by C. J. Barry
He winced at Seneca’s humorless whisper. Well, it was fun while it lasted. And then Seneca pushed away from him. He groaned as reality returned along with every ache and pain he’d earned.
Seneca stood next to the bed, hands on her hips, her face flushed with anger. “Are you kidding me? You were impaled, nearly bled to death on the way here, and . . .” She picked up a pillow and threw it at him. “You have the energy to do that? Are you trying to kill yourself?”
He knocked the pillow out of the air and attempted to sit up but stopped when his head started spinning. He was not ready for this. “I was still out of it.”
She crossed her arms. “Oh, really. Amazing dexterity for someone who’s out of it.”
He grimaced at the pain in his belly and collapsed back on the bed. “Okay. I thought you were someone else.”
It didn’t work, because then she went from upset to quiet. Real quiet. He braced himself.
“And I thought you were dead,” she said, her gaze burning into his.
He waited for his thoughts to settle down before answering, sensing that this was important to her. “I warned you this might happen. It’s part of the job.”
She rubbed her arms. “You don’t have to tell me what the job is. I buried one partner this week. I don’t feel like burying another. People will start thinking I’m bad luck.”
It was a lie, a cop-out to how she was really feeling. And it made him smile. Not too much. He didn’t want her to shoot him. “Did anyone see me in Primary form?”
“No,” Seneca replied. “Which reminds me, we need to talk about your anatomy . . .”
“My anatomy?” he said and smiled.
Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “And how we fix it when we need to.”
Too bad. “What did MacGregor say?”
“You think I told him?” She threw her hands up in the air and started pacing the small room. “When would I have had an opportunity? When I was dragging your ass out of that hellhole? Or when I was dragging your ass to my bedroom—”
“This is your bedroom?” he asked, feeling his smile growing.
She stopped pacing and glared at him. “My house. They’re all my bedrooms. No, I didn’t call MacGregor.”
Huh. “There are a lot of victims down there. Although, chances are good the scavengers have already moved in.”
Seneca bit her lip. “If XCEL gets involved, they’re going to know it was us. It’s not like I had a chance to pick up our toys before we left.”
He couldn’t take his eyes off her. Long legs, round ass, strong shoulders. She looked amazing in this light. “We can handle MacGregor.”
She took a deep breath, pushing her breasts against her T-shirt. He was feeling better by the minute.
“Right,” she said, her voice sounding suddenly weary. Then he realized that her face was bruised and slightly swollen, her arms and legs covered with marks. Those were his fault.
He, on the other hand, was feeling far healthier than he should, considering the number of injuries he’d sustained. He looked at his stomach. The skin was red and raw, but the wound had closed up. That was fast, too fast for a human or even a Shifter. Strange recollections surfaced. There was an older woman, a soft voice. No one he knew. He looked at Seneca. “Was your grandmother here?”
Her eyes widened with something that looked like panic. “You remember her?”
“I remember something.”
Seneca licked her lips. “She treated you for a little while. I’m not sure what she did.”
Interesting. “I’ll have to thank her.”
“Well, she may not be available next time, so we’re going to find you a Shifter doctor.”
He raised his eyebrows at her firm tone. “Worried about me?”
To his surprise, there was no witty comeback. Instead, Seneca’s gaze dropped to the floor. “I’m tired of funerals, Max. I mean it.”
She looked up, and he saw the pain in her wary eyes. He knew that pain—it was loss and grief. She knew what it was to lose someone close, someone you couldn’t live without. The understanding, the connection stunned him.
“I’m sorry,” he finally said.
“So am I,” she said. Before Max could ask her what she meant, she swept a hand toward the bed. “This never happened. We work together, and that’s it. It has to be. Otherwise, it gets too . . . complicated.”
“Okay,” he said, watching her. She’d just shut him out again.
“Noko will bring you some tea shortly. Drink it. It tastes like sewer, but it’ll help.” Then she walked out.
Hager scrolled through the pictures of what was left of Skinman’s lair sent to his BlackBerry. “Are you sure it was Dempsey?”
Puck nodded several times. “I smelled ’im myself. And his partner, the lovely Seneca Thomas.”
Those two were becoming more than a nuisance. “Were you able to salvage any of the DNA from the cooler?”
“Some. Don’t know if it be virgin, though,” Puck answered. “Only Skinman knew that. Gonna take some time to replace ’im.”
Yes, it would. And until then they’d be stuck here underground. XCEL had won and put his plan behind. It would take weeks to get a new Skinman set up, especially after word of this massacre got out. And even longer to build a new inventory. He didn’t have that kind of time.
Recruits were getting harder to find, too complacent in their new world. Too lazy to fight. Unless . . . Unless he gave them a reason to fight.
Hager pocketed the device and steepled his fingers. A reason to fight, that had always been the Shifters’ weakness. They would blend in if allowed, but if someone came after them, they’d fight for the lives they’d built.
As for the DNA, if he brought the battle to XCEL, he’d have all the DNA he needed—from XCEL agents. In fact, he’d get much better, higher-quality specimens. It would take care of two problems at once, and his plan could actually accelerate.
It always amazed him how he could take a bad situation and turn it to his advantage. It was a gift, really. And this time, it would give him everything he wanted.
“What do you want to do?” Puck asked, sounding bored.
“Send the photos to the borough lords for their recruiting. Plus our friends, our business partners, every Shifter we know.”
Puck looked shell-shocked. “Why would we want to do that? It’s bad publicity, ain’t it?”
Hager replied, “Tell them this is what XCEL has in store for us unless we stand up for ourselves.”
“You think that’ll work?” Puck asked.
“Oh, yes.” He’d make sure of it.
Noko was alone in the kitchen when Seneca finished her 5:00 A.M. run. She had hoped it would help her work through the past twenty-four hours, but it hadn’t. Her body was buzzing with unrequited energy. It didn’t help that the object of her desire had been sleeping in the next room for the past day. Thus, the 5:00 A.M. wake-up call.
She filled a tall glass with water and leaned back against the counter to drink it. She needed sleep. She needed sex. She needed something that would stop the whirlwind of thoughts and questions and memories that swirled around in her head nonstop. Maybe she was the one who needed the half-black, half-red mask. It’d go with her newly formed split personality. The one where she actually enjoyed how it felt to wake up next to Dempsey. And the other where she envisioned tossing roses on his grave.
The good news was that he’d touched her, and they hadn’t connected. Interesting, that. Perhaps it was because she’d finished the scene. The memory of his dead wife, his pain and grief, lingered in every cell in Seneca’s body. They shared that moment.
“He is an Eagle,” Noko said, seated at the island with her hands clasped.
Seneca’s mind returned to the here and now. Of course he is. “That’s nice. How is he?”
“He drank some tea and ate a little. He slept all day and all night. He grows stronger.”
Seneca grunted. He was doing better than her.
“He a
sked about the mask.”
She almost chocked on water. “Are you surprised?”
“He is not afraid of it.”
Seneca eyed her. “I’m not either.”
Noko smiled. “I know.”
Nothing surprised Noko. She just took life as it came and accepted it. Good or bad, pretty or ugly. It didn’t matter. It just was.
“His heart is good,” Noko said.
Seneca drained her glass and put it in the sink. “Yes, I see it. I get it. He’s a good man. Or alien or whatever. He’s brave and selfless and kind to small animals.”
Noko was grinning at her when she turned around. “You like him.”
Seneca rolled her eyes. “I barely know him. Besides, he’s my partner and that’s all it can be. I can’t do my job if I’m trying to protect him or thinking about him in a—” She stumbled through the words. “Another way.” Then she sighed. “You know what I mean.”
Noko nodded. “You may not have a choice. Love does not ask permission.”
Oh God, love. She hadn’t even dealt with sex yet. Love wasn’t even on the table. “That’s true. But luckily, I’m not destined for love in this life. I’m destined to save the world, remember?”
Noko just looked at her and smiled. Her words went unsaid, but Seneca could still hear them. The world doesn’t need to be saved. “This world is not ready for aliens, Grandmother.”
“They will be discovered,” Noko said. “How will you handle that when it happens?”
“I don’t know,” Seneca said. It was the truth. Someday, all hell would break loose and the Shifters would be made public. Until recently, she was certain what she would do and who she would align with when that happened—humans. The rightful inhabitants of this planet.
But now . . .
She looked at the stairs going up to the second floor. Now when it happened, she had no idea how she’d handle it or even whose side she’d choose.
She said to Noko, “I need you to show me how to heal Max.”
Her grandmother’s eyebrows rose. “Max?”
Seneca frowned. “Yes, Max. Who else?”
Noko smiled. “You already know how.”
Seneca blinked. “I don’t have green hands.”
Noko walked up to her and took both of Seneca’s hands in hers. They were warm and soft. “It only works if you believe.”
“In other words, Max is doomed,” she said.
Noko patted her hands. “When the time is right, you will figure it out.”
“Well, hopefully, he won’t die waiting,” Seneca muttered.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
It was nearly dawn when Max dressed, feeling almost human as he descended the stairs in search of food. He was hungry, more so than he could ever remember being before. He followed the smell of food to the kitchen where the woman he’d met as Noko was making scrambled eggs in a pan on the stove.
“Sit,” she said without looking up, her voice soft and soothing. Old, wise, patient. It wasn’t something he was used to. There weren’t a lot of old Shifters around.
He pulled up a seat and noticed that Seneca was nowhere to be seen. Her scent lingered, which meant she wasn’t far. She hadn’t visited him again since that first night. His own fault. It was a wonder she hadn’t killed him in his sleep for the sorry excuses he’d made. He should have been honest with her, but it wasn’t exactly easy to say that he wanted to sink his entire body and soul into her soft flesh.
No, not if he ever wanted to do just that.
Noko set a plate of eggs and sausage in front of him, and he didn’t wait for an invite. After eating two helpings, he pushed back from the counter. “That was excellent, Noko. Thank you.”
She smiled at him as she cleared the dishes, and he felt a strange peace. She was special, like Seneca, but in a different way, in an old way that went to her bones—quiet strength and power.
“Where’s Seneca?” he asked.
“On the roof,” Noko replied. “She goes there when she wants to leave this world behind.”
Leave this world behind? Seneca? He pegged her for being firmly grounded to this place. “Is it so bad here? Or just recently?”
Noko sat at the counter across from him. That was when he noticed that her eyes were like Seneca’s—brown and almond-shaped.
“When she was a child, she watched her parents die. A burglar entered their house and shot them both. Seneca hid and was unharmed, but she saw it all. No one knew until later that night when I came by. She sat on the stairs looking at their bodies until I found her.”
Max closed his eyes for a moment. Her seriousness, her anger at him because she thought he was dead, her mention of the funerals. It was more than just working for XCEL, and it explained a lot about her. Why did he think that he was the only one who’d suffered in life?
He looked at Noko. “Why are you telling me this?”
“Because Seneca needs you. Her totem is the White Wolf, tracking and hunting on the ground. Surviving with her claws and her instincts. You are the Eagle, high above, seeing all. You know where the Wolf is and where the Wolf ’s enemies are. You know what the Wolf needs to survive.”
Max shook his head. “I’m not who you think I am—”
“She will not survive without you,” Noko added calmly over his objections. “Your people will not find peace without you.”
He stared at the older woman, so still and sure in her convictions. How did she know so much about him? “I’m no one’s savior.”
“You have a purpose here,” Noko said. “Listen carefully, and you will find it.”
Seneca heard him open the door to the rooftop patio and pursed her lips. Thank you, Noko.
She felt her long coat being draped over her shoulders.
“Cold morning,” Dempsey said, and her heart jumped when she lowered the binoculars and turned to him. He looked good. Healed, healthy, and virile. And she was going out today and buying a vibrator and big pack of batteries. “Thanks.”
Dempsey moved next to her and looked up where the morning was primed to take the sky. “I didn’t know you had an interest in space.”
“Can’t see the stars worth a damn in the city,” she answered. “I don’t know why I bother.”
He said, “You can always use your imagination.”
“That’s okay. I’m pretty sure I already know. Besides, life is what it is. Imagining it different doesn’t change it.”
Dempsey asked, “You never dream about the future?”
She focused the binoculars on a smudged patch of stars far from this little world and its big problems. “Dreams only come true if you make them. Which makes them goals.”
“Okay, what are your goals, then?”
He was healed and nosy this morning. “Not to kill my partner.”
“I like that one.”
Smart ass. She looked at him. “Your turn. Do you dream, Dempsey?”
He didn’t answer for a moment, and she smiled. Gotcha.
“I did once,” he finally said, and Seneca realized he was serious.
“What happened?” she asked, even though she already knew. His wife.
Dempsey cast her a somber look. “Someone took it away from me.”
Seneca wanted to tell him that she understood. She’d been there, in his head; she’d seen what happened. But she couldn’t bring herself to breach something so personal and painful. No one should have to be forced to relive the past. It was already heavy enough to carry day after day.
“No new dreams, then?” she asked.
He looked back to the sky. “Like you said, doesn’t change reality.”
She pursed her lips, regretting her words. Who was she to kill his hopes? If he did indeed have any. “So what’s it like out there in the great cosmos?”
He scanned the sky. “About the same as here.”
“Jeez, Dempsey, you sure know how to kill a girl’s fantasy.”
“I’m sorry about your parents.”
The sudden change of sub
ject stunned her. Noko. She murmured, “Thank you.”
“Did they ever find who did it?”
Seneca was going to have a talk with her grandmother. “No.”
“Even worse.”
Although he seemed sincere, she didn’t want to be having this conversation. “Can we talk about something more cheery? Like global warming?”
Dempsey grinned. “Here’s something that will make you happy. I’m going back to the hotel.”
“Why?” she asked, surprised by the disappointment in her voice.
“I’ve imposed long enough, and I’m healed,” he replied and then he turned his silver eyes on her. “Besides, if I stay here much longer, I can’t promise I’ll be a good boy.”
He said it softly and so matter-of-factly that it sent a shiver all over her body.
“I know you drew the line at partners,” he continued, his eyes riveting her in place. “But we both know it’s just a line.”
She felt her mouth drop open. “Don’t beat around the bush, Dempsey. Why don’t you tell me what you really think?”
The smile that stretched slowly across his face spoke volumes of whispers and kisses and wild, reckless sex. The kiss in the tunnel came back to her in all its glory. She already knew what it would be like with Dempsey—perfect.
A phone rang somewhere in the background of the new fantasy that was occupying the majority of her brain cells.
Dempsey’s lips moved. “I think that’s yours.”
“What’s mine?” she said without thinking, and then shook her head. Her pocket was ringing. She retrieved her cell phone and answered, “Yes?”
“Don’t say my name. Are you alone?”
It was Bart. Seneca glanced at Dempsey. “Yeah, what’s up?”
“Meet me in twenty minutes at our spot near Ryders Alley. Alone. No partner.” He sounded hurried and sober. Both bad signs.
“I’m fine, thanks for checking in.” Then she hung up. Shit. Bart sounded shaken. What the hell was up with that? Why meet him alone?
All the doubts about Dempsey that she’d been burying under sexual desires resurfaced. He’d killed his own, done everything for XCEL, but deep down, was he really one of them? Or had Bart uncovered something so bad that he wouldn’t trust Dempsey with it?
