by Riley Storm
“Okay?” She wasn’t following.
“Look at how many lines of transactions there are,” Danielle pushed, pointing to the screen.
Haley frowned. “They don’t match up.” She started scanning the transactions. There were hundreds, but it didn’t take them long to find one that jumped out like a neon sign.
“Well, holy shit. That stupid idiot.” She glanced at the name on the file, jotting it down on her desk. “I’ll be back.”
She went to her private office and picked up the line, dialing Kaelyn’s number.
“Hello Haley. Do you have anything for me?’
She nodded. “I do. It was well hidden, but since we know what we’re looking for, we were able to spot it.”
There was silence on the other end as Kaelyn processed the information. Haley turned to look out the window at the landscape. The first snow was starting to drift down, and the orangish tint of the nearby lamps and streetlights was casting wild shadows all over the place as the late evening descended upon them. It was almost quitting time, but she suspected tonight would require overtime. Again.
Thankfully, she had no plans to cancel.
“I need to see it,” Kaelyn said at last, her voice heavy.
Haley couldn’t begin to understand the pain her client must be feeling. She was aware there had been massive shakeups lately. The sheer number of accounts she’d been told to close and fold into the main account told her that much. On top of that, however, to find out that one of her own had stolen from them? That had to cut deep.
She struggled to find words, to try and sooth Kaelyn, but couldn’t. She didn’t know what to say. Speaking her mind seemed like a bad idea, but Haley felt she had to do something. She couldn’t just act coldly neutral about the entire thing. She liked Kaelyn.
The woman was nice, if a little scary, especially with the massive bodyguards she always travelled with. The huge men were easy on the eyes, but in person exuded an air of lethality that always made her feel antsy. Haley wasn’t looking forward to them coming to her office again.
“I’ll have it ready for you when you arrive,” she said. “I’ll keep digging into it in the meantime, to see if there’s more we might have missed, anything prior to this.”
“No.”
Haley’s mind ground to a halt. “Pardon?”
“I need you to come to me. Today. To the Manor.”
Her throat scraped against itself as she tried to swallow, everything suddenly gone dry. “I’m sorry? Could you repeat that?”
“You must come to me. I cannot leave here for some hours yet. You must come to me as soon as you can.”
Haley inhaled, trying to pull herself together. “Um, okay. I can do that. I’ll, uh, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Thank you, Haley. I knew I could count on you.” The Queen hung up.
Haley sat down in her plush office chair, one of the few luxuries she’d allowed herself after taking over from Mr. Richards, her late boss and the founder of House Accounting.
“Shit.”
Ursidae Manor was the place of operations for High House Ursa, the office, home, and she was sure much more, for hundreds of its employees. That in itself was unusual, but not too weird.
It was also extremely tough to gain access. This would be her first time, and not only had she not been invited, she’d been ordered to go. There was no getting out of it. Into the heart of the beast, in a way. Haley had no idea what the hell she was going to see, but she was immediately terrified of the entire thing. The building was massive, she knew that from the costs spent on its upkeep.
Well, you’re going to find out all you could want to find out about it, and more, very soon.
She punched a button on her phone. “Danielle. I need you to put all that information onto a thumb drive and lay it out as simply as possible. I’m going to see Kaelyn, and don’t want to have to spend forever explaining things.”
“You’re seeing her? Where? Isn’t she going to come here…with her bodyguards?”
Haley laughed. “Not this time, sorry.”
“Darn. Okay, how long do I have?”
She thought about it for a moment. “Ten minutes. I don’t want to be late.”
“On it…where are you meeting her?”
“I’m not meeting her anywhere.” Haley took a deep breath. “I’m going to the manor.”
Danielle was quiet, which was unusual for the normally talkative woman. “Oh.”
“Yeah.” She hung up and stared at herself in the mirror on the side wall.
Thank goodness I just had all my dry cleaning done. At least I’ll look sharp.
Her stomach just curled into more knots.
3
Kincaid stood still, trying his best not to fidget as the Queen spoke. About him.
After being recalled to the Manor, he and Kvoss had taken a charter jet back the following morning. Two days later, he was still working to adjust to the time change and standing up while someone else spoke about him was not the best way to keep him awake. Even if she was saying nice things. Extremely nice things.
Although he and the Queen had never been at odds like he had been with her husband, the late King, Kincaid had expected that animosity to carry over. He’d been in Europe when a group of traitors had attempted to seize power via force, killing the King, his heir the Knight, the House’s best fighter known as the Champion, and others. Many of the title holders, those with positions of power within the House, had been killed.
The Queen was now beginning to replace them. Kincaid looked over at Kirell, the newly appointed Captain of the House, and an old friend. He exchanged tiny nods of support with the man, glad to see he had remained loyal. Too many others that Kincaid had thought his friends had turned on the House. They were all dead, as were others he’d called friends and who had stayed loyal.
It was a trying time for Ursa, but the bear shifters would recover, he was confident of that. House Canis would pay in time if they could ever prove the mangy werewolves had been behind the entire thing. Until then though, he vowed to do whatever was necessary to help put his House back in order. Until a few days ago, that had been keeping Europe stable and running smoothly.
My, how things can change in seventy-two short hours.
It hadn’t even been that long, and now Kincaid was standing in front of the remaining Title Holders, and all the other members of the House with any bit of power. Together they listened as the Queen made an impassioned speech, urging them to put aside the old traditions so that she could appoint him as a Title Holder.
The notion was enough to make him laugh. In fact, that was what he’d done when the Queen had spoken to him in private and told him she wanted him to fill the position of Hunter. The cold glare he’d received had stopped him quickly. Kaelyn had been serious about it.
“We need this, Kincaid,” she’d said, pacing back and forth in her private offices, while Kirell stood quietly in the background. “The House must have a Hunter.”
“They’ll never allow it,” he’d stated. “Tradition says that to be a Title Holder, one must have a mate. I am unmated. Always have been. I kind of like it that way.”
“I know,” his Queen had said. “But therein lies the difficulty. Without a Hunter, we will have no new source of mates. Unless we accidentally stumble across them, as did Kirell, then we will have empty positions for years to come. Decades. We can’t wait on fate to run its own course, Kincaid. I told Kirell this when I appointed him. The House must be made whole. It must be made strong, in time to face the coming dark.”
He’d laughed, told her that House Canis would never move outright against them. It would cost too much. What she’d said next had chilled his bones.
“The wolves are not of whom I speak,” Kaelyn had said quietly, her eyes dark, hooded.
Canis, not the enemy? The two great Houses had bickered and fought back and forth for decades now, ever since House Drakos had withdrawn from the world. Who else could be the enemy?
The Mage Council was weak, powerless, the strongest of their number hunted and killed by the shifters of all races.
That much, at least, they could agree upon.
Kaelyn hadn’t had an answer to his question, however, only stating that she could feel it within her bones. There was some magic in her bloodline, an ancestor who had been the Magi of House Ursa some centuries back. She attributed her feeling to that, but it gave her no further insight.
It was for that reason that he’d agreed to work with her, to stand for nomination to the position of Hunter. Kincaid had never wanted to be a Title Holder. In fact, he’d been more than content in Europe, away from the politics, away from this place. All the Houses, major and minor, had their seats of power in Plymouth Falls, which meant that politics and infighting were worst here. In Europe, all he’d had to worry about were rogue mages and the occasional shifter doing something stupid.
Hunter.
Not a position he’d ever thought about. They operated behind the scenes, mostly, holding little real power on the political field, and yet being coveted by all. Hunters were given the ability to see the strings that joined a mated pair together. They were given brief glimpses, hints, really, of how fate operated. All through the use of magic, something he detested.
You’d better get used to it. House Ursa needs mates, and if they proclaim you as Hunter, which it looks like they’re going to, then you’d better start hunting them up some mates.
That was his job. Help track down the mates of those who lacked them. Of course, he couldn’t just go searching, he had to wait for the magic he would be imbued with to show him the way, something over which he had no control.
Fucking magic.
“In closing,” the Queen said, grabbing his attention. “Let me reiterate that in all ways that matter, Kincaid is an excellent candidate. We must stand as one in these tough times. Having a Hunter in place once more will ensure the continued success of House Ursa for years to come. Although he is not mated, he has proven himself time and again to be strong enough, most recently in his takedown of the rogue mage Samuel Girard. Are there any that would challenge this nomination?”
Kincaid didn’t hold his breath. He fully expected there to be a challenger. Although the traitors had been defeated, there was still division within the ranks, and until the Queen could unite the various factions, someone would always speak up. Then he would engage in ritual combat—though he would still very much have to win—and the position would be his.
There was a rustle off to his left as a figure stepped forward. “I challenge that Kincaid is unfit to lead, that his strength is insufficient for the duties that will be required of him. I nominate myself.”
The Queen nodded. “Very well, Krawll. Let the challenge proceed.”
He eyed up his opponent. Krawll was a well-known minor power player in the House. He operated mostly in the southwestern part of the continent, providing a steady and not-insignificant amount of revenue for Ursa, though he was by no means crucial to their success.
Two of the Queen’s guards stepped forward and offered daggers to both men. The trial would be to first blood. If Kincaid won, he would then be confirmed to the position by the Queen and it would be over. If Krawll was victorious, then he suspected another challenger would step forward, and it would begin again.
Forcing everything but his opponent out of his mind, Kincaid circled his foe, forcing himself to mind his surroundings. They were in the Throne Room at the foot of the stone dais that held seats for each of the Title Holders. Many stood empty, still unfilled. That meant the space to maneuver was limited. He would have to work in the confined space.
Krawll lunged at him and he spun away, the dagger missing by mere inches. Spectators gasped, but Kincaid knew he’d never been in any real danger. Holding up his own weapon, he waggled it back and forth, taunting his opponent. He watched as the massive forehead vein that was Krawll’s defining feature grew darker and pulsed with his anger.
Good. Goooood. Let the hate flow through you.
He would use that to his advantage.
The pair danced around some more. Kincaid darted in, but Krawll floated just out of range. Then he abruptly reversed direction and came back in, his dagger aimed at Kincaid’s throat. Not expecting the strike at such a lethal location, he dropped down, rolling in the direction of the strike, trying to cover his surprise.
Krawll had just tried to kill him.
He slashed out with the dagger to keep his opponent at bay. The combat had just gone from first blood to trying to stay alive. What the hell had gotten into the man?
Kincaid got up, darted forward, slashing twice with his knife, trying to score a cut and end the fight before things got out of hand. He missed, and Krawll struck back, aiming for his neck, then his gut, and with a spinning maneuver, the inside of his leg. All spots where a cut just a little too deep would open an artery, and even a shifter’s healing would be hard pressed to save them.
Especially if they struck as hard as Krawll was trying to. He would be dead in seconds before anyone could stop the bleeding and come to his aid.
“What the hell are you doing?” he hissed as they spun by each other, barely missing with cuts.
Krawll just bared his teeth and came back at him. Kincaid was getting tired of the games. When his apparently crazed opponent tried to slip his blade up between Kirell’s ribs and into his heart, he decided it was time to end it. He came at Krawll hard and fast. The flurry of strikes was expected, and they moved past one another, turning out of range.
For a split second, both had their backs to one another. Kirell took a breath, having paid closed attention to Krawll’s momentum as they went, and flicked his wrist backward, letting go of the dagger.
It swirled across the distance, bounced off Krawll, and clattered onto the ground.
The tip was covered in red blood.
For a second, he thought Krawll was going to come back at him and try to kill him, but the Queen snapped her fingers and her guards darted between the two of them. A quick glance showed she too had noticed Krawll’s attempts to land a mortal strike, instead of simply cutting the skin. Although it wasn’t against the rules—people had died in the challenge before—it was highly frowned upon.
The Queen lifted her chin to speak to the assembled crowd, but before she could, a guard opened the main doors leading to the Grand Hallway. Everyone went silent as a human woman entered the Throne Room, grabbing nervously at her pencil skirt’s hemline, the cuffs of her blouse and just about anything else she could fidget with.
Kincaid noticed those details but quickly ignored them. He was awestruck by the woman’s beauty. The rounded curve of her chin as it rose up into wide cheeks that looked like they should be infused with laughter but lacked the indicator lines. Eyes of solid hazel darted furiously around the room, indicative of her nerves.
Kincaid decided then and there—as he took in her tiny pointed nose and beautiful chestnut hair as it rustled against her shoulders—that he had never before seen anyone so beautiful, and never would again.
I must know her name. Why is she here?
He glanced at his Queen, reluctant to remove his gaze, but hoping she would take pity on him and provide him with the identity of the mysterious siren.
4
“Miss Menard, thank you for coming to see me so quickly.”
Her focus snapped back to the female sitting in the center of the raised dais at the back of the room.
“My Queen,” she stumbled, affecting an awkward curtsy and bow of her head all at the same time, painfully aware of the number of eyes on her.
How badly did I just flub that, I wonder?
She blamed it on her host. At no point had Haley been aware she was going to be standing in front of an audience of what sounded like hundreds. The only lights focused on the center of the room, but enough glow made it to the edges, combined with the soft sounds of breathing and shuffling feet to let her know the sides were packed with people.
“You have the information I requested?”
Was she really going to be asked to present it to everyone like this? In the middle of the…the…just call it what it is, it’s a bloody Throne Room.
It was the weirdest setup of a company boardroom that she’d ever experienced. Walking inside after pulling up at the front door—no, something as large as what she’d come through had to be called an entry, too grand to be anything else—had been intimidating enough. Though she’d known the complex was massive, seeing it in person hadn’t done a thing to soothe her nerves.
It’s a bloody palace, is what it is!
“I do. Though I think it would be best if perhaps we met in private.”
Haley’s eyes were drawn at last to the floor in front of the Queen, where a singular male stood. His broad chest rose and fell, stretching the thin cotton of his shirt to the breaking point with every breath. A few beads of sweat matted down the steely gray hair on the sides of his head.
For a moment, she forgot to think as his hardened blue eyes met her gaze and held it, refusing to let go, like the last few rays of light holding onto the sky as the sun set below the horizon. This was a man used to being in charge, to having his way. What was he doing there? Had she interrupted something?
“Very well. Everyone, if you would please excuse us. Miss Menard and I have business to conduct.” The Queen nodded in passing at the man standing in front of her. “That includes you too. We’ll finish this later.”
“I am sorry,” Haley said, speaking up, feeling odd doing so without being addressed. “I can come back. I was unaware I was going to be intruding when I insisted to the guard I be let in.”
Kaelyn chuckled as a flow of people exited the chamber behind Haley. All of them were huge, giants like the man on the floor in front of her. Even some of the women were big, many of them packed with muscle as well, though here and there she saw ones that more resembled a normal human.
Did you have to be a fitness fanatic to be hired by this company?
