All Hell Breaks Loose (The Hellcat Series)

by Sharon Hannaford

  “You lose your normal physical edge, your preternatural speed and strength,” he said, adlibbing what she’d told him several weeks ago.

  She had a sneaky suspicion that he was going to force her to ask him, and then probably argue with her because of the possibility of Turning.

  “There is another option, as you’ve pointed out to me several times in the recent past,” she hinted, not looking at him, but instead focussing on a poignant black-and-white photo of a woman hanging on the wall. She was standing in a graveyard surrounded by crumbling headstones.

  “You know why I haven’t offered my blood, Lea,” he murmured. He picked up her hand to inspect the bruising on her middle finger, laying a kiss on the stiff, swollen digit.

  “Well, now I’m asking.” She finally looked at him. “I need to help find Kyle, and I’m not going to be much use like this. I can’t sit on the sidelines while the rest of you try to save my best friend.” She could hear the desperation in her own voice, but couldn’t hold back the emotion. “I don’t have any other talent that will help, I can’t hack computers, or orchestrate an attack, or patch up the wounded. The only thing I’m good at is bringing down the bad guys, fighting the evil, eliminating monsters. I have to be able to help in this. Please, Julius.” She hated the note of pleading that had entered her voice.

  Julius stared into her eyes for long moments before replying.

  “You are good at far more than just bringing down the bad guys, but that discussion is for another day. The truth is that we have probably been overcautious. I think that the risk is minimal. But minimal is not non-existent, and I need you to understand the possible consequences. They are consequences you may live to regret, for more years than you can imagine.” His gaze trapped hers, demanding complete comprehension on her side, acknowledgement of the potential cost.

  She drew in a deep breath, expelling it slowly as she took the responsibility on herself for whatever happened now. The thought struck her that it was possible Julius wouldn’t want her around forever, and that if he Turned her, their relationship could become awkward and inconvenient for him. She swallowed, not liking the thought, but then she thought of Kyle, and she nodded.

  “I understand, and I heed your warning. I won’t hold anything against you or expect anything from you. I swear it, Julius,” she vowed.

  “That is not what I’m worried about, Lea,” he said as he took her face in his hands. He leant in and kissed her, gently for once, not with his usual barely-leashed demand. As his fangs lengthened, he withdrew his lips from hers, and he ran his right thumb across a sharpened edge, hard. As the blood welled, he slid the thumb to her lips. Her tongue flicked out, wrapping around and drawing it into her mouth, suckling lightly. She groaned as the taste marauded across her tastebuds and blanketed her senses, blocking out sight, sound, scent and thought. A tiny part of her brain reminded her that this was what she was most afraid of. The potential to become dependent on this taste was enormous. She didn’t fancy becoming a Vampire-blood junkie. That thought kept her from slipping into the vortex itself. Instead, she balanced unsteadily on the edge, fear and willpower keeping her from drowning. When the cut began to close, she didn’t bite down or scream for more, but it was a close thing. She heard the unhappy moan come from her lips as Julius withdrew his thumb. She made her teeth clamp together and folded her arms protectively over her chest as she fought for control.

  “I know, Lea,” he murmured, pulling her into his arms.

  A moment later the pain in her head flared badly enough that all thoughts of addiction were obliterated. The ache in her finger became a searing bite, and a thousand other smaller injuries radiated into painful wakefulness. Julius held her as she hissed in a breath and held it, waiting for the pains to subside.

  “Give it a few minutes,” Julius said. “It’ll pass.”

  Gabi hadn’t really been conscious enough to feel the effects of Julius’s blood after she’d been staked, and now she counted that as a good thing. As nerve and cell repair went into overdrive, the pain was exquisite.

  “You must tell me if you feel any pain or discomfort that isn’t related to an existing injury, or if you begin to feel unusual in any way,” Julius told her firmly.

  “Sire,” Patrick’s voice resonated through the door. “Mr Reeves and the captive have arrived.”

  “Thank you, Patrick,” Julius replied. “I’ll be there in a moment.” He scooped Gabi up and moved to place her more comfortably on the bed, her head on a pillow. He was about to pull a blanket over her when she sat up and pushed him away.

  “You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” she grumbled. “I’m not an invalid.”

  “Just rest a few minutes until the worst of the pain has subsided,” he tried again, but without any true conviction. He turned and led the way back to the living area.

  Someone had dragged two wing-back chairs into place in front of the bank of monitors. Trish sat in a typist’s chair off to one side, still tapping away at the keyboard. Patrick was standing back a little, with his arms folded and his eyes fixed on the centre screen, and Derek was pacing, stress obvious in every line of his body. Gabi sank gratefully into one of the wing backs, and Julius took the other. The monitor on the right-hand side showed a view of a corridor and five people walking towards the camera. Matt and Athena were in the front of the group. Kimberley walked just behind them, her hands still bound together with duct tape, and Byron and Alistair brought up the rear. The Doppelganger had a distinctly despondent set to her shoulders, though her face was set in hard, unfriendly lines. The tough façade was ruined a little by the puffy redness around her eyes and nose. She was no longer wearing Kyle’s clothes, but dressed in a grey tracksuit.

  A door opened on the central monitor, and Matt’s familiar face looked up at them. He gave a tense nod of greeting to the camera, as Athena and the rest followed him in. The Werewolves led the Shifter to the seat with the metal cuffs and unceremoniously thrust her into it. Julius and Patrick got their first look at the woman.

  “You’ve got to be shitting me,” Patrick exclaimed. “That woman managed to make herself look like Kyle?”

  “Did a good enough job to fool even me,” Gabi said darkly.

  Derek had stopped pacing and come to stand behind the chairs. Gabi could smell the Werewolf scent pouring off of him.

  “Do you need to get some air, Derek?” she asked. “You don’t have to be here for this.”

  “I’m fine,” he ground out between clenched teeth. “This is as much my business as it is anyone else’s.”

  Gabi’s impatience flared, but she had to admit he had a point. “All right,” she said, “but try to calm down. You won’t see any of this if you go wolf on us.”

  Gabi felt Julius tense beside her, as though expecting Derek to react badly, but instead he took a deep, noisy breath in through his nose, making an obvious effort to relax.

  “And that should be the sound up and running now,” Trish said, hitting a final key with a flourish.

  Suddenly, they could hear everything in the room on the monitor. Kimberley was begging not to be manacled to the chair, swearing not to try any kind of escape. Movement on the left-hand monitor caught Gabi’s eye, and Irene and Margaret came into view, entering through a doorway and making their way down a long corridor. Irene walked with her usual ladylike grace, and Margaret, though a little slower, moved with the ease of a woman half her eighty-four years. Their expressions were sombre.

  “Here comes the interrogation team,” Gabi muttered.

  “Those two?” Derek asked sceptically, having noted the direction of Gabi’s gaze. “What are they going to do? Scare her into revealing her favourite cross-stitch pattern?”

  “Patience, grasshopper,” Gabi cautioned. “You are about to witness the masters at work. Those two even scare me.”

  Julius, who’d been grilled by them before the alliance between his Clan and the SMV, snorted in agreement. Back in the main room, Byron was cutting the duct
tape from Kimberley’s wrists.

  “Are you sure about this, Byron?” Alistair was asking. “What if she Shifts into one of us, and we don’t know who the real person is?”

  “It’s all right, Alistair,” Byron responded. “She can only alter her appearance, not her clothing. I think we’ll figure out something is going on before she manages to switch clothing with someone.” He stepped back from the seated woman. “But Kimberley,” he said, pinning her with a severe look, “one wrong move and those manacles go on. Do you understand me?”

  Gabi had rarely seen Byron so cold and hard. The woman grimaced as she began to rip the tape off her wrists, and the door opened to admit the Magus and Shifter elders.

  Byron nodded a solemn greeting. “Thank you for coming. We need to know—” He broke off as Margaret raised her hand.

  “I ask that the rest of you leave us,” she said in a voice brooking no disagreement. “You can watch from there,” she nodded towards a large rectangular mirror on one wall, “but please do not disturb us until we call you back. I assume this is being recorded?” She glanced up at the camera.

  “Yes,” Byron acknowledged, “and the feed is being relayed to Julius and Gabi as well.”

  “Good,” she said with a tone that clearly denoted dismissal.

  The others, with the exception of Athena, made tracks towards the door. Byron stood his ground, not intimidated by women he thought of as friends.

  “I’d feel much better if we left at least one person in here in case she tries something stupid,” Byron told them. “She’s been acting quite erratically. Either a guard or I will manacle her. I’m not prepared to take that risk with either of you.”

  Margaret’s lips tensed into a thin, annoyed line. “Fine,” she conceded. “One can stay, but one that can keep quiet and not interrupt. I think Matthew will be best.”

  The Werewolf halted his exit and looked askance at Byron. Byron gave a quick nod and then turned to leave.

  “In the back corner,” Irene told Matt. “No interruptions.” The lean, shaggy-haired man went to the corner without comment, leaning back with his arms folded and his watchful gaze trained on the captive. “Athena, you can bring us some water and glasses and then you can join the others,” Irene told the younger Magus.

  Gabi could see the shock and irritation on Athena’s face, but a hard look from Irene kept her from voicing her disagreement. The younger woman may be one of the most powerful Magi in the City, but she still had a lot to learn about the true meaning of the word power.

  Gabi bit back a snarky comment but couldn’t help the twitch of a smile. The worst of the pain had started to recede, and the prickling itch of healing had set in. It was becoming increasingly difficult not to scratch and rub at the healing wounds.

  “Who is that?” Trish asked in a hushed voice from Gabi’s left. She had dragged her chair up close to Gabi’s so she could see the centre monitor as well.

  “The business-suited blonde?” Gabi checked. “That’s the SMV liaison with the Magus High Council. She’s the youngest Magus to ever hold a position on the High Council.”

  Gabi was careful not to allow her dislike of the Magus to colour her tone, but Trish seemed to be an uncannily good judge of character as she quietly commented, “She sure doesn’t seem to like being told what to do.” She made a few quick adjustments to the equipment, and the camera zoomed in on the two older women taking a seat across the table from Kimberley. Their backs were mostly to the camera, but they made sure not to block the camera’s view of the captive. Athena’s furious expression was blatantly clear on the screen for a moment until she passed from view.

  “Kimberley,” Margaret said, laying her hands carefully on the table in front of her. “Do you remember who I am?” There was no sign of the kindly grandmother figure that Margaret usually portrayed to the world.

  “Yes, Elder,” Kimberley said quietly, her eyes lowered, making it hard to read her face.

  “This is Irene, she is a member of the High Council of Magi,” she introduced the Magus. “Before we start, she will first check your mind and aura for outside interference. To make this less uncomfortable, I suggest you relax and try not to fight her.”

  Tension tightened Kimberley’s shoulders, and her head dropped lower as the powerful Magus set to work. It seemed like hours rather than minutes later that Irene finally drew in a deep breath, signally the end of her assessment. Kimberley sagged for a moment, then ran a shaking hand across her forehead, swallowing convulsively.

  “She is free of any spells; there is no compulsion or mind-control spell, and I can’t trace any kind of tracking spell attached to her either. There is no trace of the kind of drugs that we found in Hazel’s and the guard’s systems, though I can’t rule out recreational drugs. She is perfectly sane and aware of her surroundings and deeds, as far as I can tell.” Irene had turned slightly as though speaking to those gathered behind the two-way mirror as much as to Margaret.

  At that point, Athena returned with a carafe of water and three glasses. She deposited them on the table and stalked away in wounded silence.

  “Now, Kimberley,” Margaret addressed the Doppelganger, as she poured a glass of water and pushed it within reach of the woman.

  Kimberley reached out a shaking hand to take the glass and sip at it thirstily.

  Margaret continued, “You are in a secure facility, where it is highly unlikely you will be rescued.

  “As a Doppelganger born into a respected Shifter family, you would have been instructed in the ways of our culture. You know that there are strict rules in place, for your abilities in particular. There are punishments for those who overstep the boundaries, and they are policed by the Elders. We already know you have broken at least one of the cardinal rules, and possibly several more, so you will be going before the Elders for sentencing when the crisis, which you have apparently helped to create, is resolved. I fear your transgressions are going to be shocking to most of the other Elders. Greed is not one of our cultural norms, nor is a callous lack of empathy for others. The one thing that may help you redeem yourself in the eyes of the Elders is if you start being honest with us and tell us everything we need to know.”

  She paused a moment, allowing her words to sink in. “At this point, I’ll remind you that both Irene and I have the ability to tell truth from lie. If you want me to help you plead your case in front of the Elders, you had better stay well clear of anything even resembling a lie.” The elderly Shifter hadn’t once raised her voice, or altered her pitch, but her threat was clear.

  Kimberley had placed the empty glass back on the table but hadn’t yet looked up at either of her inquisitors.

  Irene leaned forward to refill the glass. “Why don’t you start at the beginning and tell us how you became acquainted with Mr Jason King,” she suggested.

  Gabi growled under her breath. This was going to take hours if they carried on at this pace. Kyle might not have hours, especially once Jason King found out that they had his Doppelganger lover. A cool hand settled over her drumming fingers and gave a slight squeeze. She didn’t know if it was in empathy or warning, she couldn’t drag her eyes away from the monitor to check. She did notice that her broken finger didn’t ache anymore.

  Kimberley finally lifted her tear-stained face and began to speak. “It began just after I left drama school,” she started and then had to clear her throat as her voice broke. “Mom and Dad were upset with me that I hadn’t accepted the offer from the SMV to work for them. I thought I could make better money being an actress. I was really good at tiny alterations to my face and body, and I thought that would give me the edge over other women auditioning for parts. And I didn’t want to get involved with the seedy, violent side of the City. I’ve heard the stories about the Hunters, how hard and vicious they are, the kinds of monsters they deal with.” She gave a delicate shudder. “So my family cut me off from financial support, said I had to find my own way, and that suited me just fine. Until I realised how hard it is
to get decent parts that pay well. I’m not Hollywood good-looking, and I can’t hold an altered form long enough to work on a movie or TV set using another face. I mostly survived on commercials and the odd bit part.” She took another sip of water.

  “I figured I needed to catch a producer’s or director’s eye, make contact and get my name out there, you know? So I started sneaking into invite-only parties using famous faces to get through the door. Once inside, I worked on trying to make contacts, but it didn’t seem to be working either. One night I was sitting in my shitty, little, leaky apartment, watching a movie about a female cat burglar and…” She broke off, dropping her face again, tears welling.

  Gabi wondered if the tears were genuine or something straight from her acting class. Either way, the Doppelganger was unlikely to fool Irene or Margaret. Margaret reached into a pocket and drew out a packet of facial tissues, pushing them towards the snivelling woman. She fumbled two out of the pack and nosily blew her nose.

  “And, well, I figured I had a much easier way of getting into people’s homes, especially single men. The City is full of wealthy, eligible men who are out there for a quick night of fun. So I gave it a try, I figured I didn’t have anything to lose. The first one was so easy, I lifted a Rolex on my way out, and even if he did report it to the police, I would never be recognised. It was exciting, even thrilling. It became addictive, and before I knew it, I wasn’t even doing it for the money, I was just doing it to prove I could. But I got cocky and overconfident.” Her voice had dropped to a whisper.

  “You tried it on Jason King and got caught,” Irene guessed.

  Kimberley nodded. “I copied one of his on-again-off-again girlfriends in order to get into his condo. I didn’t count on the silly bitch phoning him while I was still there.” A note of anger entered her voice, though it was hard to pinpoint who or what the anger was aimed at. “He had his men seize me and lock me up. I hoped he’d hand me over to the police because I knew I would find a way to escape from their custody. But he had no intention of handing me over to police, and I couldn’t find a way to escape in time.”