Grave Threat

by Lori Drake

  Joey’s wolf howled, but she kept her rage in check. “Who sent you? Was it Madrigal?” she said through gritted teeth.

  “You might as well kill me,” the man said. He had a reedy, thin voice and sneered at her seemingly without fear. “I’ll never betray the master.”

  Joey decked him. Hard. He slumped against the wall, limp in her one-handed grip. She let him go and went to help Dean secure the other one. Within minutes, she had three trussed-up cultists in the back of the van.

  “Now what?” Dean asked, rubbing his wrists.

  Joey closed the back doors and glanced down the road toward town. Fortunately, they were stopped on a fairly desolate stretch of highway, so there hadn’t been any rubberneckers yet. “We find somewhere to stash them for the night, and tomorrow we offer an exchange.”

  “Two of ours for three of theirs? Seems more than fair,” Dean said, but his eyes were on Zoe’s car. It remained where Joey had left it, with Zoe still in the passenger seat.

  “I thought so. What I want to know is why they grabbed you.”

  “Easier to grab us one at a time than together?”

  “Maybe.” Joey flexed her fingers. Her knuckles ached from their contact with Tweedledum’s face, but at least the skin hadn’t split. “We need to get off this road. I’ll be right back.”

  Dean nodded and hung back while Joey walked over to Zoe’s car and surveyed the damage. It wasn’t pretty, but there weren’t any fluids leaking. She walked around to the passenger’s side. Zoe rolled down the window.

  “You okay?” Joey asked. The fact that Zoe wasn’t screaming at her suggested Roger was still in control.

  “Fine.”

  “We need to head back to town. Can you drive?”

  Zoe-Roger scoffed. “Of course I can drive. I haven’t even been dead a year.”

  Smirking, Joey returned to Dean, and they got into the van. The ride back to the bar was short and quiet. When they got there, Mike was standing outside. Joey parked the van and hopped out, studying the Alpha as she approached him.

  “What happened?” Mike asked.

  “Madrigal sent some goons after us. We took care of them.”

  His brows lifted. “Did you…”

  “Kill them?” Joey snorted. “No. I thought they’d be more valuable alive. They’re in the van. What exactly did you tell Madrigal when you set up the meet?”

  His eyes were stony, challenging. “Are you trying to accuse me of something?”

  Joey held her ground. “Should I be? I mean, it’s awfully coincidental, them showing up here to grab us a few hours after you arrange a meeting. A meeting you swore couldn’t happen until tomorrow.”

  His eyes bored into hers, unflinching. Uncompromising. Joey refused to back down, and after a few tense seconds, Mike shook his head.

  “I didn’t know they were going to try anything,” he said. “I swear.”

  Joey eyed him a little longer, then nodded. “All right. Do you think Madrigal might be willing to trade his people for mine?”

  “I think if Madrigal finds out you’ve got his people, you’ll have a way bigger problem on your hands.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “Joey—”

  “I. Don’t. Care. He has my people. I have his. It’s only fair. We’ll sort it out tomorrow. Tonight, I need a place to stash them.”

  Mike sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, looking away. “You can use my garage. But tomorrow we take them with us.”

  “Fine. Thanks.” Joey turned to walk back to the van, motioning for Dean to get back inside.

  “Did you get the money?”

  Joey stopped and turned back, fighting a wave of annoyance. “Yeah. You’ll get it tomorrow. See you at the house.”

  Mike nodded, and Joey climbed back into the driver’s seat to wait while Mike locked up and got into his truck. She forgot all about Zoe until she caught a glimpse of her in the rearview mirror, standing and looking at the torn-up front of her car. As if she sensed Joey’s glance, Zoe looked over with fury in her eyes.

  “Something wrong?” Dean asked, looking Joey’s way.

  Joey sighed. “I think we’re going to have to go to the bank again.”

  Chris lay on his thin, lumpy mattress, drifting on the edge of consciousness as the moonlight slanted in through the blinds, blades of pale light slicing through the darkness. It was late, and the compound was largely asleep. Soon, he would be too. A smile curved his lips. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt so at peace.

  His ears perked, picking up a soft click across the room. The door opened. A slender figure slipped into the room and closed the door softly, nearly silently, behind them. Chris sat up and studied the woman by the light of the moon. His sharp eyes had little difficulty making her out, but that didn’t make her any more familiar.

  “Hi?” he said.

  The woman pressed a finger to her lips and padded toward him. A magical glow sprang around her as she came to a halt a few feet from his bed. Glowing runes appeared on the floor around her, forming a rough circle about five feet in diameter. The glow around her winked out, but the runes remained. She motioned him closer, still not saying a word.

  Curious, Chris rose and approached. She smiled encouragingly and stepped back to give him more room, but remained within the circle’s bounds.

  Once he was within the circle, the woman spoke. “We can speak freely now. The circle will prevent anyone from overhearing.”

  “Okay…”

  “I understand your hesitance. This must be very hard for you, not knowing who you can trust.”

  Chris’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

  The woman squinted, studying him. Her eyes unfocused, and he got the strange sense that she was looking through him rather than at him. When she focused on him again, her gaze was sympathetic. “You’ve had a rough day.”

  Chris rubbed the back of his head. “Have I?” He couldn’t remember much of his day, truth be told. It hadn’t seemed important until now.

  “Maybe this isn’t the best time…” Her eyes slid toward the door.

  Asking questions is the surest path to enlightenment.

  “Who are you?” Chris asked. “Why are you here?”

  She chewed her lower lip. “I can’t answer that, not now. Your aura is dripping with his influence. It’s too dangerous. I’ll come back.”

  Chris’s head swam with confusion and growing alarm. The peaceful waves he’d been floating on grew choppy. He closed the distance between them with a quick step and grabbed her wrist. Her eyes flew wide open. They were the most peculiar shade of turquoise, now that he saw them up close. He stared into her eyes and held on to her arm as if she were an anchor.

  “Stay. Please,” he said. “Talk to me.”

  “About what?”

  “I don’t know. Tell me about yourself. How long have you been here?”

  “It seems like forever…”

  I can’t remember wanting to be anywhere else.

  “…but only a couple of months, I guess.”

  Chris squeezed his eyes shut as her words further disturbed his peace. The pattern was wrong. The pieces didn’t fit. His fingers tightened on her wrist.

  “Chris,” she said.

  His eyes snapped open. “How do you know my name?”

  She tried to yank her wrist free from his grasp, but he held on tight. “Please, you’re hurting me!”

  “How do you know my name?”

  “Everyone knows your name! That fool boy has been introducing you around all day.”

  “Not to you.”

  A pained cry escaped her throat and that golden glow sprang to life around her again. Her free hand shot out. Her palm barely touched his chest, but he was flung away by an unseen force. The backs of his legs struck the edge of the bed, and he fell backward. His head cracked against the wall. Spots crowded his vision. He lay there, slumped against the wall, blinking at her.

  She winced and took a step forward, then stopp
ed herself. Her eyes unfocused again. Her lips moved, but no sound issued forth.

  Chris shook his head, as if that might help clear it. Memories of the day filtered back in. His escape attempt. Rob’s punishment. The sessions in Marc’s study. The only thing worse than the dawning realization that Marc had clouded his mind with magic again was the awareness of his disappointment that it was wearing off. His peace of mind, once sundered, would not easily return. He pushed away the longing for that oblivion and embraced the troubles and cares that intruded.

  The woman stepped closer, concern on her face as her lips moved, but no sound issued forth. He looked at her in confusion. She glanced down, frowned, then took a larger step forward to stand right at the edge of the bed. Chris recoiled, scooting up so his back was against the wall and his knees were against his chest.

  “Are you okay?” Her voice was but a whisper.

  “No.” The word came out hoarse, choked by the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. He didn’t know how to process what was happening to him. His hands shook with anger and despair. How could he fight an enemy that could so easily incapacitate him?

  Strangely, his response brought a smile to her lips. A small smile, but a smile nonetheless. She sat on the edge of the bed, mere feet away from him.

  “Who are you?” he asked again, his eyes boring into hers.

  Her features tightened and she held up an index finger. That warm glow surged to life around her again, but Chris was past pulling away by then. If she truly wanted to do something to him with magic, he couldn’t stop her. He swallowed bile and clamped his arms around his legs.

  The glow around her winked out again, and she said, “Sorry, I had to move the circle. We can talk now. I’m Naomi. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you. Granted, not under these circumstances.”

  “Did he send you?”

  “No. In fact, I’d probably be in a lot of trouble if he found out I was here.”

  Chris frowned. “Then why are you here?”

  Naomi looked down, fingers twisting together in her lap. “It’s complicated.”

  A harsh laugh escaped him, and he rubbed his face. His stubbly jaw scraped against his palm like sandpaper. “Story of my life. Lately, anyway.”

  She nodded. “So it seems. But I’m here to help.”

  “How can you help me? And why should I believe you, for that matter? Everyone here is crazy.”

  “Oh, they’re quite sane, I assure you. But Madrigal’s influence is strong, especially with those who’ve been here a while.”

  Chris narrowed his eyes, studying her more shrewdly. She hadn’t called Marc master. “But not with you?”

  Naomi shrugged. “I haven’t given him an excuse to use his magic on me. I was an actress, once upon a time. It’s served me well these last few months.”

  “Why are you here?” he asked.

  “Catherine Boyd sent me.”

  For a moment, all Chris could do was stare at her. “Why?”

  “Long story short: I’m a spy.”

  “I think I’m gonna need the long story.”

  She shook her head. “There’s no time. I shouldn’t stay much longer. Someone may notice I’m gone. But I agreed to be her eyes and ears here. I watch, listen, and report back information about the coven. Its organization, hierarchy, habits—”

  “Wait. Report back? You have a way of contacting her?”

  “Yes.”

  The bedsprings creaked as Chris shifted position, folding his legs. “Good. I need to get a message to her.”

  “Oh? What message?”

  It could be a trick. She could’ve been sent by Marc to gain his confidence. But what need would Marc have of that, when he can waltz into someone’s dreams or turn them into a mindless zombie with his magic? Chris ran his tongue over the roof of his suddenly dry mouth, then spat the words out before he could change his mind.

  “Get me the fuck out of here before I lose myself forever.”

  18

  Joey liked to get a jump on the day, but she didn’t like to get up before dawn. It didn’t help that she’d barely gotten any sleep the night before; she was too keyed up about the coming meeting. Would Madrigal show up, or would he send more lackeys? Should she be worried about Mike’s warning about hostage negotiations? Had she made the right call? The questions rolled around in her mind most of the night, tormenting her.

  She was on her third cup of coffee by the time she climbed into the cultists’ van, and would’ve liked to take the rest of the pot with her. Her lycanthrope blood would burn off the caffeine high frustratingly quickly. She wished a superhuman ability to go without sleep were among her gifts. The quiet drive out to Carson Lake in the dark didn’t help wake her up. She tried to initiate conversation with Dean a few times, but he was extra quiet this morning. When she asked him about it, he just shrugged and said he was tired. She knew how that went.

  Joey followed Mike as he turned off the main road onto a side one that ran parallel to the lake. There were trees here. Actual trees. Joey had grown up in the desert, but the desert outside San Diego had nothing on the desolate wasteland they’d spent so much time driving through in the last two days. The wetlands around Carson Lake were a welcome change in scenery, even if she could barely drink it in. The sky was beginning to lighten, but they were a good thirty minutes from sunrise, by her reckoning.

  Mike pulled into a picnic area and parked. Joey parked the van beside his truck and climbed out.

  “Is this the spot?” she asked.

  “Close,” Mike said. “We have to go the rest of the way on foot. You want to leave them or take them?” He motioned at the van with his head.

  “Take them,” Joey said, without hesitation. Leaving them unattended sounded like a good way to lose them before she got a chance to negotiate. Truth be told, she would’ve liked to leave them behind entirely. It was unlikely their foe would bring Chris or Adelaide with them to the meeting, but maybe she could give them one of the prisoners as a sign of good faith and hold on to the rest.

  The prisoners went along without much fuss when they were unloaded from the van. Beyond a few early displays of defiance, they’d been well behaved. Meek, even. Sheep, accustomed to being herded. Other than keeping them tied up, Joey had treated them fairly well. They’d gotten food, water, and bathroom breaks. A prisoner couldn’t ask for much more.

  Mike led them down a winding path through the trees, leading away from the parking area. The air was damp and tickled Joey’s nose as they went. The path grew steeper, but after about ten minutes, the ground leveled off and Mike stopped by a large boulder jutting from the rocky hillside.

  “Is this it?” Joey asked. Mike nodded, so Joey directed the prisoners to line up and kneel. They were almost suspiciously compliant, considering the only weapon her group had to speak of was the tire iron in Dean’s hand. Joey preferred fists and feet, but none of the cultists had given them a reason to get physical. They just went where they were told and did what they were told.

  Joey shifted on her feet and checked the time on her phone every few minutes while they waited. The sky grew lighter still, but it wasn’t until the sun finally began cresting the eastern horizon that the envoy from the coven showed up. They approached from the opposite direction that Joey’s group had. She wondered where they’d parked, but made herself stand still and observed them as they approached. There were four, two women and two men. They all wore khakis and button-up shirts, just like the three she had in her custody. Standard cultist uniform, apparently.

  A knot of unease began to form in her stomach. She leaned over and asked Mike, “Were you expecting this many?”

  Mike shook his head, brow furrowed, but motioned for her to join him as he stepped forward. Joey’s wolf paced anxiously, but she squared her shoulders and went with him. It was too late to turn back now. Dean hung back to keep an eye on the prisoners.

  While waiting for the cultists to finish their approach, Joey passed Mike the envelope full of ca
sh. He tucked it in his back pocket without bothering to count it. Point for him. She met his eyes and nodded, then turned her focus forward, trying to figure out which one of the new arrivals was in charge. They arrayed themselves in front of her as equals, giving her no real clue.

  “Hi,” Joey said. “I found some of your people.” She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “Want to trade?”

  “Them for you?” one of the men asked. He had steely gray eyes. “I accept.”

  Joey smirked. “Hardly. Do you know who I am?”

  The blonde woman to Gray Eyes’ left said, “An upstart wolf who doesn’t know her place.”

  Joey put a hand to her chest. “Ow, that hurts.” Her eyes lingered on Blondie. There was something familiar about her, but Joey couldn’t quite place it.

  “What do you want?” Gray Eyes asked.

  “I want my people back. You’re holding them against their will,” Joey said.

  “Not everyone knows their true path. Some must be shown,” Blondie said. Her eyes slipped toward Mike. “Thank you for setting up this meeting, Michael.”

  Mike nodded, but said nothing.

  Joey snapped her fingers to get their attention. “What’ll it take? Money? I have money.”

  The cultists looked amongst each other, amusement coloring their features.

  “We don’t need your money,” Gray Eyes said.

  The wind shifted, carrying with it a strange scent, oily yet metallic. Joey’s wolf howled in alarm, but she didn’t quite understand why until two of the cultists pulled handguns from behind their backs.

  “We’d like our brothers back, please.” Blondie sneered, belying her polite request.

  Joey lifted her hands. What else did one do in such situations? Mike shifted away from her a few steps, apparently not intending to throw himself in front of a bullet for her.

  “Hey now,” Joey said, in a last-ditch effort to reason with them before this went completely off the rails. “I came here in good faith to negotiate for my people. If you don’t talk to me, you’ll get to talk to the cops. Kidnapping is against the law, and carrying them across state lines makes it a federal offense.”