The Enchanter Heir

Chapter Twenty-four

Down by the River

Kenzie pulled off the headphones, draping them around his neck, and took another bite of his spring roll. “If one person survived, there must be others.”

“You’ve already researched that,” Jonah said. “Greenwood was our best prospect.”

“He’s the best prospect that we know of now,” Kenzie said. “Doesn’t mean he’s the only one.”

Jonah snorted. “Don’t try to lie to me, Kenzie. You should know better than that.”

Emma’s bloodless face floated before Jonah’s eyes. He’d told Kenzie the whole story . . . except for the part about Emma. He rarely kept secrets from Kenzie, but this one cut too close to the bone after what had happened to Marcy at Thorn Hill.

When Jonah had returned from Greenwood’s, he’d thrown his clothes into the incinerator, showered in the hottest water he could stand, and treated his wounds as best he could. In the time it took to do that, he’d received four increasingly worried texts from Kenzie. Despite his weariness, Jonah knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway, so he’d walked over to Safe Harbor and given his brother the bad news. Seemed like he was doing a lot of that these days.

Kenzie’s voice broke into his thoughts. “What about Rowan DeVries?”

“What about him?”

“He may have some leads that we don’t know about.”

“He doesn’t know any more than we do. That’s how we all ended up at Greenwood’s.”

“We don’t know what he knows,” Kenzie argued. “You didn’t really have a chance to search the house. He did. He might have come away with something useful. Plus his father was in the thick of it, back in the day. Anyway . . . we each have a piece of the puzzle. Maybe it would look like something if we put them together.”

“You’re saying we should partner up with him?” Jonah leaned his head back and closed his eyes. “Don’t you think that the fact that I riffed his younger sister might cause a little tension?”

“He doesn’t know that. I’m saying that as soon as he puts anything online, I can get at it,” Kenzie said. “That’s what I do.”

“It doesn’t matter how well you do your job, if I blow it up,” Jonah said.

Kenzie snorted his disgust. “Tell me again how you picked a bloodbath from all of your other options? Oh, wait—you had no other options.” He nudged the take-out carton toward Jonah. “Aren’t you going to eat any of this? Mango curry is your favorite.”

“I’ve had enough,” Jonah said.

“You haven’t had any,” Kenzie said. When Jonah didn’t respond, he added, “Fine, fair warning, the curry’s mine.”

“Be my guest,” Jonah said.

Splat!

Jonah looked up to see that Kenzie had flung the carton of curry against the sterile white wall. The bright yellow sauce ran down in long streaks toward a heap of shrimp and vegetables at the bottom.

Jonah swung around to look at his brother. “What the hell?” he said.

Kenzie eyed the mess critically. “Adds a little color, don’t you think? I’m calling it Curry Paintball on Marshmallow Fluff.”

When Jonah made as if to get up and get a rag, Kenzie gripped his arm. “No,” he said. “Every time there’s a mess, you don’t have to clean it up.”

“Would you quit trying to make me feel better about this?” Jonah snapped.

“Would you quit holding yourself to a higher standard than you do me?” Kenzie snapped back. Shoving himself back from his keyboard, he swiveled toward Jonah, leaning forward, his hands on his knees. “Do you have to be the superhero all the time? Do you have to fix things all the time? We’re supposed to be partners, and it’s really condescending, if you want to know the truth.”

Kenzie’s pain and bitterness slammed into Jonah, leaving him nothing to say.

“Isn’t it amazing, what little Kenzie Kinlock is able to accomplish, given his disabilities,” Kenzie said. His hair was beginning to halo around his head, which was always a bad sign. “Why, he can look up an address! And then his big brother Jonah can take that information and save the world.

He cannot fail, because then little Kenzie will be disappointed. After all, he did his job.”

Blue flame flickered over Kenzie’s hands and arms, and he gripped the arms of the wheelchair to keep them from flailing.

“Kenzie,” Jonah said, “you’re burning.”

“Damn right I am,” Kenzie said. “Has it occurred to you that you’re more likely to fail because what you’re doing is harder than what I’m doing?” He rolled his eyes. “I know I get extra credit for being disabled and all, but I actually enjoy being in the digital world, because there, I’m usually the most capable person in the room. Everyone else is disabled, compared to me. But you—what you’ve done for Nightshade, what you did tonight . . . it’s totally contrary to your nature. You’re a walking contradiction—a deadly predator who suffers every time he makes a kill. And yet you keep going out there.”

“It’s not because I’m brave,” Jonah said, his voice catching. “And it’s not for fear of disappointing you. It’s not because I want to be a hero. I’m working this plan because I don’t want to live in a world without you. I don’t even want to think about it.”

“Then don’t,” Kenzie said bluntly. “Do what I do. Now is now. Now is all we have. We can write our own music, and dance to it while we can, or we can start writing our eulogies. I’d rather have a go at life, so there’s something to talk about once we’re gone.”

The Kinlocks stared at each other for a long moment. Gradually, Kenzie’s flames dwindled and died, leaving his usual faint tremor behind.

Abruptly, Jonah rose, crossed to the closet, and pulled out Kenzie’s jacket. “Let’s go out,” he said. “Let’s do it,” Kenzie said. “Are we gonna find ourselves some wimmin?”

“It’s three in the morning,” Jonah said. “We probably want to avoid any ‘wimmen’ still walking around at this hour. And the usual rules apply. You have to promise to wear the headphones and let me know if you feel the fireworks coming on so I can toss you in the river.”

Jonah pulled on his leather gloves and wrestled Kenzie into his coat. “Here.” He handed a knit cap to his brother. When Kenzie made a face, Jonah was unsympathetic. “It’s been a while since you’ve been out. It’s cold out now.” He put on his own jacket while Kenzie navigated to the door.

“Hang on a sec. I’ll make sure the coast is clear.” Jonah scanned the empty corridor. “We’re good.” He pushed Kenzie out into the hallway, shutting the door behind them. They rolled down the corridor to the back stairway.

“Okay . . . arms inside the chair.” Jonah picked Kenzie up, chair and all, and carried him down the stairs.

Out on the street, they threaded their way through the dwindling crowds in the Warehouse District, headed for the river. The cold air revived Jonah somewhat, freshening his memory of events on the east side and reminding him that Lilith was hunting him. That shades seemed to be hanging out, more and more, in the area around the Anchorage.

Now that they were outside, Kenzie used the motor function on his wheelchair, laughing as he bumped over the brick pavement. Jonah took hold of the handles again as they descended the steep slope on St. Clair, rattled across the Rapid tracks, and turned onto the walkway at Settlers Landing.

They followed the walkway along the river, their breath pluming out in the cold air. Kenzie was in a festive mood, singing rock and roll at the top of his lungs.

“Hey now, keep it down!” Jonah warned. “You sound like you’ve had a few too many. You don’t want to draw the local constabulary.”

Unfazed, Kenzie said, “I wrote a love song . . . Wanna hear?”

Without waiting for an answer, Kenzie adopted a hangdog expression and began to sing, in a twanging country voice.

I ain’t pretty, that is true, I know you take me for a fool, A love story in a comic book cover, Ain’t never going to be your lover.

Ain’t hard to resist, Ain’t never been kissed.

If I build you castles out of words, And gardens out of nouns and verbs, Would poetry your heart ensnare? Would you let me see your derriere?

Think of how fun it would be to have done it.

Some people say I aim too high, You’ll never let me touch your thigh, If your thigh’s too high, how about your ankle?

If you wear leather, I’ll wear manacles.

Strap me down and I’ll be fine.

Fulfill my adolescent dream,

Let’s take friendship to extremes.

I promise you plenty of courting and sparking, If you’ll consent to take me parking.

I mean, literally . . . sparking. You’ll have to drive.

Kenzie tilted his head down. “What works best— ‘derriere’ or ‘underwear’?”

Jonah snorted with laughter. “Um. I don’t know how to choose between them.”

“What do you think, otherwise?”

“It may not have broad market appeal.”

“I’m targeting the audience for Helen Keller jokes,” Kenzie said. “Now listen. I’ve got several possible endings. Tell me which one you like best.

I’m so outta luck Ain’t never been—

“Maybe not,” Jonah said. “They won’t play it on the radio.” Undeterred, Kenzie sang:

It’s real disturbin’

That I’m still a virgin.

“You just keep thinking, Kenzie,” Jonah said, shaking his head as they passed beneath the Detroit-Superior Bridge. Jonah gazed up at its elaborate undercarriage, then stiffened, catching the scent of free magic.

Was this another ambush? Jonah suddenly realized how vulnerable they were, all alone on the riverbank. “Hey,” he murmured, resting a hand on Kenzie’s shoulder. “Would you mind parking under the bridge a few minutes while I check something out?”

“You’re not saving the world again, are you?” Kenzie asked, his eyes glittering in the lights from the parking lot. He swung the chair around, taking shelter next to one of the bridge pillars.

When he was a member of Nightshade, Jonah’s course of action would’ve been clear: search and destroy. Now what? Should he call Alison? Gabriel? Or simply walk away?

Peering out from under the bridge, he saw movement on the slope down to Lockwood, dozens of free shades funneling between the buildings. And beyond, a line of savants, bristling with shivs, driving the shades toward the river.

Gabriel must’ve issued an “all-hands” for this riff. To anyone watching, it would have looked like a battle in which only one side showed up.

As the shades crossed into the park, another group of shadehunters rose up from hiding places along the riverbank, trapping the shades between the two groups of slayers. Both sides waded in, brandishing shivs. Shades screamed as shivs connected—a heartrending, desolate sound that only Jonah could hear.

Escaping free shades swarmed up from the killing ground, fleeing straight toward the bridge. Thunk! Weapons sounded overhead—an unfamiliar thwacking sound. When the missiles hit home, the shades screamed and dissolved into a shower of glittering phosphorescence that dissipated in the wind from the lake. Each time it was like a bolt fired into Jonah’s soul.

Jonah crouched, and leaped high, catching hold of the archway atop the pillars with the tips of his fingers. He flipped up onto the pillar, then onto the subway railing. He pulled himself up and onto the bridge.

Alison, Charlie, and Mike were lined up along the rail, firing down at the fleeing shades with weapons that seemed to be a marriage between an air rifle and a crossbow, each reloading smoothly from a quiver of hiltless shivs. There seemed to be no shortage of shivs for this operation. And still, from below, the screaming.

This must be the new plan—Gabriel’s more efficient alternative to Jonah.

“Stop it!” Jonah shouted, shoving Mike’s weapon aside. “Can’t you hear them screaming?”

The shadehunter pivoted, aiming his gun at Jonah. Then slowly lowered his weapon. “No,” he said. “I can’t.”

“With you out of Nightshade, this is the only option we have.” Alison cocked her weapon and reloaded, fired and reloaded, never taking her eyes off the target. “Speaking of . . . what the hell are you doing here?”

Alison seemed to have gotten over her dismay at Jonah’s departure from Nightshade.

“If you’ll recall, I live up the hill,” Jonah said. He paused, then added, “What’s going on?”

“We’re doing a sweep,” Charlie said, turning back to his task. “Clearing the warehouse district and the Flats of free shades to improve security.”

“There’s got to be a better way,” Jonah said, shuddering.

“Actually, we think it’s working pretty well,” Mike said, sliding another shiv into place.

“We were hoping that Lilith would show,” Alison said. “Would you recognize her if you saw her?”

“Why?” Jonah asked warily.

“Gabriel wants her dead.” She mopped at her forehead with her sleeve. “He’s offering a bonus to the slayer who takes her down.”

“I think that’s a mistake,” Jonah said. “I think he should talk to her, and find out who she is and what she knows. Then we can decide what to do.”

“And Gabriel thinks that she’s charmed you somehow. Which is why you’re out of Nightshade.”

“They’re killing mainliners in droves and blaming it on us, Jonah,” Mike said. “You think we should let them keep at it?”

“I never said that,” Jonah said, flinching as another shiv hit home.

“We can’t fight them when they’re organized like this.” Charlie reloaded again. “That’s why Summer’s dead. Even free shades are getting stronger. If we get rid of Lilith, we can go back to our usual game. Less risk for us, less risk for the general public.”

“Jonah,” Alison said, holding her fire for the moment. “You can still help us. You could arrange a meeting. Tell her we want to talk terms. And when you’ve set it up, let us know when and where. We’ll be waiting, and this thing will be over.”

“No,” Jonah said. “I’m out of Nightshade, remember?” He went to turn away, and Alison fired a bolt over his shoulder. Dumbfounded, he turned back to face her.

“Hey,” Charlie said. “Cut it out. Jonah’s not the enemy.”

“He’s either with us or against us,” Alison said, firing off another. She meant to miss: Alison was a better shot than that, but just then Jonah didn’t care. He didn’t remember covering the distance between them. But he plowed into her and she went down on her back and the crossbow went flying, slamming into the guardrail. He rolled away, scooped up the weapon, and broke it in half.

Alison scrambled to her feet and charged at him, and he sidestepped easily. She turned and came at him again, and he evaded her again.

“We can keep doing this for as long as you want,” Jonah said. “But I’m guessing the police won’t ignore what’s happening here forever.”

Alison struggled to catch her breath. “When Gabriel finds out you interfered with a Nightshade operation—”

“Once you’ve regained your senses, I think you’ll agree that it’s best if Gabriel doesn’t hear anything about this little exchange at all,” Jonah said. “I may not be in operations anymore, but I’m not going to let you shoot at me.”

By now, there was little to no activity on the ground. The shades were either dead or fled into hiding, and the hunters on the ground dispersed quickly, leaving no evidence that they’d ever been there.

A strangled cry from below distracted Jonah. He looked down and saw that Kenzie’s chair had emerged from under the bridge. He was trying to escape a swarm of free shades that were leaning in, poking at him, covering his face with their hands. Harassing him.

Kenzie had no Nightshade amulet. He shouldn’t have been able to see them clearly, yet, obviously, he was aware of them, batting at them with his hands. As Jonah watched, his brother’s wheelchair veered off the walkway into the grass, heading for the river.

“Kenzie!” Jonah vaulted over the side of the walkway, landing hard on the pavement below. He sprinted after his brother, intercepted the wheelchair at the water’s edge, and knocked Kenzie’s hand off the throttle. The chair slowed to a stop and Jonah set the brake.

He turned to face the shades, and they faded back, out of reach, then turned and fled.

Kenzie was trembling, glassy-eyed, seizing. He still gripped the MP3 player in one hand. Jonah managed to pry it free. The music had stopped.

Jonah glanced back at the bridge. Alison, Charlie, and Mike were gone.

Swearing softly, he turned Kenzie so he faced the river, knowing that once the seizure started, he’d just have to ride it out. With Kenzie, you never knew just what that would involve.

Blue flame webbed and flickered over Kenzie’s skin, and Jonah hoped he wouldn’t short out the chair. The flame coalesced into balls of fire that arced out over the river, hissing like Roman candles as they dropped into the water. Fortunately, none seemed in danger of hitting the wooden buildings on the other side. Kenzie’s arms and legs jittered and danced, his ashen face painted by his personal light show.

“Spectacular, Kenzie,” Jonah murmured, resting his gloved hands on his brother’s shoulders, pulling them back when the pain became intolerable. “Spectacular.” He just kept talking, saying anything that came into his head, knowing that his voice was one thing that could keep Kenzie grounded. All the while Jonah scanned their surroundings, alert for attack.

When it was over, Kenzie sat, exhausted, pale and sweating. Jonah slipped the headphones over his brother’s damp hair, replaced the MP3 player in his hand, and hit shuffle.

It was nearly five a.m. when the Kinlock brothers made the long climb up St. Clair, heading home. Jonah had just settled Kenzie back in his room when his phone went off. A text from Natalie. In fact, it was the latest of several he had missed. Mose is at Safe Passage. In the Octagon. He needs you now.