everything. But that wouldn’t work now. If I had already called, these guards wouldn’t be here.
“Who am I really working for, Tristan?” I said. “Who sanctioned this job?”
He snuck a look at the guards. “The Cortez Cabal, Hope. You already said that.”
“Yes, but I … I’m confused. You two down there. When you were called in, what did Mr. Cortez say Karl’s crime was?”
The guards looked at one another.
“Wait,” I said. “Mr. Cortez didn’t give the order, did he? So what did Tristan say Karl’s crime was?”
“He’s a thief,” Tristan said, surveying the forest as if trying to pinpoint my voice.
“Okay … but—well, he’s been a thief all his life, right? And his father before him. But now, out of the blue, Mr. Cortez decides he deserves to die for it? Right after Karl joined the Pack. Right after the Pack joins the interracial council. Wouldn’t killing a Pack werewolf cause a serious diplomatic crisis? I thought Mr. Cortez was pretty careful about stuff like that.”
The guards turned to Tristan.
“I don’t question my orders,” Tristan said.
“Maybe, but I do. I’m going to call Mr. Cortez. Got his card right here.” I read off the Cabal office phone number, so they’d know I was telling the truth. “And while I’m sure that would get me through to some flunky, I can save time by using the number on the back. Benicio Cortez’s personal number.”
“How’d she get—?” one of the guards began.
“She didn’t, you—” Tristan clipped off the insult. “It’s a stalling tactic. You really are a naive little girl, aren’t you, Hope? Where did you get Benicio Cortez’s number? Dialing 411?”
The second guard snickered, but the first took out his cell phone.
“Here,” he said. “Give me the number and I’ll call.”
Tristan smiled. “Yes, Hope. Give him the number.”
I stammered it out instead, as if I was making it up … which I really hoped I wasn’t. What if someone had given it to Marsten as a joke?
As I read the number, I looked down at him, trying to gauge his reaction, but his eyelids were flagging, as if he was struggling to stay conscious.
My hesitant delivery made Tristan smile, and he made no attempt to stop the guard from dialing, just leaned back against a tree and awaited my downfall.
Ten seconds after the guard finished dialing, his head jerked up.
“Mr. Cortez?”
Tristan chuckled and shook his head.
“This is Bryan Trau,” the guard said. “SA Unit 17. I’m sorry to disturb you, sir, but we have a situation here.”
Tristan jumped so fast he nearly tripped. He motioned for the guard to hand over the phone, but the guard stepped away. Tristan started to lift his gun but stopped as the second guard raised his.
The guard explained the situation. When he was finished, he listened and said, “Yes, sir,” then held out the phone.
“Mr. Cortez would like to speak to you.”
Tristan stepped back and looked ready to bolt. Then he caught sight of Marsten and must have, in that second, seen a possible way out: the elimination of the only person who could confirm the entire story. He lifted his gun.
A shot.
I didn’t think. I jumped from the tree. The second I started falling, my brain screamed, Idiot!
I hit the ground hard, but scrambled up. As I ran to the clearing, I heard, “Yes, sir.” Pause. “No, sir. He’s gone.”
I flew into the clearing to see the guard on the phone, kneeling beside a body. Tristan’s body.
“Yes, sir, I did. You said if he made a move—” A pause, then the guard nodded and glanced over at me. “She’s here now.”
The guard held out the phone. I hesitated, then took it.
“Is this the young woman who was with Karl?” a voice asked. A pleasant voice. Calm and alert, as if he hadn’t been woken in the middle of the night.
He asked whether I was hurt and what had happened, his tone mild but concerned, avuncular, not what I’d expect from the head of the most powerful Cabal in the country. After a few quick questions, he said, “You’ve had a very long night, and I’m sorry you had to go through this, but I can assure you, Mr. Robard was acting outside his jurisdiction. Since he is an employee, though, I take full responsibility for his actions, and will do everything I can to put things right, starting with looking after Karl. Is he badly hurt?”
I’d been so shocked I hadn’t even checked. I raced to Marsten’s side. The second guard was already there, tending to Marsten, who was unconscious. He’d been shot through the shoulder, and his entire side was wet and sticky. Blood must have been pumping out the whole time he’d been lying there.