Living with the Dead - By Kelley Armstrong Page 0,135
rubbed the goose bumps on her arms. In school, she’d read a reference to Jonestown, and—being fascinated by the macabre—had looked it up. She could still see the photographs, the halls and rooms of corpses, the children, all the dead children. She stared at those kumpania houses now and they didn’t look nearly as quaint.
Karl turned into the drive.
“I’ll get the gate,” Rhys said. “Before I do, though, I need to warn you again. As open and neutral as I try to make this meeting, we’re dealing with a lot of tension here and a lot of distrust. Hope, you have that gun I gave you?”
Hope nodded.
“Absolute last resort,” Rhys said. “The moment you pull that gun, you’ve shut down negotiations, and there are more of them—with many more guns. They’ll be on edge already, seeing me after all these years. A visit from the grave.”
“They thought you were dead?”
He nodded and opened the door.
“That could help,” Hope said. “A shock, yes, but a good shock.”
“I don’t think so.” He got out and leaned his head back in. “They’re the ones who tried to kill me.”
ADELE
Adele pulled the backpack from its hiding place in her bedroom, where she’d kept it packed since learning she was pregnant. She didn’t really believe Rhys was on his way. He wasn’t a fool. Maybe he would have come back someday, for his son, but Colm was dead and he’d never known about Thom. Rhys hadn’t been part of the kumpania long enough to be trusted with the secret of the seers.
She’d always suspected the kumpania was behind Rhys’s supposed death. Earlier, when she said she’d seen him, Niko had admitted it, saying she was old enough to know the truth, how they’d let this durjardo into their midst, given him one of their daughters, a job, a new life. Rhys had repaid them by trying to kidnap Adele and Colm and sell them to the Cabal. He was a monster, and they’d had to kill him.
All Adele remembered was Rhys coming to her late one night, Colm sleeping in his arms, telling her it was time. For weeks he’d promised to get her out and find her grandmama. It had been their secret.
Niko and the other men had caught him and hauled him before the phuri, while Colm and Adele were bundled back to bed. Then Rhys had been gone. The kumpania said he’d been exiled and, a few months later, died in a car accident—a fitting punishment from the gods.
Even when Adele had been old enough to suspect the kumpania had murdered Rhys, she’d cursed him. He’d promised her freedom and he’d failed. He was weak. He hadn’t been willing to take chances, to make the bold moves.
Maybe he had planned to sell them to a Cabal. It didn’t matter. Whatever happened thirteen years ago, Rhys would be a fool to return. Yet the phuri were convinced he was coming to see Neala now that their son was dead. Sentimental and silly. Why would you want to grieve with the wife who’d tried to kill you?
Unless . . .
If Rhys had escaped and the kumpania had been convinced he was dead, he couldn’t have done it alone. Who would have helped him, if not Neala?
She remembered how Neala had acted when told her husband might still be alive. She’d been quick to protest. Too quick.
Adele straightened, backpack dangling from her arm.
If Neala had rescued Rhys from a death sentence, that would be treason. Prove it, and Adele would be rid of her enemy. She wouldn’t need to run.
No, after what Adele had seen in Neala’s face, she knew the woman wouldn’t rest until Adele paid for Colm’s death. Threat of exposure for treason wouldn’t stop her. And now if Rhys was coming, if Neala told Rhys she thought Adele was responsible for Colm . . .
Time for Adele to settle her future as she should have done the moment she’d realized that killing Portia Kane hadn’t solved her problem. Get out, contact Irving Nast and finish the negotiations. Don’t let him know she was panicked. Use his greed to cut a fast deal.
The kumpania wouldn’t come after her right away. They’d be too busy grieving for Colm and worrying about Rhys. They’d presume, in her own grief, she’d run. By the time they started their search, she’d be safely with the Cabal.
She heard Hugh shout outside. A car door slammed. She raced to the window.
It was Rhys. Worse, he’d brought Robyn Peltier’s friends.