Wen whispered, “Does Tar know yet?” Hilo shook his head, looking stricken, and Wen felt the tears that had stopped threaten to start up again. Her brothers had always been two sides of one coin; nothing could come between them. How could Tar live without his older brother?
“Go home now,” Hilo said gently but firmly. “Take care of the kids.”
Wen seized her husband’s arm with an insistence that surprised him, that surprised even herself. “Tell me that you’ll find the people who did this.” Inside, she was toppling, the last of her composure disintegrating in a roaring, incoherent firestorm, yet her voice emerged as a quiet hiss. “No matter who or where they are, or how long it takes.
She searched his face and found what she needed, the black danger in his eyes, the shock and fear that had been there darkening into the promise of violence. Hilo put his hands on either side of her head and pressed his forehead to hers. “I swear it.”
CHAPTER 46
Unforgivable
Shae rushed home from the Financial District to discover that the Kaul estate had been turned into a fortress. Only immediate family members and Hilo’s most trusted Fists were being allowed in or out of the grounds. Judging by when he’d left the house, Maik Kehn had driven the Duchesse Priza straight to the park without stopping anywhere in between so the only explanation was that someone had gained access to the vehicle and planted a timed explosive on it while it was in the family garage. The cowardly attack had come from within.
Shae could barely comprehend the idea. All visitors to the estate were members of the clan or known affiliates. The culprits might still be on or near the grounds. The guards and estate staff were being individually questioned. The leaders of the tributary Stone Cup clan, who’d been meeting with Hilo earlier that day, were being rounded up, as were the representatives from the nonprofit group. A couple of Fingers had been dispatched to find Kyanla and bring her in; it was suspicious that the Abukei woman happened to be absent today of all days, though Shae could not imagine their longtime housekeeper having anything to do with so heinous an act.
Wen and the children were safely back in the main house, which had been thoroughly searched for any other source of danger. Shae was not sure if Kehn’s wife had been told of his death yet. It was not hard to deduce that the bomb had been meant for Hilo; everyone in the city knew that the monstrous white Duchesse was his car. Kehn had driven it out to pick up Wen and the kids at Hilo’s request; his own muscular black Victor MX Sport was in an automobile shop getting a new carburetor.
Shae’s working assumption was that Ayt Mada was behind the attack. Two years of supposed peace between the clans was no reason to believe that Ayt had set aside her long-standing goal to have Hilo killed. Shae was on the phone in the study, on a conference call with Woon and her key staff on Ship Street. News about the bombing was on television, and the Weather Man’s office was receiving anxious inquiries as to whether clan war was about to break out again. Shae did not have an answer, but she told her people to make it clear that no conclusions had been reached yet. She still had doubts. Ayt Mada whispered names in a considered and precise manner, sending assassins to do the work closely. A car bombing was an impersonal, covert, gutless, and thin-blooded act, likely to harm innocent bystanders and carelessly break aisho—it was not the Green Bone way.
Juen knocked on the study door and stepped inside. His jade aura was vibrating with urgency and agitation. As soon as Shae ended the call, the First Fist said, “Kaul-jen…” There was a strange woodenness in his voice. “A man just turned himself in at the gates. He claims to be responsible for the bombing.”
A horrible sick apprehension dropped into Shae’s stomach. With abrupt certainty, she knew she did not want to see what Juen would show her, yet she stood at once and followed the Fist out of the house to where half a dozen Green Bones were gathered on the driveway, surrounding a man kneeling on the ground. The familiarity of his aura assailed her before she saw him. Maro appeared unharmed, but his beige slacks were scuffed and his blue shirt rumpled. He was sitting back on his heels with his shoulders hunched, his gaze on the asphalt in front of him. The sight of him on his knees, guarded by men carrying moon blades, was so incongruous that disbelief overwhelmed Shae, dragged her steps to a halt and rooted her to the ground.
Maro saw her and began to climb to his feet. One of Juen’s men put a hand on his shoulder and shoved him back down roughly. Shae protested, “Let him stand up,” but Maro did not make another attempt to rise. He remained where he was and looked up at her with a desolate expression.