The Rising by Kelley Armstrong Page B

Threats. Blackmail. Whatever it takes. Get the Cabals to help us on our terms.”
    Ash looked me in the eye. “This stuff about the girl. Annie. You’ve met her?”
    â€œI have.”
    â€œCould she have been faking it? Maybe her and her brother set this up so you’d think you need a Cabal’s help?”
    I shook my head. “It was real. She’s regressing, and it’s . . .” I swallowed. “I can’t imagine it.”
    â€œFine,” he said. “We’ll try it your way. It won’t work, but I can tell you’re not going to believe that until you’ve given it a shot.”

TEN

    A SH DIDN’T GET A whole lot more pleasant after that. He insisted he’d come to rescue me, but acted like I’d found him—against his will—and now I was clinging like a burr, tenacious and irritating.
    When we finished eating, he wanted to find a spot to hole up for the night.
    â€œWe need to stake out a good place now,” he said. “Before it’s dark. Otherwise, all the good spots will be taken.”
    â€œWe found one the night before last,” I said. “We can just go back—”
    â€œNever use the same spot twice. Not when you’re running.”
    He seemed to have some experience with this. A lot of experience? I looked down at his tattered sneakers. I had a feeling he didn’t live with those “so-called friends” of our mother anymore.
    â€œSo where do street people live in this city?” he said. He shook his head. “Why am I asking you? Hell, this is Canada. The great socialist nation to the north. You guys don’t even have homeless people, I bet.”
    â€œWe have them, unfortunately,” I said as calmly as I could.
    â€œGuess socialism isn’t really working out for you, huh?”
    â€œCanada is a democracy. That means we’re not a socialist country or a communist country or a—”
    â€œWe have homelessness and we have gangs,” Daniel cut in. “Both of which could be an issue in finding a place to spend the night. You’re right, though. We have no idea where to look for a spot. We’re going to need to rely on you for that.”
    I cleared my throat. “Actually, there are a few dozen homeless living here in the park. Long-term campers deep in the woods. When Vancouver had that big windstorm in 2006, they had to go looking for the homeless people, make sure they were all accounted for. Dad came over to help with some other rangers.”
    â€œMake sure they were accounted for?” Ash said. “What? They keep a roster, check in on them from time to time?”
    â€œThe park management knows they’re there. They aren’t hurting anyone, so no one bothers them.”
    Ash shook his head as if this, too, was clearly the sign of a backward nation.
    I said, “As long as we get deep enough in the woods and don’t bother them, we can stay here for the night.”
    And I’d really like to stay in the forest, if I can . But I didn’t say that. I had a feeling it would make him decide to stay anyplace but here.
    â€œWe should,” Daniel said. “It makes sense. We’re not going to need to worry about gangs in here.”
    â€œAll right,” Ash said. “Find a spot.”
    As we headed into the woods, Ash just followed along, glancing from side to side, as if he expected wolves to leap out.
    Earlier, he’d seemed perfectly comfortable climbing trees. Adept at it. And as long as we’d kept to the edge of the forest, he’d been fine. But Stanley Park is bigger than New York’s Central Park. As we got in deeper, leaving the sounds of the city behind, he grew even more tense and quiet.
    â€œYou okay?” I said when he jumped at a sparrow hopping through a bed of needles.
    â€œâ€™Course,” he snapped. “Just paying attention. Someone has to.”
    Corey nodded. “You never