Lies (Gone #3)(73)

THIRTY-ONE


9 HOURS, 17 MINUTES




ASTRID HAD WAITED all night for Sam to come back.

Waited all morning.

Smelling the stink of smoke.

From the office in town hall she saw the fire spread the length of Sherman, down the west side of Sheridan, down the single block of Grant Street, and two blocks of Pacific Boulevard.

It seemed certain to reach the plaza. But finally the fire’s march stalled.

Now the flames were mostly out, but a plume of smoke continued to rise.

Little Pete was asleep in the corner, curled into a ball with a ratty blanket thrown over him. His game player was on the floor beside him.

Astrid felt a towering wave of disgust. She was furious with Sam. Furious with Little Pete. Mad at the whole world around her. Sickened by everyone and everything.

And mostly, she admitted, sick of herself.

So desperately sick of being Astrid the Genius.

“Some genius,” she muttered. The town council, headed by that blond girl, what was her name? Oh right: Astrid. Astrid the Genius. Head of the town council that had let half the town burn to the ground.

Down in the basement of town hall Dahra Baidoo handed out scarce ibuprofen and expired Tylenol to kids with burns, like that would pretty much fix anything, as they waited for Lana to go one by one, healing with her touch.

Astrid could hear the cries of pain. There were several floors between her and the makeshift hospital. Not enough floors.

Edilio staggered in. He was barely recognizable. He was black with soot, dirty, dusty, with ragged scratches and scrapes and clothing hanging in shreds.

“I think we got it,” he said, and lay straight down on the floor.

Astrid knelt by his head. “You have it contained?”

But Edilio was beyond answering. He was unconscious. Done in.

Howard appeared next, in only slightly better shape. Some time during the night and morning he’d lost his smirk. He glanced at Edilio, nodded like it made perfect sense, and sank heavily into a chair.

“I don’t know what you pay that boy, but it’s not enough,” Howard said, jerking his chin at Edilio.

“He doesn’t do it for pay,” Astrid said.

“Yeah, well, he’s the reason the whole town didn’t burn. Him and Dekka and Orc and Jack. And Ellen, it was her idea.”

Astrid didn’t want to ask, but she couldn’t stop herself. “Sam?”

Howard shook his head. “Didn’t see him.”

Astrid found a jacket in the closet, probably still there from the real mayor. It was a loud plaid thing. She draped it over Edilio. She went to the conference room and came back with a chair cushion which she slipped under Edilio’s head.

“Was it Zil?” Astrid asked Howard.

Howard barked a laugh. “Of course it was Zil.”

Astrid clenched her hands into fists. Sam had demanded a free hand to go after Zil. He’d wanted to deal with Human Crew.

Astrid had stopped him.

And the town had burned.

And now the basement was full of hurt kids.

And the ones who were just hurt were the lucky ones.

Astrid twisted her hands into a knot, an anguished, prayerful gesture. She had a powerful urge to drop to her knees and demand some kind of explanation from God. Why? Why?

Her gaze fell on Little Pete, sitting quietly, playing his dead game.

“And that ain’t all of it,” Howard said. “You have some water?”

“I’ll get you some,” a voice said. Albert had entered the room unnoticed. He found the water jar and poured a glass for Howard, who drained it in one long swallow.

“Thanks. Thirsty work,” Howard said.

Albert took the seat Astrid had vacated. “What’s the rest of it?”

Howard sighed. “All night kids were coming by, right? Crazy stories. Man, I don’t know what’s true and what’s not.”

“Tell us some stories,” Albert urged quietly.

Edilio snored softly. Something about the sound made Astrid want to weep.

“Okay. Well, you’ve got kids saying they saw Satan. Seriously, devil horns and all. And others kept it a little more real, saying Caine, but skinny and crazy acting.”

“Caine?” Astrid’s eyes narrowed. “Caine? Here? In Perdido Beach? That’s crazy.”

Albert cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. “No. It’s not crazy. Quinn saw him, too. Up close. Caine stole the two emergency boats late last night or early this morning. Depending on how you see it.”

“What?” The shrill exclamation made Edilio stir.

“Yeah. No question it was Caine,” Albert said in a forced calm voice. “He came though while the fire was at its worst and everything was confused. Quinn and his people were just coming back in, wanting to help, and there was Caine and maybe a dozen kids with him.”

As Albert laid out the details Astrid grew cold inside. Not a coincidence. It couldn’t be a coincidence. It was planned. Somehow in the back of her mind she had pictured Zil just losing it, acting out, maybe losing control of a situation that got out of hand. But that wasn’t it. Not if Caine was involved. Caine didn’t lose it. Caine planned.

“Zil and Caine?” Astrid said, feeling stupid even thinking it.

“Zil’s whole thing is hating freaks,” Howard said. “And Caine? Let’s face it: he’s kind of the Prince of Wales of freaks.”