The Enchanter Heir (The Heir Chronicles #4)

The Enchanter Heir (The Heir Chronicles #4) Page 22

“It’s not impossible,” Alison said, fingering her Nightshade amulet. “I mean, technically, all of the shades are dead, yet we see them all the time.”

“What did she look like?” Gabriel asked. “Was she free or hosted?”

“Free,” Jonah said. “She was more like a—an apparition. More detailed than your usual free shade, from what I could tell. She never let me get that close.”

“So it could have been anyone,” Gabriel murmured, as if trying to convince himself. He finally settled back into his seat. “Did she offer any proof of who she was?”

“She seemed to know a lot about us,” Jonah said.

“I guess that’s not surprising,” Gabriel said. “Brendan could have filled her in . . . he or any of the other students we’ve lost. We’ve never had shades share information before.”

“She wants to partner with us. Said we should be allies. At least, she wants to meet with you and negotiate a truce.”

“And how, exactly, would that work?” Gabriel raised an eyebrow. “You’re the only one who can communicate with shades.”

“I’d act as go-between,” Jonah said.

“Did she say what her plan is?”

Jonah flushed. “She wouldn’t . . . not unless I committed myself by riffing some of the mainliners.”

Gabriel stared at him for a long moment, as if turning that over in his mind. “No,” he said. “Absolutely not. It’s clearly a hoax—or a trap—and I’m not wasting time on either one.” He retrieved the newspaper and folded it. “What’s all this about cadavers scattered all over the Flats?”

“After we talked, Lilith ordered the shades to kill the kids. Alison and I intervened.”

“How many shades would you say there were?”

“A couple hundred?” Jonah said, looking at Alison for verification.

She nodded, shifting in her seat. “There were a whole lot of them, and they didn’t go down easy.”

Between the two of them, they relayed the rest of the story. “Lilith was giving the orders?” Gabriel asked. “She seemed to be in control?”

Jonah nodded. “At least, she told them to attack, and they did.”

Gabriel stood, walked to the window, and stared out at the lake, hands clasped behind his back. He always did that when he needed time to think. Finally, he shook himself and turned back to them. “This person sounds extremely dangerous—someone charismatic enough to arouse the undead, and fan the flames of hatred. If you run into her again, kill her.”

For once, Gabriel didn’t use one of his many euphemisms for murder.

“I think we should meet with her,” Jonah said bluntly. “We might learn something useful.”

“Jonah!” Gabriel said. “She just tried to kill eight small children. That should tell you everything you need to know.”

“I didn’t say join her,” Jonah said. “I said meet with her.”

“No,” Gabriel said.

“Look at it from her point of view,” Jonah said. “We’re trying to kill them. It’s self-defense.”

Gabriel grimaced. “That’s one thing I’ve always loved about you, Jonah—your ability to see issues from all sides. And it seems that she’s managed to engage your sympathy. But I won’t meet with her. It’s too risky.”

“I think it’s worth that risk, to find out what they’re planning,” Jonah said. “You might recognize her. If she isn’t the Lilith you remember, she might be somebody else from Thorn Hill.”

“The answer is no,” Gabriel said flatly. “I don’t want to hear any more about it.”

“Lilith warned me that she won’t allow us to kill shades anymore. She threatened to destroy us if we keep at it. She said they will continue to kill mainliners, and we’ll get the blame.” He paused. “Speaking of risk, did the papers mention anything about nightshade?”

“Nightshade?” Gabriel’s head came up. “What do you mean?”

Jonah tossed a handful of crushed herb onto Gabriel’s desk. “They scattered this all around the killing field. It’s part of the plan to eventually link it to us.”

Gabriel poked at the nightshade with his forefinger. “Did anyone see either of you? Could you be identified?”

“I don’t think so,” Jonah said. He looked at Alison, and she shook her head.

“Good,” Gabriel said. “We’ll have to hope nobody makes that connection.”

“Don’t you think they’ll find a way to make that happen?” Alison said. “I mean, we’re wearing Nightshade amulets, and we have the tattoos. Assuming they know that, then . . . ?”

Gabriel sat, very still, for a long moment, then dropped his hands. “If they want a war, we’ll give it to them.”

He looked at Alison and jerked his head toward the door. “Alison, if there’s nothing else, I’d like to speak to Jonah in private for a few minutes.”

Alison stood and slumped out of the room, with many backward looks.

When she had gone, Gabriel leaned back against his desk.

“I’ve been getting a strong vibe of frustration from you for months,” he said. “It seems like you question every decision I make. Do you want to talk about it?”

No , Jonah thought of saying. But, actually, he did. “It’s a number of things. Beginning with the mission.”

“Go on.”

“I just don’t see why it’s our job to finish what the Black Rose began.”

“Is that how you view what we’re doing?”

“Pretty much.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Gabriel rose, crossed to the refrigerator. “Would you like something to drink? I probably have something that would—”

“No, thank you,” Jonah said, unwilling to make this tiny concession.

Gabriel rummaged in the refrigerator for a few minutes, then returned to his chair empty-handed. “When I established the Anchorage, I committed myself to all of the victims of Thorn Hill—the living and the living dead. For the survivors, a home, an education, and care appropriate to their unique needs. For the others, a pathway to rest, while protecting the public. You’ve been critical to this effort.”

“I didn’t ask for this,” Jonah said. Lilith’s words echoed in his head. “It seems to me that the shades want to survive as much as anyone else. Who am I to put them to rest, as you call it?”

“You’re not killing them, Jonah! They’re already dead.”

“What about Safe Passage?”

“Or nearly dead,” Gabriel amended. “If you were them, what would you want?”

“That’s just the thing. I am them.”

“Fine. Would you want to spend eternity in a constant quest for somebody to slaughter so you could live in his body for a little while? And when it began to decay, try and find another victim before you were too far gone to hunt? Is that what you would want?” Gabriel’s voice rose as he spoke, until he was practically shouting.

Still, Jonah was getting more fear than anger.

“What I want doesn’t matter. It should be their decision.

How are they a threat to us?”

“You’re all right with slaughtering children?” Gabriel raised an eyebrow.

“Of course not! But why is it our job to prevent it?”

“Because we’re the ones who can do it. If we don’t, then who will?”

“I’d rather take a different approach—by researching what poisoned us and developing effective treatment before it’s too late.”

“I’ve been working on that for ten years,” Gabriel said.

“That’s my area of expertise. Don’t you think that if there were better treatments, I would’ve found them?”

Gabriel paused and, when Jonah didn’t respond, said, “Is there anything I can do to make your life easier?”

“You can find someone else.”

“I know Jeanette’s death must have been tough on you.

She was . . . a very special person.”

“Yes. So special, she didn’t deserve to be murdered.” Tired as he was, Jonah couldn’t stand to sit anymore. He shoved to his feet and crossed the office to the window. Down below, a freighter was threading its way upriver.

“All right, Jonah . . . you win,” Gabriel said to Jonah’s back. “I’m going to pull you from fieldwork.”

Jonah swung around to face him. “What?” Gabriel laughed. “Oh, don’t worry . . . you won’t wriggle off the hook so easily. I have something else in mind for you. I wasn’t going to bring this up so soon, but . . . it’s time that I began thinking about a successor.”

“A successor.” Jonah swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry.

“I was hoping that you might consider taking that on.”

“Me? I’m seventeen!” Jonah blurted. “How would that work?”

“You’re seventeen now, yes, but you’ve literally grown up here. There is no one I trust more, no one who is more knowledgeable about the entire operation. We have adult staff, yes, but nobody with our history. Nobody who has invested so much of himself as you have. My thought is that you could spend the next several years as my apprentice.” Gabriel smiled wryly. “I could use the help.”

“How would that be different from what I’m doing now?”

“You’ll spend more time here at the Anchorage. I could begin introducing you to our patrons, both Weir and Anaweir. You could get to know more about Weir politics, and make the contacts you’ll need as school director. That way, when the time comes, you would be seen as my heir apparent—as school director, for the music business, and so on. Everything but Nightshade.”

“I’d be out of Nightshade?” Ludicrous as it was, regret pinged through Jonah, leaving him feeling hollowed out, without purpose.