Wounded, Volume 1

by Amy Lane

  “What other communities?” Nicky looked blank again. “Goshawk told us that he was the only leader in this city. We were all birds—we thought that gave us some sort of special pass, because of Goshawk.”

  “Well, my boyfriend gave a gas station in Vacaville to someone he thought could give Renny and me safe passage here,” I snapped at him. “And it sure as shits-afire is not your precious fucking Papa Bird.”

  “I thought your boyfriend died?” Nicky asked, and it was actually a good question, and I was so mad that I wasn’t even embarrassed to answer him.

  “We were three,” I choked out. “I had a night lover and a day lover,” I said, and it felt like poetry, just to say it there in public in the middle of the quad, under the foggy sun. “And they loved each other like night loves the day. And then the night lover died, and the day lover and I were naked in the sunshine, with only ourselves for cover.” And Jesus, it was poetry. “And you,” I snarled, snapping out of it, “you stole two nights out of a handful, and you stole them to buy blood…. Goddess, Nicky—Goshawk is using you to fund a coup.”

  Bracken had dropped his hand from Nicky’s throat in order to wrap his arms around me in comfort, and the confusion on Nicky’s face was terrible to see.

  “Oh, no,” he said sincerely. “You’re wrong. Goshawk wouldn’t lead us into war. He’s our leader—he just wants to keep us powerful, and safe.” Suddenly his face lit up, and I did not like the frightening hope that I saw in it. “You’ll see,” he said definitively. “You’ll see. Once he knows you have a protector, he’ll give you back his memory—wait—I’ll get it for you. Don’t worry, Cory,” he smiled, and it looked like the Nicky that Renny and I had taken to the movies and poured coffee into when papers were due, and I was suddenly sick at the duplicity that had lied to that sweetness, that had twisted all of that good intention into the awfulness that he’d inflicted on me. “Don’t worry,” he said again. “I’ll make it right.”

  And like that, with a flash of feathers and a panicked whoosh of strong wings, he was gone, up into the tree, through the branches, and into the murky San Francisco sky. In another flash of bare skin and fur, Renny was a big tabby cat again, leaving her wool sack of a dress in a puddle on the sidewalk as she went frolicking across the campus after him.

  “Fuck,” I said into Brack’s chest, more grateful than words that he had offered it to me, and too wrung out to question the wisdom that had chosen to comfort me instead of keeping Nicky by the throat. “Bracken, you’ll have to get her,” I said, and sank wearily onto the handy bench that sat next to the tree. “She loses her goddamned mind in that form. The last time she did that, she called me naked from Stern Grove about two hours later.”

  Bracken swore and threw Max a truly evil look over his shoulder, and then did that moving thing that Green could do but I’d never seen Brack do. No one noticed him, because apparently no one but me could see him.

  “Where’d he go?” Max asked, confirming that this was something magical and elvish, and I was reassured.

  “To get Renny,” I said tiredly, resting my chin on my hands. “She’s got her cell phone around her neck—that’s a good thing.” The first time she’d lost total control and gone tearing out into the world, we’d decided that wearing her cell like an iPod made a great deal of sense. Now all she had to do was change quickly in the shadows, make the call, and stay put until I got there to pick her up.

  “Shouldn’t she just think before she changes?” Max asked, making too much sense for Renny.

  “I think Renny is more suited to be a giant tabby cat than any person I’ve ever known,” I said after a moment. “And her emotions are so changeable….” I shrugged. “When anything stresses her out, her first line of defense is cat.” And I couldn’t think of anything more to say about that, because even words were exhausting. I sank my face into my hands. “After they get back, I think I’ll put my papers in my professors’ boxes and get back to the apartment.”

  Max looked at me, not without sympathy, and actually took note of my appearance for the first time that day. “You look awful,” he said after a moment. “I think that’s a good idea.” His hand made an abortive move to pat me on the back, then returned to his lap. Good move, I thought sourly. If Bracken didn’t kill him for that touch, something in me might go out of control and do it for him.

  “What was that you were saying about a war?” he asked suddenly, and I gave him the abbreviated version of what Professor Cruikshank had told us. I was secretly validated by how stunned he was.

  “God. These people—this world—it’s much bigger than I ever imagined….” He looked at me again, and this time his eyes were sober. “Did I ever tell you how sorry I was about Adrian?”

  I smiled a little, because he was sincere, and said, “No—but thank you. You know, if you ever want to tell Renny the same thing about Mitch, she might stop fantasizing about shredding your skin off your body.” And then, in a moment of perfect sympathy, I patted his knee.

  I am such a Goddess-forsaken buggering fuckhead dork.

  I was unprepared for the sudden surge of human sex and longing that pounded through me via the stoic Officer Max. I knew—I had always known—that he wanted me, but I never knew that once I’d chosen Adrian, once I’d mourned him like a woman, that Max’s want had changed, grown, and was the choking monster of yearning and self-loathing that poured through me now. I was too tired for this shit, I thought disgustedly, and I allowed my head to tilt back and yawned, and my final burst of sunshine for the day poured into the sky. As I yawned I felt myself smile, because the sunshine made the winter sky bright and the pigeons up there happy, and suddenly the pigeons and wrens that had been huddling miserably on the rooftops and in the trees started flying like spring. Really like spring, I mused, beyond exhaustion and logic as I watched them frolic up in the sky. The damn birds were flirting on the wing and boinking each other silly on the rooftops of the college. Go to it, you horny little bastards, I urged them in a weary sort of silent cheer.

  But the yawn eventually stilled, leaving the birds to continue their fornication without my help, and I snatched my hand from Max’s knee like a child touching a hot stove. Bracken, who had seen the whole thing as he approached holding a giant wriggling tabby cat in his arms, swore at me gently, then plopped Renny on Max’s lap and told him gruffly to get her dressed. Max dragged Renny off by the scruff of the neck to comply, and Bracken bent over me, saying lovely things like “fuckwit moron” in a voice that warmed me in spite of his irritation.

  “I knew you liked me,” I said after a moment, and he replied, “Bite me, dumbshit.”

  It was the last thing I heard before I fell asleep on his chest.

  GREEN

  Betrayed

  GREEN LOOKED at the human form of the werewolf sitting across from him and fought the urge to blast the man with the suppressed force in his preternatural veins. The sidhe sitting next to the werewolf had an equally closed expression on her face—but then, Morana had never thought highly of Green, even when she’d come begging to his bed. Compared to the irritation he felt toward to the two larger guests sitting on his couch, the tiny surge of exasperation he felt toward the gnome who represented the lesser elves and fey was almost affectionate. Goddess, he swore to himself, how did they manage to make smug isolation an art form? He sighed and tried again.

  “So now I’m asking all of you,” he said patiently. “Why would you not tell me that you’re under attack?”

  “Why would you care?” Morana wanted to know. “It’s not like we deal closely with anything but financial matters, Lord of Leaves and Shadows.”

  “Because I could have helped?” Green returned, exasperated. “Because when this Goshawk person has kicked your collective asses, he’ll be on my doorstep with all of the people he’s kept from his victories with you?” Because of common fucking courtesy? he restrained himself from finishing with. But there was no talking to the sidhe about courtesy. He knew elves like Morana—the hi
erarchical, elitist people who had forced him to flee his native country and find a home in this dry, hard land that was alien to everything he had known for sixteen centuries. They might have enjoyed things like cars and running water, but they hadn’t changed one little bit to fit the times.

  Orson, the werewolf, was a lawyer in his regular life and seemed to realize that Morana had come dangerously close to pissing Green off beyond courtesy. “You’ve got to understand,” he said in that smooth, conciliatory way that lawyers have, “we didn’t realize that we were under siege for a couple of months. It felt like a run of bad luck in our business ventures, a series of mishaps in our physical surroundings—seagulls getting stuck in our ventilation, starlings swarming over our mercantile ventures, that sort of thing. We haven’t really had any fatalities—although many of our people have turned up injured, and car accidents because of birds have been increasing in frequency. If Goshawk hadn’t come to each of us and announced his intention of taking over, we wouldn’t even have realized we were at war.”

  “And when was that?” Green asked, trying not to grind his teeth.

  “Last month,” the gnome said, looking at Orson like he had a bad taste in his mouth. “And he didn’t come to us in person. He sent a flunky—a real sadistic bastard named Eyeass.” The look on the gnome’s face was outwardly hostile. “Let’s just say it’s untrue that we haven’t had any fatalities.”

  The werewolf looked uncomfortable, and the sidhe looked unfazed.

  “Oh, come on,” Morana said impatiently, tapping her foot. “It’s not as though you could have done anything about it. Look at you—you’re barely a power.”

  Green eyed Morana levelly. “I have five times your numbers under my hill, lovey.”

  “But not true sidhe,” Morana returned with a disdainful laugh. “We differ on our idea of ‘people.’”

  “You didn’t consider Goshawk’s people ‘people,’” Green snapped. “And they can kill you just as dead as I can. If I were you, I’d start thinking a little broader, Morana. Part of the reason we’re here is that you didn’t consider Goshawk a threat because he wasn’t your sort of ‘people.’”

  “Don’t get too worked up about it,” harrumphed Clorklish, the gnome. “She doesn’t rate too many of us as people.”

  At that moment Bracken burst through the door holding Cory in his arms, and all conversation stilled. She looked spent, all but asleep in Bracken’s arms, and Bracken’s expression was unrelievedly grim. At Green’s nod, he stepped into the living room and came directly to Green, who tenderly touched Cory’s chin and felt the now familiar jolt of power, flavored with Bracken’s unique colors and, terrifyingly, very, very weak.

  “My, my, my,” he murmured. “What have you two been doing?” And before Bracken could answer, Green leaned forward and touched his forehead to Brack’s while still cupping Cory’s face in his hand. When this had first happened with Adrian, it had surprised him—it had stunned him—but through those lovely, frantic, amazing few weeks the three of them had shared, he had learned to control the power that Cory could channel, and now he used it to heal both of his children from some of their exhaustion. He needed Cory for this meeting, as much as it broke his heart to rouse her from the sleep she truly needed.

  “I melted a computer,” Cory said gruffly, still speaking from Bracken’s chest.

  “Don’t forget the birds,” Brack urged wryly.

  “I have no idea what I did to the birds,” Cory returned, a corner of her mouth turning up, “but they seemed very happy when we left.”

  “I hate to interrupt this reunion…,” Morana began sardonically, only to be interrupted by Green.

  “Then don’t,” Green snapped, and ignored her for just one more moment. “I’d love to let you both go sleep,” he told his two dear ones, “but I need you here for this.”

  “Is Grace cooking steak tonight?” Cory asked.

  “Count on it.” Green smiled back in admiration and gratitude. “Where’re Max and Renny?”

  “They’re taking the Muni back,” Bracken told him. “Cory couldn’t make it through the rest of her classes. They’re putting her papers in professors’ boxes, and if Renny can make it for a half an hour without going kitty on Max, she might make it to all of her own classes.”

  Green looked pained. “I’m going to have to solve that problem very soon,” he said, “but not right now.”

  With that, he turned to the sidhe, the werewolf, and the gnome and made introductions. Cory nodded her head to each, as regally as she could while still cradled in Bracken’s arms, and when Clorklish was introduced as the leader of the lesser fey, she gave him a genuine smile.

  “Professor Cruikshank spoke to me today,” she told him. “Is he one of yours?”

  Clorklish looked pleasantly surprised. “Yes—I wasn’t sure if you’d put that together. He’s spoken very highly of you, little sorceress. He says you’re brilliant and kind.”

  Cory flushed. “He’s the one being kind. I’m very pleased to meet you, Master Gnome.”

  “Wait a minute,” Morana interrupted. “Cruikshank broke his cover to a mortal?” She gave Clorklish a disgusted look. “What the hell were your people thinking?”

  “Maybe they were thinking about protecting our own,” Clorklish said bitterly. “Since our higher-ups don’t seem to think it’s a priority.”

  “You’re on our to-do list,” Morana retorted nastily, and Green found himself shaking his head. Not even when his elves were at their arrogant worst had they spoken to the vampires in his enclave the way Morana had just spoken to another fey.

  “He wanted to warn us,” Cory defended. “Nic….” She stopped suddenly, oddly protective of Nicky’s identity in front of this unpleasant woman. “My attacker was on campus. Professor Cruikshank wanted to tell me to be ready.”

  “And did you meet him? Where is he?” Green’s eyes took on a predatory gleam.

  Cory shook her head. “He drank the magic Kool-Aid, Green. He didn’t understand…. We couldn’t….” She looked at Bracken, hoping for backup.

  “He’s a pawn,” Bracken said, shaking his head in disgust and pity. “He changed form, right in the middle of campus, saying he was going to go to Goshawk and get Cory’s memories back. We couldn’t… even Cory couldn’t hurt him, Green. The delusion on his face was just painful.”

  “That’s important,” Cory said, looking out at the other leaders. “Not all of this Goshawk guy’s people know what Goshawk is trying to do. I don’t think his numbers would be quite so large if we could actually talk to them, try to make them see reason.”

  “Or we could just kill them,” Orson said, surprised at her offer of mercy.

  “Or we could try to save the lives of your people by not going into battle with theirs,” Green interjected. “We could try to join forces and communicate, and possibly not kill any more of the Goddess’s children than destroyed habitat necessitates.”

  “Our people will give their lives to this fight,” Morana said arrogantly.

  “You mean my people will give their lives in this fight!” Clorklish overrode.

  “But why should anyone have to give their lives at all!” Cory broke in, both angry and distraught. “When was the last time your people lost someone to battle?” She looked at all of them and noticed that both Morana and Orson looked uncomfortable. “Ten years? Twenty?”

  “We lost two last month,” Clorklish replied, looking angrily at the two larger leaders.

  “Then you know,” Cory cried. “You know. One person is too many.”

  “Oh, please,” Morana dismissed Cory with a wave of the hand. “Don’t be melodramatic. You’re a child—what would you know about it?”

  “She lost her childhood this summer,” Green stated, his face hard. “When she defended my people to the death and beyond.”

  “This summer was a fluke,” Morana sneered. “You were getting above yourself, and that little half-breed was too stupid to do what we….” She trailed off, realizing
that her arrogance had revealed much more than she had intended.

  “To do what you… what?” Green asked, his voice deceptively mild.

  Morana licked her lips, and her eyes moved sideways as though looking for escape. She made as if to move, and Green moved his hand, just a little, and the love that moved him to heal was suddenly powering him to do so very much more. “What are you doing, Green?” she demanded, trying to color her sudden fear with outrage.

  “Have the courtesy to finish your sentence,” Green responded, his voice still sweet and pleasant—but his usually kind gaze suddenly sucked all the heat out of the room as he zeroed it in on Morana. “What was that last word that you didn’t quite get to?”

  “Let me go!” she howled.

  “Finish your fucking sentence!” Green exploded, and Morana’s face threatened to buckle to tears. “Sezan didn’t do what he was…. What?” And Green’s power expanded, surrounding her body, pushing in at it, and the tall, elegant sidhe began to weep.

  “Expected to do,” she whispered. “He didn’t do what we thought he was going to do.”

  The temperature in the room dropped even further, and Green turned to catch Bracken and Cory’s gazes. “Did you hear that, my loves?” he asked, his voice crooked with anger and pain. “Sezan, the killer of our beloved, didn’t do what Morana and her leader expected him to do.” Bracken’s expression was stunned, angry, and upset. Cory, still exhausted, was confused.

  “Now, Green….” Morana made a sudden, belated attempt at a conciliatory smile, which was hard to do since she was still weeping in fear.

  “You knew.” Green swallowed hard, still stunned at the careless duplicity of his own people. “You knew. He came into Crispin’s land and set up shop, and did horrible, poisonous things to Crispin’s mind and Crispin’s people, and he plotted to destroy Adrian and you knew he was there?” And like that, Green felt what Cory called her “mad”—the berserker’s rage, the surge of adrenaline and power that was his birthright—and it hit his bloodstream like a freight train, charging both Cory and Bracken by their proximity to him and cloaking him with the sort of massive power that so very few people of any descent had ever seen. Green seemed to grow in stature, his sunshine hair streaming behind him like a crackling chaperone, built up by the power of righteous anger that fueled him.