Clean Sweep

by Ilona Andrews

  Sean's face turned hard. "What does probira mean?"

  "Soulless," Wilmos said.

  Ouch.

  Sean nodded. "I thought as much."

  So that's why the other werewolves shunned them. Made sense.

  "They called us the monster makers. Parents of subhumans. There was a lot of discussion about whether it would be better to perish than to chance releasing something soulless into the universe. But in the end everyone agreed we needed alphas or none of us would make it. For all our grandstanding, we are a selfish lot. Nobody expected the alphas to survive. Or breed. I always had hope."

  "Why?" Sean asked.

  Wilmos leaned on the table. "I was with your parents' generation until they were five. I watched them smile for the first time. I helped them take their first steps. They were as real and alive as any normal children. A soul, if such a thing exists at all, doesn't filter into you at birth through your mother's umbilical cord. Souls come from the people who shape you as you grow. The alphas were children. My children. And I took care of them the best I could. All of us on the team did and all the while we knew we would be sending them to the slaughter. They would be the last line of defense. Bullet meat."

  Wilmos shrugged and smiled. It looked forced. "As I said, we tend to brood. It was a long time ago. We all made sacrifices. You never told me who your parents were."

  "You don't need to know that," Sean said.

  "Good," Wilmos said. "No need to share secrets if you don't have to. That's a winning strategy. At least tell me what you do. What they do? Were they able to adjust? How did your childhood go?"

  "Both of my parents joined the Earth's military," Sean said. "They did well and retired. My father is a lawyer. My mother helps him. They're almost never apart. They like books and violent computer games. They go fishing but don't catch anything. They just sit together with their fishing rods and talk. I didn't understand what they got out of it until much later, after I enlisted and realized it was their off mode. It used to drive me nuts when I was a kid. I thought they were boring. I had a normal childhood, or as normal as you can get being an Army brat and a werewolf. There were a few incidents because of turning, but nothing major. Lots of sports, lots of moving. My parents live simply, but I was a spoiled kid. I had all the cool toys and all the right clothes. I could've gone to college, but instead I enlisted. I didn't feel like I belonged where I was and I wanted to be on my own. Also, I was angry at my parents. Why, I don't even know. For providing me with a comfortable life, I suppose. I was going stir-crazy and felt entitled to some tragedy to be bummed out about, but I didn't have any."

  "I know the feeling," Wimos said. He leaned forward, focused on Sean. "How long were you in? Was it hard? Why did you get out? Tell me."

  "I did eight years, several small conflicts, and two wars. The Army was easy. Be where you're supposed to be when you're supposed to be there and do as you're told. I was the fastest and the strongest. I killed people, sometimes at close range. I didn't love it, but I didn't lose much sleep over it either. It was a job and I was very good at it. I liked being in. It took the edge off and I felt normal. I got promoted quickly, E-5 in three years, E-6 in five. The Army provides you with a place to sleep, feeds you, outfits you. If you don't have a family and don't care about the latest car with the shiniest rims, there's not much opportunity to spend the money. I put away half my paycheck since day one and once a year I would go to places the Army didn't send me. I've been on six continents out of seven, and the seventh is a frozen wasteland. I kept looking for the place that felt right and none of them ever did. Two years into my E-6, they started pushing me to E-7, Sergeant First Class. It's almost always an admin job. E-6 was as high as I could go and still stay with the soldiers. I knew if they chained me to a desk, I'd go off the cliff."

  Sean leaned back and took another swallow of tea. "I fought them on it as long as I could, and when I couldn't anymore, I finished out my time and got out. When I first got to my permanent-duty station, a buddy and I went in together on a restaurant. Nothing fancy, just a good solid lunch place that served Korean food. It had a good location and it did well. When I got out, it had two other locations and was turning into a small chain. My buddy bought me out. With what I put away and the buyout, I had about five years or so to figure out what I wanted to do. Thought about going private, but I'd worked with contractors before and I didn't like it. Something rubs me the wrong way about the soldier-for-hire gig. I'd been through Texas a few times, and I enjoyed it. So I picked a small town, bought a decent house, and tried being a civilian to see how long I would last. And then some alien piece of shit came into my territory and started killing dogs and people, so here we are."

  That was the longest I've ever heard him speak. It must've been rough to keep looking and looking and never finding that right spot, that place that said home.

  "Even a generation later, with all the opportunities in the world, still a soldier. The genetic programming held in the next generation." Wilmos studied him. "They didn't tell you about Auul?"

  Sean shook his head.

  Wilmos sighed. "I can't say I blame them."

  He turned to me.

  "Are those Anansi pearls in your cart?"

  "Yes."

  "What are you going up against?"

  "A dahaka," I said. Why not? Maybe he knew something about it.

  "A nasty breed. Need all the ammunition you can get."

  He glanced at Sean. Sean was looking at the corner again, at the scale armor.

  "Why don't you take a closer look?" Wilmos said.

  Sean rose and walked over to the armor. "What is it?"

  "Auroon Twelve. Stealth armor, made specifically for alphas."

  "It looks..." I searched for the right word.

  "Flimsy?" Wilmos nodded. "It's nano armor. Meant to fit under your skin. Once you put it on, it never comes off. Every alpha wore some version of it. They used to say you don't wear the armor, the armor wears you. It's designed to change with your body, any form, any shape. Ever seen your mother or your father show tattoos on their necks when they're upset?"

  Sean nodded. "Sure."

  "Then you know when the tattoos show, you're in trouble. It's an instinctual response. When you're angry or threatened, the armor expands to cover vulnerable areas. It's calling you, isn't it?"

  "Yes," Sean said.

  "Is it for sale?" I asked.

  "No. But it can be had." Wilmos smiled at Sean. "If you want it, it's yours. I have no use for it. But sometime in the future I might call on you for a favor, alpha. That time may come never or tomorrow."

  Sean thought about it.

  "Take it," Wilmos said. "It's a good trade."

  "No. It's a bad idea." I knew he would never take it. Not in a million years He didn't trust Wilmos and it was a sucker's deal...

  Sean held out his hand. "You've got a deal."

  Wilmos shook it. "Good. Take your shirt off. We'll get it fitted."

  "Sean...," I said.

  He looked at me. "I don't know why, but I have to have it. I can't stop myself."

  "It's a built-in compulsion," Wilson said. "Don't worry. Once it's on, the feeling will pass."

  "If it's a compulsion, it might not be a good idea," I told him.

  "I know." Sean's eyes were open wide, his pupils so large that his irises looked completely black.

  "It will be useful to you. I promise," Wilmos said. "You'll feel better."

  He turned off the force field. Sean stepped forward, pulled off his shirt, and touched the shiny scales. The metal melted, wrapping around his fingers. Thin streaks of gray slid around his arm like metal snakes, over his shoulders, over his chest... The metal expanded, coating him, and broke apart into a thousand tiny metal dots. For a second nothing happened, then the dots moved as one, piercing Sean's skin.

  He screamed, a guttural, brutal shout that turned into a roar.

  His back arched, his shoulders gaining bulk. His flesh whipped around him in a furry
whirlwind and a huge werewolf stood in Sean's place. I had forgotten how big he was.

  Wilmos blinked. "That's one hell of a wetwork shape."

  Werewolf-Sean growled, displaying huge teeth.

  "Feel the armor move through you," Wilmos said. "Let it bond. It will make you stronger. You should feel some feedback right away, but the complete merger will take time. Give it twenty-four hours and it will be in your bones."

  Sean turned. Armored plates formed under his skin on his chest, guarding his pectorals and the flat ridges of his stomach. The armor melted and the bulk of it shifted to his shoulders, forming pauldrons. His neck thickened. He snarled. The fur vanished, his body slimmed down in a blink, and human Sean was back. Swirls of dark blue-gray pigment crisscrossed his chest and stomach like tiger stripes. He looked down at himself. The pigment moved.

  "That's it," Wilmos said. "Shape it."

  The pigment melted and turned into a tribal design that covered most of Sean's torso. It wrapped around his ribs, flowed onto his back, and settled.

  Sean exhaled.

  "And now you're ready for battle. Good luck, soldier."

  Chapter Sixteen

  When we came back, Arland was waiting for us in the kitchen. He'd found the guest laptop I'd left in the room for his convenience and was reading something on the screen. A cup of tea with small roses on it sat next to him. The air smelled like mint. Even in a white T-shirt and jeans, Arland didn't fit into the kitchen. It was like walking into your room and finding a medieval knight with the face of a superstar casually sipping tea from your flowery porcelain cup.

  The vampire saw Sean. His eyes narrowed. "Did something happen?"

  "No," Sean told him.

  Arland studied him. "You look different. You look larger." He inhaled. "And your scent has changed. Something did happen."

  Something happened all right. Sean hadn't said a word after we left the shop. He did look larger, better defined, as if he'd gained about ten pounds of muscle and it all went to the right places. His eyes, more golden than amber now, looked into the distance. He was wandering somewhere inside his head, and antagonizing him right now wasn't wise. Somehow I didn't think that he'd respond with werewolf poetry. He kept shrugging his shoulders as if he wanted to test them out.

  "What are you reading?" I asked.

  "Just some minor social research," Arland said.

  Okay. "Did the battlefield meet with your approval?"

  "It will suffice. Have you acquired your weapons?"

  "Yes," I said.

  "I'm going to go for a run." Sean opened the back door and went outside.

  I moved to the window. He was standing in the grass, looking up at the sky.

  Arland's eyebrows crept together. "Should I be concerned?"

  "Probably not." I had no idea. I was concerned. In my book, putting on alien suits that bonded with your body wasn't wise. But Sean was a grown man, and there wasn't anything I could've done about it. I had no idea what side effects this stunt could have.

  Sean shrugged his shoulders again and took off, dashing into the trees. A moment and he vanished completely from view.

  Here's hoping he came back in one piece.

  "Lady Dina," Arland said.

  I turned to him. "Dina, please."

  "Dina." Arland leaned back and presented me with a dazzling smile, his fangs on display.

  Uh-oh. Perhaps keeping "lady" in front of my name would've been a better strategy.

  He rose and walked over to me. I used to read an action series about a former military detective who was almost six and a half feet tall. I'd never quite comprehended how tall that was, but Arland had just given me a very good idea.

  "Do you need to make any preparations?" Arland stopped next to me and leaned his forearm against the wall, looking out of the window. "If so, how long they will take?"

  "About seven hours, give or take a few minutes depending on temperature," I said. That was the average time it took the pearls to mature once planted.

  "Will you be comfortable with fighting tonight?" he asked.

  "Yes." This was the weirdest conversation.

  Arland nodded. "Dina..."

  "Yes?"

  "This entire affair has many components in it. Pride, revenge, betrayal... All very important." He turned and looked at me with his dark blue eyes. "I'm honor and duty bound to resolve this. The future of my House depends on it. I don't know what Sean's motivations are beyond territoriality, and I don't know if I can rely on him. But no matter what my commitments are, I will promise you this: your safety is my first priority. I wish you had chosen to remain behind."

  "Because I'm a woman?" I asked quietly.

  "Because you will be the only person in the fight who hasn't been trained as a killer. I have seen my mother and my grandmother on the battlefield. Any vampire with half a mind knows better than to stand between a woman and her chosen target. When a man takes up arms, he does so for many reasons. Sometimes to punish, sometimes to intimidate or frighten. But when a woman picks up a weapon, she means to kill. So please do not take this as an insult."

  He leaned toward me. Suddenly the space between us shrank.

  "I will do everything in my power to ensure your survival, and should the need arise, I will put myself between danger and you." His voice was quiet and intimate. "Do not hesitate to use me as your shield."

  His voice sent tiny shivers through me.

  Wow. He was something else.

  Arland smiled again, showing me his fangs. Vampires smiled for many reasons, but when a vampire male smiled at you from this distance with that kind of look in his eyes, it was done for one purpose only: to impress. Look at my big teeth. I'm an apex predator. My genetic material is awesome.

  I had to say something. "I'll keep that in mind. Now if you excuse me, I have some preparations to make."

  I picked up my broom, went outside, pulled the cart out with my magic, stuck the broom into it, and started toward the clearing. The cart rolled behind me.

  No, this wouldn't do. I had to keep at least some semblance of normality and I was getting sloppy. Appearing normal even when nobody who mattered could see us was how innkeepers had kept up our disguises for so long. I sighed, circled the cart, and put my hands on the handles.

  Vampires have been hitting on me since I was about fifteen. Mostly vampire boys. Vampires, as a species, lived to conquer. Their cultural identity was wrapped up around challenges, and both male and female vampires went after their targets with single-minded precision. As the daughter of innkeepers, I was off-limits and therefore irresistible. Nothing had ever come of it, and I was used to it by now, but something about Arland, the way he looked at me, or the way he smiled, sent a shiver of alarm through me. It wasn't unpleasant, which was troubling. Being involved with the Marshal of a Holy Anocracy House wasn't on my agenda. They didn't do "involved." They only did total and complete victory. I had to nip this in the bud.

  Where could Sean have gotten off to? If that suit had strangled him and he now lay dying somewhere, I wouldn't even know. Idiot werewolf.

  I reached the edge of clearing. Here the short, stocky trees parted to encircle a clear field. The boundary of the inn ended about twelve feet ahead. I took the broom from the cart, turned it into a narrow shovel, and thrust it into the ground. The hole grew around it, wider, deeper...

  Little more.

  Hmm. About a foot deep should do it.

  Okay, good enough. Now I just had to make thirty-one more.

  I turned and almost walked into Sean. His face was slicked with a faint sheen of sweat. His cloak was gone. He wore a T-shirt that left his arms bare, and the same damp sheen covered the carved muscle of his biceps. He stared at my face, his eyes so light they almost glowed. I looked into them and saw the wolf looking right back at me.

  Every cell in my body went on full alert. My broom sprouted a blade.

  Sean smiled, a feral grin like a wolf panting. "Dina." He practically purred.

  "Are
you okay?"

  He glanced at my broom, amused. "What are you doing here, all alone?"

  This was reminding me of Red Riding Hood. If he asked what was in my basket, he would regret it. "I'm not alone. I have my broom."

  He leaned forward, closing the six inches between us. The dark tattoo designs slid up and down his neck and chest. The wolf in his eyes beckoned.

  Oh no. No, no, no. We were not going there, into those dark woods.

  I touched the tip of my spear to the underside of his chin. The heat coming off his skin warmed my hand.

  "Ooh." He wrinkled his nose at me. "Sharp."

  "I think your new outfit got you a little too excited." I began to pool the magic under him.

  "I'm going to kiss you," he said.

  "What?"

  He pushed my spear aside with his fingers and bent down. His hand slid into my hair. His mouth closed on mine.

  Kissing Sean Evans was like drinking a shot of the strongest liquor in the world while it was on fire.

  His tongue touched my lips, stroking, teasing, not attacking but seducing; confident but subtle. Excitement shot through me like an electric shock and some sort of vital switch in my brain malfunctioned, fried by the burst of need. I opened my mouth and let him in, our bodies perfectly in tune. He wanted me and I kissed him back.

  We broke apart. My body was hot, my head was dizzy. The wolf eyes laughed at me. He looked like he was about to repeat that kiss.

  Sean leaned forward.

  I pushed. The ground under him yawned and he sank into it up to his hips.

  He grinned. "Was it that good for you?"

  I dropped him another eighteen inches.

  Sean laughed.

  "You're interfering with my work. Don't make me bury you."

  "If you bury me, you'll have to dig me up for the fight."

  "Maybe I'll just leave you in the ground."

  I made another hole, took a pearl, which was about the size of a honeydew melon, from the cart, and slid it into the soil.