“Hello, Owen,” Samuel said, his mouth inches from the human’s ear.
“You broke my goddamn nose,” he cried, struggling to break free.
“Be happy it wasn’t your neck.” He ground the known member of the Knights of Humanity’s cheek into the rough brick.
“I’ll sue you and your blood-suckin’ queen, Walker.”
“I take it you’ve never heard of diplomatic immunity.” He flipped him around and flung the piece of shit against the wall—hard.
“Fuck you.” Owen’s words were muffled as he covered his nose, blood dripping through his cupped fingers.
Samuel promptly converted his nails and seized him by the shoulder. “Your manners need improvement.” His claws tore through fabric, triggering another round of curses. “Let’s start with an easy question. What were you doing hanging outside Rachel’s shop?”
“I wasn’t doin’ anything,” he replied, jutting his chin in a show of false bravado. “It’s a public place.”
“That it is, Owen. It’s also a lingerie store.” And owned by a young witch.
“It’s Ace…and maybe I got me a woman. Wanted to buy her somethin’ pretty. What do you care?”
“I don’t. But it’s Sunday, and Babydolls is closed.” Samuel flexed his embedded fingers, slicing through skin.
The human screeched.
“Let’s start again. Why are you here?”
He had no doubt the knights were responsible for the recent rash of crimes against Fae Touched businesses outside his direct protection, but he couldn’t prove it.
A Ferwyn-run BBQ joint in East Memphis had burned to the ground without a trace of usable evidence. But the rank and file knights weren’t smart enough to elude the Guard or the local police. They were getting help from someone. Someone with powerful connections. Or powerful magic.
Owen swiped at the blood and snot beneath his nose, smearing it over his cheek. “Freak.” His lips pinched, and he reared back to spit.
Samuel backhanded him. Owen’s head whipped to the side, dirty blond dreadlocks flying around his face. The saliva missed its intended target by a foot.
“Son of a bitch!”
“Actually,” Samuel said dangerously low, grabbing the knight’s grubby tee and twisting the torn cotton in his clawed fist. “Our mothers are she-wolves, not bitches. You have your species confused, or you’re deliberately trying to be insulting. Which do you think it is, lieutenant?”
“Rude,” Tucker said from his customary position at his Clan príoh’s side.
Samuel loomed, his canines slowly lengthening. “Any other derogatory remarks you’d like to make?”
The Untouched thug shook his head, and Samuel let go of his shirt, resisting the impulse to clean his palm on his pant leg.
Owen doubled over, spit out blood and a lone tooth. A stream of red-tinged drool dribbled to the pavement as he coughed and gagged. The acidic tang of fear was pouring from his stocky frame when he finally straightened, wiping his busted lips with shaking fingers.
Samuel dug beneath the scent of fresh blood and urine, unearthing the older, fainter notes of recent sex, marijuana, and the unmistakable smell of a witch’s casting. He went for Owen’s throat again, lifting him off his feet.
“Commander Walker,” a female member of the Guard called from the mouth of the narrow alley.
He waved the Anwyll forward, gaze never leaving the squirming man’s face. His pasty white skin turned reddish purple. “Find something, Cooke?”
“Yes, sir.” Her troubled expression flit to the wheezing human who was tearing at the clawed fingers cutting off his air supply.
“Lieutenant, take over.” Samuel released Owen abruptly.
Tucker advanced, jamming his forearm under the knight’s chin and pinning him to the building before his shoes touched the ground.
Guard Evelyn Cooke moved a safe distance away before speaking, her mouth set in a grim line. “I called Rachel. She gave us permission to enter the store and check things out. The wolves caught the strong smell of licorice.” The tall brunette kept her voice lowered. “It was a catalyst spell.”
“Not one of Rachel’s?”
“No, sir. It was incendiary. I diffused it. Although the incantation could have been used as a booster for any element in nature, fire seems the most logical assumption here.”
“Timetable? Your best guess.”
“The spell would have started dissipating twelve hours after being cast and been completely gone within twenty-four.”
“So, it’s feasible that the fire at Mina’s and George’s restaurant a few months ago could have been amplified by a magical accelerator, and we didn’t detect it?”
“That’s right, sir. Once the spell is sparked into activating,” she said, savagely tearing the rubber band from her shoulder-length hair and then rebinding the brown locks into a short ponytail, “it’d be gone faster than a hot knife through butter. There wouldn’t be a smidgen of magic left for us to discover.” Evelyn visibly paled. “Sumbitch. That means witches have been working with the Knights of Humanity for months.”
“It would explain a lot.” And confirm what Samuel had long suspected to be true.
The southern chapter of the knights had taken credit for the destruction of the pack’s running land, but that didn’t mean they threw the match. If there hadn’t been experienced witches on Guard patrol who were clever enough to utilize personal shielding spells to keep the bulk of the blaze from spreading, half the queen’s woodlands would have been lost due to the unnatural acceleration of the fire.
“But why would my kind help them?”
“Money? Power? Political influence?”
Witches were a multifaceted race. In the old language, Anwyll meant beloved, though few knew the translation. Humans were led to believe their magic was used predominately for personal health and public healing, casting protection wards for themselves or others, and prolonging a witch’s life. They were not known for the ability to cast deadly offensive and defensive spells; the misconception fed to the Untouched and the knowledge safeguarded as zealously today as when the race was first revealed during the Salem Witch Trials. The continued deception gave the Anwyll a freedom to move and observe among the general nonmagical populace that natural predators like the Ferwyn and Dádhe would never enjoy. Their unique insights were invaluable in helping the Nine maintain the fragile peace between the two species.
As a rule, witches were loyal to their Colony and the Fae Touched. But without magical means to enforce that fealty, rubbing elbows for centuries with humans was bound to blur the lines of loyalty. Or breed envy.
Proof that witches were contributing to the rise in bias-based crimes was piling up and made Samuel wonder if they were somehow connected to the attempted assault on the queen.
He looked up, squinting into the brightness of the mid-morning sun. The lingerie shop could have been set ablaze after sundown that night and the spell would still have enough juice to reduce the building to charred rubble before the Memphis Fire Department arrived. “I want two of the Guard assigned to keep an eye on Rachel’s place until the tech team can get surveillance cameras installed.”
“Will do, commander.” Evelyn left at a long-legged jog, rounding the corner to the storefront and the team members waiting for further instructions.
Samuel didn’t bother concealing his fury, striding to where his first lieutenant held a subdued Owen nailed against the wall. He clamped the man’s wounded shoulder, keeping his claws retracted but adding painful pressure. “I need you to give the knights a message. Tell the higher ups they should seriously rethink their choice of outsider associates.” Converting his nails again, he let them bite into the human’s abused flesh. “And if I see you within a block of another Fae Touched establishment…” Tucker held the screaming man immobile while Samuel leaned in close. “I’ll rip out your throat. That’s a promise, Ace.”
Tucker released him. Tears streamed down Owen’s swollen face.
> “You plant the tracker?” Samuel asked once the knight was out of sight.
“Yup.”
Owen was clearly there to ignite the traitorous witch’s spell which would have reduced Rachel’s shop to ash. If caught at the scene, he was expendable. The man was too low in the organization’s standings to know any of the crucial players, but he might lead them to someone who would.
“Complaint from Billy,” Tucker said, changing the subject abruptly as they walked to their black Escalade.
“Billy Thacker?” The middle-aged Anwyll was one of several full-time security guards who worked the late shift at the gate between the city and Mud Island.
“Yeah. Home alarms tripped. Scared his wife. Found blood on the porch.”
Samuel stopped at the driver’s side of the SUV, unlocked the doors with a click of his key fob, and started the engine by remote.
“Neighborhood kids pulling a prank?” He could hope. “Were their boys home?”
“College,” he said. “Mellie was alone. Cats are missing.”
Samuel frowned. He hadn’t lied when he told Faraday violence against the Untouched hadn’t risen. What he hadn’t admitted aloud was crimes against their community had escalated significantly in the last year, peaking with the recent arson attacks. Harassment of the Fae Touched by humans was at an all-time high, and though it could be bored teenagers in Billy’s case—he didn’t think so.
Billy and his family lived in a subdivision about forty minutes east of the city. It was the third or fourth time they’d had an incident since Mellie persuaded him to leave the protection of the local Anwyll Colony. His wife was human and didn’t see why she couldn’t live in a normal subdivision with her witch husband and children.
“Now that their sons are away at school, maybe they’ll take my offer to relocate to the island. Or I can talk to Grandmaster Lake, see whether there are any vacancies in High Point.”
“I’ll ask.”
“If Billy’s working tonight, send Hop to watch his place.” Samuel got in the car. “Tell him to bring a thermographic camera, and give him strict instructions not to engage unless Mellie’s in physical danger. I want to know whether it’s the knights or just some punks being jackasses.”
“On it.” Tucker glanced at the squad car coming.
“One of Rachel’s neighbors must have called in a complaint,” Samuel said, indicating the arriving MPD officers. “When you get to the complex, gather the team. We need new ideas on how to keep these Fae Touched businesses safer. Bring in the number crunchers too. I want to know how plausible it’d be to add surveillance, physical or technical, to the companies that can’t afford the increased security costs.” He removed the phone vibrating in the pocket of his cargos.
“Shit.” Samuel gums ached after reading the short message. “The ambassador’s complaining cop was let onto the island, and he’s looking for Abby. I’ve gotta go.”
“Then go.” Tucker grinned.
“What’re you smiling about?” Samuel asked, shaking out his prickling fingers before putting the vehicle into drive and gunning the engine impatiently.
“Nothin’.” The big shifter stared meaningfully at the rigid grip Samuel had on the steering wheel.
Samuel bared his teeth. “Do you have something to say, Lieutenant Tucker?”
“Not a thing.” There was a definite smirk in the lazy drawl. “I’ll deal with the police.”
“We don’t need anyone asking too many questions.”
“Nope.”
“I have to make sure this guy doesn’t cause us any trouble.” It was reasonable.
“Yup.”
“I made a promise to keep her safe. I’m only trying to do my job.”
“Absolutely,” he said, straight-faced.
Samuel glared at his beta.
Tucker stared back.
“Fuck it.” He took his foot off the brake and peeled into traffic.
Chapter 11
“Ladies don’t sweat…they glisten.”
Bridget MacCarthy
Abby ran down the long row of mats in the Harbor Complex’s gym, executing a series of back handsprings before landing onto her bare toes with a small bounce.
Her chest heaved, having gone through a strenuous routine of full-twists and tucks on the trampoline before the tumbling runs. It was the first real workout since the attack, and she’d pushed herself to the max to compensate for the prolonged downtime. Her legs shook with exertion.
Still panting, she tightened the drooping elastic band on her ponytail and retrieved her water bottle. She drank several swallows while yanking at the white tee over her sports bra, flapping the damp cotton to cool her overheated skin.
The complex’s fitness center looked like a converted warehouse. The cavernous space had cement block walls, high ceilings with crisscrossing steel girders, and exposed lighting. The latest in aerobic and weightlifting equipment lined one entire side of the large area while sparring mats, a boxing ring, rows of punching bags, and a competition-sized trampoline filled the rest of the generous square footage.
“Miss Barnes!”
Grabbing a towel to wipe the moisture from her neck, she turned and tossed the empty plastic bottle into the nearby recycling bin. The approaching man wore jeans slung low on trim hips, and a fitted polo shirt that stretched nicely over well-defined shoulders. Older than Abby, maybe late twenties or early thirties, the stranger had short, streaky blond hair and lightly tanned skin. As he got closer, she noted his eyes were a brilliant blue.
“Miss Barnes?” He stretched out his hand, and she took it, her Fae senses telling her he was an Untouched. “I’m Derek Cull.”
“I’m sorry, have we met?”
“Not officially.” A boyish smile lit his attractive face, making him startlingly handsome. “I was one of the responding officers at La Bella the night of the assassination attempt.” His eyes roamed her face, moved down her body and up again.
“Did you need to talk to me about what happened at La Bella? I’ve already given my statement to the police. If you were there, you know I was unconscious at the end and won’t be much help.” He wasn’t a particularly tall man, but without her usual high heels, she barely topped five feet and had to lift her chin to meet his eyes. “Shockingly, I can’t recall a thing after blacking out.”
“Yes, I know,” he said soberly, negating her attempt to make light of the incident. “That’s why I’m here. I wanted to be sure you were okay.” He released her hand with apparent reluctance.
“I’m fine. Thank you.”
“I would have been here sooner, but I had trouble obtaining a pass,” Derek said with another crooked grin.
“Really? It’s usually fairly easy to visit the island during the day.”
“Yeah, it was odd.” He seemed lost in thought before moving the conversation in a different direction. “I didn’t realize you were living here now.”
“It’s temporary.” Few humans resided on an Accord-granted property unless they were mated or married to a Fae Touched—employee or not. “Special requirement of the job.”
“You don’t sound very excited about hanging out on Blood Island,” he said, emphasizing the local vernacular and lifting his brows in an exaggerated show of disbelief.
“Mud Island is lovely,” she said good-naturedly. “But, it’s not my permanent home.”
“Any idea when you’ll be returning to the city?”
“No clue.” Her answer sounded wistful to her own ears.
“You sure you’re alright?” he asked, serious again. “Nobody is making you do anything you don’t want to?”
“What? No. I’m right where I need to be.”
“You’re absolutely sure?”
“Positive.” She held her breath, hoping there was enough truth in the lie to convince him.
Derek nodded after a moment and jammed his fingers into his front pockets, tilting onto his heels. “So, Abby…can I call you some time? Maybe this weekend we could grab din
ner and a movie?”
Surprised by the unexpected invitation, her mind went blank. She twisted the forgotten towel in her hands and stared at him, mouth slightly open.
Derek’s lips gradually curved up. “Damn, you’re cute. Didn’t see that one coming, did ya?” He pulled his hands from his jeans, his expression earnest. “I don’t see how any red-blooded, single man wouldn’t want the chance to get to know you better. I certainly do. Go out with me?”
“I…” Can’t leave the island.
How could she explain without giving herself away? Derek seemed nice. She could offer to meet him somewhere in Queenstown. But never mind the stupidity of someone with secrets hanging with a cop, she couldn’t overlook that when he smiled, she felt nothing. No flutters, no swooping. Nothing like when in the vicinity of a certain Ferwyn male.
Derek straightened, his focus abruptly diverting to a spot beyond her shoulder.
“She’s busy.”
Abby jumped at the unexpected sound of Samuel’s voice.
“I’m what?” Did he decline her date?
“Busy,” he said again, cupping her neck. Abby’s skin felt feverishly hot beneath his palm.
“I wasn’t asking you, Commander Walker.” Derek was rigid, his narrowed stare on Samuel’s possessive grip.
“The answer is still no.” His tone brooked no argument.
“I’m sorry,” she said, swallowing her embarrassment and anger. She was reminded again that the freedom granted in the complex was limited. But, how short was her leash? “It’s sweet of you to ask me, but the commander is right. The job with the queen takes up most of my time.”
“I see.” Derek squinted hard at Samuel. She thought the police officer really might understand, his expression softening as it returned to her. “Another time?”
“I’d love that,” she said beaming, ignoring Samuel’s unyielding hold.
Encouraged, Derek pulled a business card from his pocket. Abby accepted the thick paper containing his name, phone number, and email address, their fingers brushing fleetingly in the exchange.
The air turned tangy with the smell of crushed evergreens.
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