• • •
Upstairs, Pellini had conscripted everyone with a working pair of hands into an assembly line for measuring, cutting, twisting, and trimming makkas wire. I told him that we were going to ground zero to get the valve and the flow of mutagen under control, and said nothing about Xharbek. Pellini, as usual, accepted the info I gave him and didn’t press for more, even though it was clear he knew there was more to it.
“We’re bringing DIRT in on this?” he asked.
“Just our squads,” I said. “We’ll muster at the fairgrounds. That’s far enough away from gro
und zero for everyone to stay safe while they get issued makkas and instructed in the whys and hows of wearing it.”
“Which are?”
“Against the skin. Probably should be taped down and worn under sleeves so they don’t accidentally get ripped off.” I paused. “I’m also going to talk to Boudreaux.” Not only could we use his help, but it was time.
Relief flowed over Pellini’s face, as if he was finally letting go of a worry—one he’d been holding onto ever since he decided to approach me about the arcane. Boudreaux and Pellini had been partners at work and best friends the rest of the time, and I’d become the main obstacle between them.
But all he said was, “Good,” and left it at that.
* * *
• • •
I made the call from the privacy of my bedroom.
“Boudreaux here.”
“It’s Kara Gillian.”
He paused barely an instant before replying in an acid voice. “So, what can I do for Your Royal Witchiness?”
“It’s time for me to tell you the truth.” I didn’t have to explain about what.
“The truth?” He let out a harsh laugh. “You mean your version of it.”
“No. The truth. I’ll tell you what really went down at the Farouche Plantation that night. I only want one thing in return.”
“Fuck you, Kara,” he shouted. “We’re not trading favors here. I’m not giving you shit for doing what you should have done a long time ago when I asked you straight to your face!”
And more than once. He’d known I was lying about not being involved in the plantation raid that ended with his mentor Farouche dead and his stepfather Angus McDunn in hiding from the police. Even worse, he’d known I was withholding info about the whereabouts of his mother—whom I suspected had gone to ground with McDunn.
“My favor to you is that I’ll finally answer straight to your face,” I said. “I’m on a pretty tight timeline, so you’d have to meet me at St. Long Elementary in twenty minutes. But if I talk to you in person, you’ll know—without any shred of doubt—that I’m telling you the whole truth and nothing but the truth.” Including why it had to happen, I added silently.
I heard his intake of breath. “Yeah, well, I’m pretty good about knowing when people are full of shit,” he said, blustering with the faintest trace of uncertainty, likely rattled that I knew about his little knack for getting people to tell the truth. “What do you want from me?”
“Round up volunteers from your squad for a mission that’s going down in about forty-five minutes and have them assemble at the old fairgrounds,” I said. “If you determine I’m lying, you’re done, and they can go home. But if you determine I’m telling the truth—whether you like that truth or not—you and your team join the mission.”
“What kind of mission?” I could practically see his eyes narrow.
“Incursion at Ground Zero.”
“I didn’t get notification of a new rift.”
“It’s not a rift. Look, are you in or out?”
“Yeah. Sure, what the fuck.”
“Good. See you in twenty.”
• • •