Indigo Rain (11 page)

Wait. The dust.
Pay attention to the dust.
The opposite corner looked—not clean, but disturbed, visible tracks where boxes had been shoved about.

Someone popped their head up where she’d entered. “I see her,” he called, and hauled himself up with several grunts. She scrambled toward the corner and started pushing boxes around.

The human started crawling toward her, looking less than pleased at the cobwebs he had to push aside. “C’mon, girl, don’t make me drag you out. I can barely see up here.”

“Not my fault you have crappy vision.” What was that over there? Metal?
 

He crawled toward her resolutely. “I know your friend the vixen’s with an anti-human group. You too?”

“If we were anti-human we wouldn’t be trying to save you.” She pushed another box out of the way, then sucked in her breath. What she’d seen wasn’t metal, it was glass. A line of a half-dozen big decorative bottles, each full of dark blue liquid, with their sprayer tops replaced by rubber stoppers and tubes.

The human had gotten close enough to try to clumsily grab at her. She squirmed forward, trying to trace where the tubes led to. “Don’t stop me,
help
me, you idiot,” she shrieked at him. “We don’t have time!”

“Time before you do what?” He lunged at her again, catching her leg this time, but didn’t pull backward. Instead, he stared at the bottles and hoses. “What are those?”

“It’s the acid. Herani.” She found where the tubes connected, into another box connected to a T-junction pipe. “This must be the timer.”

He let go of her and pulled himself forward. “You’re serious.”

She was running her hands over the box, looking for a switch, a valve, a dial, anything. “It’s set to go off at half past noon. What time is it?”

“I can’t see my watch.” He hurriedly pulled it out of his pocket and held it out.

Her ears folded back. “Lords, that’s
now
.”

“How do you stop it?”

“I don’t know. Get them out.”

He began scrambling backward, banging on the ceiling. “Get out! Get out!” he bellowed, nearly falling down the ladder. The noises from the congregation finally started to sound alarmed.

Roulette stared at the featureless box, then back at the bottles.
You’re over-thinking it.
She started carefully pulling out each stopper, trying not to think about what would happen if she spilled any or moved too quickly.

As she worked on the second-to-last stopper, she heard a distinct
click
from inside the box. She yanked the stopper out the rest of the way too quickly, nearly splashing the herani over the rim and onto her fingers. Whining, she reached for the last bottle.

A hydraulic
hiss
sounded from below and a bell began to ring, and she heard the sound of water rushing through pipes. People began screaming. She pulled the last stopper out quickly, the herani already in the tube splattering onto the ceiling under her, smoking when it hit the wood.
 

She set the bottle down, hand shaking, and backed away toward the exit.

“Roulette!” Lisha, soaked, scrambled into the attic. “Oh, Divine Mother. Your foot—”

“I’m all right,” the raccoon gasped. “Are they—Did I—”

“Everyone’s wet. But they’re safe.” She wrapped her arms around the raccoon tightly. “You saved them.”

Roulette closed her eyes, embracing Lisha back and letting out a sob.

“Come on,” Lisha murmured against her ear. “Can you walk?”

She looked down at her foot. The torn claw had come off completely; looking at it made all the pain rush back. “I don’t know.”

Lisha helped Roulette back down the ladder, going down first, then carried the Procya out of the church in her arms.

The alarms still rang as they left the building with the last of the parishioners. Everyone was as soaked as Lisha; the rain inside the building was only now tapering off. She could smell the herani, but only faintly. Much of the crowd in the park for the protest rally had gathered facing the church, staring in confusion.

The priest, who looked like he was in shock, came over to Roulette and Lisha. “You two are the ones responsible for this?”

“We’re—
she’s
—responsible for saving your lives,” Lisha growled, setting the raccoon down gingerly. She kept her hand on Roulette’s shoulder.

“She’s telling the truth,” the human who’d gone after Roulette spoke up. “I saw the acid.”

Hesitant murmurs rippled through the crowd. The bells had stopped now, but people were running toward them. Protesters. Both Gregir and Tiran. And flashes of the Guard’s signature red uniform down the street.

The man who’d spoken said to Roulette, “You’re okay? You didn’t get any of that stuff splashed on you?”

“No,” she said hoarsely. “I’m fine. Thank you.”

“Thank
you.
” He gave the priest a very hard stare.

“Roulette!” Gregir called. “What in all the green—” He stopped, the connection he was making visible in his eyes. “It was
here?
”

Tiran’s brow furrowed, and he ran his hand through his headfur without saying anything.

The congregation burst into conversation, with themselves, with the priest, with anyone but Lisha and Roulette—at least at first. Over the course of a minute or so, several of them came over and murmured
thank you
, sounding acutely self-conscious as they did so. Roulette smiled stiffly to each of them, but looked past them. She didn’t want to meet their eyes.

“Excuse us,” several of the Guardsmen were saying, approaching quickly now.

The priest approached them again, taking a deep breath. “If what Bryan has said is correct”—the affronted man glared once more—“then we owe you both a grave apology and very deep thanks.”

“I’m sure anyone here would have done the same for us.”

Lisha snorted. Roulette elbowed her.

“I do truly hope you’re right. What’s your name?”

Roulette hesitated a moment. Even though it wasn’t her religion, she felt awkward giving him her nickname. “Alizabel.”

Lisha looked down in surprise, but didn’t say anything.

“Alizabel, I understand you made—you made a very serious accusation about who was behind this, and I confess it doesn’t make much sense to me.”

She looked up. “Father—uh, that’s the right term here, isn’t it?”

He smiled and gave her a nod. She became aware of one of the three Guardsmen, a Rilima, moving to stand by the priest; he gave her a nod as well. The other Guards started asking the congregation questions.

“Father, in the last two days I inadvertently found the man who produced that herani, someone named Jerald Grayson. And I—” She stumbled over the admission that she’d killed him, and where that would lead. “I was later kidnapped by two men trying to find out what I knew, and trying to silence me. I know they were with the Brothers of Atasos now, and I overheard them discussing this very plot with the Assistant Mayor.”

Shocked murmurs ran through the crowd.

“I can hardly believe that,” the priest said, raising his brows. “What would be gained by killing innocents sympathetic to his cause?”

“To make it look like
we’d
killed them.”

“We’ll need you to start at the beginning,” the Guardsman said, raising both hands.

“I can go over it with you, Denis,” Lisha said.

“Of course you can, Lisha,” the mouse said with a sigh. “Your presence always makes my job so much easier.”

“Here he comes now,” someone called. The crowd turned to see Massey in the street, walking toward them quickly with an oh-so-concerned expression. One of the men who’d kidnapped Roulette followed close behind.

“Dear Lord!” he said as he made his way through the crowd. “Father Stone, what’s happened…” He trailed off as he saw Roulette and Lisha.

“Surprised not to see everyone melted, Mr. Massey?” Roulette growled.

He turned to regard her. “Melted?”

“This little raccoon girl found acid up in the crawlspace of the church, connected to the fire sprinkler system, and managed to disconnect it just in time,” Father Stone said.

“That’s wonderful!” Massey’s tone was convincing, but his eyes had gone dull. “But you don’t—you don’t think I had something to do with it.”

“I know you did. And you know I know. You were with my kidnappers.”

“Kidnap, ma’am?” one of the other two Guards said. “We haven’t had a report of that.”

“She went to me,” Lisha said. Denis sighed again.

Massey raised his hands. “Father. Gentlemen. This is a wild and slanderous accusation. You’re my strongest supporters! Surely a moment’s thought will tell you that. I’ll do everything in my power to support the investigation here fully.” He looked back at Roulette. “I’m sorry for whatever you may have been through, my dear, but neither I nor anyone I would associate with would be involved in such a heinous crime.”

“We’ve confirmed the presence of the acid, sir,” one of the human Guardsmen said, although he addressed Denis rather than Massey. “We’ve recovered six perfume bottles containing herani from the attic, confirming that part of the Procya’s story.”

“Perfume bottles?” Massey said, turning to look at Tiran in convincing shock.

The cat’s eyes widened and he looked pole-axed. The murmurs in the crowd grew more suspicious again.

“I can’t imagine Tiran would have anything to do with something so terrible, of course,” Massey went on, voice smooth. “Surely it’s a coincidence, and the bottles aren’t from
his
company.”

“What was it you said?” Roulette asked.

He turned to give her a raised-brow expression. “When?”

“When I was locked up in a place you thought I was out of earshot. ‘To show the lengths they’ll go to.’”

Massey’s expression froze.

“That’s a very serious charge you’re making with very little apparent evidence, miss,” Denis said to Roulette, although he was looking at Lisha with an almost expectant expression.

“See what you think of this, Denis.” Lisha reached into her pocket, then knelt down and set the recording orb on the ground. “And, Father Stone, I’m sure you and your congregation will enjoy this too.” She held her finger to it. “Show.”

As the images started to flicker, Massey went very pale.

Roulette and Lisha sat side by side
 at one of the Society’s cafeteria tables. They’d missed dinner hours, but had cups of coffee. Tiran and Gregir had just left the group, to the raccoon’s secret relief; she usually enjoyed being the center of attention, but not this time. The tension between Lisha and Tiran was unbearable, while the tension between Lisha and Gregir was uncomfortable.

As ungrateful as it might be, Roulette didn’t want the mayor’s warm personal thanks conveyed to her earlier by Denis, the Guard who’d questioned her and promised to look for her strongbox. She didn’t want to think about the questions she’d already been warned would come at the trial challenging everything from her character to the trustworthiness of the recording. She just wanted one full day of doing nothing.

She was glad Lisha had stayed, though.

“You know,” Lisha said, breaking the companionable silence, “Alizabel is a pretty name.”

“Thank you.”

“Where’d ‘Roulette’ come from?”

“It’s a game of chance. People used to say I had wild luck—really good or really bad.”

Lisha took a sip of coffee and leaned back. “I like that name, too, but what I’ve seen over the last few days hasn’t been your luck. It’s all you. You’re amazing.”

The raccoon smiled self-consciously.

Lisha smiled back, then looked down at the table. “I don’t want to give you unwanted advice.”

“I think saying that means you do,” Roulette said with a grin.

She laughed uneasily. “It just…” She took a deep breath, then looked directly at Roulette. “Have you thought about staying here?”

The raccoon met Lisha’s eyes just briefly, then looked away. That gaze was still dismayingly intense. “I’d
never
thought about staying here. I’d expected to be working down in Bergin Valley for a few years at most.” She shook her head. “I was making more money here dancing than I would have working there at the vineyard, but all I’ve been thinking of the last day is just going on to Raneadhros and getting all this behind me.”

“Raneadhros is a beautiful city. There’s so much to do there. And I miss simple things. The Seaboard Market. The linea trees at sunset.” She gestured toward the cup she held. “Better coffee.” She smiled, and sighed faintly. “I’ve thought about going back. More than once.”

“Why don’t you?”

Lisha set down the cup and crossed her arms, leaning back with a thoughtful frown. “I don’t feel like I
have
anything there, other than memories. I know here all I have is this work. The drive. But it’s something.”

“Would you move back if you had something there?”

She nodded. “Maybe.”

Roulette smiled a little. “So what’s your advice, then?”

The vixen uncrossed her arms, picking up her cup once more. “I don’t know. I don’t think I have any. Instead of giving you a good reason to stay, I’m starting to wonder if I have one myself.”

“Hmm. If I were you, trying to talk me into staying, what would I say? ‘Roulette, your plan to go off and find a rich prince to sweep you off your feet is stupid.’”