Tainted, Book One: Possessed

5. The Residue of Evil

Kerry

When I was better able to control myself, we moved on to what Hank called soft skills. I heard lectures on manners, managing my anger, and cutting the cussing outta my vocabulary.

Yeah, that was gonna take some time.

One day, he asked about my past, trying to be all pussyfoot about it, but I knew what he was really asking. I don't like remembering it, but I shared what I could because I hoped I could still get justice for my mom.

He said he'd make sure the information went to the right people and pointed out that, if the man I remembered was a neph, another warden might recognize the description, assuming he was still alive.

"You tell me, Hank." I met his eyes. "You tell me if you find that son of a whore."

"You know I wasn't your original warden, right?" He changed the subject quick. "If I were, I would have brought you straight here after your mother's death."

"What happened to my warden?"

"She died. I think it was a couple of months before you were possessed. For some reason, it took a few years for the Council to remember to replace her. As soon as you were assigned to me, I started trying to find you. That was no easy task."

"So how did you? Wasn't like I had a permanent address or anything."

He rolled up the cuff of his shirt sleeve to show a tattoo running around his wrist.

Oh. He was one of them. Explained a lot.

"I started out as a Huskarl at the New York City outpost," he confirmed. "It was much smaller back then. Everything was smaller in the 1800s, I suppose. Anyway, once a brother, always a brother, so I explained the situation to the current Drott (leader) and he tipped me off whenever he could."

"Yeah, I stayed away from them, so he probably didn't call you often."

I didn't bother to explain I'd made a sort of truce with the Drott. I didn't go into Hell's Kitchen and the Huskarls forgot my existence.

"You're right. I started looking through human records and found your foster home, but you'd run away long before I arrived. Your foster mom—"

"Mrs. Price?"

"Yes. She gave me a school picture of you, but had no suggestions on where you might have gone. I visited some of the local haunts and followed rumors and every little lead I could find or buy, but you weren't leaving much of a trail. Still, I nearly caught you twice."

"When?" I wanted to know, but also kinda didn't. "How?"

"Truth is, I was lucky. About two years ago, I was at a bar by the Lincoln Tunnel and ran into an alukah who'd paid you for two pints of AB negative just minutes before. He told me to try the nearest subway station. Sure enough, I saw you dive into the last car right before the train pulled out. I followed on the next one and got off at the first stop, but you must have gone on down the line."

"Did you go back to the bar?"

"On and off, but you didn't follow any routine, apparently, or at least not one I could figure out. Everything was random with you."

"It kept me alive." I shrugged. "No one could plan on me being somewhere. What about the second time?"

He shifted in his chair and looked away.

Not gonna be good. Brace yourself.

"About nine months ago, the werewolf king approached the Council about joining forces on a mission," he said.