by Tara Lain
“Who were those dudes, Jazz?” BeBop asked.
He shook his head. “I don’t know.” He was pretty sure that was the only true thing anybody’d said since he woke up.
“You think they have something to do with Evenride?”
“What would they want with me?”
“Duh!” Carla waved her arms. “How about the few million bucks they could get in ransom?”
He shook his head. “I don’t believe they’d be stupid enough to think they could get away with it.”
“Yeah, well, stupid is as stupid does, to quote Forest.”
“Let’s let Jazz get some sleep,” Dash said.
Carla nodded. “I asked the housekeeper to make up another room for him.”
“I need to let my family know where I am.”
Carla nodded. “Done. I told them you weren’t enjoying the date and texted me to interrupt you. I said I invited you over.” She spread her arms. “I wasn’t sure what you wanted me to tell them, and I also wasn’t sure what actually happened.” She gave Dash a narrow-eyed look.
“Thanks, fam. Ya done good. I don’t want my brothers thinking the Marketos had anything to do with this. And since we don’t know who did, it’s just as well they stay in the dark for another day or two.”
Jazz managed to get to his feet despite a head full of mush and moved slowly to the suite down the hall where there was a nice warm bed for him. Dash volunteered a pair of sleep pants that almost fit except for being too short, and Jazz let everybody tuck him in. A few minutes later, everything got quiet.
Gotta talk to Dash. But is Carla in bed? It wasn’t that late, and she was kind of a night owl.
For a second, Jazz was tempted to become invisible so he could slip across the hall to Dash’s room, but it hurt too much. The old-fashioned way had to be good enough for tonight.
He crept out of bed and to the door. He listened but mostly sniffed. No sound and no fresh smells. Quietly, he opened the door and looked out, then followed the scent of ginger and magnolia to the room two doors down the hall. He tapped gently and tried the handle. It opened, and just like that Jazz was inside pressing his back to the door.
Dash sat at the small writing desk in the bay window, resting his head on his hand and grinning. “Werewolf stealth?”
Jazz grinned back and nodded.
They both moved at the same time, Dash jumping to his feet and Jazz taking off more like a rabbit than a wolf. He hurled himself into Dash’s arms. “Thank you, thank you for saving me.”
Dash smiled deep into Jazz’s soul. “Any time.” He closed his lips over Jazz’s. Funny how almost anything would be worth it if it ended with a kiss from Dash.
When Dash came up for air, Jazz said, “Tell me what really happened.”
“Back atcha.”
Jazz nodded, and they walked over to the bed. Dash leaned against the headboard, and Jazz flopped on his stomach. “You start,” Dash said.
Jazz flipped up to sit cross-legged. “We were having dinner. It turns out Wyn is a pretty nice guy, but that’s a story. Anyway, these two werewolves show up and start to wait on us. Wyn thinks they must be Marketo wolves, testing us, but I don’t recognize them. Anyway, I think they’re gone and then I see this….” He splayed his hands. “I don’t know what to call it. An apparition? A vision? Of this big dude. He’s all shimmery and transparent. He’s in the kitchen, and I can barely see him, but I remember seeing him once before. Anyway, I’m worried, but it’s too late. Both of us had already finished this little glass of liqueur. The weird thing is, I smelled it, and I know it didn’t contain drugs. I think….” He ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what I think.”
“You think it was magic.”
Jazz expelled a breath. “Yeah.”
“So do I. The vision you saw was a mage, at a distance, rendered invisible.”
“What do you mean?”
“The mage wasn’t in the kitchen. He was watching from somewhere outside. Interesting that he chose to remain in the kitchen. Maybe he guessed you could see him. Anyway, he spelled those drinks. Or that’s my guess.”
“Shit, Dash. It’s bad enough to think werewolves and humans are after me. Now we’re in the big-time.”
“Yes.”
“So when you got there, that magic dude was gone?”
“I didn’t see him or sense him. But I definitely saw the stooges who were kidnapping you. You’re sure they were werewolves? It’s strange, but I can’t tell a werewolf from a gerbil.”
Jazz nodded. “The last thing I smelled before I passed out were werewolf males.”
“This is pretty disturbing. We know you’re some combo of wolf and mage. Now it seems like those two forces are working against you.”
“Damn. You’ve gotta teach me how to use magic, Dash. I’m some kind of sitting duck otherwise.”
“That’s not a Pop-Tarts project, my man. You’ve got power and even some natural skill, but learning how to use it takes practice.”
“Then we better get started.” Jazz’s belly clenched. “We don’t know who’s behind all this crap or what he wants. Hell, he could be waiting for me outside right now. Or getting ready to hurt my family. I need to be ready.”
Dash leaned forward and put a cool hand on Jazz’s bare chest. “You need to be relaxed. Magic and anxiety don’t go together well.”
“Okay.” Jazz took a deep breath. “I understand. I know how much focus it takes to shift at will. This must be kind of the same.”
“Probably.” He sat cross-legged in front of Jazz. “Let’s start with moving stuff.” He pointed at the bed pillow behind him. “See that? Pick it up.”
Jazz leaned toward the pillow.
“Uh, Magic Man, I mean with your mind. Your power.”
“Oh.” He gave a half grin. “How?”
“How do you think?” Dash grinned.
“As Descartes said, ‘I think therefore I lift the pillow’?”
“Something like that.”
Jazz focused on the pillow and thought about it lifting. Nada. He frowned at Dash. “You’re not going to tell me.”
“Nope.”
Jazz stared at the pillow again. When he wanted to shift or become invisible, the power came from inside him, not outside. He focused his mind in his chest and felt the warmth growing, tingling, stretching out to his fingertips. What the hell? He reached out and…
Whoosh, the pillow flew into the air.
Jazz cheered and fell backward as the pillow plopped onto his face. He grabbed it and came up laughing. “You did that.”
“Only hitting you in the face. You did the rest.”
“Honest?”
“Yep.”
“Smokin’.” He reached out a hand.
Dash’s cell phone rang on the night table. He made a face and pressed a finger to his lips, then answered the phone. “Hi.”
He listened. “Oh right, Jazz and I are hanging out. He’s been telling me stories about his family and stuff.” He smiled at the phone. “Right. Boy’s night.” He nodded. “I’ll tell him. You too.” He clicked off and looked up at Jazz. “Lysandra says we should have fun.”
Whoa, that was an inspiring idea. “What made her call?”
“She senses magic, especially when it’s coming from me. So I need to cool it.”
“Did she know when you used magic on those werewolves?”
“Uh, no.” He looked at the bedspread.
What the hell? “Wait, what are you hiding?”
“Jazz, I didn’t take out those thugs for the very reason you just suggested. I didn’t want Lys to know.”
“So you really hit them with a shovel?”
“No. I didn’t take them out. Dij did.”
“What?” But I’m not really surprised, am I? “Tell me.”
“I can’t tell you much. All I know is, she told me to look away. When I turned back, both guys were in a heap on the ground, but they’d dropped you. That’s why you’re bruised.”
/> “My gods, how did she do it?”
“I cannot tell you that.”
Jazz whirled at the sound of Khadija’s voice behind him. Dash simply looked up. “Hi, Dij.”
She walked slowly toward them wearing a set of Carla’s pajamas and a black head scarf. The stark contrast between the boyish PJs covered in soccer balls and the mysterious glow of her eyes in the dark frame of the scarf gave Jazz a little shiver—but not the bad kind.
“Hey, Dij, thanks for saving me,” he said.
“I was most gratified to be able to help.” She nodded gravely.
“Not the first time, I think.”
She smiled and propped her butt on the edge of the bed. “I must warn you that the energy of your magic is very powerful. It could attract attention.”
“So you’re magic too.”
“In my way.”
Jazz cocked his head. “Why’d you come to Vanessen? Did you know?”
“Forgive me. I cannot tell you too much as I’m limited by my community.”
“Your sisters?” Dash leaned against the headboard again.
She nodded. “What were you doing earlier when I felt the pulses?”
Jazz glanced between Dij and Dash. “Uh, I don’t exactly know how much anybody knows about anything and—”
The door pushed open. Carla stood there in her pajamas, her hands on her hips. Beside her, BeBop struggled against the too-long legs of Dash’s sleep pants, but his bare chest testified to a lot more man than the geeky boy costume suggested.
Carla stared at Jazz through narrowed eyes. “Jazz Vanessen, don’t you even think about telling anybody anything about what the crap is going on here unless you include me and BeBop. We’re all in this up to our necks, and ignorance is not fucking bliss.”
Jazz wiped a hand across his face. What the hell have I gotten myself into?
“You better come in and sit down,” Dash said.
Chapter Twenty-Five
FIFTEEN MINUTES later, they all sat around Dash’s room with vanilla cokes, some cheese, and pretzels, the only things Carla had been able to grab from the pantry without waking the staff. Everyone chewed and looked at each other suspiciously.
Dash pulled his chair farther into the circle. “Okay, I’m going to try to do this delicately.”
Carla barked. “Right. Because God forbid you assault our fragile ears. Come on, Dash. All of us know that nobody in this room is normal, except maybe me. And if I’m the standard we’re measuring normal by these days, we’re in deep shit. So just get on with it.”
He sighed. “I can’t. We’ve all got secrets. Big ones. And in some cases, people could get hurt if those secrets are revealed.”
“No effing fair. You all know each other’s secrets.”
Dash shook his head. “No, we actually don’t. We suspect or know bits, but—”
Carla slammed her cola onto the side table. “Quit! Just tell us.” Pretzels flew in the air and landed in the middle of the rug.
“Carla, BeBop, why don’t you tell us what you think?”
“You mean guessing games? Oh come on.” Carla crossed her arms.
“No, seriously. We’ve promised to not tell certain things, but if others guess them….” He shrugged.
That lit Carla’s eyes. “Cool, I—”
BeBop spoke coolly. “You’re supernatural. All of you.”
Carla’s head cranked around like something from an old horror movie. “All? You mean Dij?”
BeBop crossed his bare arms. “Oh yeah. I was the first to realize she was a witch.”
“Witch?” Carla spun this time and looked at Khadija with her mouth open.
“I am not a witch,” Dij said softly.
“That’s what I thought.” Carla sat back.
“I’m not permitted to tell you what I am, but it’s not a witch.”
“What do you mean what you are?” Carla’s voice wailed.
BeBop leaned forward and stared at Khadija. “But you’re a supe.”
“Supe?” Dij cocked her head.
“He means supernatural,” Dash said.
“Yes, I am what humans call supernatural.”
“Dij!” Carla stared at BeBop. “How did you know? Are you supernatural too?”
He smiled softly. “No.”
“Just supernaturally smart,” Dash added.
He glanced up through his round glasses. “There is that.”
Carla looked around, then took a long, loud inhale and looked at Jazz and Dash. “Okay, what about you two?”
“Want to answer, BeBop?” Dash said.
“Sure. I knew about you first, Dash. When I first met Jazz, it didn’t cross my mind that he was anything but a rich human boy.”
Carla slid to the front of her chair. “But he is a rich human boy!”
“Right, a rich human boy who can run twice as fast as other humans.”
“What?”
“Yeah, I didn’t notice either until these other supes started showing up. I mean, like, seriously, Dashiell Fucking Mercury doesn’t turn up someplace to hang out with a couple cute little interns. No, he’s got another agenda. So I start looking around for what he came here for.” He laughed. “And guess what I see.” He looked at Khadija. “At first I thought he was here for you. Then I realized he’d met Jazz and Carla before, and I knew he’d come for them.”
Carla turned toward BeBop. “Why did you even think of supernatural, for crap’s sake? I mean, why does a human even go there?”
Jazz nodded. “Yeah, BeBop. You said you’re not supernatural, but are you human?”
He shrugged. “More or less. But my family has a lot of, uh, interest in the supernatural.”
Carla leaped to her feet, her arms thrashing. “What the fuck?” She stalked to the windows, then turned and walked back, grumbling under her voice. “This is unbelievable. Who are these people?”
Jazz stood and crossed to her, grabbing her on the fly. “Stop. You’re just pissed because you didn’t know.”
She spun on him. “You lied to me! You called yourself my BFF, and you lied!” Tears filled her eyes and ran down her face, even though her teeth were gritted and her fists were clenched.
He grabbed her shoulders. She tried to pull away, but he didn’t let go. “Carla, I couldn’t tell you. I’m putting you and everyone else in danger now by even revealing as much as I have.”
She pointed at Dash, her fingers shaking. “You told him!”
“No, I didn’t. He told me. He came here because he suspected I had more, uh, skills than I knew. He spied on me and found out the truth.”
“What skills?” She pulled her arm back and he let her go.
“Carla, remember the night we were on the cliff edge?” Dash said in that cool voice.
“Yeah. So what?”
“You would have fallen, probably to your death, if Jazz hadn’t stopped you.”
“Okay, so he’s a hero. He grabbed me. So what?”
“No, he didn’t grab you. He suspended you in midair because, uh, he can.”
“Suspended—”
BeBop leaned forward and pushed up his glasses. “Carla, Jazz didn’t lie to you. I’m willing to bet in your whole friendship, he never once told you he was human.”
“But I assumed—”
“Ass. You. Me. Yes, it was a sin of omission, but he couldn’t tell you. You’re his fam, babe. He’s saved your life every day he didn’t tell you. Get over it.”
She planted her fists on her hips. “Easy for you to say. Apparently, you’re not the only boring human in this superior assemblage.” Suddenly, she burst into tears again.
Jazz sighed softly. Crying women unnerved him. Still, he wrapped his arms around her and tried to find words for what was in his heart. “Do you know how powerful you have to be to attract a whole clan of what BeBop calls supes to be with you?”
She sniffled. “What do you mean?”
Dash slid off the bed and came to her other side. “Remember what BeBop said
about me coming here to be with Jazz and you? He’s right. My, uh, boss was interested not only in Jazz, but in the human powerful enough to be his best friend. That’s you, Carla.”
She looked at him sideways. “Lysandra’s your boss, right?”
“I can neither confirm nor deny.” He popped the dashing dimples.
She frowned. “And nobody’s going to tell me what the fuck you are?”
Jazz, tightened his arms around her. “You already know what we are. Your friends.”
She burrowed her face in his chest.
“I do not mean to interfere with the family feeling, but we need to understand what is going on, what threat is intended, and to whom,” Khadija interrupted.
Jazz nodded. “Yeah. Everybody sit back down.” When they all got back to their places, Carla still wiping at her eyes, Jazz said, “So you all know that tonight I was having dinner with this guy because his family wants me to hook up with him.”
“For the family business?” Carla raised her dark brow. “Seriously?”
“Not exactly. He’s the same thing I am.”
“One of the things,” Dash added.
Jazz wiped a hand over his face. “Crap, this is hard. Anyway, his family’s looking for a leader of their community, and I qualify, more or less, so they’re trying to get me to join them. But these two waiters, who were, uh, the same thing I am, showed up. They must have been the ones who knocked me out and tried to kidnap me, but I don’t know why. I’m pretty sure there weren’t any drugs in the liqueur, even though they knocked me and Wyn out, and I saw this guy in the kitchen, and—” He stopped. “I don’t think I can do this.”
BeBop held up a hand. “Let me try.” He took a sip of cola and wrinkled his brow. “This is all about Jazz.”
“You think?” Dash asked.
Jazz shook his head. “The rumors about my grandfather? The attack on his company? Somebody knocking out me and Wyn?”
BeBop nodded. “It’s all about you, and it’s being instigated by the same person, I’m pretty sure.”
“Tell us what you’re thinking, BeBop.” Dash leaned forward on the bed, his legs stretched out.
“Think about it.” BeBop pulled himself up cross-legged on his chair, dressed only in too-big sleep pants and glasses. “Dash came here to watch Jazz and, secondarily, Carla, but then he found out Jazz wasn’t what he was expecting. I’m not sure why, but I don’t think it matters. What if someone else did the same thing? What if this person also noticed that Jazz was more than he seems?” He waved an arm. “Possibly, you and your aunt showing up here brought Jazz to this person’s attention, and now he’s, like, intrigued.” He gestured vigorously. “Maybe Jazz is something they want, or something they hate, and so they’re putting on pressure and watching him to see what he’ll do.”
