14

SEX DOESN'T ALWAYS fix everything, but it damn sure doesn't make things worse…not with Warren, anyway. Our post-coital pillow talk was also productive because I convinced him to wait till Azrael came home to inquire about Alice. I knew that confrontation was coming soon enough, and when it did, we needed to have all the facts.

After Warren fell asleep, and while I could still hold my eyes open, I emailed Agent Silvers to ask her to dig into Alice's background. I hoped I was wrong and that Az would turn up as blameless as Adrianne believed he was, but Warren had once told me to "hope for the best, but have your guns locked and loaded for the worst," so that's what I was doing.

It took over a week, but I finally got a call from Silvers's private cell phone number.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Sloan."

"Hey, Agent Silvers. Hang on. Let me grab Warren." I ran through the house out to where Warren and Reuel were staining the deck they'd rebuilt. "Silvers is on the phone."

Warren handed his paintbrush to Reuel and followed me back inside.

We walked to the kitchen, and I pulled a pen and notepad from the junk drawer before sitting next to Warren at the kitchen table. "Please tell me you've got something useful." I clicked the speakerphone button and laid the phone in the center of the table.

"A few things, I hope," she said. "Again, this is all strictly off the record."

"I understand."

She cleared her throat and I heard papers shuffling in the background. "OK, first. Let's talk about Alice Delaney."

I started scribbling notes, and Warren leaned on his elbow.

"Alice Delaney was found at a fire station on Foster Avenue in Northern Chicago on March 19th, 1985. The doctors said she was only a few hours old when she was brought to the hospital. Her first set of foster parents were Fred and Maxine Delaney. The Delaneys adopted her, but Alice was eventually removed by Child Protective Services in 1990 after reports of physical abuse were filed. I found some medical reports saying she was developmentally delayed and was referred to speech therapy.

"Fast forward to two foster families later, and she was placed along with Warren into the home of Ellen Burke, a nurse at Caldwell Memorial Hospital. Both children were removed from the home following the death of Burke's boyfriend, Charlie Lockett."

I glanced at Warren to make sure he was OK. His eyes were fixed on the table. "Does it say anything more about her being found at the fire station? Was there a note or another person involved?" he asked without looking up.

"I'm sorry. There's nothing like that. It only says she was found," Silvers said.

I tapped my pen against the pad of paper. This wasn't the conclusive evidence I'd hoped for.

"On a different subject, I did find some information on the other woman mentioned in Marisol Juarez's letter to you. She mentioned that a woman named Melinda Harmon, or Hamilton, could be your friend Taiya's mother."

I perked up in my seat. "Go on."

"Well, there are no records of Taiya's birth, but Melinda Harmon, age 45 from Brooklyn, pressed charges against Abner Tuinstra for domestic abuse back in the mid-eighties. The charges were dismissed. There's not a lot on her except for two minor drug possession charges over the years and a recent court-appointed stint at Wards Island Adult Psychiatric Center. I was able to find a cell phone registered in her name, but that's the extent of personal property or accounts tied to her. I've subpoenaed the phone company for the call history, but that may take a while to get back."

"Can you get me a picture of her? Do you have one?" I asked.

"Sure. I can email you an old mug shot if you think it will help," she said.

"Yeah, old or new, it doesn't matter."

"I'll send it over when we get off the phone."

"Thank you." I looked at Warren. "Do you have more questions?"

He shook his head. "Not right now. Thanks for your help, Agent Silvers."

"You're welcome. I'll let you know when I get the phone records."

I disconnected the call and sat back in my chair. "So, essentially, we know nothing more than we did."

He blew out a sigh. "Not a damn thing."

My phone beeped with and incoming email. It was from a private, generic email address.

---

See attached photo. -S.S.

---

I tapped the file and a woman's face popped up on the screen. She had over-processed, bleached blond hair that was cut in uneven layers that flipped out all around her face. Heavy bags sagged beneath her pale blue eyes and her upper lip was cocked in a quizzical snarl.

"Well, she's alive," Warren said. "Know where she is?"

I focused on her for a few seconds, but finally huffed and shook my head. "I've got nothing."

Warren drummed his finger on the table. "It's times like this that I wish Nate was still around. He's better at linking facts together than I am."

"Me too."

"Have you heard from him lately?" he asked.

I shook my head. "Not since that first letter. I wonder how he's doing."

"Maybe you should try to summon him."

I pressed my lips together. "Hmm. You really think I should?"

He shrugged. "What could it hurt?"

"What if he gets in trouble with Az?"

"Screw Azrael," Warren barked.

"OK." I closed my eyes and reached out with my gift to find Nathan out in the universe. I pulled him to me, and for the first time ever…nothing happened.

After a week, I was really beginning to worry. After two weeks, I was ready to drive myself to Claymore. We heard nothing from Nathan—no calls, no letters, nada. For the first time ever, I realized how dependent I'd become on my powers, and despite how many times I'd wished them away during my life, I was now completely lost without them.

We also heard nothing from Azrael, which was equally disconcerting given his permanent placement up my ass since the day he arrived. Warren kept reminding me they were training together, and that Azrael probably had safeguards against powers such as mine, but it was obvious even he was anxious to make contact with them.

My nerves weren't helped at all by the surge of thunderstorms that had taken residence over the state of North Carolina. Each time thunder boomed, I wondered if it was The Destroyer, returning to finish the demo job on my house, or worse.

Warren kept me busy by constantly replenishing my stack of moving boxes to fill. As small as my place was, we'd acquired a lot of crap since everyone else had moved in, and after almost two weeks of cramming stuff into boxes, we still had a long way to go.

Adrianne had also written me a wedding to-do list as long as my arm. In between packing sessions, I hand painted wooden signs directing guests from Dad's driveway, around the side of the house, to the backyard—because the flowered arbor marked "WEDDING ENTRANCE" over the path around back might not be enough to keep our friends and family from wandering off the side of the mountain. I also had to cover about a thousand tea light votives with gold glitter, which had since ended up all over my side of Asheville.

Monday night was our regularly scheduled dinner date with Dad, and I was grateful for a reason to leave the house. The baby was craving some Shoo Mercy Sweet Potato Pancakes and goat cheese grits, so we picked Dad up at his office and drove to Tupelo Honey in South Asheville.

Reuel got out of the passenger's seat of my car and Dad closed his umbrella and climbed into the back seat with me. "Hey, Dad."

"Hi, sweetheart." He moved his legs to the side when Reuel straightened his seat back into place. "Goodness, Sloan. You're going to have to get a bigger car."

I sighed. "I know."

"I'm sorry if I'm tracking mud onto the floor mats," he said, looking down at his wet shoes.

"Don't worry about it. I've decided to not even bother cleaning my car till this rain finally goes away."

Up front, Warren laughed. "That's your excuse now?"

"Shut up."

"Look at me," Dad said after he clicked his seatbelt into place.

I locked eyes with his.

He grabbed my chin and turned my face from side to side. "All the bruises are completely gone. That's wonderful!"

"I know. It's great," I said.

"I'll bet Warren's happy," Dad teased.

"Oh, I am," Warren said. "How was work today, Dr. Jordan?"

He nodded. "It was quite well, Mr. Parish," Dad answered with an exaggerated, formal tone.

Warren smiled in the rearview.

Dad turned to me. "Do you remember Otis Cash? A patient of mine that you cured of stage four lung cancer back in November?"

"Yes."

"I saw him today. He asked about you."

"How is he?" I asked.

"He's doing great. He still doesn't realize he doesn't have cancer anymore, but he doesn't care," Dad said with a chuckle.

"How does he not know?" I asked.

Dad waved his hand. "He stopped letting anyone do tests on him when they diagnosed it as terminal. Said it stressed him out too much to know, and he wanted to enjoy every second he had left."

For the first time in a while, I thought of the first day of summer—the day Kasyade and her crew were planning to kill me and take my baby. It was a pity I was too stressed out to be able to enjoy my last days, if in fact that's what they were.

Dad put his hand on mine. "You feeling all right?"

I took a deep breath as Warren pulled onto the highway. "Yeah, just a lot on my mind."

"Stressed about the move?" he asked.

"That's part of it, I guess. It feels like we've been packing forever. Who knew we had so much stuff?"

He smiled. "You've lived there a long time."

"Four years," I said. "It's kind of hard to believe."

"You're excited, though, about the new place?"

I reached up and squeezed Warren's shoulder. "Very excited."

"When do you move in?" he asked.

"We close and get the keys one week from today," Warren answered.

"So Monday dinner next week, we'll have takeout at your new place?" Dad asked.

I nodded. "That sounds good. Can you bring pizza from Marcos?"

"You'll have to remind me. Are you hiring movers?" he asked.

Reuel turned around and raised his hand.

Dad pointed at him. "They're hiring you?"

"I already put a down payment on his services in the form of a cake from Brienne Casey," I said. "Right, Reuel?"

He held up two fingers.

I nodded. "Yes. You get another one upon completion."

Dad laughed. "Sounds like a fair payment method to me. Is she doing your wedding cake?"

"She is."

"I like Brienne. She's a nice girl," he said.

"Me too. I invited her to the wedding."

Dad looked surprised. "I didn't realize you were that close."

I shook my head. "We aren't, but Adrianne said it would be polite. Besides, I could use some more normal humans in my life, no offense to the supes in the car."

"None taken. Couldn't agree more," Warren said as he changed lanes.

"Speaking of normal humans, have you heard how the detective is fairing during his training?" Dad asked.

My heart sank into my stomach. "I got a letter from him a couple of weeks ago, but I haven't heard from him since. It's another thing on the list of current stressors in Sloan's world."

Dad bumped his shoulder gently against mine. "I'm sure he's fine. It's not like he's at summer camp, you know?"

"I know."

"When does Azrael come back?" he asked.

"Supposed to be next week," Warren said. "But we haven't talked to him recently either."

The mention of Nathan's name had made me sad and worried. The mention of Azrael's ticked me off. I folded my arms. "I think he's avoiding us so he doesn't have to come home in time to help us move."

"Smart man," Dad said.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, but there was no way I could bend around my belly in the tiny back seat to pull it out, so I waited till we reached the restaurant to check it. When we got out of the car, I ducked under the outdoor seating's black awning to read the screen. It was a missed call from Agent Silvers.

"Dad, you and Reuel go on in. I need to make a quick call." I showed the phone to Warren. "Silvers."

He crossed his arms. "Ooo, call her back."

The rain was too loud to put it on speaker, so I called her number and pressed the phone to my ear. She answered on the third ring. "Sloan?"

"Hi, sorry I missed you. What's up?" I asked, plugging my free ear with my finger.

"I got the call log from Melinda Harmon's phone," she said. "Most of the calls originated in New York, but the last call was placed from somewhere around Hertford, North Carolina."

I looked at Warren. "Hertford, North Carolina?"

"What about it?" Warren asked, his eyes narrowing.

"The map shows it near the coast," Agent Silvers said in my ear.

"She says that's where the last call on Melinda's phone record was made from. It's somewhere near the coast."

Warren's jaw was grinding. "I know exactly where Hertford is."

"You do? Where?"

"It's about ten miles east of Claymore."

"Shut up. Seriously?"

He nodded and leaned close to the phone. "Who did she call?"

I turned on the speaker and we both leaned close enough to hear.

"She dialed 911."

A chill ran through me, but it wasn't from the cool mountain air.

"I followed up with the emergency call center, but their records show no active conversation was taped. That means before she spoke to an operator, she hung up."

Warren looked at me. "Or someone hung up for her."

I swallowed hard.

"Anything else?" Warren asked.

"No. That's all I have. What are you thinking?" Silvers asked.

Warren looked up at the darkening sky. "I'm thinking we know where our missing friend is."

"And where our friend has been this whole freaking time," I added.

"Where's that?" she asked.

Warren and I answered her together. "Claymore."

We ordered our food to go and profusely apologized to my father for cutting the evening short. Then we drove home and did some more packing, this time in a suitcase rather than cardboard boxes. After realizing there was no way either of us would get any sleep that night, we decided to leave as soon as the bags were in the back of the Challenger. We got on the road by eight o'clock and Warren drove all night in the rain with my not-so-secret security detail following the whole way.

I prayed the entire trip across the state that we were wrong. For the first time since she disappeared, I prayed we wouldn't find Taiya. Not like this. Not at this price. But I knew she was there. It was the same feeling, the same certainty I'd had when I found the bond receipt for Rex Parker and Tito Juarez in Kasyade's home office in Texas. Azrael was behind this. I knew it in my soul.

The sky was only drizzling when we pulled up to the front gate at the Claymore compound at three in the morning. The hefty guard at the gate didn't look happy as he approached Warren's window. "We're closed, buddy, and this is private property."

"Call Damon and tell him Warren is here," Warren said, eyeing the metal gate like he was thinking of driving his beloved car right through it.

"I ain't callin' nobody," the man replied, shifting the utility belt around his massive midsection.

"Fine." Warren jerked the gear shift into park and flung his door open. "Have it your way."

"Uh-oh," I said to Reuel, who was watching as intently as I was.

The guard stepped out of his shack toward Warren. The name patch sewn onto his camouflaged chest pocket said V. Blankenship. "Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to get back in your car before I have you arrested for trespassing."

Warren didn't even look at him before slowly raising his arms toward the gate. All he did was open his fingers and the heavy steel door was blasted from its hinges, sent spinning through the air before it landed on top of a parked Humvee.

I gasped and covered my mouth as sirens blared all over the compound. Cool and collected, Warren got back into the driver's and waved to the stunned guard as he rolled by him. I squealed with excitement. "Oh my god, that was awesome!"

His stern face didn't break. "Don't be too happy. Shit's about to get ugly."

Warren obviously knew where he was going as the car spun up gravel on the loosely paved roads. I braced myself against the side wall to keep from being slung off my middle seat. Armed soldiers poured out of almost all the buildings we sped past.

I ducked my head in case bullets started flying. They didn't.

Warren took a sharp left to stop in front of a housing unit I recognized from the last time we were there, and rocks sprayed the side of a black SUV in the parking lot. When he pushed his driver's side door open again, I heard Azrael swearing. "Damn it, Warren. What are you doing here?"

I got out after Reuel and stayed behind him in case there was violence.

Azrael was shirtless and bleary-eyed, something I'd never seen before. We must have woken him from sleeping, which rarely ever happened. Azrael's torso was heavily scarred from years of abuse, but it looked like it had been sculpted by God himself. I was glad we'd left Adrianne at home.

"Where is she?" Warren demanded.

Azrael put his hands up. "Where is who?"

Warren grabbed his father by the throat and backed him up against the wall. "Don't feed me that bullshit, Az."

Around us, a few of Azrael's men closed in. One of them, I recognized. It was Enzo, wearing tactical pants and a twisted t-shirt because he'd clearly dressed in a hurry. Azrael halted their advance with a hand signal. He looked almost amused as he studied Warren's eyes like he was trying to decide if Warren was bluffing or holding a winning hand.

"Enzo," Azrael said. "Bring me the girl."

I almost passed out there in the driveway.

Enzo turned his ear toward his boss. "Excuse me, sir?"

"Bring Taiya to me." He was glaring at Warren. "My son wants to see her."

Something was off. Maybe it was how the word 'son' dripped off his tongue like a curse. Or maybe it was the ominous ridicule in his tone. Whatever it was in Azrael's voice… it twisted my insides into knots.

"Yes, sir," Enzo said. He took off in a jog toward a building a little farther down the road we'd torn up on our way in.

Azrael's eyes narrowed at Warren. "Now, take your hands off me before I take them off of you."

This time, Reuel took a protective stride in their direction. I couldn't see his face, but his good fist was clenched at his side, ready to swing—at Azrael, I hoped.

Warren withdrew his hand, leaving impressions of his fingers behind on Azrael's flushed skin.

"Where's Nathan?" I asked.

Azrael laughed with heavy sarcasm. "Imagine that." He cut his eyes at Warren. "Your wife is worried about Nathan McNamara."

"Where is he?" Warren asked.

"He's in training. Exactly where he's supposed to be!" Azrael's raised voice was terrifying. He pointed at another man who looked vaguely familiar. "Go get him."

I shrank back behind Reuel again.

The squeak from the door to our right caught my ear. It was accompanied by the desperately angry pleas of a woman with a sharp Brooklyn accent. I looked over in time to see Enzo step out into the moonlight with a body cradled in his arms. It was Taiya. Right behind him, Melinda Harmon pounded his shoulder. She was wearing nothing but a nightgown, not even shoes.

"She needs to be in the bed! What'ah ya' doin'?" Melinda was crying as she pulled on Enzo's arm.

His face was set. "I'm following orders, ma'am."

"Screw his ordahs! Take her back to her room! She can't be out here in this wet, freezin' cold!"

I sprinted across the lawn until I reached them. Taiya was even thinner than she had been before, if that was possible, and her pallid skin was translucent, showcasing her small veins and the bones of her tiny arms. She had a disconnected I.V. in her hand and a nasogastric tube taped up her nose.

"What did you do to her?" I cried out.

"I saved her pathetic, miserable life," Azrael hissed as he stalked toward us, followed by Warren and Reuel.

"Enzo, put her down. Gently," I said. He eased her onto the grass. Using my fingers, I pulled her left eyelid open. Her wide pupil tightened slightly against the light from the streetlamp. A good sign.

Melinda knelt beside me. Her hair was wild and her eyes bloodshot from being woken up. "Who are you?" she asked.

"I'm a friend of your daughter's," I said. "My name is Sloan."

Her head pulled back. "Sloan? The Sloan?"

I sighed. "Probably so." I looked up at where Azrael and Warren were now standing over me. "You lied to me, Azrael. You've lied to all of us for months!"

"I tried to get you to come here," he barked. "Remember those conversations that you wouldn’t have any part of?"

"But you didn't tell me she was here. Why didn't you bring her to me?" I asked.

"Because she's going to kill you!"

I blinked and sank back onto the ground.

Azrael put his hands on his hips and looked up at the stars. "The Destroyer told me at the camp that Taiya was programmed to kill you. That's not something to take lightly. I had to find her before you in order to keep you safe."

I touched her cold face. "Azrael, look at her. She couldn't kill a houseplant!"

He pointed at me. "And that's exactly what's going to get you killed. Any human too close to you is dangerous, and much more so one you underestimate as much as Taiya."

I picked up her limp arm and dropped it onto the grass. "Are you kidding me?"

"She's a robot, Sloan. Her whole life she's been brainwashed to do what they tell her to do. Don't forget who sent her in the first place. Do you think Ysha thought you were lonely and needed a new friend?"

Just then, Nathan came stumbling out the door of a large building across the yard in front of us. When he got closer, I saw his hair was standing straight up in the back, and he was rubbing his eyes. He wore black gym shorts and a zip-up gray hoodie with CLAYMORE WORLDWIDE embroidered across the front. He had one white tube sock and one white ankle sock with a pair of black flip-flops. "What the hell's going on out here?" he asked through a yawn. "Sloan? Warren? What are you guys doing here?" He noticed Taiya lying on the ground. "Holy shit…is that Taiya?"

I pressed the heels of my palms against my eyes as dots of information connected in my brain. "Oh my god. This is why you sent Nathan here! This is why you gave him this crazy job he's not qualified for, isn't it?"

Azrael didn't respond.

Warren looked at me. "Nathan's a liability because he's human."

"Yes, I've told you that for months!" Azrael shouted. He pointed at Nathan. "You didn't believe me even after he tried to kill you. I thought for sure that would teach you a lesson!"

"Teach me a lesson?" My mind was spinning on his words as I turned over onto my knees and pushed myself up. "You thought it would teach me a lesson?"

Images flashed through my mind. Nathan and I in my bed. His hands clenched around my throat. My killing power blasting into him. Warren's fists pounding Nathan's skull while Azrael sat by the campfire and laughed. The guilt I'd felt every day since…

Anger inside me was about to boil over. "How did I not see this before?"

"I know I'm half asleep right now, but what's she talking about?" Nathan asked, stepping over beside Warren.

My jaw was clenched as I slowly closed the space between Azrael and myself. "It was you. The night Nathan and I…in my room. The night I almost destroyed him!" I jammed my finger into the center of his chest. "It was you!"

Azrael took a few steps backward and put his hands up between. "Sloan, listen to me. Everything I've done, I've done to—"

"I'm going to kill you." I was shaking my head, trying to keep my sanity and failing. "I'm going to kill you!" I lunged for him, but with a loud crack, Azrael vanished into the night sky.