Shifting Loyalties

by Patti Larsen

What did weres need with machine guns?

  It wasn’t until Finlay put himself between them, blue Enforcer magic crackling, the pair actually paid attention. And the threat he presented only generated a minor act. Guard number one pulled a two-way from his pocket and spoke into it. In Ukrainian, I guessed. Sounded like the language Charlotte let slip now and again. Static crackled before a voice came through. Isabelle tensed beside me as the guard let his hand drop.

  “Ні,” he said. The word sounded like "knee". What was wrong with his knee?

  “‘Ні’ means no,” Isabelle whispered.

  Splutter.

  Like hell.

  My surging anger did more to warm me up than any magic as I shoved my way into the armed guard’s face. Yes, it meant rising on my tiptoes while he stared down at me with his flat, cold expression. Sure, I probably looked ridiculous, half his size and red-faced from the cold.

  Didn’t care. Amber fire crackled around me, sizzling the snow beneath my feet into clouds of steam, the mist rising to flare in the sheets of flame my demon provided. Wolf eyes flickered across dark brown as I finally got the big jerk’s attention.

  “Move your ass,” I said, “or I’ll move it for you.”

  Please. Don’t move.

  Guard number two entered my peripheral vision, probably coming to his friend’s rescue. A surge of Sidhe earth magic rocked the ground under his feet, exploding upward, sending him flying back, his gun landing with a soft thud in the snow even as the ground beneath him steamed before giving way, a quicksand pit swallowing him to his hips.

  “Coven Leader!” I didn’t have to look to know Gwendolyn’s face had to be pinched in shock, because from the choked sound of her voice coming from behind me, things weren’t going as she’d planned.

  Yeah, diplomacy and I didn’t get along very well. And I hated being told no.

  The first guard must have decided he needed to take me seriously at last, because I felt his body tense, shift, just before I opened to my vampire and let her out. Snarling, spirit power flaring in a corona so bright he cried out. She shoved him hard, back against the iron gate, pinning him. He fought us, battled for control while his friend shouted something in Ukrainian into his own two-way, still trying to pull himself free of the sucking ground Shaylee created.

  Let them send reinforcements. I was already irritated by this whole mess. I’d take them all on.

  Coven Leader. Finlay’s mental connection flared bright blue as he forced his way into my mind. An incident will mean your expulsion from Europe permanently.

  Damn it.

  Just. Damn. It.

  I backed off, reeling in my demon, my vampire sighing her frustration as Shaylee pouted, solidifying the ground around the other guard as she retreated. Too late, I heard the roar of an engine, knew I’d stepped over the line and just doomed Charlotte and myself to alternatives I wasn’t sure I was prepared to follow through.

  Screw that. Applegate could start her ridiculous war. I was getting my friend out of there if it was the last thing I did.

  The large military vehicle roared to a halt on the other side of the gate, the passenger door slamming while a dozen or so werewolves in fatigues and carrying guns leaped from the back of the covered truck and formed a line with their weapons trained on me.

  Like shooting at me would do them any good. Though I supposed guns would impress others. But at this point, I’d broken Applegate’s rule. Which meant, I could now use maji power.

  Poor little wereboys and girls. They had no idea they didn’t stand a chance.

  A tall figure pushed his way through the line, coming to stand a foot or so from the gate. Flat, gray eyes looked me up and down, glanced sideways at the guard writhing, up to his waist in freezing earth. At the one who denied my entry. Back to me.

  His angular features and long, thin nose made him look more fox-like than wolf, and though he was bundled in as much fur as the others, I could tell he was leaner, too. But to me, no less dangerous.

  More so, if I knew his type. And when I reached for him, I realized my mistake. Not a werewolf at all. The black emptiness of him told me what I needed to know.

  Sorcerer.

  “Вітаємо,” he said, before switching to heavily accented English. “Be welcome, Coven Leader Hayle.”

  Um, okay.

  “I’m totally getting ‘hey, how are you’ from your little show here,” I said. Gwendolyn hissed behind me, a warning most likely. Whatever.

  A thin smile cracked the sorcerer’s lips, pulling at the deep dimple in his chin. “We are not used to accepting visitors. Especially ones so esteemed.”

  His words might have been complimentary, but I still got the dirt bag vibe from him.

  “I’m here to talk to Yure Danko,” I said. “I was told ‘no’.” I leaned closer to the gate, letting my demon rumble her unhappiness in my eyes. “I don’t do ‘no’.”

  Another smile, wider, though those gray eyes were as cold as ever. “An unfortunate error,” he said. Bowed slightly. “I am Vasyl Krajnik, the Czar’s head of security. I am more than happy to escort you,” again his eyes traveled, this time over my shoulder at my companions before snapping back to me, “to meet his Royal Majesty.”

  So maybe my rule-breaking moment wasn’t one after all. No incident, no retaliation from Applegate. And though I was sure I was in for a show and a whole heap of disappointment, the leader of the European Council had bound my hands.

  Show it was. Pass the popcorn.

  ***

  Chapter Ten

  I would have preferred to walk, on principle, but, frankly, felt happy for the ride in the warm back of the big, black SUV arriving only a moment after the gates swung open. I ignored the show of power Vasyl brought with him, the line of wereguards turning with trained precision to follow my every move. At least the muzzles of their guns were lowered. Well, half lowered.

  Either this was their usual or I scared the bejeebuz out of them.

  I chose to think the latter.

  The heavy door thudded shut behind me, warmth enveloping me as the blast of heat from the leather seat radiated upward into my freezing behind. I almost snarled at the loss of precious heat as the door behind me opened, Gwendolyn slipping inside with Finlay next to her. Isabelle didn’t give Vasyl a chance to sit next to me in the second row, firmly closing her door on his face. I caught enough of his scowl through the black tinted glass I worried he’d seen through her glamour though Shaylee calmly informed me all was well and I had to trust her.

  From the glare Isabelle leveled at him, however, I knew the pair had history. Just as long as that history didn’t interfere with my rescue of Charlotte, Isabelle could keep her secrets.

  Vasyl slammed the front passenger door and snapped something at the driver. The SUV’s engine purred as we turned and drove off, the amazing suspension rumbling smoothly over the snow-covered lane.

  “His Royal Majesty is most eager to meet you,” Vasyl said over his shoulder. “Though perhaps some indication of your purpose for this visit would make your introduction go more smoothly?”

  No way he didn’t know why I was there. Come on, sharkboy. Did they really think I was that stupid? Besides, I highly doubted the Czar was happy I’d crashed his little ego party. “I’m just here to see your boss,” I said. “No time for small talk.”

  “With those beneath me,” went unsaid. Because, I was classy like that.

  Vasyl turned to smile at me despite my silent rebuke, a shark smile of bright white teeth and cold gray eyes. “As you wish.” He turned back again, voice full of dark humor. “I’m sure your visit will be most enlightening.”

  Like I didn’t know I was walking into some kind of trap. So he really did think I was a total idiot.

  Sheesh. Bad guys had serious underestimation issues.

  I stared out the window, evergreen trees heavy with thick, white blankets flashing by as we wound through the Ukrainian countryside. I expected a short drive up a lane to some kind of mansion
. Instead, we were on the road a solid five minutes, silence heavy and hanging in the cab of the SUV. I felt the tickle of Gwendolyn’s mind as she politely tried to get me to talk to her, but I shut her out.

  No time to be a wilting princess. I was pretty sure she’d only tell me to back off and be less aggressive. She didn’t know me at all.

  Was about to have another lesson in Sydology as the SUV turned a corner and roared down the last stretch of road.

  I caught glimpses of stone and something truly massive, but it wasn’t until the truck came to a halt, the door beside me opening in a whoosh, icy air washing over me, I realized this was no mansion. Or castle, either, Wilhelm’s seat having nothing on this place.

  My feet slipped on the snow as I stepped out, gaping at the massive palace stretched out before me, the climbing columns reminding me of the entry to Widener Library at Harvard. But bigger. And capped with more columns, rising another four or five stories. All from cream stone that looked like marble.

  Okay then. I had to admit I was impressed. But not by the Czar—by the people who built this place.

  Holy. I bet astronauts saw it from space.

  I followed Vasyl, my companions and about an army’s worth of werewolves trailing behind me through the thin layer of snow over the cobbled drive and up the steps. No winter leavings here, meticulously swept clean from the deep purple carpeting lining the stairway. Talk about extravagant. I was used to the vampires and their elegant attempt at recreating the past. But this place made me think of old world Russia I learned about in history class, like time rewound—or at least stood still—in this place. An era where opulence and decadence reined as much as the Czars.

  At least the interior felt warm, though I’d hate to have the heat bill. Towering double doors groaned shut behind us, the deep burgundy wood polished and shining. Elaborate handles larger than my hands could grasp twisted with silver and gold vines. My feet squeaked once as they touched stone, only to fall silent again on the runner of matching purple carpet beginning at the threshold and running deep into the massive cave of the entry.

  No, not cave. More like a cathedral, all sconces and statues and filigree gold, like I was standing on the inside of a Faberge egg. Cream marble, giant portraits, a chandelier dripping so much crystal I could barely look at it. Sure, I’d read about places like this, seen a few in movies and the like, but actually standing there, surrounded by so much wealth so blatantly displayed drove a spike of anger through my stomach.

  How many people were hurt, made to suffer, or left by the wayside to create this place? What I knew of Russian history did nothing to cool my rising temper.

  Vasyl paused, giving me time to be all awed and stuff.

  Seriously.

  “Nice place,” I said. “Oh, by the way.” I strode past him, “your self-esteem issues are showing.”

  Snap.

  I could tell the wereguards weren’t all that happy about me taking the lead, but I’d had it. Up. To. Here. With all of this crap. I aimed myself at another set of double doors that seemed to be under heavy protection and headed in that direction, the full length of the giant foyer between me and them, my temper only rising with each step.

  Please. Gwendolyn finally made it through. I know, I really do. But think of your friend.

  I am, I snapped back. Now, either keep your opinions to yourself, or leave. Pick one.

  I shut her down even as I strode closer to the target doors.

  The guards didn’t move, faced me down. More gathered. I had the right place, at least. But the closer I approached, the more determined I was to get through and I was not stopping.

  Not.

  So they’d better get their furry asses out of my way or I’d be playing ten-pin bowling with their big, ugly heads.

  No demon this time, no vampire. And not Shaylee, either, though I held her in reserve. This place was pretty and everything, but a nicely place earthquake would do wonders for the décor.

  Instead, I opened up the black flower beneath me, accessing my sorcery, allowing it to bloom, its hunger alive, reaching.

  Ready to feed.

  While using my sorcery still gave me the creeps, this seemed an appropriate time to whip it out, considering who I was about to confront. Best Yure Danko understood I wasn’t screwing around.

  Ten steps. The guards stiffened. Nine steps. They raised their weapons. Eight. They tightened ranks. Seven. Blackness, pooled at my feet, began to expand outward, reaching for the hot, bubbling power of the werewolves, starving for their essence. Six. Five.

  Four.

  Three.

  Close enough to see fear in their eyes, the slight tremor of their weapons. So they were afraid.

  Wicked.

  Two.

  “Cтояти осторонь.” Vasyl’s voice echoed in the air, just over my right shoulder. “Let her through.”

  One.

  The line of guards parted like a wave before the prow of a ship. My sorcery licked at the edges of the slower ones, tasting them. I watched them pale, felt a little sick, but refused to show it. Instead, I stopped and lifted my arm, gestured, drawing on my power to open the doors.

  Shaylee responded.

  My demon.

  My vampire.

  My sorcery.

  Oops.

  Good thing I was shielding. The resulting explosion was quiet impressive, if I do say so myself. I had enough time to realize the girls were just a little too pissed off for this to end well, and extended my shielding outward to gather the pieces of shattered doorway, capturing them in a bubble of spirit magic before my demon set them on fire. They flared in bursts of spark even as Shaylee, not to be outdone, wiggled her way past them and sent a rumble through the floor of the palace just strong enough to make the chandelier behind me tinkle in response.

  Way to make an entrance, Hayle. And though I hadn’t intended for this to happen, the girls took my gesture and their own irritation and turned it into something absolutely spectacular.

  I let the bubble of wards collapse as the ash from the remains of the door, now a sifting pile of dust, cascaded to the floor on the other side. Shivering a little from just how freaking awesome and scary that was, doing my best to hide my own shock at the total overreaction of my alter egos, I stuck my hands in my pockets and strolled through the gap like I’d been invited inside.

  ***

  Chapter Eleven

  More elaborate decorating greeted me, the giant throne room’s ceiling arching overhead with painted murals of battle scenes and old kings and queens. The cream marble floor gleamed on either side of the continuing carpet. Talk about an arrow shot to the seat of power. Any dummy could find Yure Danko.

  Just follow the purple shag road.

  I didn’t hurry. Needed time to assess the situation anyway. Not only that, I wanted the so-called Czar to sweat out my approach. He watched me, or I assumed it was he, from a massive gold throne at the other end of the room. A line of werewolves stood on either side of the carpet, their sullen wolf energy making my skin crawl. Worse was the emptiness as a handful of sorcerers from the Czar’s sect joined them. I kept my eyes fixed on Yure while my alter egos explored the room for me, filtering information while I maintained my steady, casual pace.

  There are too many to fight, Shaylee sent. But a quake would even the odds.

  Agreed. My vampire sighed. I believe your temper is rubbing off on me, Sydlynn. That was a horribly impulsive thing to do.

  Oh, you think? It was hard to keep my lips from twisting into a grin.

  Whiners, my demon snarled. Just let me at them.

  Easy, tiger, I sent. Let’s see where our show of power gets us before we run off half-cocked.

  Again, my vampire sent. Run off half-cocked again.

  Smartass hitchhiker.

  I felt someone join me, caught sight of Vasyl striding forward to match my pace, the pair of us coming to a halt at the bottom of the three steps leading to the throne as a matched set. Well, as matched
as I could get with him towering over me.

  “Your Royal Majesty,” Vasyl swept into a bow, “may I present Coven Leader Sydlynn Hayle, all the way from America.”

  Part of me wanted to be impressed by the Czar. After all, dude ran most of Europe with his organized mob system and his bullyboy selection of werewolves hand-raised to do his bidding. But the small, balding man perched on the edge of the massive throne reminded me more of an irritated squirrel than a great leader. At some point, someone should have suggested he try braces for those buck teeth he had going on, and maybe a good scrubbing would clean the shine from his greasy, pockmarked face. Though, for someone over a hundred years old, if Isabelle was to be believed, he didn’t look a day over fifty.

  I’m sure the smile he aimed in my direction was meant to make me feel in awe of his greatness. Instead, it just made me queasy.

  Pretty apparent he’d had something black and green for lunch.

  “We expected your arrival,” Yure said as he hunched forward, the heavy purple robe he wore pulling across his chest. Gold clanked, the gaudy medallion on a chain as thick as my wrist clattering when he moved. “For quite some time now. You may bow before us.”

  Did he seriously just talk about himself in “Royal we”?

  “I’ve been busy,” I said. He could take my lack of genuflecting and shove it. “With more important things.”

  Sizzle, my demon sent.

  Think of Charlotte, my vampire hissed.

  Go for the throat, Shaylee sent.

  Helpful bunch.

  The Black Souls leader sat back, smile turned surly, bulging, muddy eyes showing even more white. “So you say.” He gripped the carved arms of his throne with his girly hands, nails chewed to the quick. His pasty face went mottled a moment, patches of red flickering over his cheeks and down his throat. I felt the bubbling blackness of his sorcery emerge, press against mine. “And yet, despite your so-called power, you have as yet to defeat your enemy.”

  I wasn’t here to trade insults with a crazy dude. “Whatever,” I said. Took a leap of intuition and prodded him to see how much he’d already uncovered. “You know why I’m here.”