“So what do you want to listen too?” he asked.
“I want to hear you,” she said biting her lip.
Johnny’s mouth dropped open and then snapped shut, he took the book of CDs from her and flipped through with a concentration she hadn’t seen from him before. Finally, he chose a CD and went about putting it in. He turned back to her and a drumbeat followed by a smooth saxophone enveloped him. Zoe laughed.
“Wham?” she asked with a mocking grin.
“Wham!” He said with vim and vigor and fell into the chorus of Careless Whisper with an off-key voice. Her mockery bounced right off his rendition of the song. His hips swung to the beat. He even pantomimed holding a microphone.
Johnny offered her a hand and Zoe took it coming to her feet. She danced along to the song. He lifted their arms and she spun and spun, finally falling into his embrace. Pressed to his chest, she stared up into his face and the rest of the world fell away. He was warm to the touch. All of her doubts melted in the moment and all she could see was his goofy grin.
He was nervous, and it had a sweetness she drank in greedily. Zoe pushed up on her tiptoes and licked her lips invitingly. She crossed that ocean and it was an easier trip than she ever thought it would be. He touched her hair. His hand traveled over its silky shine. Zoe moved even closer wondering what his kiss would taste like.
***
Conner stepped into the threshold. He had two choices. Two paths this moment could play out on. He wanted Johnny to be happy. He was his brother and he loved him. Selfish desire was a heavy emotion too. Powerful and cruel, it had an agenda of its own and Conner was lost in its dark need.
Zoe was the key to getting Johnny to do all the little things he asked. He had to keep john dangling. Manipulating the outcomes he wanted took work and careful pruning. It’s a wonder Conner ever had time for anything for himself.
He moved a little closer hanging from one hand on the archway. “Hey John, Abel could use a hand.”
Johnny broke eye contact with Zoe and shot his little brother a scathing look. Talk about sucky timing. Conner spread his hands out in front of him in answer. Jonny breathed in deep and leaned in to press his kiss to Zoe’s cheek.
His face grazed hers, brushing across her nose, her chin. “You really are kind of amazing,” Johnny whispered. His lips were so close to her ear she could feel them moving and it sent a pleasant shiver up her spine.
She considered kissing him anyway, but he moved away too quickly. Johnny left her fingertips stinging. The brothers Merrick both left the room and she flopped down on the couch considering what happened. Corey Hart serenaded her. It left her smiling and that wasn’t nothing.
26
Chapter
“What are you doing?’ Connor asked. His frustration showing through the neutral expression he worked so hard to maintain.
“I like her,” Johnny admitted.
A crush developed the night he saw her. It grew as he stalked her for information on Isaak. And those feelings halted his hand the night she turned. He wasn’t proud of it, but he couldn’t deny it either.
“John, saving this girl is a pipe dream. Tell me you know that.”
“What if it’s not? Her sister thinks…”
Connor interrupted him. “What magic?”
Johnny narrowed his eyes. “She sure kicked your ass with it.”
“You guys going to help me or what?” Abel’s voice echoed from the barn.
Johnny pushed past his little brother slamming into his shoulder as he went. Conner took an extra second to get his frustration under control before he turned and followed him inside. The crate was bigger than he’d seen in a long time.
“How many?” Conner asked.
“Forty-six,” Abel grinned.
Johnny didn’t share in the surprised glee that had hold of his brothers. People were creatures of habit and no one embodied that more than Stephan Worthington. Once you fell out of favor, you never found your way back.
“Who is the client?” Johnny asked. His brows knit together.
Abel knew that look. He frowned. “Don’t overthink it.”
“Somebody has got to,” Johnny answered.
“It’s some militia from up north. It’s fine.”
“Only the Irish ever needed an order like that. What is a militia going to do with that many AKs?”
“Does it matter?” Abel shook his head. “We’ve been living off scraps for years. We need this, little brother.”
Abel was right about that. They needed something. The guilt for being the reason they were bowing and scraping for any job of late being his fault screamed. But it wasn’t loud enough to drown out the suspicion this particular job hit him with.
“Why? Why would Worthington give a brand new client with a need this large to you, Abel? Think about it.”
Abel swallowed hard. John made a good point. “Maybe Nora’s still got some juice. Or hell, maybe you’re little white lie has done some good. Bringing in a pup to the fold is worth something. Pick one. But either way you slice this, we need the damned job. I’ve got a powerful need to eat and adding two more mouths doesn’t help that none.” He hung his head and sighed. “I got no choice but to jump on this.”
“Fine. Let me come with you then,” Johnny offered.
“You know I can’t.”
“When do we leave?” Conner asked.
“In the AM. Get some sleep I need you ready for anything,” Abel said to Conner but his gaze was all for Johnny.
Conner jogged out of the barn. Johnny waited until he was gone. Abel took a crowbar to the crate. They would be easier to transport in duffel bags.
“What did you call me out here for if you were just going to ignore me anyway?”
Abel huffed out a breath. “I didn’t call you out here.”
John swallowed the hurt of that. The betrayal of both his brothers stung. Conner knew he and Zoe were having a moment and broke it up for no damned reason. And Abel wasn’t even going to tell him.
“Something about this stinks and you know it,” Johnny growled. He turned on the heel of his foot and stomped out of the barn.
Abel huffed out a breath. Johnny wasn’t wrong. He’d been fooled once by Worthington’s goodwill and it got a lot of good men killed. But what choice did he have? Abel scrubbed a hand down his face and concentrated on the task at hand.
***
Johnny stomped up the stairs and rapped on the door with his knuckle. A few moments later, it cracked open and Izobel stared up at him with swimming blue eyes. Johnny had a few talents she’d noticed. Hiding his emotions was certainly not one of them.
“What is it?’
“Can I come in?”
Izobel pulled the door open in answer. The ceiling towered above them cutting in at odd angles. She’d hung herbs and flowers to dry from the A-frame rafters. The smell was a mix of the wild sweetness of rose petals and star anise edged by the silvery cool of moss and moldering leaves. The winding staircase led to the loft at the very top of the tower. The windows up there spilled over with the gray light of a stormy day. A Chaise dominated the room. A wingback chair of tufted and creased leather sat across from it. He sank into it. Izobel shut the door.
“My brother is a blind fool,” Johnny grumbled.
Izobel smirked. “It’s good to see I’m not the only one who thinks so.” Her mirth died away, murdered by the seriousness of his demeanor.
“Worthington is going to kill him.”
Izobel sat down on the chaise across from him drawing her leg up underneath her. “Worthington is head of the werewolves, right?”
“He’s been sick for years. But he refuses to give up his crown. It’s what started all this.”
“All this?” Izobel repeated. Neither she nor Zoe had been read in on the scope of their situation.
“Isaak was next in line. Nora knew. She saw it before anyone else. Isaak had ideas that flew in the face of Kin society. Of tradition. Don’t get me wrong some of our traditions a
re just… they don’t work. But what he wanted. Let’s just say it was good Worthington kept him from it. It should have gone to Nora. Worthington refused to choose a successor than give it to a Folk.”
“Why is that a problem?” Izobel asked.
“He has dementia,” Johnny answered, throwing his hands into the air. “Nora kept his secret. She kept it through a war we had no business in! A war that lost the clan their honor.”
Izobel sat back assessing the information he gave her. “I take it honor is big among the furry kind?”
“It’s the only thing.”
“Fascinating a look into clan politics this is, I get the idea that you’re telling me all of this for a reason,” Izobel said.
“Abel and Conner are in danger and they need your help.”
She licked her lips and rolled the bottom one under. “Me?”
”You’re a badass. There haven’t been many people who could go toe to toe with Abel. Worthington sent them on a run tomorrow morning. It feels like a setup. There is no one else he can call for back up, and that’s my fault.”
“Because you failed the ritual.”
Johnny didn’t try to deny it. He just hung his head. “Abel gave up everything he had to keep me alive. He could have led this Clan. Now we’re stuck in this farmhouse. Barely scraping by. I can’t help him!”
The pain in his eyes melted the icy exterior Izobel kept between herself and the rest of the world. Johnny loved his brothers, that was evident. He was a good guy. She nodded.
“I’ll help.”
He sighed. Grateful, he smiled. Johnny stood and turned toward the door. She watched after him. He grasped the doorknob.
“Hey, Johnny.”
“Yeah?” he asked half turning back to her.
“You have my blessing,” Izobel said with a smile. “I think my baby sister could do a lot worse than you.”
That drew a smile across his face she hadn’t seen before. Bright and just a little prideful. He moved through the doorway and shut it behind him with a barely audible click. Izobel pursed her lips going over lists of what she would need for tomorrow. If Johnny was right, their adversaries would be werewolves. That changed her tactics a bit.
27
Chapter
Abel came through the threshold to find Izobel standing in front of the sink, a mug of tea in her hands. She didn’t bother turning to look at him. She gazed out at the Redwing Blackbirds instead.
“You’re up early,” he said moving toward the fridge.
“So are you.”
“Got things to do,” he said grabbing the milk carton.
He had it halfway open when she appeared in front of him with an empty cup. Izobel took it from him and poured a glass of milk. Her expression hard, she handed him the tumbler.
“This way I don’t have to kill you in your sleep.”
He smirked. Abel drank the milk down while she put the carton back in the fridge. He really did like her dresses. She had a thing for lace and silk he thoroughly approved of. This one was white. Yoke collared and short, it showed off her long shapely legs. She sure was a pretty Sparrow.
She turned in on him when he expected her to pull away. It caught him a little off guard. Izobel leaned in close. Her fingertips dragged down his stomach, his hip. Abel froze. His jaw dropped open with a pithy comment but her perfume, sweet and exotic choked his words. With a predatory smile, she pressed a kiss to his cheek that lingered. Something silken disappeared into his pocket, but Abel was so preoccupied with the kiss he didn’t notice it.
“Be careful out there,” Izobel’s whisper was sultry.
She turned and walked out of the room. Abel memorized the sway of her hips. The spell popped like an ephemeral bubble and he blinked wondering what the hell that was about. Conner entered through the threshold. Johnny’s council came flooding back to him. It wasn’t half as easy to brush away this morning.
Abel had no back up to rely on. He had none because Worthington pulled a stunt like this before and nearly got both his brothers killed. Abel would be sure that wouldn’t happen again. He packed extra heat, A Dessert Eagle with a magazine full of silver bullets at his hip. Another two in the shoulder holster he slipped into.
He had a bag full of guns loaded and prepped in the truck as well. He caught Conner’s eyes.
“You ready for this?”
Conner shrugged a shoulder. “Ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.”
Abel ruffled his hair, his hand slid down to curl around the back of Conner’s neck. “Shoot first. Make sure they die long before you.” He sucked in a deep breath rethinking everything. “Use everything the ancestors gave you.”
The look on Conner’s face had Abel rethinking bringing him. He wanted to say he had no choice. But that wasn’t exactly true. He just didn’t have any choices he liked. He huffed out a heavy breath. Abel found himself questioning yet again the steps that got him here.
Conner pulled the slide back on a Beretta 92FS and checked the safety before sliding it into the shoulder holster he wore. The Berretta fit his hand better. He slipped into a wool, navy, pea coat layered with an oversized hoodie beneath it. It covered his shoulder holster almost perfectly zipped.
Johnny watched from the shadows of the staircase. Useless. Trapped. He couldn’t help them. A split second rendered him an outcast. That loss of control melted away even the smallest glimmer of honor their family ever had. Two of the Merrick brothers walked toward the gate. The other hung his head in shame.
Izobel stepped up to him. She touched his shoulder. “We’ll keep them safe.”
Johnny sniffed. He swiveled his head to her. His eyes over bright, they shined with unshed tears. “It’s my fault.”
“People put far too much weight on past deeds. You’re trying to make it better. That’s what matters,” she said.
Johnny swallowed hard, his jaw bunching. “I’m ready.”
Johnny jogged out to the barn while Izobel made herself busy dragging the table out of the way. Salt, matches, a rock, Izobel gathered ingredients from the kitchen. Johnny came back through the front door his arms filled with sundries.
He found Izobel sitting cross-legged in the center of the kitchen floor. She was busy pouring a circle of salt around her. Johnny didn’t ask. It didn’t matter what she did, so long as she protected his brothers.
“How many do you think there will be?” Izobel asked.
“They won’t make the same mistake twice. I’d say six at least. Abel is one of the best soldiers the clan has. And he fights harder when his brother’s lives are at stake.”
Izobel smiled at that. She certainly respected the sentiment. Izobel nodded and adjusted her foci. “Werewolves. Do you have any silver?”
“What’s it for?” Johnny asked fingering the braided pendant he wore.
“With silver as a foci, I can weave it into my enchantments.”
She figured it was a long shot. But with a thoughtful frown, he jogged out of the room and returned a moment or two later. Johnny held up a full magazine and tossed it to her. She caught it and popped the first bullet. Her lips pulled downward, impressed. That would help immensely.
She spent a few hours this morning collecting things needed for this set of charms. Abel was quite the heavy sleeper. And frankly even harder to find a personal token for. His room was as bare-bones as hers was. She had to resort to the rose petal. A dangerous tool.
Izobel set an oak leaf at the northern point of her circle. A bullet was placed to the south. The rock she considered carefully before choosing the east. The rose had plenty of choices. It represented love, renewal, and hope, the most powerful of all her foci.
Battle magic was always tricky. It walked a razored edge between attack and defense. Too much one way or the other meant someone would die. Whatever this clan decided, Zoe was a part of this family now. This pack. Losing one of them would scar her in ways she didn’t know existed. Izobel wouldn’t let that happen.
Izobel lit a match. With a deep
breath that pushed at her bones. It occupied her thoughts. Centered her. She touched the flame to salt and kindled blue fire that ate its way around the circle and down each of the spiraling spokes. The conflagration devoured each of the foci. One by one, they went up in a plume of sparkling purple smoke.
Her chanting made no sense to Johnny. Her fingers moved quick as light in steepled center to bent knuckle and back again. He could feel the magic building. It started as a hum. Now it sparked against his fingertips. A thrum vibrated in the very depths of him. His beast took notice. It woke from a comfortable slumber to follow its call.
“Your hand, John.”
Her voice had a strangeness to it, as though three people were talking at the same moment. Not quite an echo, more like it repeated three different times in succinct succession. Johnny moved toward her careful not to disturb the circle. Izobel lifted a blade he hadn’t noticed and drew the tip across his palm. His skin separated, blood dark and shining welled within the cut.
“Into the flame,” Izobel directed.
He cocked a confused brow. She looked up at him with eyes that glowed in the gloom. Molten gold spilled into her irises. It swam and spun hypnotically. Izobel grabbed his wrist and guided it toward the blue fire. The first drop flowed over and the fire transformed into purple shadows. Izobel smiled. She sat up a little taller and breathed it in.
The purple smoke moved toward her visibly as she sucked it in. The sparkles and shadows danced and writhed filling her to bursting. She blinked those unearthly eyes and smiled. Johnny made a face full of confusion. He stumbled, catching himself on the wall.
“It takes a bit to get used to,” Izobel explained as she came to her feet.
Johnny shook his head. His vision was overlaid by hers. Everything before him was normal. What she saw was a golden film placed over it. Shining lines and shimmering shadows he could just make sense of.
“What? What is this?” Johnny asked touching his hand over his eyes and shaking his head.
“I need your expertise. You can’t leave so I linked us.”
“Linked us?” He gaped at her. It was sort of hard to tell admittedly, but he didn’t see her lips move. He heard her clear as a bell. But he was mostly sure she wasn’t using her mouth to talk to him.
Aching Silver (House of Wolves Book 1) Page 9
