Shadow Bound Page 68

“The boyfriend she was trying to get rid of?”

“That was a lie—she was actually trying to keep him. And he wasn’t technically her boyfriend. But she used Kenni’s blood to tie him into a particularly nasty Love Knot.” A binding preventing him from committing to anyone else.

“Damn. So, how did Tower get involved?”

“The Tracker was working for Jake, looking for a new Binder. He hit the jackpot with Kenley.”

I wasn’t seeing the park anymore, in spite of the children racing past every now and then on their way from the playground to the riverbank. I could only see half-formed connections—threads that didn’t quite meet.

Kenley had bound Steven to something unknown, at some time in the past, but he didn’t recognize her name or her picture. But Kenley wasn’t the only one who’d used her blood to seal a binding. Was it possible…?

“Wait, how would that even work? It’s a Binder’s will that actually seals a binding, right? If Kenley didn’t know what her blood was being used for, how could her will be there?”

Kori shrugged. “Evidently by giving her roomie permission to use the blood, she was contributing her will to whatever the roommate decided to use it for.”

“That’s scary as hell,” I said, and my voice sounded hollow.

“No sh—” Kori cleared her throat and started over, but I was too distracted to find humor in her near miss. “No kidding. Which is why she’s not allowed to hand her blood out anymore.”

We walked half a mile or so as we talked, following the sidewalk around the playground, a set of basketball courts and large patches of grass beneath sprawling trees. All around us, kids played and joggers jogged, enjoying their weekend in one of few green patches within the city limits. But I hardly noticed any of it. I was thinking about my brother and his girlfriend, and the invisible ties connecting them to Kori’s sister, and me to her by extension. How long had those connections been there? How had Steven only breached this mysterious binding two weeks ago, if it had been in place for the past six years, if my hunch was right.

At the dock, a line had formed as people waited their turn for boat rides, and just past that, Kori led me to a quaint walking bridge spanning one branch of the river. My footsteps echoing on wood was what finally brought me out of my own head.

“Is this still the west side?” I asked as we reached the apex and she stopped to lean over the rail, staring out at the river flowing beneath us.

“Technically, this is nowhere. This is the space above the river, and no one owns the river.”

“Like standing with one foot on either side of a state border?” I asked as she leaned so far over I was afraid she’d fall in.

“More like standing on neither side. I like it here. There’s no ground beneath us, so it feels like this place doesn’t really exist. And if it doesn’t exist, then I don’t exist when I’m here. And if I don’t exist, no one can make me do…anything.”

“Do you come here a lot?” I asked when she showed no sign of wanting to move on.

“No. If I did, it wouldn’t be special.” And she needed this place to be special—this place, where she didn’t exist—and I felt privileged to not-exist there with her.

“So, if that’s the west side…” I said, pointing back the way we’d come. “Then that must be the east side. Is the hot dog stand on the east side? Are we allowed to go there?”

“Yes, because that’s the south side. Neutral territory. The east side is over there.” She pointed over the bridge and I saw the actual fork in the river, beyond where we stood, and the east side, on the opposite side of the thicker part of the river, before it branched.

Kori finally turned away from the water and we crossed the rest of the bridge slowly, side by side. “Neutral territory, huh? So it’s safe for everyone?”

“No one is safe. No place is safe. The south fork is only neutral because no one’s been able to take total control of it yet. Cavazos has a regular presence here, as does Jake. If either of them backed down, the other would claim the fork and have a larger territory. So really, it’s land in flux. The heart of the struggle. Not coincidentally, the south fork has the highest crime rates of any area of the city.”

“And the best hot dogs?”

She laughed. “And the best hot dogs. The stand is just over there.” She pointed, and I followed her gesture to find a wheeled vendor’s cart with a faded, striped awning and a line of customers stretching out beyond it.

We were almost to the cart when Kori stopped in the middle of the sidewalk. Her shoulders tensed and her fingers curled and uncurled at her sides. I started to ask what was wrong but before I could speak, a woman said her name.

“Hey, Kori.”

I looked up to find a man and a woman on the sidewalk in front of us, carefully spaced to block our path. We could have gone around them, of course, but their positions were more statement than true barrier. A command to stop. As was their identical stance, feet spread wide, as if they were expecting a fight. Jackets unbuttoned, for easy access to whatever weapons they were carrying.

The woman was unfamiliar, but I knew the man from Aaron’s research on the Tower syndicate. Cameron Caballero. The only man alive known to have gotten out of his contract with Tower before the term was up. Now he worked for Cavazos—a lateral move at best.

“Olivia,” Kori said. “I wondered when you’d show up.”

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