Page 50 of Death's Daughter
“And I don’t have her phone, obviously. But I thought if I could get a look at it…”
“You want to break into the police station,” Devon says; not disapproving, more thoughtful. “Steal her phone.”
“I don’t want to steal anything.” I grimace. “I just want toconvincethem to let me see it.” And not to play back the security camera recordings, ever. If I can figure out where she was last night—obviously not at home where Daan left her—then maybe I can figure out who she ran across.
“You could do that yourself,” Devon says, his tone even.
He’s correct. Well, not the convincing part. I could pull enough life from everyone in the police station to leave them all unconscious, and then walk right in.
The part of me that is my father perks up with interest at the thought:Yes, let’s do that. We will be hungry again soon.
“I could,” I acknowledge reluctantly. “But there are cameras everywhere inside the police station.”
“And?”
“I’m pretty sure a dozen or more people falling unconscious at once is going to look pretty suspicious,” I point out.
Unless, of course, I just kill them all. Be full, sated. Strengthened for whatever is coming next.
No. No!“You know what, never mind. I don’t even know if there’s anything useful on her phone anyway.” Frankly, even if I found a mysterious call or text or address I didn’t recognize, it’s not like I’d know what to do with it. But more than that, I feel weird about asking Devon to do something I won’t. It’s not fair. “We’ll just go with terrible idea number one.”
“No, I’ll do it,” Devon says a moment later, signaling to turn out onto the road.
I frown at him. “Are you sure? You don’t have to—”
“What will you do if you find the War spawn?” he asks instead.
I don’t want to answer that question. I don’t want to be the person whohasa ready answer. But they murdered Lennie to get to me, and no matter how resistant I am to the idea of the OldOnes’ methods and manners, there’s only one response for that. “I’m going to kill them,” I say.
As quickly, as painlessly as possible. But yeah, I’m going to feed and take from them what they took from Lennie. It’s the only revenge, the only justice, she’ll ever get. And that probably makes me a hypocrite, not treating all life as valuable, but I don’t care.
Not since I saw her broken and vulnerable body lying there on the ground.
Devon doesn’t respond for a moment, and then he just nods. “All right.”
“And you’re just okay with that? Me telling you that I’m going to kill someone?” Anger bubbles up inside me, and I’m not even sure why. Maybe because we just had that whole conversation about not hurting people, about not getting involved in the spawn battles and Old Ones’ manipulations, and here I am, jumping in with both feet. He, of all people, should recognize the hypocrisy and object, if he truly believes what he said.I’mangry at me, for God’s sake.
“Yes,” Devon says simply, turning onto the street and guiding us past the Oats’ house and the old cemetery to the intersection that will lead to the newer portion of campus.
“This is not who I am, not who I want to be. I stayed out of this bullshit for a reason.” Despite the heat blasting out of the vents and warming my seat, goosebumps rise on my arms, and I rub them through my coat sleeves impatiently.
“Sometimes it’s not about what you want to do but what you’re willing to do when it’s necessary,” he says.
“That sounds like a justification for just about any—” I stop. That sensation chasing its way up my arms is now moving downmy back, like my skin wants to pull free from my bones. Not a normal chill, then.
Magic. Someone is using a lot of magic nearby. Just like last night.
My breath catches, and I look over to Devon. “Is that you?”
But I already know the answer. He’s sitting straighter at the wheel, his gaze sweeping the view through the windshield. Looking for someone.
“No,” he says, distracted. “I wouldn’t do that without—” His eyes go wide, and he slams on the brakes.
With a gasp, I grab for the interior handle, bracing myself for the slide, but the car clings to the road and, after a second we come to a shuddering halt.
I search the road, expecting someone to be standing in the intersection or gesturing at us, getting ready to try to drag us out of the car. Preferably someone who might be a War spawn. But the T-junction is as empty as before.
“What is going on? Why—”
