by Tara Lain
“What nonsense?” Dash felt Jazz in his belly and his heart.
“Making money through inane human weaknesses like drugs, gambling, sex, and weapons.”
“Wait! You’re saying this Nardo is a gangster?” BeBop said.
His uncle shrugged. “No human agency has been able to associate him with his crimes, but I suppose that’s what you would call him if he were human.”
Dash’s blood was turning colder by the second. “What is he?”
Bopherson smiled. “Ah, a unique mixture of were shiftery and wizardry unheard of in the realms of the supernatural.”
“Not that unheard of.” He grabbed BeBop’s arm. “We’ve got to find this dude. I don’t think he’s planning to hurt Jazz, but who knows what he’ll force him to do?”
Bopherson frowned, folding his narrow hands in his kimono sleeves. “Why are you so certain Nardo will not hurt your friend. He’s quite capable of violence, I’m told.”
“Because, sir, they’re two of a kind.”
“Who are two of a kind?” Carla’s voice came from behind Dash.
He turned, surprised. She’d made fast time. But what the hell? They all needed to know everything, and apparently the only one in the dark was Carla. “Nardo appears to be a mage like me and, uh, a…. Like Jazz.” The promise not to reveal Jazz’s secrets tugged at his conscience more than his own oaths.
“Oh, wow, so Nardo’s a werewolf?”
Well hell. Dash crossed his arms. “How do you know that?”
“Well, if he’s the same as Jazz, he must be—”
“I mean how do you know about Jazz?”
She wrinkled her nose. “You don’t spend your whole life watching werewolf movies without being able to figure out that your best friend is one.”
“I’m not sure that follows.”
“When I got that supernatural was a real thing, my mind opened, and I realized the person most likely to be a wolf, except for maybe Lindsey’s husband, Seth, is Jazz.”
Dash shook his head. “Just so you know, Seth’s a regular human, but you’re right, Jazz is a werewolf—and he’s also a mage. What Mr. Bopherson here is telling us is that Nardo’s exactly the same.”
Mr. Bopherson clucked his tongue. “Amazing. Amazing. There are two. I can’t wait to meet your friend.”
Dash sucked in a breath against Jazz’s fear, anger, and confusion that sliced through him. “I’m afraid you’ll never get to, sir, if we don’t find him.”
Chapter Thirty
OUCH. JAZZ tried to open his eyes, but they felt glued shut; his mouth tasted like a bottle of piss; and every muscle in his body burned like shift fire. He tried to speak, but it came out a moan.
“If you hadn’t fought the magic, we could have done this far more easily.”
The voice that came from behind Jazz managed to be both rough and silky at the same time. Jazz went to look and—Well crap.
Pain flashed through him. He was bent backward like a bow, his ankles and wrists fastened together with plastic zip ties in some craptastic yoga pose. “What the hell have you done to me?”
“Well, my dear, shifting in that position would be so painful as to be lethal, since wolves don’t really bend that way. As for the magic, if I get so much as a tingle from your direction, I’ll instruct my associates to drug you again. So you see, it’s all up to you.” The voice came closer and Jazz forced his lids open to see a tall, imposing man—male—with a full head of brown hair that might be called leonine and piercing golden eyes.
“What the hell do you want with me?”
“Sir.”
“Excuse me?”
“What the hell do you want with me, sir?”
“Screw you.”
He chuckled. “You do have spirit. I like that in a devotee.”
“Devotee, my ass. Right after the Atlantic freezes in the middle of global warming.”
Nardo pulled a chair over and sat in front of where Jazz lay wrapped like a pretzel on a Middle Eastern rug. “Isn’t it time to stop feeling like a misfit?”
“What?” Jazz had to forcefully close his mouth.
He smiled. “Haven’t you spent most of your life feeling like you don’t belong anywhere? Like an outsider.”
Jazz’s heart slammed, but he kept his mouth shut.
“I’ll take that as a yes. The reason is simple. Another word for strange is unique, which is what you are. You’re practically one of a kind, an alien in both human and supernatural worlds.”
Well, that was fucking great. He really needed to lie there on the ground like a stuffed pig and be told he was 100 percent alone. Crap, maybe he’ll just kill me. “Thanks.”
“I said practically.”
“Asshole. You’re playing guessing games while you break every bone in my body?”
The pleasant expression on his face vanished. “The charm of your spirit only extends so far.”
“Come on. You’re going to kill me anyway. Do we have to do the whole James Bond explain-your-evil-plan crap first?” He shuddered.
“I’m not going to kill you.”
“Then why am I here?”
“I could have killed you in your bed.” He leaned his forearms on his knees.
Enough. “Then why the fuck didn’t you?”
“Because I’m tired of being alone too.” His voice was so soft, Jazz barely heard it.
Jazz didn’t want to reply. He didn’t even want to think. “What are you trying to say?”
“You already know. You and I are the same. The only two.”
A pain shot through his chest. Maybe it was from his wracked back—or the idea that he was the same as the creature in front of him. The one that had drugged him and dragged him here as if he had every right to do it. “Man, I hope you’re not married. You sure have a weird way of showing you want to hang out with somebody.”
Nardo smiled darkly. “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t take a chance.”
“A chance on what? If you know we’re the same, that means you know what you are. I’m not even sure.”
“Of course you know. You practiced your magic in the forest with that boy.”
“You spied on us?” Anger warred with total humiliation.
Nardo waved a hand. “Don’t be embarrassed. I’ve had a few men in my time, although I prefer females.” He sat back. “But you catch on quickly. I can train you and put your talents to work for me. That’s far more than the Magicouncil will do. To them, you’re a threat.”
The idea gave him cold chills. “I don’t need your training. I’m going to college in the fall.”
“Nonsense. A waste. Who would send a mage to some human college? Arcantaria maybe, but I can’t spare you that long. Together, we can influence both the werewolf and human worlds, take over businesses, run packs. Hell, they’re practically begging you to take over Marketo now.”
Jazz controlled his breathing. Find out as much as possible. Right, James Bond, here I come. “But what about the wizards? Won’t they try to stop you?”
Nardo laughed. “Magery cares nothing for humanity, and most of them know nothing about the wolves. Before they even wake up, we’ll consolidate the packs. With that power, we can stand against the mages if we choose. There’s nothing the wizards fear more than a bunch of ravening werewolves.”
“But the packs are powerful. You have magic, but they have their own skills. You’d only be one against all those wolves.”
“Don’t be silly. I already have a small army, and I know how ordinary most rank and file wolves really are these days. Still, they’re useful, and in numbers they’re powerful, but now I need you. A wolf with wizardry, like me. And you already have a place in the wolf community and the human community. It’s perfect. We can use your credibility against them. Your reward will be more wealth and power than you could ever imagine.”
Images flashed in his brain of Nardo using magic against his brothers. He couldn’t even picture what Nardo might plan against Pop-Pop and his mom. “I’m al
ready wealthy and powerful.”
Nardo waved a hand. “In the human world of business.” He snorted. “You have no idea what we can do with the raw power of werewolves behind us and our magic to control them.” He laughed, and it did sound way too much like a Stephen King movie.
He suddenly thought about Dash, Carla, Dij, and BeBop. Oh gods, where are they?
DASH, CARLA, BeBop, and Khadija all knelt on cushions and stared down at the large map Mr. Bopherson had spread across his low table. It looked very old. He pointed to a site in the exclusive Carnegie Hill neighborhood. “This is where Nardo maintains a home, according to our research, but he doesn’t appear to function from here often. He owns a number of large, unique warehouses on Second Avenue where he operates a storage facility for the city’s rich and famous. Of course, it’s a perfect cover for the storage of his ill-gotten goods.”
“How do you know this, sir?” Carla stared at Bopherson with that direct, challenging gaze.
Bopherson smiled slightly. “It is my job, I suppose you could say, Ms. Mendes. The Freeseekers of Fukurokuju are dedicated to research and codification of the supernatural in our worlds. We do not generally reveal ourselves to outsiders, but since you are all those we study—” He smiled and gracefully nodded his head toward Dash and Dij. “—I believe it’s within my purview to assist you in your quest.”
“Hang on.” Carla held up a hand. “First off, if you know this dude is a creep, why don’t you turn him in to the cops? Or the FBI or something?”
“Ah, it’s not my job. We study but do not interfere.”
“But if you know he’s doing evil stuff—”
“Then I can perhaps tell Benjamin or you.” He smiled. “And it can be your job.”
She seemed to think about that intently. “I don’t want to be here under false pretenses. I’m just a plain old human. No big.”
“Ah, I believe you’re as much a plain old human as Benjamin. Trust me when I say you have every right to be here.”
Khadija spoke softly, but every ear seemed to turn to her voice like flowers to the sun. “We’re all meant to be here, and we must move ahead. Shall we assume that Nardo is holding Jazz in his warehouses, not his residence?”
“I don’t want to assume that,” BeBop said. “I think we need a quick recon on the house and the warehouses. We should be able to tell what’s happening fast by who’s going in and out and the level of activity.”
“Jeez, BeBop,” said Carla, “there’re only four of us. That’s not a lot to take on Nardo and his band of happy henchmen, whoever they are.”
Mr. Bopherson nodded. “I assure you, he has attracted many followers, primarily from the packs of shifters who are distressed at what they perceive as their declining power. Nardo offers them wealth and influence, which they cannot achieve in their own communities.”
Carla glanced at Dash. “Do you think the whole marry-my-cousin crap Jazz has been going through is related to this?”
Dash nodded. “It’s probably a pack trying to stay out of Nardo’s grasp, although I bet they don’t know it’s Nardo who’s behind the mutiny and dissent.”
“Weird how it all ties together.”
“Yeah, but I’m guessing Nardo thinks Jazz can help him get more packs under his control, not keep them out of his reach.”
Mr. Bopherson gripped BeBop’s arm but looked at all of them as he spoke intensely. “I’ve told you the Freeseekers role is only observation. We don’t interfere. But I can tell you that if what you say is true, we could be on the brink of a serious realignment of power in the supernatural world that will influence all extraordinary beings and may greatly impact the human world as well. I fear there is much to lose.”
Dij leaned forward. “I suggest Dash and I explore the warehouses. There’s a small chance I may be able to solicit help.” She frowned slightly. “Don’t count on that. BeBop and Carla should go to the house and watch. None of us shall take action until we have determined where Jazz is being held. Then we shall plan our strategy.”
Dash glanced at her. Despite that calm face, he felt like she might be the most dangerous of them all. “Wouldn’t it be better for you and I to split up, Dij?” he asked.
She nodded. “Normally, yes, but I might need your help to persuade our possible allies.”
Dash nodded. “Okay. If we can trouble you for some food and water, sir, to take with us, we’ll head for our targets.”
“Of course. Benjamin, come and help me,” Bopherson said.
Dash put a hand on his chest, but couldn’t feel Jazz. That made him gasp. “We have to hurry.”
JAZZ’S EYES fluttered open again, but this time he knew where he was, or more accurately, who he was with, since he wasn’t sure where Nardo was holding him. The softness of the rug he’d been lying on earlier suggested maybe a house or a nice office. At this moment, he appeared to be on some kind of couch or daybed, and he didn’t feel so drugged, although he was pretty sure they’d sedated him to make him sleep. He was still tied backward, but the plastic zip ties had been replaced by a silky rope that didn’t cut into his skin so badly. Maybe Nardo was trying to impress Jazz with his compassion. Right.
Jazz twisted his neck and glanced around. He seemed to be in some kind of sitting room in an older home, elegant but kind of musty, as if nobody lived there much.
While Nardo had been talking to him earlier, several wolf males had come and gone, staring at Jazz with interest. So Nardo hadn’t been lying about his army. I wonder if any of his wolves come from Marketo or Harker? Jazz didn’t recognize anyone.
Okay, assess the situation. He wriggled and tested the ties on his wrists and ankles. They were tight, but at least it wasn’t quite the same agony to move because the silk ties weren’t buried in his flesh and his back. And while it hurt like hell, he wasn’t as bent as he had been. He must think I’m going to consider his offer.
Why? Why would he think I’d go for it? Jazz inhaled, and his hip joints stretched like acid-covered rubber bands. Because we all think we want to be unique, one of a kind. The reality’s a lot tougher. Nardo’s sick of being the only one who understands what it’s like to be two kinds of weird.
For a second his heart jolted, as if he felt sorry for the dude. Fuck that!
What happens if I shift? His wolf paws weren’t smaller than his hands. He could wind up bound as a wolf in a position that could break his back. That’s what Nardo was counting on. Still, Nardo might not know how fast Jazz could shift. Where could he have ever seen me do it? Even at Packarama, he’d shifted inside the tent or behind a blanket.
Jazz tucked that important knowledge away.
He flexed his back as much as he could to try and loosen the ties, but when his back sprang back, it did the opposite. Crap.
He heard the door opening, and he lay still.
A nasty chuckle came from near the door. It wasn’t Nardo. “I always said you were backward.” The guy laughed some more. “Man, you sure ended up where you belong, Vanessen. It’s about time somebody took one of you assholes down a few pegs. Think you’re such big shots. Guess you met a real big shot now, right?”
Jazz shifted his eyes upward and saw Radsy, Bill Radser, who he’d last seen at Packarama. In answer to his question about Marketos and Harkers, here was one who’d been converted to the dark side. Okay, play along. “Yeah, I’d say times have changed since Packarama, right?”
Radser laughed, all nasty again.
“Where’s Wreck?”
“Outside.”
“So, it looks like you guys have got me. What now?”
Radsy walked closer and stared at Jazz. He frowned. “No idea. Can’t imagine what the boss wants with a pansy-assed fag like you. Hell, he’s already got enough males to take out all of the Connecticut packs and then, with them, he can take on all of New England. He can even wipe out your so-called pack and all the weirdass homos in it, along with the humans, who never should have known anything about us to start with.”
Jazz�
�s heart slammed so hard, it felt like it could break his ribs. Calm down. Focus. That’s what the wolves think, but Nardo wants the alphas and the humans on his side, and he wants me to get them for him.
“Where’s Nardo? Maybe we can ask him what he’s got in mind for me?”
Radsy frowned. “Went downtown.”
“So why are you here?”
“I’m supposed to give you water. Fuck. I should let you dry up like a dead rat in the sun. That’s what guys like you deserve.”
THE SUPERORDINARY Society, minus Jazz, stood outside the Bopherson brownstone.
“Nardo’s home is only a few blocks from here,” BeBop said. “Carla and I can walk. You guys need to take the train to get to the warehouse.”
Carla raised an eyebrow. “Can’t you supes just wizard your way there?” She flicked an imaginary wand.
“It’s not impossible, but that kind of power is rare,” Dash said. He might have been able to learn to do that at Arcantaria, if he hadn’t decided to defy his mistress. Funny that when the moment of truth came, it hadn’t even been a decision. Man, he’d never have guessed that about himself. He’d always thought of himself as kind of ruthless. But when it came down to it, he’d oozed out of his creamy nougat center. He gave a soft snort. “You two just watch and call us with whatever you see, okay? No matter what it is. Got it? I mean, even if you see them carrying Jazz out of there, just call. Don’t try to take them on alone.”
BeBop and Carla both nodded.
Why did those nods give Dash an uneasy feeling?
Chapter Thirty-One
KHADIJA WALKED quickly down the narrow dank alley, and Dash followed, glancing over his shoulder. A sign on the side of the building said Sarpedon Street. Talk about feeling watched! Ahead, Dash could see a dead end looming. Just as he was about to yell, an invisible door in the brick wall opened, and Khadija stepped through it. What the hell? Dash followed.
Whoa! He stopped and peered into the vast space beyond. Like a combination basement and engine room, long rows of old, rusted machines snaked down corridors that disappeared into darkness, punctuated occasionally by lanterns. More fascinating than the space, however, were the people standing in the shadows in front of him. Females, like Khadija, all beautiful, dark-eyed, and wrapped in head scarves of various colors and styles. Fringe here, bangles there. There were perhaps five or six of them, though it was hard to tell who might be hiding in the nooks and crannies of the room.
