“You’re next in line for the Unseelie chair. That spot is not for Sayen-ael. Take the Howler out, hide his dead body so no fey or lycan can find him, and the Seelie Court is willing to help put the rightful heir in the throne,” she said.
It wasn’t a small offer. The Seelie and Unseelie couldn’t interfere within each other’s jurisdiction. If Seelie failed in their attempt, a war would ensue. That’s if he trusted the Court of Light to keep their promise. Anything would be said to get Wolffey out of the Hill.
“It’s misfortunate what happened to Rufaro. I understand that you were close to your king and brother,” she said.
His jaw tightened. He didn’t need her talking about the dead, nor him and his emotions.
“Why come to me? Euanhugh-ael has trained assassins. Why not send one of them to kill Wolffey? It would be easier on the Court of Light not to get involved in the Court of Dark politics.”
Zella’s face softened. Her anger was gone. “If Euanhugh-ael sends anyone to go after your assassin, it will be Daithi.”
His heart stopped. His chest tightened. “Our son.”
Wolffey wasn’t immortal, but he was knowledgeable. He’d watched his protégé take a near impossible situation and turn it in his favor. The werewolf had little fear, which came when someone had little to lose. He didn’t want Daithi to go up against him.
Zella’s dark lashes brushed along her pale checks when she batted her eyes. He’d never seen her cry over the death of their first son, had never seen the loss form a fragile shell over her body, but here it was. “You need to stop Wolffey from giving the Roswell faeries back the amulet they gave Euanhugh-ael. That amulet was a peace offering from the Seelie to the Unseelie.”
It was a gift to keep Sayen-ael from using her new found and overly powerful skills from disrupting the Seelie Court. Wolffey didn’t realize that the slighted Roswell fey would start a dangerous sector war.
“Zella,” he watched her face to see if she would reject the lack of her formal title. She didn’t. He caught her under the chin, rubbing his thumb along her soft skin. The need to lean forward and kiss her was intense. He didn’t want to be distracted by the kiss when he had to focus on fixing the situation involving his protégé. “I’ll get the statue back.”
She pulled away. The distance left a lead weight in his stomach. At one time, Zella had been the only creature that could stir his calm. Now Wolffey kept him distracted.
He didn’t expect a parting farewell from Zella. She left like she arrived, swallowed by the passageway between her territory and this one. He stood a moment longer, letting her words haunt him. The last time Zella came to him, she was swollen with his child. He had never met Daithi as a baby, child or even as a young man. Aire didn’t expect to meet him either, unless it was by chance.
The blinding first rays of morning light pressed through the tops of the trees. The severe heat that sheered through his eyes and skin was an instant warning that he needed to get back. This would hinder the time span he had topside to find Wolffey and bring him back.
oOo
Mercer shut the shower off and leaned against the tile. The cold water did nothing to chill the tiles or his inner heat. He rubbed a hand through his wet hair. It was time to face the questions from the pack, call Tristen for an update and find out what his next move was in reaching Chancellor.
Idiot! He shouldn’t have let Wolffey go. There were so many questions.
He grabbed a towel and roughly patted down before wrapping it around his waist. As he reached for the door, he caught his image in the mirror. There were dark bags under his eyes from a lack of sleep. His stomach growled, warning him that he was skimping on fuel.
When he opened the door, Rider was leaning against the wall, waiting. The ex-firefighter had his arms crossed and his jaw set. His shoulder length hair was weighed with water from his shoulder and he wore clean clothes. "That was a long shower. Trying to wash something away?"
Yes, a memory, but he wasn't about to share that. Rider's eyes searched his. He had a feeling the next thing out of Rider's mouth would make him uncomfortable.
“The tranquillizer is sweating out of my system and I’m not fond of the smell.” It wasn’t a complete lie. The faerie tranquillizer was still making him nauseous.
Rider's nostrils flared, catching more scents than Mercer wanted his second to register. "What's going on? You've been acting strange since you saw the gestohlen. We went in with a clear objective. You had him. What happened?"
He never lied to his betas, but there was a great deal about his life that wasn’t for discussion. “I’m not giving up, but Wolffey is off limits. I will find another way to get to Chancellor.”
“The full moon is in three days. We’re running out of time. I’m not going to tell you how to play this one, but do you really have that strong of a history with the gestohlen to let him go? You’re choosing the rogue over the Mission.”
Rogue, that wasn’t the right word. Rogues had a gleam in their eyes, something that didn’t quite click. It was possible to tell a rogue at birth, because those lycans had an abnormal behavior. They were jittery, unable to rationalize. Wolffey rationalized.
“Wolffey isn’t a rogue,” Mercer said. The assassin wasn’t a beta either. He had the making of an alpha, though no pack would take him now that he worked with the faeries.
“How involved are the two of you?” Rider asked.
The question was point blank. Mercer heard exactly what was asked, but his mind filtered it, running both the question and answer. What were they? It wasn’t a relationship that Rider would understand, though Mercer’s heart quickened when he approached Wolffey at the club. It quickened even now, with the assassin at the forefront of his mind.
“We aren’t involved, but it’s complicated,” he said. Though he was vague, he knew Rider understood.
Rider frowned. “I didn’t realize you wanted to keep this private.”
“Keep what private?”
Rider unfolded his arms and his jaw unclenched. “It was obvious in the first year when you were on the farm and the females went into heat. Axel and you don’t react. It didn’t take a genius to figure it out, especially since most of us grew up with Axel. We recognize the signs.”
The proverbial cat was out of the bag. So why didn’t that ease the stress? Hota left him such a strong sense of guilt; he wasn’t ready to open up on such a large scale.
“I didn’t lie. I don’t have history with him.” He hadn’t known he wanted one until Wolffey came to the farm while he was fighting Giordano for the pack. His wolf recognized something he hadn’t as a person; Wolffey had crossed from enemy, to something his wolf accepted as a companion. As a human, he wasn’t sold on the notion. Not completely…
Right before he lost consciousness, his mind entertained the notion of leaning in and kissing the assassin. That bothered him. It bothered him more that Wolffey hadn’t pushed him away.
“We’ll talk about this later,” Mercer said.
He was grateful that Rider didn’t continue the conversation. He slid into his room. The bed was calling him, and so was the person in it. Sadie laid on her side in a little pink teddy that highlighted all her feminine parts. Her smile was plastered. He wondered how much she overheard.
“Not right now, Sadie, I don’t have time for this.” Though nudity had never been an issue for pack, he kept a firm hold of his towel. The last thing he wanted was to send the wrong signal.
She righted herself, throwing her long, thin legs over the side of the bed. “Don’t tell me you don’t like what you see.”
Now he was sure she’d overhead. “Go back to your room, or go shopping. I don’t care, but you aren’t going to stay in here with me.”
She stood with her small hands balled at her sides. “You’re throwing me out? Despite what you think, you’re going to want me.”
The threat held no water. She threw her robe over her shoulders and roughly tied it shut before exiting. He was alone.
Mercer sat on the bed’s edge. His room smelled like Sadie, rich perfume, fruity body wash. The smell of tropical fruits had his inner predator growling. It reminded him of the assassin.
He needed to focus. Hota was in danger and he made it worse by letting the assassin escape. He needed to find people who knew the magi. That was going to be as easy as finding a needle in a haystack.
oOo
Sadie sat in her car, gripping and releasing the wheel. There could be only one winner and she’d be damned if that would be anyone but her. It didn’t help overhearing Mercer’s confession to his second, Rider. That confession didn’t bode well.
She stared at the motor homes, side by side, parked close like a family, or as if they were trying to keep others from the intimate circle. She’d never needed help before, especially from a source like this, but unless she miraculously grew extra parts, it was clear that Mercer wasn’t going to be interested in a woman.
She grabbed her clutch purse and threw the car door open. The hinges gave a warning grind, which forced her to close it with less force. She pulled at her short skirt, pushed the low neckline of her top in a better position. Gravel crunched under her six inch stilettos as she made it into the circle of motor homes.
The burnt charcoal smell was strong, but there were no fire pits in the circle. There was another smell, something she couldn’t quite put a finger on. It made her noise twitch.
She’d heard things about the gypsy man who ran the North Winds traveling fair. That he was capable of “things” others couldn’t do. If that were the case, she’d have no problem with Mercer.
It was strange that nothing stirred behind the curtains of the homes. There were no stray dogs or people lingering about despite the daylight hour. Sadie couldn’t pick up the slightest movement. What caravan this large didn’t have dogs running around?
She swallowed the unease, pushing it to the pit of her stomach and headed towards the largest of the homes. Like all the others, the blinds were pulled tight. She tapped her knuckles against the door, knocking paint chips from the frame. There was no immediate answer, so she knocked again.
The door opened, surprising her. She hadn’t heard movement. Nothing clicked inside which meant the door had been unlocked. Even the person standing inside the shaded frame was near silent. The willowy man wore knee high, brown pants, dark socks and leather renaissance shoes. His billowy, brown shirt was unbuttoned, showing pale, smooth skin, the contrast made sharper by the heavy rock beads he wore around his neck.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” she grumbled. Did this man know what era he was in? He looked like he belonged at a costume party. At least he didn’t smell.
He opened the door farther and leaned against the frame with liquid grace. With a raised eyebrow, he looked her over. “You’re the one knocking on my door, lycan. State your business.”
“You can’t be the one in charge.” She didn’t care if she insulted him.
She was starting to second guess her sanity coming here. He didn’t answer and she was tempted to leave, but seeing Mercer, near naked with the towel around his hips, he had power. He was going to be named the North American Mission Leader. That was worth the strangeness. She hoped.
“I need a love spell,” she said. On second thought, considering the challenge, she clarified, “a very powerful love spell. I’m willing to pay heavily for it.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “People interested in unrequited love, usually do.”
“Let the young lycanthrope in, Pippitt. I want to hear what she’d be willing to trade for a love spell.” The command came from deeper within the motor home.
Pippitt threw her a side long glance and a lopsided smile that showed his fangs. Vampires. She distrusted their species, though this was her first personal encounter.
She took a step back. “I don’t think so.”
“No one will offer you a better chance at love,” Pippitt said.
Was that enough to sell her? “I need someone who is interested in men, to fall in love with me.”
The chuckles inside said there were more than just the two she was currently aware of. It was dark inside, impossibly dark for a motor home with thin curtains covering the windows.
“Grand Master Bohu can do anything,” Pippitt spoke with utter conviction. His glassy black eyes trailed down her chest and back up, resting on her bare neck.
Did she trust the situation? No, but she was desperate. Wearing so little clothing no longer seemed like a bargaining chip in her favor.
oOo
There were three traveling fairs within the thirty mile radius of the hotel where Wolffey stayed. Anything outside that distance wouldn’t be Bohu’s territory. One of the fairs was on church property; the second was on a school campus. Neither was likely to be the employment of a practicing gypsy necromancer turned vampire.
The North Winds traveling fair always traveled along the forest line, choosing to stay out of the cities that were too big to pass through within a day. Without a doubt, he found the right place when the first breath he took was of burning coal and heavy Romani incense. There were a few drones, the vampire’s slaves, cleaning trash. Others were maintaining the machines.
Wolffey stood just beyond the sizeable rides. He’d never been to a carnival when the lights were shining, but he’d seen them on television, a very long time ago. This was the first time he’d visited the gypsy on his carnival grounds. The metal on the rides gleamed in the morning light, shining colors that appealed on a childhood interest he didn’t understand. A very small part of him wanted the experience. The larger part said this wasn’t his world and to leave the Topsiders alone.
He crossed through, taking in the dominant scents of grease and sugary foods. None of the drones looked at him as he passed. He wondered what the humans saw when they rode the rides controlled by these zombie like creatures? Did they notice the vacant stares or that the drones lacked teeth?
The right side of his jaw ached in sympathy. He experienced the gypsies’ interest in teeth first hand when Mayda extracted a wisdom tooth. Aire’Si walked in before Mayda could take more. He’d be forever grateful. Teeth to the gypsy clan were like names to the fey, dangerous when in the wrong hands.
The curtains on the mock windows were tightly drawn and would always be, since the fake window only had about an inch between the glass and the wood. Most of Bohu’s nest would be buried in the forest which meant most of the caravans were empty, all but the largest one. He pulled two small blades from his sheath and fingered them against his palm.
He could injure Bohu, but with the pain twisting through his torso, he was unable to inflict real damage to the master vampire. If Rufus was here, he’d probably have tried talking him out of this. With the brick of headache at the forefront of his brain and the twisting ache of the flesh eating bacteria at his rib, he was in no position to fight, but he could fake his ability by holding his ground.
Wolffey was familiar with a handful of the different vampire species, due to the few acquaintances’ Aire’Si kept. Then there was Aire’Si, whose lineage still eluded him. Aire’Si didn’t only survive on blood, but he did consume it. He shook the thought. He didn’t need to be distracted.
He stopped and circled where he stood, staring at the outdated, brown motor homes with the wind chimes hanging off the narrow porch covers. There was an old world touch to the new world luxuries. A lesser nest would not rest in the open when hunters could easily burn their homes, but Bohu was unlike any vampire he'd met. The ones that roamed the cities weren't nearly this powerful, which gave him reason to believe Bohu’s supremacy. As much as he hated being here, Bohu asked him to come. He had to hear what the grand master wanted.
His fingers were stiff, but they moved and if he squeezed hard enough, he felt the bend and pull of muscle and bone. He rapped his knuckles on the door. The door opened and Mayda stood in the shadowy frame. The morning light barely pierced the sky behind the trailer. The trees sent long shadows over the gro
unds, yet she didn’t move from the dark comforts of the motor home. She didn’t beckon him and he didn’t feel a desire to join her within the confining metal walls of their home. Still, he needed to speak to Bohu.
She pushed the door farther open and gave him wide berth to enter. The pain had spread from his waist down to his hips. It went bone deep when he stepped up into the trailer. The motor home already had company, some of which he wasn’t surprised by like Sergei at the table playing cards with Bohu. Dyckran sat on the couch, watching a muted show on a mini gray and white television.
One sniff of the environment and despite his dulled senses, the hair on the back of his neck rose. Lycanthrope, but where? The home wasn’t huge. Mayda closed the door, blocking the natural, morning light. His eyes immediately adjusted, and he saw it, the partially closed curtain with legs mingled on the bed.
Bohu placed a card on the table. “Mayda said you were sick, but I didn’t know to what extent. I can smell the venom and fever sweat. You have bad energy surrounding you.”
The master wanted to surprise him. He didn’t react. Instead, his attention drifted back towards the curtain before returning to Bohu, who was now watching him. He didn’t care what the master smelled, or observed. He’d been in Aire’Si’s presence so long; he was use to someone observing things even he hadn’t been aware of.
“You requested my time. I don’t have a lot of it and I don’t wish to waste it. If you want something, maybe we can formulate a trade,” Wolffey said.
Bohu raised an eyebrow as he stood from his seat and placed his hand of cards face down on the table. He was as broad as he was tall, wearing brown breeches out of fashion with the era, but most of the crew was a few centuries behind. His auburn beard was bushy, softening his dark, brown eyes. At first glance, he had the appearance a person could trust, right down to the upward curved wrinkles from smiling, like he was doing now.
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