Impervious (City of Eldrich Book 1) (20 page)

Chapter 35

M
elanie and Sid
went downstairs and Meaghan was finally alone. She shut the bedroom door and leaned against it with her eyes shut. This was the first moment she’d had all morning to catch her breath and think about the task ahead.

“What am I supposed to do?” she asked the empty room. “How am I supposed to fix this?” Meaghan had never felt so outmatched in her entire life. She felt the tears well up. Then her body decided that tears took too long and she had to run for the toilet to keep from vomiting on the floor.

After what felt like a very long time, Meaghan’s gut was empty. She flushed the toilet, then leaned back against the bathtub, the porcelain cool on the back of her neck. She felt so shaky she didn’t trust her legs to support her.

Meaghan had no idea how she was going to rescue Jamie. No idea what she was going to say or do. The risk was huge, the likelihood of success minimal. I don’t have a chance in hell, she thought. If I fail, he’s going to die and me along with him.

But there was nothing to be done about that. She was the only one who could save him. If she left him there to die, in agony, far from home and surrounded by enemies, she’d be as good as dead anyway. She could see no way forward from such a cowardly act, other than crawling into a liquor bottle and drinking herself to death. Like John had been trying to do for the last eighteen years.

In that moment, Meaghan grasped the brutal simplicity of the task before her. Get Jamie home or die trying. Perversely comforted by her limited options, she got up from the bathroom floor and brushed her teeth.

Meaghan picked up the folder from the bed where she’d dropped it in her dash to the bathroom. She sat at the table, where Melanie had left the treaty scroll. She shoved the dreadful scroll aside with a grimace. Snakeskin and blood. She shook her head in disgust. But even if she wasn’t repulsed by it, the scroll was in Fahrayan and she couldn’t read it anyway.

She opened the folder. It contained two typed single-sided sheets of white paper, probably written on a manual typewriter judging by the bumps she could feel on the back of each page.

It was more a list of bullet points than a formal legal document. The Fahrayans, as far as she knew, didn’t have a legal system, at least not a very sophisticated one based on John’s grisly comments about Patrice hanging Emily’s severed head from her door. So, if it wasn’t legally binding in the sense Meaghan understood, was there something magical about the use of the snakeskin or the blood? Or were there so many giant snakes and bleeding bodies lying around that it was easier than rustling up paper and ink?

Ugh. More questions for John. Read, she thought. Quit thinking and read.

There wasn’t much to the treaty. V’hren was declared the rightful ruler of Fahraya. John was ordered into exile and agreed to never return or attempt to avenge his losses. Jamie wasn’t even mentioned by name, only as “heir or issue” of John. There was no specific ban she could find on John or Jamie changing into their Fahrayan form so long as they didn’t do it in Fahraya.

Okay, she thought. There was something to work with. Emily made it sound like the Order was relying on Jamie’s forced change as the grounds for dragging him back. But merely changing into his Fahrayan form wasn’t enough to violate the treaty unless done for the purpose of returning from exile.

Jamie only entered Fahraya because V’hren sent hired wizards to kidnap him and physically shove him through the gateway. There was no intent by Jamie to return. Jamie was only in Fahraya because V’hren had brought him there.

It couldn’t be that easy. Could it?

Probably not in Fahraya where justice was dispensed with a sharp knife. V’hren had gone to a lot of trouble to bring Jamie back for public execution. Meaghan doubted that he would simply give up because she pointed out that he had violated his own treaty to do it.

She kept reading. V’hren’s responsibilities were simple. Leave John and Jamie alone and continue to punish any attempts by his people to enter the human world.

So, that must have still been going on, she thought, even though John’s father killed the raiders who attacked Emily’s adoptive brother. Had that been the source of friction between John and V’hren? That V’hren supported raiding and John didn’t? That was probably part of it, but being brothers, John and V’hren were likely acting out a whole bunch of crap going back to childhood.

This treaty wasn’t going to help her. And there was no time to hunt through Matthew’s office to find his missing journal. She needed the details from someone who was there.

She wished she could talk to her father. But she knew she couldn’t unless he was having one of his rare lucid moments and even then he got dates and people confused.

So, Matthew was out. That left John and . . . who else would have been around? Vivian was dead. Lynette had mentioned cleaning up John when he first got here, so she might know something, but she couldn’t have been in Fahraya.

But there would have been a translator. Melanie, Meaghan thought. Maybe Melanie was there. If Meaghan was right, Melanie was the only person actually present during the treaty negotiations who had not been undergoing torture and who was not now dead, demented, or kidnapped. Maybe she could give Meaghan some solid details instead of merely background information.

Feeling a flicker of hope, Meaghan shoved the treaty back into the folder and headed for the kitchen. It was crowded with people. Waiting for her, she realized. For her orders. The panic began to bubble again. The house was too full of people watching her every move. She needed a little distance.

“Melanie, let’s talk,” she said. “In Matthew’s office. Russ, you got the key?”

Standing at the stove, Russ dug in his pocket and held out his key ring. “The padlock key. It’s pretty stuffy in there. Open the windows and air it out a little.”

She nodded as she took the keys.

“Take the pitcher of lemonade in the fridge with you so you can start replacing all those fluids you just lost.”

Meaghan sighed. “You heard?”

“We all heard,” Russ said. “Sounded like you were barfing up a lung. Ready to eat yet?”

Her stomach growled, right on cue.

“I’ll bring something over in a minute,” Russ said before she could argue.

“Where’s Lynette?” she asked.

“Out on the porch with John, Patrice, and the children,” Melanie said.

“And Natalie? Please tell me she’s not in the basement tormenting Emily.”

Russ said, “I could, but I’d be lying.”

“Natalie,” Meagan shouted. “Get up here. I need to talk to you.” She turned back to Russ. “Where’s Caleb?”

“Sarah and Marnie took him to the movies to get him out of the way.”

Meaghan raised an eyebrow. “He was okay with that?”

“It was his idea,” Melanie said. “He thought it would be safer for all concerned to remove himself from the situation. Until we know more about what the Order may have done to him.”

Natalie clattered up the steps. “Yeah, boss.”

“Who else is down there?” Meaghan asked.

“Gretchen.”

Meaghan stared at her, drawing a blank. Too many names to keep track of.

“You know,” Natalie said. “The nice little grandma lady who walked you through the new job paperwork?”

Meaghan nodded. “Right. I know who you mean.”

“Well, she and Emily go way back. I think she hates her more than I do,” Natalie said with a smile. “Gretchen’s way meaner than she looks.”

Meaghan sighed. “Well, that’s just great. Patrice been to see Emily yet?”

Natalie shook her head. “No. She’s been busy introducing the kids to Grandpa. When I told her what he said about her cutting off Emily’s head, she smiled and said ‘I like how he thinks.’”

“Oh, this keeps getting better and better,” Meaghan said. But she didn’t have time to worry about what Patrice might do to Emily and she realized she didn’t care. This crap is changing me, she thought. Into someone who scares me a little. Out loud, she said to Natalie, “I need to talk to you too. In the garage. Let’s go.”

Chapter 36

M
eaghan climbed the
rickety stairs at the back of the garage to her father’s office, followed by Melanie and Natalie. The padlock was old and rusty, but the key turned easily. Meaghan removed the padlock and pushed open the door.

The odor of dust and mildew permeated the air. Gray, rainy daylight filtered into the room through two large windows in the far wall. With a bit of effort, Meaghan pushed up the lower sash of each grimy window.

“Leave the door open,” she called over her shoulder. With the windows opened and fresh air flowing, she took a moment to survey the small room.

Every inch of wall space was covered with photos, artifacts, and yellowing newspaper articles. A large bookcase covered most of one wall. It overflowed with dusty books, some of them legal tomes she recognized, but most were old and tattered. A small bust of George Washington sat on the top of the bookcase.

On the other side of the room, stacks of files covered a battered oak desk, and the dented steel filing cabinet next to it. An old leather swivel chair sat behind the desk with two straight-backed wooden side chairs placed in front of it. A slouchy tattered gray armchair sat beneath the windows.

“Have a seat,” Meaghan said, gesturing to the wooden chairs. “We don’t have time to dig through this crap and find Matthew’s missing journal, so I need to talk somebody who was there.” She looked at Melanie. “Did I guess right? You were there?”

Melanie nodded.

“Good. I need to know exactly what happened. Unless V’hren is way more reasonable than he appears to be, arguing the treaty won’t be enough.”

“No,” Melanie said, sitting down. “It won’t.”

“But do we know if it’s still the same guy in charge?” Natalie asked. Like Meaghan, she was roaming around the room, taking it all in. “What if there’s somebody new trying to tie up all the loose threads?”

Meaghan marveled at her own obtuseness for a moment. It never occurred to her that V’hren might be dead. “Natalie’s right. It’s a violent place. How do we know he’s not dead? It’s been eighteen years. We could be dealing with somebody else.”

Melanie shook her head. “We aren’t. There isn’t much information coming out of Fahraya, but we do know V’hren is still in power. And that he’s growing increasingly erratic.”

“How do we know that?” Meaghan asked, running her index finger along the dusty spines of the books on the shelf in front of her. More than a few were in Latin. She thought getting out of the house would help, but this was worse. Here she was surrounded by visible evidence of how much she didn’t know.

“We have an inside man,” Melanie said. “V’hren’s son. Jhoro leads the resistance, if you can call it that. There’s only a handful of them left. He’s been a fugitive, under a death sentence, since John was exiled.”

“Wait,” Meaghan said, turning to face Melanie. “I found a photo in one of the boxes in my room. John with two boys in Fahraya, Jamie and a nephew. Is that him?”

“That’s him,” Melanie confirmed.

“What was he, fifteen, sixteen, when John left?”

“Fifteen, I believe,” Melanie. “Which by Fahrayan standards is manhood. Extended childhood is a luxury Fahrayans can’t afford.”

“Why didn’t he escape with John and Jamie?” Meaghan asked. “Why did they leave him behind?”

Melanie shook her head. “They didn’t leave Jhoro behind. He refused to go. Not everyone supported V’hren, and they weren’t ready to hand Fahraya over to him without a fight. They needed a leader and Jhoro was the logical choice.”

“But he was only a kid,” Natalie said. “Fifteen and he’s the guy in charge?”

Melanie shook her head again. “Human fifteen and Fahrayan fifteen are not the same. At fifteen, Jhoro was taller and stronger than John and already a skilled hunter. And V’hren’s heir. With John and Jamie gone, the resistance looked to Jhoro as their de facto king.”

“Can we count on Jhoro’s help when we get over there?” Meaghan asked.

“Maybe,” Melanie said. “If you can find him. And if he wants to help.”

“Why wouldn’t he help?”

Melanie stared at the floor and didn’t answer.

“Melanie, why wouldn’t he help?” Meaghan asked again.

Natalie said, “Well, it’s obvious isn’t it? With Jamie out of the way, V’hren’s the only guy between Jhoro and the big chair. And if V’hren’s a complete bastard in how he kills Jamie that makes Jhoro look like a better alternative.” Natalie looked at Meaghan. “Right?”

“Yeah, sadly, that sounds about right to me,” Meaghan said. “Melanie?”

“Jhoro is a better man than that,” Melanie said. “Much more like John than V’hren. To the point that V’hren never quite believed that Jhoro was his. Jhoro may want to rule, but he’d never step on Jamie’s broken body to get there. Unlike his father.”

“So then why not help us?” Meaghan asked.

“Because John is as good as dead to them from the shame of losing his wings,” Melanie answered, looking at the floor. “And because you’re Matthew’s daughter. Many, including Jhoro and his companions, blame Matthew for what happened to John.”

“Matthew? How is it Matthew’s fault? He
saved
John,” Meaghan answered, indignant.

“And according to some, John only needed saving because Matthew’s presence gave V’hren an excuse to move against him.”

Meaghan felt the panic rise again. Was Matthew really to blame for what happened to John? Was that even possible? If Matthew, with more than twenty years of dealing with this shit, had screwed up that badly, what hope did Meaghan have of saving Jamie?

Seeing the look on Meaghan’s face, Natalie steered her across the room and gently pushed her into the arm chair.

The warm weight of Natalie’s hands on her shoulders steadied Meaghan, and her panic subsided a bit. It was still there but muted enough so she could function.

Breathe, Meaghan told herself. Keep breathing. “I need the whole story, Melanie. Not bits and pieces. What the hell am I walking into? All of it. Now.”

Before Melanie could answer, they heard footsteps on the stairs and Russ appeared with a tray of sandwiches. “Lunchtime,” he said, in a cheery voice, then he saw Meaghan’s face. He scowled. “What the hell have you been telling her?”

“Nothing yet,” Meaghan said. “They were just getting started.” She glared at Melanie. “Right?”