Something I Don't Know

26: immortals are kinda touchy people

There's eight of them total, ranging from ages around Jamie's to forty or fifty, max. As expected, they all in some way fit the demographic Anik specified—'more obviously human and something else,' I believe, was his sick way of putting it. There's the usual satyrs and centaurs, a girl that looks sort of like a tree that I suspect is some sort of nymph, this other middle-aged woman that's probably one of those fox thingamajigs—kitsune, that's the word—and finally, there's this dude around my age that looks and moves alarmingly like a cat.

River stops the box truck at the edge of an empty Walmart parking lot (it's not one of the fancy ones that stays open twenty-four seven) and opens up the truck's back doors. I rode up front with him, but the others stayed back with the captives-that-aren't-really-captives-anymore. Partially to calm them after the super sprint we all did to the getaway car. Mostly because there's only space for two people up front.

Now, we sit in a strange, deconstructed circle: some of us standing on the lot's pavement, others sitting on the ramp, others still sitting in the truck bed. It's a strange place to be this late at night, the more that I think about it. A Walmart parking lot, gathered around a tea truck. But then I figure that hell, it's Atlanta, and any place is a strange place if you spend enough time in it.

Midge, standing next to me, keeps frantically glancing around the parking lot, like she expects someone to jump out at any time. The pallid street light above us turns her hair to spun sugar and her eyes to pools of honey, and I am trying not to think too hard about that, but goddammit, every time I even risk a glance in her direction my mind travels to a different place for at least ten minutes. A good place, mind you. Just not the place it needs to be right now.

"Is this your brother?" It's one of the satyrs—his name is either Marcus or Mark or one of those M names—and the question's directed at Violet. Sort of at Jamie, too. But mostly at Violet.

"Yes," answers Violet, ruffling Jamie's hair. She's sitting at the edge of the truck bed, her legs dangling over it. Jamie's smushed up so close beside her that their shoulders overlap. Inseparable, those two. They're practically joined at the hip. "He and his friend"—she waves a hand towards me—"Grey found me and rescued me. As much as I was glad to be back, I couldn't leave everyone else there."

Marcus (I've decided it's Marcus) the satyr shudders. "It's an awful place, run by even more awful people," he says, then lifts his eyes to Safiya, Midge, River and me, who all stand in a ring near the open truck. "Thank you all for saving us. And about your uncle..."

Everyone's eyes swivel towards me. Even the strange cat guy's, which is unnerving.

"Screw my uncle," I say, though the slight tremble in my voice betrays me, and I notice Safiya exhale and look away. "I did him a favor, honestly. For all he's done, he should have died a worse death than that."

"Grey," says River, in a manner only River could pull off. Berating, warning, but at the same time so empathic that it hurts. I hate it. It's been a while, so I shouldn't hate it anymore, but I still can't get used to it: how he has me and seemingly everything else in the whole world figured out.

I heave a long exhale before anyone else can try to go all therapist on me, placing my hands on my hips. "I know you all want to go home to your families," I say, "and believe me, I understand if you just leave here now. But I would like...I would like to ask you something."

There's a low murmur of distress. The cat guy's licking his hand. I pretend that it's not grossing me out.

"Ask us what?" the nymph says, her voice mostly a whisper.

"Violet told me some of you have been working for Anik for years," I say, stepping forward a little, into the light. It's harsh enough that I have to squint a little, though I can still see the way all these guys are looking at me. It's surprise, I think. Surprise that out of all the people that got them out of that hellhole, it was a demon. I would like to say their surprise doesn't bother me, and maybe once, it wouldn't have. But little by little, it's starting to. "If there is something you know...something you know about Anik or what he's doing here or why—why he thinks the things he does are okay when they are certainly not, I need you to tell me. I need—I need you to help me."