The male shot across the lawn, down the street. Super-speed. Blue used his own, following, closing in. Around a corner. Over a parked car. Evading several fake trees.
They were going around the block, Blue realized. Heading back to Cooper’s. Guy planned to jump in his car, most likely, and grab a weapon or phone for backup—because there was no way the SUV could move faster than Blue.
Cooper’s house came into view.
Closer . . . Blue released a stream of power to trip the male, but he dodged it. Have to pick up speed—
A shovel came out of nowhere, smashing into the male’s chest. He ricocheted backward and landed on the street, air gushing from him in one mighty heave.
Evie dropped the shovel and withdrew a pyre-gun, aiming the barrel at the wheezing Arcadian. “All right, boys. Playtime is over.”
Gorgeous, wily woman. Blue had never been so happy to see her. “Where’d you get the shovel, boo-boo?”
Grinning proudly—and ignoring his choice of nicknames for once—she said, “I have all kinds of fun things in the trunk of each of my cars. Pray you never find out firsthand.”
Always prepared. Could she be any sexier?
Blue heaved his prize over his shoulder and stomped over to the SUV. There was no one inside. They closed in on Cooper’s house and didn’t bother ringing the bell, just burst inside.
A startled human sat in a chair in the living room, a bottle of whisky in hand. He was too drunk to care about the invaders.
“Stay,” Evie told him, marching forward.
He stayed. And waved.
Blue tossed the Arcadian face-first on the dark shag carpet. He slapped a hand over the otherworlder’s mouth, then ran a blade across the backs of his knees, silencing and hobbling him at the same time.
When the muffled screaming stopped, Blue turned him over and straightened, looking over his opponent. Bright lamplight revealed an otherworlder of average size. Meaning he was bigger than a human but far smaller than Blue. Typical Arcadian white hair and lavender eyes. Skin weathered from the harshness of the earth’s sun. Extensively armed. Blue removed each of the weapons.
“I’m going to ask questions, and you’re going to answer or you’re going to suffer,” Blue said, the seriousness of his tone making the guy shudder. “First up: Why were you sent to this house to see Mr. Cooper?”
“Message,” the Arcadian moaned.
Good. There would be no messing around. “Tell me.”
“Can’t.”
Or maybe there would. Blue raised his knife.
“I can’t tell—I have to show you!” the guy said in a rush.
“Then show me. Just don’t make any sudden moves or you’ll lose an appendage.”
Fat tears cascaded down the male’s cheeks as he slowly dug into his pocket and withdrew a small IDC. An identification card.
Blue took it and pressed the button in the center. Inches above it, the air flickered with tiny blue lights, and the Chinese symbol for revenge formed. The same symbol had been painted on the box holding John’s ribbons, as well as on the house walls of the seventeen people Star was suspected of abducting.
When Blue had first seen the symbol in the crime scene photos, he assumed it was either a mistake—too many people had gotten inked with symbols for constipation rather than, say, courage—or that it was meant to be deliberately misleading. What could Star have against all those people? People he wasn’t linked to in any other way.
“Why were you supposed to give this to Mr. Cooper?” Evie demanded, picking up where Blue had left off.
“I—I don’t know,” the otherworlder said. “I wasn’t told.”
“Have you ever had to deliver this type of message before?” Blue asked.
“Yes.”
“To whom?”
The male rattled off a list of names, all of the ones on the abduction list and several that were not. Interesting. Blue would have to check into the others and find out if the individuals were missing and just hadn’t been reported, or if something else had happened to them . . . or if nothing nefarious had happened at all.
“Mr. Cooper,” Evie said, her tone gentle now. She crouched in front of the homeowner. “Can you tell us what’s going on? Why Gregory Star would want revenge against you?”
That’s when the human began to sob. Great, heaving sobs, with tears and snot and slobber. He spoke, but his words were incoherent.
They’d get no answers from him anytime soon.
Evie met Blue’s gaze. “Let’s take him to Michael and get you to the stadium for your pregame workout or whatever it is you jocks do. Once Mr. Cooper has sobered up, he can be questioned further.”
Blue nodded, then turned his attention to the Arcadian. “Does Mr. Star have a Rakan hidden somewhere in his home?”
“N-no.”
“Are you lying to me?”
“No! I haven’t seen a Rakan, I swear.”
“Have you heard one?”
“No!”
Okay, then. Blue confiscated Evie’s pyre-gun and squeezed the trigger. A bright white light lanced to the man’s chest, burning through his heart in seconds. He was dead before he had time to panic or scream.
Blue had been ID’d as an agent. Maybe Star already knew, and didn’t care. Maybe he didn’t. No reason to take chances, and every reason not to—John could be used against him.
“You get Mr. Cooper to your father,” he said to Evie. “I’ll take care of the Arcadian.”
“What about your practice?”
“I’ll be on time, don’t worry.” Then: “You gonna come to the game tomorrow?” he asked, unable to help himself.
She closed the distance, took her gun, and peered up at him. “You want me to?”
He didn’t need to think about his answer. “Yeah.” He liked the thought of her eyes on him while he kicked ass all over the field.
The look in those dark, dark eyes softened. “Then I’ll be there.”
Sixteen
EVIE SAT IN THE owner’s box at Black Stadium. She had invited Tyson Star, to thank him for renting out the roof of the Star Light Hotel to her the following night, but he’d declined. What was it going to take to meet the guy?
Secretive cur!
To place a cherry on top of an E. coli–infested sundae, she hated football. So far, Blue had endured eight major body slams. He had to have a concussion, among ten thousand other injuries. The Strikers were clearly determined to bag and tag him like a mangy animal.