The Wild Dead (The Bannerless Saga 2)

“They’ll be dealt with,” she repeated, though she couldn’t say exactly how. Murder didn’t happen enough for there to be a standard procedure in place. She’d have to figure it out as she went along. It would depend on how this played out. How her suspect reacted. How Neeve reacted.

Enid didn’t know what she was going to do about Neeve. She’d kept insisting the old case involving Neeve’s implant and the new one investigating Ella’s death weren’t related. Oh, but they were so tightly woven together.

“Why you? Why are you the one to judge?” El Juez asked. His name meant “judge”—she wondered if it was a title, like investigator, rather than a name. He was used to having the last word.

She considered her uniform. The brown fabric hid the grime and stress of the past few days pretty well, but it was rumpled and ripe. And here, it didn’t mean anything. All she could say was “Because my people trust me.”

He seemed to be debating whether he did. She’d come here, made demands. However useful her visit had been for her and the investigation, what had it done for El Juez and his people? She swooped in, rushed back out again—and then what? She didn’t know.

“Is there anything you’d like to tell Neeve?” she asked.

“Nothing,” he said curtly. Didn’t even have to think about it. “But you can’t leave.”

“What?”

“You don’t know how to get back.”

She’d been blindfolded for half the trek. Still, she blithely pointed down the mostly visible roadway. “It’s that way.”

“You won’t make it without help.”

“Well then. Will one of you help me?”

A long silence. Some of El Juez’s enforcers had gathered to watch the exchange. Enid caught the gaze of a few folk, who quickly glanced away. She wondered if any of them would step forward to help. Maybe Hawk? Oddly, he was nowhere in sight.

El Juez let the silence draw on. Waiting to see if any of his people would act. Would disobey him. No one did.

“Looks like you’re on your own,” he said. He seemed pleased. They didn’t owe her any help.

Enid wasn’t sure what they expected. For her to show fear? Beg? Weep? If they thought this was some kind of revenge? In truth, she hadn’t expected help. She trusted herself to figure out the way.

“Right. Well. That’s that. Thanks for all your help, it’s been useful. And again, I’m very sorry for your loss.”

She gave a nod and marched off, back to the Coast Road and the end of this investigation.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////

The silence of the woods fell around Enid quickly. Noises of children, the underlying sounds of the camp at work, faded, then vanished. The smell of campfires lingered, then cleared, and she might as well have been in the middle of a vast forest wilderness.

She tried to pace herself: moved steadily, not quickly. But she wanted to run. She wanted to confront Neeve. She wanted to tell Teeg what she’d learned. This information would blow up a whole community, but they needed to know. An old wound had festered until it had killed. The Estuary folk may not have wanted to know why Ella had died like she did, but they needed to.

Suddenly, Enid pulled up short. Stopped, studied the quiet forest around her. She didn’t know why, just that the prickling on her skin had started up, and a sudden jump in her heart had her body tingling. She’d felt constantly watched all week—it wasn’t just paranoia, she was sure of it.

Scouts from the camp had tracked her coming up the hill. No reason they shouldn’t track her going back down. But it wasn’t a whole troop of them, like before. This time, it was just Hawk, charging straight at her with a club, screaming in rage. He must have been holding that primal scream in for days, the way it twisted his face and tore out of his throat.

In a way, his weapon confirmed her suspicions. A knife wasn’t his preferred weapon; if he’d been the one to kill Ella, he would have beaten, not stabbed her. Now he wanted to beat Enid to death. Just as well—Enid thought she could do a little better against a club than a knife. Even after leaving her makeshift staff behind so she could move faster.

Hawk was furious, uncontrolled, charging with the quickly hewn, arm-length branch cocked up behind his shoulder. Like he expected her to just stand there while he took her head off.

Enid dodged, ducking so that she ended up behind him while he ran on ahead. He spun around, faced her again, panted for breath.

“Hawk, stop,” she said. “I haven’t done anything.”

“Then tell me who did—I’ll kill ’em!” He rearranged his grip, squeezing the wood again and again, nervously.

“Not your job. I’ll take care of it.”

“You won’t! You bullies in brown just make everything worse.”