by RJ Blain
“Unbelievable.”
“What?”
The mental image of Todd sleeping around was firmly entrenched in my head. Groaning, I hurried through breakfast, eating everything to make Cleo happy. “Maybe I should charge him as a performance enhancer.”
“That’s the spirit. But, being completely serious, some of the mares were worried. With the upcoming banquet, Todd’s been less enthusiastic than normal. No one blames him for it; stress hampers even the strongest stallion. I know the situation’s been bothering him, so the relief factor probably played the biggest role in yesterday’s activities. The mares will happily accept a predator living with them if it means Todd’s in better condition. For all his many faults, they do care for him. That’s part of the reason he keeps so many around year after year.”
I understood. I cared for him, too, but not in the way he likely wished. “He’s a good man.”
“That he is. Off you go, Jesse. Escape while you can. The lists are in there.” Cleo pointed to a manilla envelope on the far end of the table before claiming my empty plate. “If you need anything or have expenses, send a courier here. We’ll take care of it.”
“Thanks.” I made my escape while I could, relieved I’d have some time to myself and a chance to work through my worries.
Over the years, I’d met many guild leaders, but Todd remained among the most levelheaded and logical, especially for a stallion. If he was stressed to the point his mares were worried he wouldn’t breed well, something was going on—something far more dangerous than a gathering of clans. But what?
More importantly, was it coincidence, or did Todd believe I could somehow make things easier or better for him? My first stop would be a library.
Maybe the list would shine some light on the mystery of the banquet and Todd’s reaction to my agreement to help him through the festivities.
Charlotte had sixty-three libraries within its city limits, making it a mecca of knowledge for the eastern seaboard of the United States. Once upon a time, the Library of Congress had held the title of largest library, but not long after the first Starfall burst in Canada, the government had packed it up and shipped it to Charlotte, where it resided in a warehouse for a decade before reemerging as the Charlotte National Archive.
Someone had foreseen Washington D.C. crumbling into the sea, and they had done the impossible, saving the precious collection of written works from destruction. I stared up at the building towering high overhead. Little remained of the original warehouse, although I suspected the structure lingered, buried beneath the many additions tacked on over the years. Parts of it gleamed new with steel and glass, while others were of carved stone, brick, and mortar. Magic and pre-Starfall technology blended, and from my spot on the marble steps, the hum of electricity promised air conditioning and stable lighting within.
“Frankenlibrary,” I muttered, shaking my head and climbing the staircase to the heavy wooden doors leading into the structure. During the night, they alone deterred most people; I’d seen several shifter males struggle to open one enough to allow entrance to the building. Someone had, wisely, designed the building so the doors were situated over a null zone, a place mystics couldn’t work their magic.
Combustion didn’t work, either, much to the library administrators’ relief. Sometimes it did in places magic didn’t work.
My entire body hurt when I crossed the threshold into the magic-dead space, and the pain intensified the longer I remained within it. I only had to cross five feet, but when I made it inside, sweat beaded on my brow, and I shuddered.
The foyer of the library served as a museum, and three men guarded a glass case displayed in the center of the room. I strode to it and halted at the red rope meant to keep the curious at an acceptable distance from the priceless document.
When I had first come to Charlotte, I had stood in the same exact spot, murmuring the words written on the yellowed page as much from memory as from sight. Then, the guards had watched me with their eyebrows raised, their expressions curious.
Some things never changed, nor would they. Magic preserved the Declaration of Independence, allowing light to shine upon it without damaging it. The first sentence came easily, but I hesitated before whispering, “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.”
If the founders of the United States had known what would happen in Canada, would they have written the words the same? A rabbit—a cottontail bunny—ruled over the shifter clans with a tiger as his second-in-command. Few liked the fact a black herbivore ran the show, but not even the biggest predators on the block attempted to unseat him. I believed it had something to do with the cute little cottontail’s mate. Before her shift, the President of the United States and overseer of the mystics had supposedly been a mix of a Native American and a Mexican, but rumors claimed she hadn’t been a human since her first shift.
Some rumors were ridiculous, as shifters couldn’t speak while in their animal forms, nor could they sign documents, and the President had a reputation of speaking her opinions and backing laws meant to balance power between shifters and mystics.
Some mystics weren’t too happy a shifter with a disposition for violence ruled them, but they weren’t brave enough—or stupid enough—to kick her out of office. They’d lost their chance at her re-election.
For the first time in American history, every single surviving state had voted her in for her next—her eighth—term.
No, if the founders of the United States had known there would be a First Gentleman bunny and a grizzly for President, the entire document would have been scrapped and rewritten.
One of the guards chuckled, and the creepy crawling feeling of a mystic sneaking a peek at my surface thoughts made me shiver. “You got that right, lady. Like history?”
I did, and I nodded to acknowledge the short and muscular blond-haired man. Telepathic mystics, especially thought thieves, made excellent guards. Would-be robbers couldn’t get close without their intentions becoming known. Matching his chuckle with one of my own, I waited for him to finish plucking my thoughts out of my head so he knew I knew exactly what he was.
Then I slammed the door shut on his prying mystic magics by working my way to a hundred in my head in fractions and scattering the numbers around, careful not to repeat myself.
All three guards flinched.
“That’s just mean.”
I stopped counting, but I kept a close watch on my thoughts. “Can’t help myself sometimes. It’s been a while since I’ve been here. Anything new?”
“You’ve come at a good time. The diamond’s pulsing, and it’s putting on quite the show. The viewing room’s open to the public today.” The mystic gestured to a hallway to my right. “Third hallway to your right, take the first left. Can’t miss it from there. It’ll burst sometime this week.”
My eyes widened. “You don’t mean the Hope Diamond, do you?”
“We drew the lucky lot this burst cycle.”
The Hope Diamond’s first burst had deluged Washington in blue light in the hours after Starfall, and when its glow faded, the city had changed, rich with magic. Cars stalled, clogging the city streets. Every fire went out, signaling the end of the combustion era.
According to Blade Clan legend, the clan founder’s powers had come from the Hope Diamond, and it had gifted him with Steel Heart. If memory served, the diamond burst at random intervals, replenishing magic to the entire city it influenced. Some hoped for new powers and gathered where the Hope Diamond shined. I doubted the stone did half as much as people believed, but I’d never seen it before.
“Thanks. I’ll have a look.”
“Enjoy. Who knows? Maybe you’ll be the lucky one.”
I froze mid-step, staring into the man’s bright blue eyes. “Pardon?”
“You really are a skeptic, aren’t you?”
&nb
sp; “Maybe.”
He chuckled and gestured towards the hallway. “You don’t just get to see, you get to touch, too. It doesn’t just burst on its own. It always takes someone with it when it goes. How they go? Now that’s the real surprise.”
The other two guards refused to look my way, watching the non-existent crowd.
I scowled. “You’re playing me, aren’t you?”
“If you don’t believe me, go have a look. Why else would they let someone fresh off the streets touch something so precious?” The guard grinned and waved me away. “Don’t worry. It hasn’t killed anyone yet. Who knows? Maybe it’ll make a believer out of you. Stranger things have happened.”
Chapter Seven
The Hope Diamond pulsed deep blue, and the room dimmed in the presence of its power. Electricity crackled in the air, and the hairs on my arms stood on end. I tingled, and instead of approaching the stone guarded by six men far larger than me, I stood frozen in the archway.
Three hopeful people shoved past me to take their turn touching the stone, and when the Hope Diamond pulsed, the darkness it created swallowed them whole. They emerged intact, though their hair stood on end and sparked.
I turned heel like a coward and fled to the safety of the third floor of the library, which held the research material on magic and Starfall stones. If the Hope Diamond could change those it touched, I wouldn’t touch it. Staying in the same room with it for as long as I had classified as stupidity of the highest order.
I had enough problems in my life without adding more to the collection.
Carrying around a pulsing Starfall stone in my pouch would cause me a great deal of trouble if anyone discovered it. Its existence weighed on me enough I hunted down every book I could find detailing known, named Starfall stones, stacked them on a free table, and went to work. Identifying a stone took a great deal of time and effort, but as long as I could eliminate mine as a named stone, I wouldn’t have as much to worry about. Deciding what to do with it would be easier with the reassurance I wasn’t carrying around something really important.
The fact someone paid three men to retrieve the stone gave it value. Nate’s interest in it intrigued me, too—and gave me a reason to keep it for a while longer. If my tattoo didn’t send him hunting for me, I hoped the stone would.
Some trouble was worth courting, and as far as shifter males went, Nate’s sort of trouble interested me enough to give him a chance to track me down. I doubted anything would come of it.
Soon enough, I’d cut my hair, I was already wearing clothes far different from what he’d seen me in, and it didn’t take much for me to blend in. Maybe Todd thought I was pretty, but in Charlotte, I ranked as middle of the pack at best. I’d disappear among the hundreds of other mercenaries drifting through the city.
Even if he pinpointed where I’d gone, he’d have a hard time locating me. The last time someone had managed to track me from one city to the next, the thrill of being chased outweighed everything else. If the last mystic I’d slept with hadn’t gotten himself killed on a job that went south, I might’ve even stayed with him for a while.
Leonard’s rough exterior had hidden a passionate man, and while he had a rude mouth and an even worse temperament, he’d made up for it in protective pride and skill. Our fights had, until the day he died, remained limited to screaming matches and insults.
Cleo really had me pegged. Good looks, horrible personalities. I wondered what I’d do with a good man, shifter or otherwise, if I ever found one.
Run away, probably.
Disgusted with myself, I forced my attention back to my work, flipping through the books to examine each and every sketch of named Starfall stones I could find. Many, like the Hope Diamond, were faceted stones, jewels in their own right, although a good number were polished stones.
The hours ticked by, and after searching book after book, I found nothing to help me confirm either way if selling or keeping the stone would come back to haunt me later. Rubbing my eyes, I admitted defeat and ferried the heavy volumes back to their rightful places on the shelves.
Maybe I’d have better luck going through the guest list for the banquet. I snatched my satchel and headed for the fifth floor, which held the public records of clans, heraldry, and far too many gossip magazines for my liking. At least I wouldn’t have to change floors to learn about shifter species; the library wisely kept species and clan records together, as one couldn’t exist without the other.
I began with Mayor Longfellow. He belonged to the Charlotte pack of wolves, the Silver Fangs, and according to his biography, he didn’t even rank in the top ten among the males. His mystic mate had provided him with twelve children before her death, although only five of them had survived over the age of ten.
His daughter, Blossom, was his eldest and the only one mated—and the only shifter among his offspring. I snorted.
“Who the hell names their poor kid Blossom?” I shook my head, grabbed a clean sheet of paper from my satchel, and dug out a calligraphy pen to take notes. Fortunately for Blossom, no one made fun of a tigress if they wanted to live. The marriage to her lion, Gabriel, was for appearances only, from what I gathered from the mix of modern history books and gossip magazines.
The magazines hadn’t done a good job of breathing life to their attempted scandals, and the history books hardly mentioned the couple at all. Neither mentioned which clan Blossom belonged to, and Gabriel’s pride didn’t have a name; the books referenced their territory, which skirted the Appalachians.
My research into Longfellow’s pack bore more fruit. The Silver Fangs had more rivalries than brains, and I got the feeling they lived for conflict. The banquet made a lot more sense when I thought about it from the pack’s perspective.
If my initial impression of the situation was correct, Longfellow would be hunting for a new mate; it’d been five years since his mate’s death. Gathering so many eligible bachelors and bachelorettes would give the wolf pack plenty of opportunity to find strong mates.
Toss in a healthy selection of felines, and they’d have all the fighting they could ever want. With the Silver Fangs’ notable lack of allies, every clan in attendance counted as a potential enemy, and they’d love every moment of violence unleashed in the mayoral palace.
No wonder Todd had no interest in pursuing the guest list; with a fight-hungry pack hosting the event, it didn’t matter who attended. There’d be fighting, and everyone would be against everybody else.
Unfortunately, the library wouldn’t help me with most of the guest list. At best, I could pull out basic profiles on the clan leaders in attendance.
I began with the tigers, since they had the most at stake in the arrangement. Unlike lions, tiger clans would band together for a common cause, making them the biggest threat at the banquet. With ten tiger species sharing the same roof, Blossom would have all the protection she could ever need, not that a tigress likely needed much help from anyone.
Of the ten species, the Siberian tigers ruled the roost, and they were led by a male named Anatoly. His lack of a last name intrigued me, as did the library’s general lack of information on him.
I learned Anatoly belonged to the Clan Council, the group of leaders responsible for all shifter species, and his rank was about equal to the leader of all shifters. To make matters worse, Blossom belonged to his clan, which meant if anything happened to her, it’d escalate right to the top of the shifter food chain.
I couldn’t even blame Todd for refusing to go through the list. Anatoly’s presence at the banquet would ensure chaos. If anything happened to Blossom or Anatoly, it’d draw the attention of the First Gentleman. Where he went, his wife and mate wasn’t far behind.
The President of the United States showing up in Charlotte with the Hope Diamond set to burst would transform the banquet into a chaotic event worth adding to the history books. My real job would be keeping the Siberian tigers safe and sound so there’d be no reason for the bigger fish to come crash a party already sl
ated to end in disaster.
With Todd’s resources and experience as a guild master, he likely hadn’t needed to do any research at all to learn the truth. All he would’ve needed to know were the names of the guests to understand the stakes.
Why did he think I could do anything to help prevent the banquet from becoming a disaster—a disaster involving two of America’s most dangerous and influential people? I had a good reputation for protection gigs, although most assumed luck played the biggest factor in my high success rate.
If anyone knew the truth, I’d be dead long before a trial.
While there were advantages to assuming everyone was an enemy, as Todd had likely done, I knew better. Not all enemies were created equal, and if I wanted to isolate the most dangerous threats, I needed to understand my adversaries. Who hated who, and who supported who—the reasons behind the alliances and rivalries would give me insight on the real threats.
In the end, would it be enough? Doubt plagued me, but I clenched my teeth and went to work organizing the names and clans into similar groups so I could begin the tedious process of understanding the banquet’s dynamics without having met a single attendee in my life.
I needed a new life and a new job to go with it.
The deep tolling of a bell signaled the library would close within ten minutes, and I straightened, rubbing at my bleary eyes. Ink stained my fingertips, and I probably had smears on my face, too. I’d filled every single sheet of paper in my possession with notes, and I still had a huge stack of books I wanted to sort through.
Groaning, I jotted the titles and reference numbers of the books I still needed to check before putting them back where they belonged. While there were carts scattered throughout the library, something about returning the volumes to the shelf myself gave me a sense of security. Anyone could have watched me work, but if someone inquired with a librarian about what I’d been working on, all they’d be able to do was point in the general direction of the clan histories, rosters, and general shifter information.
