Tribal Law

by Shannon Curtis

  The alpha prime bared his teeth, and a collective growl rose from the gathered lycans. Rafe rose from his seat, shifting into wolf form as he did so. The rest of the lycans in the hall did the same, and suddenly Ryder found himself surrounded by wolves, slowly advancing toward him.

  Chapter Nine

  Vassi noticed the change in light as the tunnel angled upwards. The silvery glow from the moon was bright enough for her to notice the determined expression on her guards’ faces. They were getting close to the exit. She didn’t have much time.

  “So, are you just going to let me wander the forest on my own, or take me to the nearest town?”

  “We’ll take you to the boundary,” the lycan answered her, his grip tightening on her arm. A cold chill washed over her, and she hid her shudder by jerking on her arm. The lycan didn’t let go.

  He and his partner had no intention of releasing her at the boundary.

  She’d met some good liars in her time, but the Woodland alpha prime was easily one of the best. He’d stared right into her eyes and told her he’d had nothing to do with Jared Gray’s death, all the while his deceit had chilled her to the bone.

  The Woodland Pack had no intention of delivering Max to the Alpine she-wolf. She could only assume that the alpha prime was going to kill him. She tried to free her arm again, and the lycan growled at her as he pulled her up the tunnel’s incline to push past the foliage masking the entrance. His companion was close on her heels. She couldn’t understand the end game, though. The Woodland alpha could ask for a boon from Alpine for delivering their alpha’s killer. Or would he claim that Max had tried to escape, resulting in his death?

  But why kill her, too? She was an officer of the court. She wasn’t overly arrogant in believing that her death during the investigation of a case would result in a major media storm and punitive action against the Woodland Pack. Every court officer worked under a global protection, and while the court allowed for tribal jurisdiction and practices, they would enforce that law of protection to the maximum penalty—with the support of all other tribes. That was the basis of Reformation—tribes could have their own jurisdictions, but all miscreants and humans were subject to Reformed Law—in an effort to keep all creatures on a level playing field.

  While Woodland Pack was rebellious and openly hostile to neighbouring tribes, she couldn’t see them taking on Reform as well. She didn’t have all the pieces to the puzzle, and if she let these lycans do what they planned, she never would.

  She summoned her gift as she trudged between the two lycans, the crunch of pine needles under their boots and their breathing the only sound in that section of the woods.

  “So, you’re going to let me go, aren’t you?” She needed to make sure.

  “Yes, you’ll be free when we get to the border,” the lycan on her left responded dryly.

  Cold. It blanketed her, revealing their lethal intent. She nodded. “Just what I thought.”

  Her fangs stretched, as did her talons. She winced at the one injured talon that scraped the inside of her finger in a futile attempt to push through, but she didn’t have time to inspect it. She slashed her arms out either side of her body, catching each lycan across their stomach and around their side. Both of them howled, shifting immediately into wolf form as they whirled to attack.

  Vassi was ready for them, bending low on one knee, her other leg stretching out as she whipped her arms out. The lycan who’d been closer to her, the one who had answered her, yelped as she sliced through his pelt. She ducked as his companion jumped at her. His teeth snapped, but she jerked her neck out of reach, curling her fingers and striking up. Her talons pierced his lower jaw, sliding up through the mouth cavity to stab through the top of his snout.

  She quickly withdrew her weapons from his jaw, using her index talon to slice him open from neck to navel.

  The metallic scent of blood exploded, like a dark silk spreading across the earth, fogging her brain with the need to spill and drink blood. Her body craved it, starved from the self-healing she’d endured. She turned back to the first lycan just as he sprang at her. She raised her forearm, catching him under his jaw and, exposing his neck, she pounced, bearing him back onto the ground as her fangs sank into his throat.

  It was over in a matter of minutes, the wolves’ bodies lying at broken angles, their blood staining the ground beneath them. Vassi wiped her lips. She’d drunk as much as she needed to satisfy the hunger that rose at the scent of the ruby liquid, and she could feel it surging through her system, strengthening her, completing her healing.

  She should run. She should race down to the Woodland boundary, cross into Nightwing territory and contact Reform Court for assistance. But by the time anyone got here, Max would be dead.

  She couldn’t let that happen. She turned and ran back to the tunnel, a dark hole in a dark forest, arms up as she crashed through the foliage at the entrance, her eyes adjusting to the dimming light as she sped toward her human.

  She was rounding a bend in the corridor when she felt it—a warm wind that billowed up the tunnel, followed by a blinding flash of light, and a shock wave that lifted her off her feet and slammed her into the stone wall.

  * * *

  Ryder ran through the tunnel, the unconscious lycan courier over his shoulder. His explosion had knocked out everyone in the reception hall, but the effects would only last for a few minutes. Soon he’d have all of Woodland Pack on his tail. He rounded a bend and almost tripped over Vassi’s legs. She was dazed, her eyes wide as she stared around her. There were piles of rock that scattered along the corridor, and he grimaced. He hadn’t known she was anywhere near, hadn’t intended to hurt her with his latest power surge.

  He reached down and grasped her arm, dragging her to her feet. “We need to move,” he said.

  She still looked confused, gazing about in shock at the corridor, then at the lycan over his shoulder.

  “What—?”

  He bent low to make eye contact with her. “Vassi, we need to move. Now.”

  She blinked, and her confusion cleared as she nodded. They ran, bursting out into the moonlit forest. He panted as they darted between trees. He narrowly avoided tripping over the corpses of two werewolves. It didn’t take a witch to divine what had happened there. If they weren’t already dead, he would have killed them himself for trying to hurt Vassi. He threw the teeth he’d ripped from Winston on his way out, casting them like pebbles over the two corpses. Let that be a warning to them.

  He continued to run, purposely avoiding the trail, wanting to make any pursuit as difficult as possible through the undergrowth. He stumbled, caught hold of a tree limb to regain his balance, then ran after the vamp. He’d expended a lot of energy with that blast, and the lycan over his shoulder was a deadweight.

  “Over here,” Vassi called over her shoulder as she switched direction. They bolted out onto a service track, and he smiled when he saw the fleet of black SUVs parked in a clearing. He opened the rear of the nearest vehicle and dropped the lycan unceremoniously into the space, his smile broadening at the thunk he heard as the lycan’s head hit something hard.

  Vassi climbed into the driver’s seat, so he ran around to the side, jumping into the vehicle as Vassi turned the engine over and slid it into gear. Tyres skidded on gravel and bark until they found traction, then the car surged forward.

  “Who’s your friend?” Vassi asked over the roar of the engine as she sped along the service road.

  Ryder turned from the window. As yet, he couldn’t see any wolves in pursuit, but they didn’t have much of a head start. He surveyed the woman who was glaring out at the road with a stern expression. She looked angry.

  “He’s a witness,” he told her, sliding his butt across the seat so that he could brace himself against the dashboard as she drove at a reckless pace down the mountain. “He delivered my last order of supplies to the clinic.” He blinked slowly. He’d expended a great deal of energy over the last couple of days, and using enough lightfor
ce to create a blast big enough to knock out a whole den of werewolves had left him feeling lethargic.

  “You think he knows something about the wolfsbane?” The car swerved as she took the turn onto the highway at high speed, shifting down in gear with the ease of a NASCAR rally driver.

  “Yes,” he said soberly, and he rested his head against his seat. “But whether I can get him to talk in court is another thing entirely.”

  She nodded, her eyes on the road. “Trust me, he’ll talk.”

  Ryder eyed her speculatively. She drove with a single-minded focus, her reflexes lightning fast as they sped through the night. Lights flashed, slowly illuminating her face. Her alabaster skin was smooth in its perfection, an interesting contrast of concealment and revealment as the road lights bathed them from darkness to full light, then darkness again. Her lips were pulled in a firm line, her brow furrowed. Her hair was a mass of midnight, her lips a pouty bow of scarlet. He’d known her for such a short time but was finding it easier to read her, to gauge her emotions—and yet she was becoming even more of a mystery. Right now, she was keeping her anger under tight control.

  He’d worked with enough vampires to know that a fresh kill and a rush of adrenalin were ingredients for an all-out blood craze, and she’d just survived an encounter with two werewolves. Even though she was only a half-blood, she still had to be battling some pretty harsh instincts to rip something—or someone—to shreds.

  He frowned. She’d nearly died—all because she’d landed his case, a random act that was having unforeseen ripple effects through her life. Earlier, she couldn’t go to her home for fear of a lycan attack. Now, having survived an attempted murder-across-kind, the Woodland Pack would be on her trail just as much as his. If word got out about what had happened, or nearly happened, then Woodland would be facing critical punishment and embargoes from all other tribes. And then there was the Nightwing issue. He sighed. Hell. This thing was snowballing so far and so fast beyond his control. Where had he miscalculated? Triggering the Reform Law over tribal jurisdiction by handing himself in should have avoided this mess of complicated crap. And now he’d dragged Vassi right into the middle of it.

  “I’m sorry,” he said softly, his gaze on her face. She flicked him a quick glance, surprise and confusion evident before she turned her attention back to the road.

  “You have nothing to be sorry for,” she told him, then shrugged. “I know you didn’t kill Jared Gray. You were used. Like a weapon.”

  He frowned. He didn’t like that deduction. It implied a lack of control, of foresight … a weakness, to be wielded by someone else’s hand, for a purpose not his own. He was a light warrior, and light warriors were masters of their fate, not somebody else’s bitch.

  “Don’t worry, Max. We’ll get to the bottom of it.” She looked at him again, her expression resolute. “Woodland will pay.”

  His frown deepened. “That sounds like a threat.” He closed his eyes as realisation struck. “Damn it, you can’t use this as an excuse for tribal warfare.”

  There was a long-running feud between the vampires and werewolves, one that flared up at the least provocation. Lycans trying to kill a half-blood court officer would be enough justification to launch another episode of tribal warfare.

  Vassi’s lips twisted. “Relax, Max. There will be no tribal warfare.”

  His eyes narrowed. There was something in her tone, something that made him ignore the brief flare of annoyance at her use of that nickname for him. Instead, it was the interesting combination of little-girl-lost and bitter determination that caught his attention. Her family would be within its rights to exercise some form of retribution—did she plan on taking on the Woodland Pack herself?

  She noticed his confusion, his wariness, and sighed. “Tribal warfare needs family, then tribal support. I have neither.”

  “You have no family?”

  She laughed, although there was something so sad about the breathy sound. “None that would care.”

  He eyed her for a long moment, but she kept her gaze on the road. He’d go to war for her. The thought came out of nowhere, surprising him. He hadn’t felt anything like that, not since … well, not for a long time.

  He shifted in his seat to gaze directly out the windscreen. He hadn’t realised. He got the impression her lack of family wasn’t through choice, not like his. Still, it was something they had in common.

  The next ridge was backlit, its rocky outline visible against the night sky. Irondell lay beyond that ridge, the city’s lights giving an eerie glow to the landscape. She was one vampire—a half-blood at that, waging a little war on his behalf against the werewolf tribes of the east coast.

  “I’m going to hire an attorney,” he said abruptly, keeping his gaze on the white road markings that passed under them at a hypnotic pace.

  “What? Why?” He saw her dark hair fall over her shoulder as she whipped around to stare at him, dividing her focus between him and the road.

  He shrugged. “You were right. I have the money, after all, and I’ll need a damn good defence against the Woodland Pack.”

  The interior of the car was quiet, just the humming of tyres on asphalt interrupting the silence, along with the sound of the lycan’s breathing behind them.

  “I believe you, Max. You didn’t commit murder. I can help you.”

  Ryder smiled, although it felt more of a grimace. “You said yourself, you don’t need to believe me to do your job. I’m sure that goes for most lawyers.”

  “True—but you’ll stand a better chance with me on your side.”

  “No. Thank you for the offer, but once we get to town I think we should separate. You can go to Reform Court and file whatever paperwork is required to release you from my case.”

  They crested the ridge and looked down on the city below, all lit up. Ryder couldn’t help but think how a dark and dangerous place such as Irondell could look so achingly beautiful, nestled in the arms of darkest night.

  “Why won’t you accept my help?” Vassi’s tone showed her perplexity.

  He pursed his lips. She wasn’t going to let it go. He was pretty sure that any other lawyer would be burning rubber to get to the courthouse and relinquish legal rights to his case. But not Vassi—why? Did she have an inflated sense of justice? Or a deflated sense of self-preservation? Either way, he had to get her off his case—if only to protect the stubborn, sexy vamp lawyer. But he had to make her want to drop his case.

  “I think I can do better,” he told her, turning to gaze at her. “So far you’ve taken me on some wild-goose chase into the wilds, I’ve nearly been killed by werewolves, and I have no real clear defence planned for a trial that starts on Monday. Drop me off downtown.” He kept his tone calm, his expression remote, and winced on the inside at the cruelty of his words.

  Her eyes darkened, taking on the obsidian secrets she wouldn’t share with him. “Actually, we know Jared Gray was loved and respected by his pack, that Woodland Pack would do anything to extend their territory into the Alpine region, including pissing off their neighbouring vampire colony, and that the lycan you stole may have even more information. I’d say that’s a pretty good effort, so far.” She smiled as she turned off the highway and took a ramp directly into the red light district. “So you see, Max, you’ll need to do better than that if you want to get rid of me.”

  “Fine. You want to hear it? I’d like a lawyer who can at least get my name right, one that’s not going to get me killed because she’s only a half-blood and not strong enough to go up against full-blooded werewolves on a blood hunt.” He shrugged, even though she was staring at him with those beautiful, dark, mesmerising eyes of hers. “I need more than you’re capable of delivering, Vassi. That’s why I want to let you go and find someone else to do this job.”

  Clothing rustled in the back, then the lycan sat up, his eyes glowing as he bared his teeth in a dangerous growl. In the blink of an eye, he launched himself at the back of Vassi’s head.

  Ryder
reacted instantly, channelling his lightforce into a single blow to the head that knocked the lycan out cold before his jaws could snap at Vassi’s pretty little neck.

  “My case in point,” he muttered. Vassi glanced over her shoulder, her eyes wide. She hadn’t had time to move, to defend herself. The lycan slumped back against the door, his head making a cracking sound as she drove around a corner. “I’m spending half my time looking out for you when I should be looking out for myself.”

  Her lips pursed, then her eyes narrowed. She was gazing at him as though she was trying to see inside his skull, inside his mind. A light dawned in her eyes, as though she’d just realised something, but her expression gave nothing else away.

  “Where will you go, Max? Who is going to help you? Because you’ll need it. This lycan isn’t just going to sit down over a hot cup of camomile tea and share stories with you.”

  Ryder shrugged. “I’ll manage.”

  She slowed down, turning the car with care down a narrow alley. He frowned. “Where are we?”

  “I know someone who can help us with your lycan, Max. If you’ll trust me.” She braked, pulling the car to a stop as a roller door slid open with a rough rattle.

  A man stood in the doorway, one hand holding the door open, the other holding the collar of an unconscious man. Muted light filtered out from the garage, but it was all behind the tall, bulky figure, casting his features in shadow. Ryder could make out jeans, boots and a bare chest, and what looked like a pair of sunglasses, although why the man would be wearing them at this time of night he had no idea. The tall figure strode forward and carelessly tossed the unconscious man out into the alley. He turned to face their car, his face still in the shadows, but Ryder noticed the dark markings of a tattoo on his bicep. The man looked dangerous. Lethal.

  Ryder arched an eyebrow and glanced at Vassiliki.

  She smiled. “Trust me.”

  Chapter Ten

  Vassi’s smile broadened as she approached the tall figure in the garage. “Hey, Dave.”