by L. A. Banks
Fisher cut him a glance and then looked at Sasha. “He means a lot to all of us, Captain . . . not just as a soldier, but as a friend.”
“Yeah, I know. Thanks, Lieutenant,” Sasha said quietly. But she had to shake the blues, had to focus on what had to be done. Redirecting her thoughts, she brought her attention back to the colonel. “After the press conference this morning, I’ll need to go check back in with our allies.”
“Do what you have to do, Captain. We know our positions and where our rendezvous point is. I just hope our plan works without any more loss of human lives.”
“Roger that, sir,” Sasha said and then quietly slipped past the door.
* * *
“It was the closest holy site to where the Chens were that was open for evening Bible study,” an exhausted Fae archer said as he motioned toward a Methodist church. “We glamoured them past the other humans and got them hunkered down in the basement until daybreak . . . got them a little food and some water. But Sir Rodney thinks that until this blows over, it may be best to bring the girl and her family back to the sidhe.”
Shogun wiped his palms down his face and then looked at Amy.
“My parents will not leave their store,” she said, looking up at Shogun.
“I know . . . but maybe once they see you I can convince them to go on vacation, just for a little while. Maybe if I pay for them to return to the old country to visit relatives and visit graves there?”
She nodded and took up his hand. The Fae archer thrust his shoulders back and led the way, opening the locked church door with ease. Shogun hesitated as Mr. and Mrs. Chen stood up from a pew and faced him. Stained glass let in prisms of multihued sunlight, but nothing compared to the expression on Mrs. Chen’s face when she covered her mouth and then ran headlong toward her child. Shogun stepped back as Mr. Chen then ran up behind his wife, both parents crying, encircling their daughter as she openly sobbed.
“Xie xie, xie xie!” Mrs. Chen exclaimed, thanking Shogun over and over again in Mandarin. She intermittently went from frantically kissing her daughter’s face to hugging Shogun and kissing his hands, clutching them up in hers. “Bless the good police!” she said, so overcome that she had to be helped to a pew.
“My daughter . . .,” Mr. Chen said, wiping his eyes. “Did they hurt you?”
Amy’s lip trembled and then she sought her father’s embrace, hiding her face against his neck. But Shogun landed a hand on the older man’s shoulder, knowing what he was delicately asking.
“No, sir . . . we got to her in time. Your daughter is frightened and shaken, but in the same condition as she was before she was abducted.”
Mr. Chen began rocking with his child in his arms, exclaiming, “Xie, xie,” between sobs of relief.
The Fae archer turned and swallowed hard, and Shogun walked to the back of the church with him.
“I never really experienced humans before, you know . . .,” the archer said with a quick nod toward the Chen family. “I could never understand what Sir Rodney saw in them, why he’d put the sidhe on the line for them, but, seeing this . . .”
“I know,” Shogun said quietly, reverently, his gaze on Amy Chen as his heart filled with peace. “If you just save one, the ripple in the pond to all humanity is endless. Families, friends, people that good deed touches are all connected.” He chose not to say more, because it was a private knowing. Sasha had taught him that, had made him care about the human condition. And as he stood there, he became aware of a new peace that had crept up on him and entered his spirit. He still loved Sasha, but as a part of his life and family now, not as his potential mate . . . and that made everlasting peace finally possible with his half brother, Hunter.
Mr. Chen got up and came to Shogun. The Fae archer bowed deeply. “I have no way to repay this gift you have given my life,” he said quietly and proudly. “You may have my store . . . I realized that the money without my child is nothing.”
“Sir, no, please,” Shogun said, bowing to Mr. Chen. “I am honored but cannot accept . . . uhm, it is against the law for police to accept payment for doing their jobs.”
Mr. Chen seemed confused but accepted the explanation. “Are you married?”
Shogun smiled. “No, sir, I’m a lone wolf.” He suspected the man would otherwise try to seek out a wife to whom he could give a gift of appreciation; it was custom to give something to someone who’d given you so much. But he had to make Mr. Chen understand that just seeing their joy had been payment enough.
The archer chuckled and folded his arms over his chest.
“All men your age are wolves,” Mr. Chen said with a smile, wiping his eyes. “But I graciously give you my daughter to marry—you are the only truly honorable man I have seen since my wife and I have come to this country.”
Elder Futhark held the iridescent Fae missive in his right hand and the dark, smoldering black envelope in the other as he slowly walked down the center aisle of the antechamber toward Queen Cerridwen’s throne. She fixed her cool gaze on him; he could feel his steps slowing and his face becoming frostbitten as he approached the angry monarch and extended the missive.
She pointed with her icicle wand to his left hand. “I’ll take the bad news first.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” he said, bowing as he offered her the black envelope. “You know that I have been your faithful advisor for eons, and whatever is in this, please be lenient to the one who delivered this to you.”
She snatched the missive from him without answering. “A Vampire demon messenger note from Vlad . . . how refreshing,” she said coolly and opened the black letter with a snap.
Black and yellow sulfuric smoke billowed up the moment the blood wax seal was broken, and she blasted it with her wand, causing black hail to litter her ice-covered marble floor. However, her glib mood soon became serious as she read the letter through to the end.
“How did he find out about Ariel Beauchamp’s tomb being opened by our forces?”
“Through the eyes of the young girl whom the late Lady Jung Suk took over. Our spies have confirmed that it is now a matter of record in the UCE tome.” He peered up from his bent position and stared into her crystal-blue eyes. “Milady . . . we are now at war with the Vampires, a formidable foe.”
She tossed the letter aside and reached out to snatch the iridescent parchment from Elder Futhark’s other hand. “No doubt a reprimand now from Sir Rodney,” she said, unfurling it with disdain.
“Milady?” Elder Futhark said, slowly standing when she sat back in her throne.
“It’s not a reprimand,” she said, so shocked that she laughed.
“Then . . . ?”
“It’s an invitation to war. To war alongside Rodney and the wolves as an ally against Vlad.”
It had taken all morning, but his nose never failed him. Scavenging his mind for whatever bits of information he could retrieve, a first name came to him—Jennifer. She’d talked about her job at the Donut Hole a little bit. Said she’d wanted to go back to school one day, and worried that at twenty-five it might be too late. She worried about money, but said she might take advantage of the president’s new education plans. Odd things he remembered about her. Like scattered puzzle pieces that all had similar colors; some fit, some didn’t. But the Donut Hole wasn’t hard to find.
What was hard was going up to the large plate-glass window of the half-empty place and opening the door. She looked up and didn’t smile. He almost turned around to walk away, but then remembered what his sister had told him.
Crow Shadow slipped into the store and stood at the counter. “Hey, Jennifer.”
“So what’d you do, decide to come back and get take-out breakfast and coffee after you run out on another girl this morning?”
He listened to the wobble in her voice, studied the golden tresses and kind face he’d remembered. Hurt had hardened her pretty hazel eyes. “No, I came back to apologize and to show you this time that . . . I don’t know. You didn’t deserve what I did. You’re a ni
ce person. If something happened, you know . . . I’ll stand by you.”
She twisted the tie to the white apron that covered her uniform and bit her lip. “I didn’t do anything wrong . . . why’d you do that—just leave like that?”
Crow Shadow just closed his eyes. His wolf instincts had rarely failed him.
“Sir Rodney, Sir Rodney!” a garrison guard shouted. “Lower the drawbridge!”
Seelie guards worked quickly to bring the messenger in. The drawbridge hit the ground on the other side of the moat with a thud, and a Unicorn-riding guard took up the missive and swung his steed around to make haste to the castle. Faeries were already on the wind, bringing advance news to rouse the monarch and to get him ready. Rupert rushed around, hurrying behind Sir Rodney with his robe, helping him don it as the front guards opened the door.
The garrison commander dismounted and rushed up the steps, then went down on one knee to hand Sir Rodney the frost-covered missive. It burned his fingers with ice as he peeled it open, his top magic advisors scurrying to greet him in the castle’s grand foyer.
“It is from Cerridwen,” Garth said. “Be wary, milord.”
“It is she who should be wary,” Sir Rodney said firmly. “She is up for treason, collaboration with the Vampires against me by aiding in their scheme to embody a felon. This time, the law is on my side and I have invited her to war . . . but in a very special way.”
“Her ousting from the UCE will most assuredly weaken her power,” Garth said cautiously. “And you could overtake her provinces . . . but do you want to stretch your rule as far as Iceland, and to annex an entire court that will begrudge your rule?”
Sir Rodney smiled. “No. I just wanted to spank her a little, old friend.”
Garth smiled. “Be careful . . . you two have always played dangerous love games.”
“Well, let us see what the lady has to say,” Sir Rodney quipped, shaking off the cold and unfurling Queen Cerridwen’s parchment. But after a moment his smile faded and his arm slowly lowered to his side.
“Milord?” Garth said, causing the other advisors to come in closer.
“She apologized and does not want to war with me, but is agreeing to war beside me as an ally against the Vampires.”
“Cerridwen apologized?” Garth said, eyes bulging. “And is agreeing to an alliance?”
“Yes,” Sir Rodney said, clearly shocked. “She wants to reunite in an alliance against the Vampires, and I was only being facetious when I made the offer.” He walked away a bit, running his fingers through his hair. “Then it is true . . . she was innocent and had been manipulated by the Vampires.” Sir Rodney shook his head. “That old bastard will rue the day that he crossed Cerridwen. Even with immortality, he can not outlast her hatred of being made a fool.”
Hunter opened his eyes and tried to sit up, but Silver Hawk gently touched his chest to make him lie back down.
“Easy, son,” Silver Hawk said in a quiet voice. “There is a time to war and a time to heal. Now is the time to heal.”
Hunter lay back with a wince, but his gaze searched the room.
“She did not abandon you,” Silver Hawk said, reading his expression.
Hunter closed his eyes. He didn’t want to suffer a lecture. He just thought she’d be there when he woke up.
“Sasha is doing what she must to protect her pack, no less than what you would do if a demon incursion were eating members of the Shadow Wolf Clan. She did not sleep all night. I could see the fatigue in her eyes. She sat vigil for you until the dawn and then came in search of me.”
“Sasha will always do what duty demands,” Hunter said in a raspy voice.
“No,” his grandfather said, touching the dual amulets Hunter wore. “She gave you a part of her spirit . . . duty never demanded that.” He stared down at Hunter, his wise eyes speaking volumes beyond his Spartan comments. “It is an immeasurable gift. Do not let your temporary disappointment or ego squander it.”
Russell Conway clicked off the television remote and flung it across the room. Rage held back the tears in his eyes as he jumped up, rushed to the bathroom, and searched through his toiletries bag with shaking hands. He laughed out loud when he saw the plastic razor and then stared into the mirror for a moment before dashing out of the bathroom to the small kitchenette to locate a knife.
Holding his wrist out over the sink he pressed down on the blade. They didn’t believe him; they thought he was a fraud. He’d seen what he’d seen. He had proof! A Werewolf had butchered his mother and little sister right before his eyes. He could see it as though it were yesterday. And now they were calling everything a hoax? He hadn’t dedicated his life to a hoax . . . he hadn’t!
“I’m not crazy,” he said in a trembling voice, pressing down harder on the blade. “I’m not!”
Esmeralda touched the corridor walls lightly, taking her time as she moved timidly without her natural sight. She had to find Sir Rodney, had to let him know about her vision. Fort Shannon of Inverness, the House of Clerk—his rule would soon be under attack. Only her third-eye vision guided her past coats of armor and tapestries, and then she stopped when she heard familiar footfalls.
“Milady! My goodness! You should be recovering,” Rupert said, rushing to take her elbow.
Esmeralda brought a graceful hand up to her eyes, touching the swirling colored miasma of sparkles that covered them. “Do I look horrible now?”
“Oh, no, milady . . . do not disturb the healing. It is beautiful, just like you . . . like a thousand tiny lights of the Faeries garden.” Rupert soothed her with a hug. “You will forever be beautiful to all of us. You tried to help our sovereign and he will not abandon you.”
She wiped at a tear that hadn’t fallen and the sight of that made Rupert swallow hard.
“I’ve had a vision, a horrible vision that I must convey to Sir Rodney right away. I want to still be useful to him while I’m here, not just thought of as an invalid to be tucked away.”
“He will keep you here in the sidhe, I’m sure . . . as, maybe, his seer. Sometimes when we lose one gift, another comes in its place. I know that Garth would try with all his might to do that for you, if it was in his powers,” Rupert said delicately. “Come, let me guide you back to your room. The Pixies will help you robe while I fetch the king.”
There was no explanation about why the bureaucratic side of all things government took so long. Fatigue and frustration weighed on her heavily as she double-checked rounds with Woods and Fisher to be sure that everyone on the mission had silver-dust-filled shells, understood supernatural protocols, and had a chance to get out of the bayou alive.
Late-afternoon sun took a dip behind the trees, and just seeing that made her crazy. All morning she’d been at the base, readying men, talking by VTC to the Joint Chiefs with Colonel Madison, and fact-checking demon-hunting protocols with Bradley and the NORAD team. Shogun and Crow Shadow had thankfully hit her cell with messages that they were headed back to the sidhe. That was the only way she could get a message back to Hunter, by way of a third party—and that made her stomach clench.
“Captain, we’ve got a problem that Lieutenant Campbell pointed out—and it’s a valid concern.”
Sasha briefly closed her eyes. “Give it to me with both barrels, Woods.” She had to get back to the sidhe, and had to get to Russell Conway to give the man a ray of hope. She felt like she was stuck in molasses, walking through the day in it. Everything seemed to be conspiring to keep her from getting back to where she wanted to be most, back at Hunter’s side.
“These guys are going into a firefight with night-vision goggles . . . but the goggles don’t register color, just the gleam. Everything in the sight line of the goggles is a weird green tint. So they can’t tell at a split-second glance if the eyes of something coming at them are red, green, or gold. That’s a problem.”
Sasha kicked the jeep tire hard. “Oh, just kiss my ass!”
CHAPTER 24
Functioning on hour thirty-six with no s
leep, battle fatigue, worry, and delay after delay at the base, Sasha felt the Louisiana heat beginning to take its toll. Her sidearm was like an anvil, adding to the weight of everything else. It was almost dusk and there wasn’t even enough time for her to grab a bite to eat; she’d been living off whatever munchies she could scavenge from vending machines. Pathetic.
She held herself up by the second-floor railing of the motel, intermittently lifting her sweat-soaked T-shirt off her back as she waited for Russell Conway to open the door. “C’mon, Mister Conway. Open up. I know you’re in there. I can hear you,” Sasha called out, quickly losing patience.
This was a courtesy call, one she really didn’t have time for. But something moved her to do it. The poor bastard seemed like the type who might put a bullet in his skull if people didn’t believe him, and she so did not need to have that on her conscience along with everything else.
“Finally,” she muttered as she heard movement coming toward the door.
A bleary-eyed Russell Conway opened the door a crack. “What’s this? You all coming to take me to the crazy house to keep me quiet?”
“No,” Sasha said, lifting her damp hair off her neck. “I came to apologize to you for what had to be done.” Sasha let out an exasperated breath. “Look, I went to a lot of trouble to find you, sir. You’ve moved from the hotel in town where you’d been staying to way out here in this motel. If I could just have a minute of your time, I’ll be on my way.”
Frowning, he peered around the door a little farther. “This is a trick, isn’t it—to lure me out so you all can grab me.”
Sasha stood back from the door and held her hands up in front of her chest. “Nobody wants to take you into custody, sir. In fact, I’m not even supposed to be here. But I felt bad that your story had to be discredited to keep down public panic.”
“Really?” he said, opening the door wider.
Sasha’s eyes went to his bloodied wrists and the gasp came out before she could stop it.
“I just gave up,” he said, dropping the knife onto the motel carpet. “But I couldn’t make the knife cut all the way—I need something sharper.”
