Wrong Side Of Dead by Kelly Meding

tent. He squats in front of me and holds out the banana. “Hungry?”
    “Famished. Thank you.” I start to peel the banana, more grateful than I can properly convey. The first bite is too sweet, too sticky, but I force it down anyway, glad it’s solid. It isn’t a milkshake. And it isn’t lemon.
    My stomach clenches and twirls at the memory of those awful protein smoothies, and I choke on the second bite. Spit it out. Phin takes the banana away and presses the bottle of water into my hand. I manage a few sips. Much more and I’ll probably vomit for real.
    “I’m sorry, Evy.”
    “Not your fault. You have no idea how much I want to be able to eat that.” Almost as much as I want a cold shower. I rinsed my hands before hiding in the tent of death, but my body is sticky with blood, sweat, and a layer of grime that looks like a second skin. If I look half as gross as I feel …
    “Perhaps something blander.”
    “Something tells me the kitchen isn’t taking orders.”
    His mouth quirks. “Once we leave, then. It shouldn’t be much longer.”
    “I have nowhere to go, Phin.” The words eject themselves before I can self-edit, and a pang of sadness sits heavily in my chest. It isn’t completely true—I still have the old apartment on Cottage Place. I just don’t want to go back there. And so far, no one has offered me an alternative. Or asked for my help.
    He frowns, eyebrows furrowing. “You assume Wyatt won’t ask you to accompany him?”
    “Well, he didn’t seem too keen on the idea the last time we talked.”
    “Wyatt is used to being in control, to making his own decisions. He’s now part of something over which he does not have complete control.”
    I snort, then sip more water. Still hot, still queasy, but definitely less likely to barf at any moment. “So who is in control? This Astrid chick?”
    “Please don’t call her ‘chick’ to her face. And yes, Astrid was the leader of the Assembly’s private security force. She helped clean up Belle’s mess last month. She also delivered punishment to Snow.”
    Impressive résumé. “Felia?”
    “Correct.”
    So eye color really does run in Clans, as every copper-eyed were I’ve met so far has been Felia. Phin shares bright blue eyes with Joseph, Aurora, and Ava—the last of his own Clan of birds-of-prey shifters. “How about the others?”
    “Marcus is Felia, as well. Leah is Ursia and Kyle is Cania.”
    “Leah is a bear?” I can’t help the brief bubble of laughter at the idea of the slight woman with multicolored hair shifting into a bear—grizzly, black, panda, or teddy. It seems too ridiculous.
    As if I have room to judge.
    “So how’d Wyatt get mixed up in the Assembly’s little task force?” I ask.
    “He was invited, same as I.”
    “By Astrid?”
    “Yes.”
    “So she decides who to let in?”
    “Mostly, but Marcus is her second, and his opinion carries a lot of weight.”
    Terrific
. “Any other humans?”
    Phin hesitates. “Not at present. Tybalt was considered, but his loyalty to Gina Kismet and her team made him too great a risk.”
    “Uh-huh.”
    “Please understand, Evy, this isn’t personal. The Assembly has long seen a need to protect itself and its Clans, and now we have the means and the outside support to do so.”
    “Outside support.”
    He presses his lips together, an indeterminate emotion passing across his face like a shadow. “I can’t promise anything except this: you will have somewhere to go. When you were—when you went with Thackery, the Assembly was … honored by your sacrifice.”
    “Phin—”
    “Please, Evy.” He takes my hand and squeezes it tight. “The other Elders saw a human Hunter trade herself for a Dreg whom she called a friend. Astrid was assigned to look for you. Wyatt was out of touch these past few days because he was in the mountains with her and Marcus, following a scent trail. Wyatt may have let you go, but he never gave up hope of punishing Thackery for taking you