by Dianna Love
It was, but no telling how long that would last.
Just as we crossed the last flight of stairs, the heavy pounding of boots thundered from above and behind us, though staying in their human form. That worked in our favor even if they were still a threat.
“Get into one of the empty rooms,” I whispered to Bran. “I’ll continue downstairs, making noise as I go. They’ll follow me.”
“No—”
“Don’t argue. Go.”
He did, his last look thunderous.
I stamped my feet hard against the treads, forsaking silence for speed now. The steps behind me slowed, now aware their target was dead ahead.
Rounding toward the first floor opening I ran. A bullet whizzed past my right shoulder, splintering into the wall behind me. I ducked, tumbled to make a harder target, and came up at crouched behind a wingback chair.
Another shot puffed into the chair’s side arm, blowing white batting like snowflakes. Defensively my position sucked. The shooter was directly ahead, near the open doorway, probably one of the outside guards. He couldn’t hold guns in paws and hooves, so as long as the guards were shooting I wasn’t dealing with a rampaging wild animal that’d be damned near impossible to take down.
Front door exit was blocked until that guard moved, shifted, or was taken out. The guy from upstairs would be behind me at any moment. Places to hide were minimal as all the furniture looked fragile and useless.
Just my luck.
The Glock 19 I carried weighed almost nothing. I scanned for options. A quick dart to the right led to a study with windows to the outside. The kitchen lay somewhere to my left. Too far away and I didn’t know if it had an exit to outside, or to an enclosed garage.
Another bullet bit into the chair. This time from behind me. The guard from the stairs had arrived.
Study it was.
I lay down a series of quick focused shots as I scrambled to the right. The gunman positioned in the doorway shot wide, the guy behind me either was a better aim, was able to control his shifting better, or had better sighting.
The first bullet hissed past my ear. The second burned a channel of heat across my upper arm.
Hellfire and damnation that stung.
I hit the ajar study door slamming into the room like a runner hitting home base on a slide. My arm screamed. My ears rang. Adrenaline pounded through me.
Yiyhah! It felt good to be alive.
Scampering out of the doorway, I held returning fire until I could get a bead on my target. Either one of them. My ammo wouldn’t last forever, but I could already hear the sweet, sweet sound of fire engines in route. The shooters had two options; make a final supreme effort to silence me, Bran, and Franco, if they knew Franco was no longer a man, and hope to hell they escaped before the cavalry arrived. Or cut and run now.
“Run, you suckers,” I breathed through my arm pain. “Run fast and run far.”
A bullet hit the door jamb near my head.
He wouldn’t be the first guy who didn’t listen to good advice.
I returned the shot, aiming for the stair guy who’d now taken my former position behind the mangled chair. I was pinned down in a triangle, about equal distance between the outside doorway guard and the one who’d come from upstairs.
At least Bran was safe. But where the hell was Franco? With hope, he was running outside for a potty break or something equally benign. One of us deserved to get out of here unscarred.
I checked the ammo remaining in my magazine. Five shots plus one in the chamber. “If you guys won’t oblige.” I rose to my knees, crouched for a Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid last ditch effort, gun blazing as I charged instead of remaining cowered and whipped. It wasn’t the smartest plan but neither was waiting for the shifters to charge.
“On the count of three.”
Two bullets struck the door beside me. I ducked but held my position, every muscle tensed, nerves wire thin.
“One.”
The sirens screamed closer now. But not close enough.
“Two.”
I braced, gun hand tucked close, heart pounding triple time. Please don’t shift, please don’t shift. In a contest between pistols without silver bullets and shifters, a pistol was as effective as a pea-shooter.
Fear clogged my throat.
“Three.”
I rose just as a series of shots rang out from the back stairway toward the chair.
Bran.
I shot toward the chair. A man screamed, his voice a half-squeal. Warthog guy. He crumpled to the floor behind the chair.
I focused on the front door. The threat there was greatest against Bran, exposed to that shooter. I had to take the guard out.
Advancing. I aimed and shot. One at a time. Relentless.
“Take that.”
A step forward.
“And that.” The gun vibrated in my hand. Two shots left. Damn, Bran, he should’ve stayed upstairs.
“And that—”
“Alex.” Bran’s voice reached me. “Stop!”
Then I saw the front door shooter, standing now, his gun pointed straight at me.
CHAPTER 59
I twisted, turning toward Bran. The gun in his hand pointed in my direction. The gunman directly behind me.
Time slowed. Sound compressed. Actions became elongated.
Bran’s mouth opened. The report of his gun as bullets zapped out, shooting past me. So close I could feel their wake in the air.
A scream. Mine? His? Sirens drawing closer. A voice shouting. Jaylene’s?
Sounds and sights merged, a grotesque MTV video snapping out of frame.
Then everything crashed into near silence, broken only by the sound of fire engine sirens.
“Are you stupid or what?” Jaylene, materialized beside me now, a weapon in her hand, anger distorting her face. “You have to be the dumbest cowgirl that ever was, you know that? Two more seconds, or your man slower on the draw, and you’d be the one in a puddle of blood instead of this yahoo. You want to die?”
“Me?” I heard the fear in my own voice, but it wasn’t the fear of getting killed, it was the fear of what could have happened. I looked directly at Bran, my voice raised. “I said stay upstairs and what did you do—”
“I saved your life. Again.”
I stepped closer to him, anger, and fear punching through me. “These were real bullets here, not some TV show imitations.”
“I know—”
“No, you don’t know anything. I’m the professional, you’re not. Stick to your dresses.”
It was a cheap, tacky shot but all I had with the shaking in my whole body—the aftereffect of too much adrenaline. That and the awareness of how bloody close Bran had come to getting killed.
He wasn’t a freaking immortal. Hell, he didn’t have enough warlock magic operating to save his hide.
“So be it.” The muscles in his face were held in check, the pulse point in his temple pounding in contrast. “I’ll go back to my dresses. And you’re welcome. Next time I worry you might be in danger I’ll look the other way.”
“Fine by me.”
Jaylene grabbed my arm or I’d have stepped closer and slugged the guy. How dare he scare me like that. “And there won’t be a next time. We’re out of here.”
“Best news I’ve heard for weeks.”
So two could do cheap shots.
“Why, you—”
Jaylene grabbed me tighter.
“Alex, the battle’s over.”
That’s what she thought.
“Jaylene, back off, she’s been hit,” Kelly’s voice spoke from near the doorway; a doorway already filling with yellow suited firefighters.
But my attention wasn’t on any of them. It was on Bran. Standing near one crumpled body, his focus now one hundred percent on the gun in his hand as if wondering where it had come from.
“He dead for sure?” Jaylene shouted to the paramedics bending over the guard’s body in the doorway. Thankfully a human b
ody. Most of the time Jaylene could be a PIA, but right then she was my PIA. Maybe Stone was right, team mattered, as much as family mattered. Damned if I’d ever tell him though.
“He’s dead,” came the dark reply.
The shot had been fatal, taking out the shooter aiming at me. Bran had killed a man.
My stomach plummeted, air leeched from my lungs. Killing someone wasn’t easy. Taking another’s life had ramifications, like using powerful magic, any magic for that matter. There was always a price to pay. Bran hadn’t had even my little training and now must live with the cost of taking a life. He’d saved me and looked sick about it.
He dropped his gun, letting it land with a loud thunk on the floor.
“You all right, Miss?” a masked firefighter spoke to me, his voice oddly calm and gentle, as if he feared me splintering. “Miss, let me take a look at that arm.”
“Arm?” Oh, yeah, I’d been shot. Grazed really, it wasn’t anything in spite of the burning, searing sensation.
I shrugged, the movement tangoing more pain across my nerve endings.
I was supposed to be the professional and Bran had saved the day. Not that he looked like a winner. He looked shell-shocked, especially when his gaze lifted and locked with mine. A thousand hells darkened his eyes. Tormented.
Damn, why hadn’t he stayed upstairs?
I stepped toward him, but he raised his chin and shook his head, warning me off. He’d just saved my life. Couldn’t that weigh against death? A life saved for one taken.
“Bran?” His name emerged raw from my throat. “I—”
“Not now, Alex.” Kelly snagged an arm around my good shoulder. Kind-hearted, kindergarten teacher Kelly. “He needs some time.”
As if a thousand years could erase the revulsion in his eyes looking at me.
“Your world,” he said, the words guttural.
Oh, that was ripe. He was the one with the non-human cousin who had Sasha brutally killed, accusing me of existing in a dark world.
I shook my head, not denying what he said as much as what he wasn’t saying. I killed and now he had. He’d been brought into the darkest, ugliest part of my world and was rejecting it. Was rejecting me, even knowing that he had been the one protecting his cousin.
Well, that wasn’t news. I bit back unfamiliar emotions: regret, hurt, remorse.
Firefighters shouted around me; pulsating red lights flashed through all the windows. An ambulance crew double-timed past and yet I stood there, caught in a time warp, rewinding the last minutes in my head.
Should haves, could haves—none of them made any difference. Two shifters dead, one at Bran’s hand, though everyone except Bran and my team thought the dead men human. Franco’s whereabouts unknown. Dominique at large.
That shook me. I glanced at Kelly. “Dominique. Stop her. She’s armed and dangerous.”
“Where’s she headed?”
“Don’t know.”
“I do.” Bran stepped forward, his gaze averted from mine, truly making me an invisible agent.
Ling Mai would be proud.
CHAPTER 60
I scanned the Kennedy Center’s video monitors over Mandy’s shoulder, the low level whisper of technology humming around us. Bran was standing in the Center’s lobby, visible on the screen, ignoring me as intently as I was ignoring him.
Hundreds of milling guests visible, lots of air kissing, enlarged smiles, see-and-be-seen people. Designer dresses. Surgically enhanced bodies. Sparkling jewels blinging everywhere. Bran’s world.
I was lucky I was out of it.
My eyes cut toward Bran’s image. I caught myself and glanced away.
“There he is.” Mandy pointed to the upper left screen as if I’d spoken aloud. Her good hand gesturing, the other still in a sling from the echo-demon drill.
“Who?” Jaylene asked from near the door.
“Bran.”
A tense silence permeated the room. Everyone knew the details of what had happened at the house just an hour ago. Bad enough I’d made a fool of myself over a guy; worse was they also knew I hadn’t stopped Dominique.
Our team was all behind the scenes, leaving the actual security measures to the Big Boy agencies. Let them have it.
It’d been too late to call off the big gala as it’d already started, though the President’s wife had been alerted not to attend as a few other key guests, one at a time, were being asked to leave quietly.
But what about the others? The innocents. We had no idea what Dominique planned, but I held no doubt something was about to go down. Something bad.
Mandy whistled, “Hey witchy girl, you got any plans on how to stop that Grimple?”
My fingers clenched until I released them, one at a time, slowly and carefully, not bothering to rise to Mandy’s bait.
“I’m hoping she’ll retain her human shape and . . .I’ll stop her.” I had meant to say neutralize her, but she was still Bran’s cousin and he had a blind spot for her.
“That’s priceless,” the other woman continued, adding an additional whistle. “You going to call up a few echo-demons to help you cuz that worked so well—”
“Cut it out, Mandy,” Vaughn spoke from near the console furthest from me, her gaze skimming the crowd shots. “Keep your focus on the event and guests.”
Kelly voiced aloud my own fears. “Wasn’t finding the drugs in the wall safe at the house enough?”
“No telling if what we found was all there was. Better to be safe than sorry.” Vaughn adjusted a dial. “We may have enough material to indict Alex’s Dragon Lady, but there was someone on the other end of that throwaway phone she spoke to and until we get them, this mission isn’t truly over.”
And until we found Van, I wasn’t going to stop.
My stomach burned, each word echoing like a residual scream though my system. Something was wrong. But I couldn’t put my finger on what or why. Or maybe it was simply Bran-damage eating away my sanity.
Damn.
“I still say that missing Franco dude is the key.” Jaylene pushed away from the wall, casting me a wary glance. “I mean he’s the one I’d like to strap a bomb to and take out.”
I shook my head, aware of a glimmer of a smile. The team hadn’t heard about Franco’s role yet, only that he was missing.
I straightened. “Let’s set the record straight, once and for all. Dominique is a sadistic, manipulative bitch and that’s in her human form. As a Grimple she makes taking out a dragon look easy.” I could still smell the stench of her breath when I inhaled. “But if I could have stopped her, I would have. You want to fight a Grimple single-handed, go right ahead.”
Jaylene nodded as if thinking through something. “You and—” She nodded toward Bran’s image on the screen, his hands tight against his sides. “—him make a good team, in spite of all that warlock-witch crap. You don’t trust your magic. Maybe if you did, Dominique would be taken out by now.”
“I can’t believe—” I glanced at Vaughn for support, but the other woman simply raised one shoulder. “Not you, too?”
“It’s an interesting theory and could explain a lot.”
“It’s a bunch of crap and you all know it.”
Vaughn looked straight at me. “When you learn to trust your abilities, you’re going to stop avoiding magic. You’re a powerful woman, Alex, and the only one who doesn’t know it is you.”
“That’s the dumbest crap I’ve ever heard.” I’d been practicing spells. Yeah, behind closed doors but only a fool would go around flashing magic in the crowded venues I’d been in for the last two weeks.
Besides they had no idea, no idea whatsoever how badly using magic could bite. To them it was a parlor trick, handy to make some flash, and open a few locks, but the real stuff, the powerful stuff, that was dangerous and they didn’t have a clue.
Vaughn kept her gaze level. “Aren’t you afraid that if you become more a witch that you’ll turn into your mother who ended up destroying the man that loved her most, your fa
ther?”
Insert knife, push deep, and twist. Damn her anyway for knowing too much about my background. And hands off my dad. No one took a poke at him. No one.
As if all the air in the room disappeared, I stood there, my heart squeezed, my focus burning into Vaughn. “My mother has nothing to do with this. I’m not her.” Every word ached as it slipped from my mouth. “And you don’t know squat diddly about my father.”
“You’re right, Alex.” Vaughn stood up and crossed to me, sliding one arm around my shoulder though I didn’t unbend. “I was trying to help.”
I shook my head, then took the plunge as I stepped away from the circle of Vaughn’s arm, needing the space to breathe. Baring one’s sordid past required one’s total focus. “Not that the news means anything to any of you, but my mom ran away from my father when I was five.” There, I’d spilled my guts. “She ran away from all of us and it was the best thing she could have done. She was a witch, a powerful one, and while that sounds all cool and fun, it’s too easy to slide from white to dark magic. And she did. A downhill skid that left only casualties in her wake.”
My voice and my heart ached. It’d been twenty years and the hurt still flared.
“Damn,” Jaylene whistled, glancing at the other team members. “We didn’t know.”
“That’s because my childhood has nothing to do with the team, with any of you, or with my using or not using my abilities.”
“Sure it does.” Kelly looked at me eye-to-eye. “Our pasts shape our present, but it doesn’t have to shape our futures if we choose to acknowledge and learn from it. If your mother betrayed her gifts that was her choice. You’re different.”
That was it. That was the missing piece. I didn’t have time for this other personal crap, but Kelly’s words set off a ripple effect.
“What did you say?” I stepped back to the screens, my whole body tensed, my eyes clearing.
“About being different?” Kelly mimicked my move, both of us now facing the screens.
Vaughn and Jaylene flanked us.
I scanned one screen after the other before I saw what I wanted. Not Bran this time, but Suzette.
“There.” I pointed to the screen. “What do you see?”
