An older couple rose from among the betas and walked over to the table. The woman kicked the dead body of the female alpha out of the way and the two of them sat down in bloodstained chairs.
“Clan Jackal has no objection to the mate’s presence in the Beast Lord’s quarters,” the new alpha of the Jackals said.
An older Japanese couple at the far end stirred. “Clan Nimble has no objection to the mate,” the man said.
“We remember Myong,” his mate said in a heavily accented voice. “We do not forget.”
I surveyed the rest of the Council and looked directly at Mahon. “Some of you know me. Some of you have seen me fight and some of you are my friends. Have your vote. But know this: if you come to remove me, come in force, because if you try to separate me from him, I will kill every single one of you. My hand won’t shake. My aim won’t falter. My face will be the last thing you’ll see before you die.”
I jammed the knife into the table and walked out.
I got to the stairs before my vision swam and my legs turned to rubber.
A firm hand gripped my elbow. Jezebel hefted me upright, bearing all of my weight, and we kept walking.
“Way to play it cool there,” Barabas ground through his teeth. “Every idiot who wants to make a name for himself will be gunning for you now. Jezebel, let go of her. She will be seen. She must walk.”
“She’s bleeding. She’ll fall.”
“It’s better that she falls. She has to walk on her own.”
“I’ve got it,” I growled and made myself walk up the stairs. Every step jabbed a knife into my knee. Fucking stairs. When he woke up, I’d make him install a damn elevator.
“Only four flights to go,” Jezebel told me. “Is Doolittle behind us?”
Barabas glanced back. “Yes.”
“Good.”
A year later Derek shut the door behind us and I collapsed on the carpet in the hallway. Moments later Doolittle stepped through the door. “Pick her up, quickly, quickly.”
Jezebel swiped me off the floor and jogged with me to Curran’s rooms. “What’s wrong with her?”
“Her knee cap was shattered and the tendons in her left arm are torn. It took hours to get her walking properly. And she reopened her wounds. Foolish, Kate. You’re a God-damned fool, that’s what you are.”
By the time they got me to the room, the adrenaline had worn off and I was screaming. As Doolittle jabbed the needle in my arm, emptying a syringe full of painkillers into my vein, I saw Julie’s face. “It’s taken care of,” I told her. “I got it done. Did he wake up?”
She just stared at me.
“Did he wake up?”
“No.”
I closed my eyes and let the medicine take me under.
THE COUNCIL DECIDED IN MY FAVOR. THE WOLVES and Clan Heavy abstained; the rats voted against me; the cats, boudas, Clan Nimble, and Clan Jackal voted for me.
Three days later Mahon came to see me. I was being bandaged at the time—the shapeshifters had declared open season. This was the fifth attack since I’d killed the alpha jackals. I was still winning but barely.
I’d kept Mahon waiting for about five minutes. When I finally walked out of our rooms, Mahon looked as if a storm had ridden in on his thick dark eyebrows. Derek was impassive and my two boudas obviously were wordlessly conspiring to murder Mahon if he took a step out of line.
“I want to see him,” Mahon said.
I stepped aside.
“You as well. I have some things I wish to say to both of you.”
I led him inside.
He stared at Curran. I looked, too. I kept thinking he’d wake up any minute, and I watched for the tiniest hint of movement, until I started seeing things that weren’t there.
“You aren’t fit,” Mahon said. “You aren’t a shapeshifter. You don’t understand us and you probably never will. This”—he spread his massive arms, indicating the bedroom, me, and Curran—“was against my better judgment. I told him so before. He has had many women. I thought it would pass.”
I watched him. If he attacked me here, I’d lose. I couldn’t take Mahon at my best, and right this minute it was a fight to remain standing.
“As I said, this is unwise. But he chose you. I respect the man he has become and I respect what he has done for us. And I respect you for standing by him.” Mahon met my gaze. “You may never be my alpha. You will have to live with that. But he will always be my liege.”
I felt like some pretender to the throne in a medieval drama.
Mahon leaned over Curran and touched his shoulder. “Sleep well. I won’t challenge her and neither will my people.
We will talk more when you wake.”
He walked out.
I WALKED INTO THE ROOM, CARRYING A CUP OF tea and leaning on my cane. Derek rose from the chair, nodded at me, and left without a word. I sat on the edge of the couch and sipped my tea.
Curran lay immobile, an IV dangling from his arm. He’d lost weight. Thirty pounds, at least. His skin was pale. It hurt to look at him.
I forced dread aside. “I didn’t have to kill anybody today. Remember, the first couple of days they were coming three a day, then two, then one. Today nobody challenged me. It’s late now, so if somebody does show up, your castle guard will tell them to come back in the morning. Maybe it’s slacking off.”
I pulled my boots off, wincing at the stab of pain. “Julie has appropriated your bimbo room. I made them throw away the sheets—who knows what sort of crazy crap is on there—and she has a new set. Black. She painted the walls black. The curtains are black lace. I tried to convince her to keep the furniture white, but I saw her carry a paint can in there, so I think it will be black by morning. It’s like a freaking dungeon in there.”
I pulled off my sweatshirt and slid next to him. My voice was soft. “That’s the good news. The bad news is that it’s been eleven days since you fell asleep and I’m beginning to get scared you won’t wake up.”
I held my breath, but he lay still.
“Let’s see . . . What else? I’m sick of killing. Doolittle says there might be permanent damage to my left leg. It will heal eventually, even if he doesn’t think so, but meanwhile it hurts like hell. He wants me to stop putting pressure on it, so he gave me this lovely cane. I can only use it up here so the rest of the Keep won’t see me as weak.”
I just wanted him to wake up. Of course, he didn’t, so I kept talking, trying to keep the panic at bay.
“Still no calls from Andrea. Jim is keeping his distance, which I can understand. Derek says he’s helping from behind the scenes, whatever that means. The wolves keep finding ways to screw with me. They’ve made me mediate a divorce. Well, they requested I do it, and according to Barabas, I can’t say no. It’s a Japanese couple. They were members of a small pack and married very young and had two boys. The husband was expelled from the pack under suspicion of stealing. The wife remained behind, because the grandparents had the kids.”
He lay next to me, warm and alive, and if I didn’t look at him, I could almost imagine that he was listening. I shut my eyes. My body ached. Doolittle wanted me on bed rest, but the boudas wanted me out and about, demonstrating that I was fit as a fiddle and ready to take on everyone and anyone.
“Apparently the husband had made his way over here and you took him in about eight years ago. I had Derek pull his record and it’s clean, so if he’s stealing, he’s brilliant at hiding it. I’ve met him. He seems like a decent guy. This September, the small local pack asked to join your Pack, and of course, you took them in again. Now they are stuck. The husband has someone else, the wife also has someone else, but by wolf law they’re mated for life and the grandparents on both sides are horrified. It doesn’t help that all of them are Japanese. I put them in the same room—nobody talks. Everybody is embarrassed and they keep apologizing to me nonstop. I don’t know what to do.”
“Have you tried the Second Chance Law?” Curran said.
I shut my eyes tighter.
I was losing my mind. Now I imagined him talking in my head.
Even an imaginary conversation was better than nothing. “No, what’s that?”
“It’s the law that says any shapeshifter joining the Pack has a one-time right to a new identity. If the husband didn’t use it when he joined, declare him officially dead and let him rejoin under a new name. His former wife will officially be a widow.”
A warm arm hugged me. My eyes snapped open.
He was looking at me. He was pale, his eyes were sunken, but he was looking at me.
“You stayed with me,” Curran said.
“Always.”
He smiled and fell asleep.
Curran stirred again, an hour later. I raced into the kitchen, and by the time I returned with a steaming bowl, he was sitting up and pulling the IV out of his arm. “What is this shit?”
“It kept you alive for eleven days.”
“Well, I don’t like it.”
I handed him a bowl of soup. He put it aside, reached for me, and clenched me to him. I buried my face in his neck. My eyes grew hot and I cried.
His hand stroked my hair. “You stayed with me.”
“Of course I stayed with you. Did you think I would abandon you?”
“I heard you reading. And talking.”
I kissed him and tasted my tears. “Through your sleep?”
“Yes. I tried to wake up, but I couldn’t.”
I just held on to him. “Let’s not do this again. Ever.” “That sounds good.” He kissed me.
“You need to eat.”
“In a minute.” He clamped me tighter. We sat together for a few blissful minutes.
Two sharp knocks echoed through the door. Derek. He always knocked twice.
“Kate?”
“Come in,” I told him.
Derek walked in. “I have a wolf out here who wants to see you. He says it’s an emergency. Probably another challenge. What do you want me to . . . ?” His mouth hung open.
Curran looked at him. “Bring him in. Don’t tell him that I’m awake.”
Derek closed his mouth with a click and went out.
“Help me up?”
I grabbed his hand and pulled him off the bed. He blinked at the windup clock on the wall. “Is today Wednesday?”
“Yes.”
He picked up the bowl of soup and drank from it.
The door swung open. A large Hispanic man stepped through. He saw Curran and froze.
Curran finished draining the bowl and looked at him. “Yes?”
The wolf dropped down into a crouch and stayed there, his head bowed, his gaze on the floor.
“Nothing to say?”
The wolf shook his head.
“The Council is due for a meeting in three minutes. Go down there and tell them to wait for me, and I might forget you were ever here.”
The wolf turned, rising, and left without a word. The door shut behind him.
Curran swayed. I caught him. My leg gave and we crashed down onto the couch.
“Ow.”
Curran shook his head.
“Are you sure you’re ready for a Council meeting?”
He turned to me. Gold rolled over his eyes, cold and lethal. “I’m sure. They better be ready for me.”
He pushed himself up and headed to the bathroom. I followed him in case he tipped over. He did, on the way back, and caught himself on the wall.
I slid my arm around his waist.
“The soup will kick in in a minute,” he said.
“Sure. Lean on me.” He did and we slowly made our way to the door. “Some tough pair we are.”
“Tough enough,” he growled.
Five minutes later he walked to the Council room on his own power. The shapeshifters saw him and stepped aside, silent. We reached the room. I could hear people mumbling inside. Curran took a deep breath, thrust the door open, and roared.
The sound of leonine rage burst like thunder, shaking the windows. People in the hallway cringed. When it died, you could hear a pin drop.
Curran held the door open for me. He walked to his seat at the head of the table, got another chair, put it next to his, and looked at me. I came and sat. He lowered himself into his seat.
The alphas stared at the table. Not a single pair of eyes looked up.
Curran leaned forward, his eyes drenched in furious gold. “Explain yourselves.”
EPILOGUE
THE BUILDING WAS SOLID BRICK, CONSTRUCTED according to the new fashion, rather than the old—only two stories in height, squat, thick metal grates on the windows, and a very sturdy-looking door. It sat on a quiet street just past the northwestern industrial district, which was now an old ruin. Aside from being sturdy and in good shape, I couldn’t see anything special about it.
“What is this?”
Curran smiled next to me. “An early Christmas present.”
I looked at the house again. After the last three weeks, a Christmas present was the last thing I’d expected.
Curran felt betrayed by his Pack. From his point of view, he’d worked years for the benefit of his people, and their loyalty had lasted less than forty-eight hours. In return for his service, they’d tried to expel his mate, and when she wouldn’t leave him, they’d tried to kill her. Curran took the marathon of my fights to the death very personally.
Each year the Pack celebrated the traditional Thanksgiving feast, which consisted of a dinner of epic proportions. Curran usually spent hours there, talking to everyone. This time he walked in, growled, “You have my permission to eat,” and walked out. We had a private dinner in our rooms and he gorged himself on pie. Aside from that, he refused to leave our quarters. For fresh air, we went out on the roof, where he had a giant patio, complete with a fire pit and a grill. I built a snowman, and Julie practiced shooting it with a crossbow. We visited his private gym. That was it. So when he asked me to come to the city with him, I decided it was a good sign. It took us less than an hour to get here and I enjoyed the drive.
I cocked my head and looked at the house from a different angle. No special insights or revelations presented themselves.
Maybe he bought me a new place to live. “Is this your convoluted way of inviting me to move out?”
“You’re never moving out, as long as you want.”
Curran strode to the door through the snow and opened it.
I walked in. From the inside the house looked just as sturdy. The windows were small and barred, but numerous enough to let in plenty of light. The front room took up most of the floor. Two desks waited in opposite corners. Filing cabinets guarded the walls. I strode through to the doorway on the left. A narrow, long room full of shelves, half empty, half filled with jars and boxes of various herbs. Looked like someone did a decent job stocking up on alchemical supplies.
“There is more upstairs.”
A cursory inspection of the second floor showed a basic armory and a room with some diagnostic equipment, magic and otherwise. It wasn’t out of this world, but it was enough to get by.
I came back downstairs and sat on the staircase. “What is this?”
He gave me his Beast Lord look. “It’s yours.”
“I’m sorry?”
“The house and the contents. It’s yours if you want it. The Pack is backing you up as a business: it purchased the supplies and is fronting your salary and a modest operating budget for a year, after which it will have a twenty percent claim on your profits. It will drop to ten when your loan is paid off. I had Raphael draw up the paperwork.” He crossed to the desk and lifted a manila folder. “All you need is to fill in the name, and it’s off to the Secretary of State.”
I looked at him.
“Your own Order. Or your own Guild. Whichever way you choose to go.”
“Why?”
He crossed his arms on his chest. “The Pack cost you your job.”
“I cost myself that job, and it was rotten anyway.”
He shook his head. “You came to help. It’s
the Pack’s chance to help back. Everybody has something, that one thing they must do to feel happy. I think this is yours, and I want you to be happy. You don’t have to do it, but it’s here if you choose to come back to it.”
“Is there a catch?”
“A couple. Standard Pack clauses: Pack requests take precedence, always. The safety of the Pack’s members overrides everything else, and the Pack’s interests must be protected at all costs. In a case where a Pack member may be suspected of criminal activity outside the Pack, you must inform the Pack lawyers, so the suspect can be provided council.”
I smiled at him. “Do you have any requests as well?”
He locked his jaw.
I laughed. “Out with it. I know if you had your way, I’d be locked up in your rooms, all safe, barefoot, and pregnant.”
“I’m not that crazy.”
I raised my hand, with my index finger and my thumb a small space apart. “A little. I know it’s killing you to do this, so what would help you breathe easier?”
He blew air out like a whale. “Come home. Every night. Have dinner with me. If you go out of the office for longer than a few hours, I’d appreciate a call so I know you’re safe. If you’re in trouble, you tell me. No lies, no evasions, no secrets. And if you need muscle, for any reason, you use the Pack. You don’t run in there all alone to get killed.”
My personal psycho in all of his glory, trying his best to be reasonable. “Anything else?”
“No business on Wednesday afternoon, if you can help it. Wednesdays we hear petitions and disputes.”
I grimaced. “I hate petitions.”
“I do, too, so I shouldn’t suffer through them alone. Also, I’d like it if you made time to attend the formal functions with me if they’re scheduled during the week, so I don’t die of boredom. That’s it.”
We looked at each other.
“So do you like it?” he asked.
“I love it.” I got up and swiped the folder off the table. “Thank you.” We kissed and headed out.
As we walked away from my new office, he asked, “So what are you going to call it?”
Magic Bleeds Page 36
