Part III
The End of Their World
Chapter 20 — Consequences
The first thing to hit her was the smell of charred flesh and burned hair.
Rachel's heart sank as she emerged into the clearing. She'd sent Natalie ahead with desperate instructions to stop the fires before they spread, and—if she could manage it—to make everyone see her doing it. She'd hoped that would be enough to dissuade them from attacking. If they were quick enough, Rachel hoped she could stop the melee before any real damage was done.
Seeing the desiccated Paul Wilson on the ground, the burned townspeople, Morton bleeding out on the grass behind a formation of grey cloaks—Rachel felt sick to her stomach.
She'd arrived too late.
Rachel spoke in a low voice, though there was no one visible near her. The closest was Natalie, but she was already halfway across the clearing and the girl's focus was locked on the flames, ignoring everything else. Rachel's words weren't for her.
"You could have stopped this."
"If I did, he'd be attacking everyone," Beverly replied coldly.
She was invisible somewhere nearby, and Rachel could only find her if she focused very hard and watched the barest traces of grass being flattened or leaves brushing as she passed. If anyone started to move too close to her, she instantly teleported to another spot nearby, where she had enough room to keep moving freely. Rachel wondered why she didn't simply teleport everywhere, since it seemed to take her almost no effort, but Rachel doubted she'd ever really understand these people who were so far beyond what any normal awakened could accomplish.
Rachel didn't have time to argue with her. She strode out of the forest, very conscious of how alone she was. She didn't expect Beverly to lift a finger if she were attacked, and Natalie wasn't exactly on the best of terms with her either. She felt quite defenseless as she approached the crowd, a throng of angry men and women facing down a group of seven robed figures and another she couldn't quite make out. The fires were dying out from Natalie's efforts, so the light was reduced to only the pale moonlight and the faint licks of silver flame coming from a knife in Cinza's fist.
She ignored them both and walked straight down the middle. It was a no-man's-land where only Paul Wilson's body lay, next to the one man brave enough to step forward and check on him. To her surprise, it was John Bell, the bouncer and barman from the Kettle and Bones and grandson to Mabel Walsh.
As she crouched next to him, she whispered low enough so only they could hear, "What are you doing here?"
"Making sure things don't get out of hand," he murmured, his fingers to Paul's neck.
She wanted to laugh. She felt a bitter helplessness at his words. Things could hardly be more out of hand. Paul's skin looked impossibly dry and pale.
At her questioning look, he frowned. "There's nothing, but I don't want to say that loud yet. Not until we're sure we can get them to back down."
"Any ideas?" she asked, painfully aware the clock was ticking. They could only stall for so long.
"I think whatever you're doing is working," he answered, glancing briefly over his shoulder. "No one's moving yet."
"If we tell them he's dead, won't that start everything up again?"
"Maybe. I don't know. I'm just a bartender," he replied. "Can your invisible friend there bring him back to life?"
Rachel was surprised—but then, he was the grandson of Mabel Walsh. She should have assumed he had some of Mabel's tricks for finding out secrets right under his nose.
"No," answered a whisper at her side.
"Then I guess we're screwed," John muttered.
"If they try to approach, can you stop them?" Rachel asked to the thin air.
"Yes, but I won't. I'm not getting involved here."
"But—"
"I'm helping you with Omega. I never agreed to fight the whole town for you."
Rachel sighed. She was still learning the bounds of their relationship. She decided not to press the issue yet. She didn't want to waste her leverage already, when they might have much more important battles to come. There had to be another way out of this clearing.
She needed to sway the collective rage. Cinza was a target of convenience. She and her followers were picked simply because they happened to be vaguely connected to the latest death, as well as their fashion taste and Cinza's own personal affectations. There was no real evidence or witnesses to the actual crimes for which they were accused. However, there was another crime present, and one which she'd been slowly processing in the back of her mind over the last few days.
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She knew the identity of Omega's lieutenant, Brian Hendricks. More importantly, she knew that he wasn't exactly a loner in the town. He had friends. There were a few others who had taken note of his disappearance, beyond just the pair of staff at his apartments and his daughter.
One of those few had been Robert Harrison, the very instigator of the riot that had brought them to that clearing. Robert Harrison, who had been heavily involved in every meeting since the emergence. Robert, who was constantly on the warpath about the murders and angrily declaring Rachel and Rowan both of being too lax and slow at investigating.
Robert, who had somehow known about the murders a week before anyone else including the sheriff, and had told Julian Black about them for an attempt to destabilize the Council.
"John, can you tell when someone is lying, like your grandmother?"
He nodded.
"I'm going to make a move now. Will you back me up, since you're still one of them?"
John been on the side of the mob, but Rachel assumed he'd never actually made any violent actions. He was too calm and reserved to get caught up in the mindless fury of a riot. If he supported any move she made, she would have more credibility with the mundane half of the gathering.
He gave her another small nod. Natalie had finished cleaning up the fires, and the crowd was split between watching her and watching Rachel. She took that as her cue.
Rachel stood. She was still the tallest in the entire crowd, so even several at the back could see her clearly. Uncomfortably aware of every single eye in the clearing following her every move, she called out, "Robert Harrison!"
Heads turned to face him, like spectators at a tennis court. He spat out a red gob of blood and cleared his throat before shouting in return. "What do you want?"
"On what grounds have you attacked these people tonight?"
He started to approach, limping slightly. His leg was bruised and burned, and patches of his clothes had been singed away by fire. "They murdered my friend, our reverend, in cold blood and left him to die in the woods. You should know, you saw it too!"
"I saw his body, but I didn't see a murder. Neither did you. You got there after me."
"We all know who did it," Robert growled, and the crowd murmured its assent. "He said he was going out to meet them, and we know how people like her treat goodly men of God."
He was playing right into her hands. Rachel's strategy was simple—catch Robert in as many easy lies as possible to add plausibility to the biggest, most important lie of them all. "Do you even go to church?"
"We ain't got a church, but I'm still religious."
"You aren't," John replied in a loud, clear voice. He got to his feet, but stood noticeably away from Rachel. Good, making it seem like two voices. "You've been in my bar more than a few times shouting about how stupid you think the whole concept is."
Robert shook his head. "That doesn't mean I can't stand up for them that do."
"But you've attacked a group that did no wrong, and was even planning to meet with the reverend to build bridges," Rachel said.
"You played the crusader with no God at your back and ended up the fool," Cinza added, turning heads yet again. Rachel wished she'd stayed quiet, but her speech seemed to affect the crowd. In the heightened emotions of the moment, her words and her echoing voice drifting through the people held power. "You laid out bear traps in the forest for us to fall prey as we fled."
The crowd was getting restless. That level of cruelty was a step too far for them. Bear traps were anathema. Most hunters considered them too cruel. Robert raised his own voice to try and compensate.
"You've got no evidence that they didn't do it," Robert said, but everyone knew that was the argument of the losing side. Rachel was all too happy to tear it to pieces.
"I think we can all agree on innocence until proven guilty," she countered.
Rachel shifted her vision for just a moment. She watched the connections between the mob and their instigator fray. With the right word, Rachel could break them apart completely. She prepared for her final flourish. Despite all the pain and despair hanging over them all, she felt some satisfaction at being finally able to bring Robert down.
"And you are guilty in more ways than one, Robert."
"What are you talking about?"
"At the town hall where we first revealed ourselves, you were the one with details on the murders, right?"
"Yeah, no shit. What's that got to do with this?"
"You knew details about the bodies we never released, and shouted them in front of the entire town."
"Because I found them myself while I was out hunting. We already covered this."
"He's lying," John interjected, and Rachel felt another twinge of gratification.
"You're lying, Robert. You knew the bodies were there a full week before we did, as you said yourself at the town hall. Why didn't you report them?"
"Because—" Robert started, but she talked right over him. She was getting tired of his excuses, now that she knew for certain they were all false.
"Because you were told where to find them, weren't you?"
It was brief, but it was enough. A look of surprise flashed in his eyes. The crowd was hyperattentive in their adrenaline-fueled state, and they caught it. A murmur of discontent rolled through the air. Natalie's wolf growled. Suddenly, every head was turned toward Robert. He was a huge man, but before the combined weight of the crowd suddenly bearing down on his head, he suddenly seemed very small indeed.
Rachel continued. "You were told where they were, and all the important details, so that you could try and discredit us. So you could drive a wedge between the town and its awakened residents. You failed."
Robert started to back away, but the nearest man grabbed his arm roughly. He swung out with a hard punch, but the combined weight of the crowd had him quickly subdued. They were still angry. The fire might be sedated, but the embers could be blown back into a fresh inferno. Rachel hurried in, with Cinza and John at her side.
They wanted him alive, after all.
"Enough!" came a voice through a megaphone.
The crowd stopped once again. It was the mayor himself. Rowan Rhistler looked exhausted from his sprint through the town. Jackie was behind him, with Neffie and Gordon Merrill bringing up the rear.
"I've heard everything. Robert Harrison, you are under arrest for… I don't know, treason. Conspiracy to obstruct justice. Starting a goddamn riot. I don't fucking care what, just cuff the bastard, Jackie."
Jackie walked through the crowd utterly fearless. In seconds, she had dropped Robert to the ground and cuffed his hands behind his back. Rowan turned back to address the crowd.
"You've all done something terrible tonight. Remember that. Remember what you've done. Disperse and go home. There will be a meeting tomorrow morning to discuss what's to come."
The crowd began to dissolve. Men and women who had been whipped into a frenzy half an hour earlier were despondent and exhausted. Without their leadership, they were all just confused and terrified individuals. They filtered back through the trees, spreading out as they went, disappearing in total silence.