9. Cheribelle #3
From the moment she’d revealed herself as a dryad, I’d known it was going to throw a wrench in things. God, I needed to spin a convincing story about why that didn’t matter.
This was the trouble with lying. Although I was good at it, one untruth begot another until eventually I had to keep track of a whole novella of alternative facts.
“She does,” I muttered. “It’s extremely weak and took me a second to get a read on, but it’s there.”
“Come on, all the legends say their minds and souls are different from ours, which is why they’re exempt from a lot of our own laws. Everyone knows you can’t read the thoughts of dryads, selkies, Leshy, and even dragons when they existed.”
He was making good points, sure, but they weren’t irrefutable.
In fact, I was sure I could normally bounce them off without so much as batting an eye.
But I was flustered. Between trying to juggle lies I’d told the many denizens of the bazaar, to the Whisper, and Paul himself, I was feeling more than a bit frayed around the edges.
“Look, I just know, okay?”
“I trust you, Cherry, I do. But have you considered you’re on edge because this is the only person I’ve seen you interact with that you can’t read instantly? Let’s go back in there. I’ll play the part of the chastised moneybag, and you charm her just like you do everyone.”
He… I…
Did we stay? Or did we turn tail and split like a banana?
She was the closest we’d gotten, and up until this point, I’d been arguing that we should try.
But something about the switch up between thinking she had no emotional energy signature to finding out that she did was making the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.
We were wasting time with someone who wasn’t the killer and wouldn’t give us information.
The longer we stayed in her clutches, the more at risk we were.
“Look,” Paul said, his voice gentle as he put his hands on my shoulders.
“I trust you, Cherry. You’ve already done so much for my family and saved my baby brother’s life.
If you’re too nervous because of her lack of psychic signature, let me take the helm on this.
I’m used to being blind to this stuff, so it’s not as jolting to me. ”
He smiled sweetly at me, and I wished I could paint a picture for Paul to show him how that foreboding malevolence was slowly seeping in, how the little streaks of amusement were beginning to shift to something sharper and craggier. Sometimes, seeing emotions like I had synesthesia was a huge boon.
And sometimes it sucked ass.
“I’m telling you, she’s not connected to the death of your brother. I’d be able to tell.”
“Respectfully, how? Dryads are immune to?—”
I had no idea what came over me. Maybe it was the exhaustion. Maybe it was the guilt. Maybe it was just my desperation to get out of there because I knew all the way down to the soles of my feet that this woman wasn’t connected to the assassination of Paul’s family.
Whatever the reason was, my mouth was moving and words were spilling out before I could stop them.
“It doesn’t matter that she’s a dryad because I’m a fucking empath, not a psychic! Whoever killed your brother had no emotional signature, and I can assure you, that woman has one!”
Oh.
Oh dear.
Did I really just say that?
I’m so stupid! You let the cat out of the bag.
Well, I guess the jig is up.
Does he hate me? He has to hate me.
Maybe we can get him to safety now, though?
Ruined it!
You ruined it!
God, you’re such a failure.
This is what I get for lying.
What does he think?
What does he think?
What does he think?
What does he think?
What does he think?
Does he hate me??? What does he think?
What does he think?
Ruined it! What does he think?
Liar! What does he think!? Liar! Liar! Liar!
What does he think?
What does he think?
What does he think?
What does he think?
What does he think?
What does he think?
WHAT DOES HE THINK?
What does he think?
I’ve messed up!
I watched in horror as Paul’s eyes widened in shock. His emotions poured out of him, nearly filling the entire room. There was no more brick wall now.
First came the disbelief. Then confusion. Then anger. Then doubt before it went right back to anger. He had every right to it, but I just wanted to get him to safety.
“Paul, look, I?—”
What could I possibly say to justify what I’d done? When I first told him I needed to see the crime scene, the whole thing had been rather abstract. And then, I’d gotten so caught up in the puzzle that I let the idea of solving it trump everything else.
In the end, though, I didn’t get the chance to think of any feeble excuse, because someone cleared their throat behind us. We both turned to see possibly just about the worst person it could be.
I guess there’s a reason why she’s called the Whisper. She can even sneak up on a wolf shifter.
“Hey,” I said, dragging the word out. God, my voice sounded strained even to myself. “Just how long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough to know you lied to me.”
“Yeah, I was afraid of that.”
Now the cat’s really out of the bag!
I didn’t waste a single second. I grabbed Paul’s wrist and dashed toward the closest window. It was a little higher up than I could leap and still carry the momentum to actually break it, but thankfully, Paul caught on right as I was about to launch myself up toward it.
He really was a perceptive fellow. It was a shame that I’d totally destroyed his trust in me, because I liked to think we’d make a great duo.
He hit first, glass shattering around us.
I crossed my arms over my head as I followed him.
Between the gymnastic lessons I’d taken as a preteen and the skateboarding, I knew how to take a proper fall.
Tucking myself in toward my center, I pitched forward into a roll, coming up in the middle of the street, where even more eyes turned on us at our rather dramatic entrance.
“Oh boy.”
Well, it looked like it was time for a real chase, which was a lot less fun and a whole lot more daunting in real life. Funny how that worked.
A loud bang had me nearly jumping out of my skin, and I whirled to see the rotted door being kicked off its hinges and flying into the street. The dozen or so men who had been sitting in the throne area had somehow doubled in number, and all of them were spilling onto the street.
“Run, Cherry!” Paul cried before exploding out of his own skin.
I’d seen shifter transformation in a couple of documentaries, but that was nothing compared to seeing it in person.
One moment Paul was standing in front of me, a dashing man in his tank and tactical pants, the next it was like he split at the head, and a massive wolf tore its way out of what had once been.
He was huge. Truly huge . His head alone was the size of my torso, his thick, black fur bristling as he leapt at our closest pursuer, tackling the man to the ground. Howls sounded from within the building, and I figured Paul wasn’t the only shifter around. That didn’t exactly bode well for us.
“Excellent idea!” I blurted as I took off at full speed.
Although there was no way I was going to leave a man behind, I also knew that Paul would be able to fight much more effectively as his wolf self if I wasn’t in the way.
So, for once, I was going to do the practical, reasonable thing, and get to safety.
I raced for the beer garden, figuring I could either find a weapon or some cover.
“Hey, up here!”
Looking up, I saw the cross-stitch honeypot lying on the canvas canopy, her belly pressed into the dense fabric. “Take my hand!”
I wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth, so I ran up the pile of barrels at the edge of the beer garden and grabbed her hand. Oh boy, I hoped she was stronger than she looked so she could pull me up.
Sure enough, she was able to get me up, and I scrambled to my feet as soon as I could. I glanced over the edge. Paul was surrounded by a good number of our followers, biting, kicking, and otherwise being a true warrior while the rest were barreling toward me.
“This way,” the honeypot said, taking off across the canvas—an impressive feat, considering how it moved and bucked with each footstep.
I followed her, but then my mind caught up, and I skidded to a stop.
“What’s wrong?” she asked when she reached a particularly thick vine that I realized she meant to shimmy up.
“I can’t leave my friend.”
I really couldn’t, not after my lies had gotten him into the whole situation.
It’s all your fault!
Not now, brain! Trying to fix things!
“Are you crazy? He’s a wolf. You’re just a human!”
“Not a human, but I can’t just leave him.”
“Your nobility is gonna get you killed.”
“Maybe, but it is what it is.”
The woman groaned and reached into her crafting bag, but what she pulled out wasn’t a crafting tool.
“Here, if you’re gonna be an idiot, use this.” She tossed the thing to me, and it wasn’t until I caught it that I could tell it was a covert taser.
“Why are you helping me?” I asked, sparing precious seconds because it really didn’t make that much sense.
“Ain’t many cross-stitching enthusiasts in this line of work. Besides, don’t really wanna lose my first follower.”
“Fair enough. I’ll DM you if I survive.”
“See that you do.”
With that, she shimmied up the vine. I looked back at the battle below.
Time to test my mettle.