The Rainmaker

by Petra Landon

  “Just the usual Chosen games, Hawk” Tasia reassured him. “It’s nothing to worry about.”

  “Who dares to play such games with you, Tasia?” His eyes snapped to her, his sandwich forgotten. This was the Shifter Hawk kept hidden from Tasia, the one that reared its head only occasionally in her presence.

  At the palpable fury in his voice, Tasia tried to soothe. “I have to grow a thicker skin with the Pack, Hawk” she reminded him gently.

  “Not while I’m around.” He was furious. “I won’t let them get away with treating you like this.”

  “I can handle this, Hawk. Don’t worry about it.”

  “Who asked you out?” he inquired in a deadly voice, not soothed at all by her attempt.

  “Let it go, Hawk” she tried again.

  “Who, Tas?” he repeated, his voice implacable. Here was the dangerous predator she’d glimpsed in the handsome and personable young man who had been waiting by her door to meet her that first night. Tasia had to occasionally remind herself that Hawk was a Shifter first, despite the softer side he showed to her — territorial as they came, aggressive and deadly on matters they considered their purview. Hawk had always looked out for her, especially when it came to his own Pack mates, but Tasia was no longer the naïve, inexperienced Wizard who had stumbled into a Shifter Pack. Unwilling to watch Hawk jump into the fray to defend her, Tasia worked to blunt his protective instincts instead.

  “The Alpha knows, Hawk” she told him. It was the one thing guaranteed to calm him. Tasia was learning the ways of the Pack quickly.

  At her words, Hawk subsided immediately, as she had known he would.

  Confident now that Tasia would not be harassed any more, Hawk couldn’t help wondering how the Alpha had heard about this. Alph wasn’t one to pay attention to Pack gossip, but Hawk knew that while Alph might choose to keep himself aloof from petty squabbles between his Shifters, he’d never allow the Wizard he had invited into his Pack to be thrown to the wolves, given how ill-equipped she was to handle such a situation. More than anyone, Hawk had been given a ringside seat to Alph and Tasia’s difficulties with each other, but he also knew Raoul Merceau more than most. Hawk believed that their issues were primarily caused by their differing perceptions of each other. Tasia had no knowledge of the rules that governed a Pack, and Alph was unaccustomed to a Pack member who did not fit into the mold of a Shifter. At first, Hawk had been alarmed by the situation. He knew how vulnerable Tasia would be without a Pack to watch over her, but after the last showdown between Alph and Tasia, Hawk was more confident that the two would eventually find their way to common ground. It might be a journey fraught with the occasional clash, but they would eventually reach an understanding. Everything in the Shifter world was based on the dominancy of a Shifter; all issues usually resolved by aggression. That would not work with a Wizard, especially one like Tasia, a Chosen with little experience of her brethren. In the Chosen milieu, she was a babe in the woods, in many aspects.

  “Alph will take care of this” he reassured Tasia, calmer now. “You don’t have to take this bullshit.”

  “It doesn’t bother me, Hawk” she insisted.

  Hawk gave her a searching glance. “Alright, then what is?”

  Tasia arched her eyebrow in inquiry.

  “Something’s been bugging you, Tas. If it isn’t this nonsense, then what is it?”

  She polished off the last of her sandwich before turning her attention to Hawk.

  “One of the were-packs has invited me to a New Year’s Party.”

  “That’s great news, Tas” Hawk greeted the news enthusiastically. The Pack was starting to accept Tasia, he thought happily.

  Tasia sighed softly. “The invitation is from Atsá.”

  An envelope had been slid under her door a few days ago. An invitation from a Were-Alpha proffered in the ancient tongue of Wyrs; that much she had been able to decipher. At first, Tasia had been pleased by the invitation, for it meant that some of the Shifters she now worked with and lived amidst had been gracious enough to include her in their celebration. Until a throwaway comment from Evgeny had brought home to Tasia which were-pack was hosting the party. She had been introduced to Atsá, the stately older Navajo Were-Alpha, but Tasia had never worked with any of his Shifters. The only conclusion to be drawn was that the invitation had been extended because of her friendship with Hawk. Atsá was Hawk and Sara’s estranged maternal grandfather. Tasia was aware of their past and the reasons for the conflict between them.

  “He’s hoping you’ll use your influence to convince Sara and me to attend the party” Hawk muttered, a bitter look on his handsome face. The familiar anger came surging back to him in a flash. Hawk leaned back on the grass, attempting to shove his fury away, secure in the knowledge that Tasia would do nothing of the sort. She was his friend and aware of his issues with the grandfather who had abandoned Sara and him when they’d needed him the most. Tasia would never attempt to influence him on this matter. Atsá had made a huge mistake.

  “The Pack is speculating about us, Hawk” Tasia said in a low voice. The implications of the invitation, coupled with Markham’s insinuations at the party, troubled her, keeping her up at night. Restless nights she could ill-afford, given that the nightmares still visited her with alarming regularity.

  Hawk’s eyes snapped to her face, his gaze searching.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You and me, Hawk” she muttered. “Why else would anyone have sent me the invitation?”

  “Let them speculate” Hawk said savagely, his handsome face hardening. He hated being manipulated. If Atsá thought this was the way to soften him up, then his grandfather would soon discover how mistaken he was. He was not the kind of man who’d entertain an olive branch proffered by manipulating Tasia.

  Tasia said nothing, her troubled eyes moving absently to watch a colorful butterfly hover over a flower.

  Hawk contemplated her. “You don’t mind the gossip, do you, Tas?” he asked, a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

  “Not if you don’t, Hawk” she responded softly, her gray eyes meeting his dark ones candidly.

  “I don’t give a damn what the Pack says about us” Hawk reiterated, the dark eyes holding her gaze compellingly.

  “Then, I don’t either, Hawk” Tasia smiled. It was time to let go of this, she realized. All collectives thrived on such speculation. If she wanted to be a part of this Pack, she couldn’t allow a little harmless gossip to get to her.

  “Don’t let Markham’s words get to you, Tasia” Hawk said quietly. He understood instinctively why Tasia had a visceral reaction to whispers about her. She had never experienced life in the hot house of a Chosen collective with its implicit rules and fierce internal politicking. Sometimes, she found herself at a loss because of it. Hawk was determined to do everything in his power to ensure that his friend did not walk away from the Pack, for it was the only way to guarantee Tasia’s safety.

  “I’ll try, Hawk” Tasia promised.

  Tasia entered the neighborhood café to glance around. Maartje, the grandmotherly Were-Alpha, had invited her here for coffee. The invitation, extended over a phone call last night, had been rather mysterious, and Tasia had found herself intrigued. She’d understood immediately why Maartje wanted to meet outside the Lair — to avoid gossip and buy them privacy from the Shifters with keen ears. The Lair, always a hotbed of gossip, was currently agog with everything Tasia. Distinctly alarmed by the glare on her, Tasia had readily agreed to meet Maartje in the cafe, reaching out immediately to her Shifter escorts. Warned by the Alpha’s suspicions about Anderson, she was always careful to play it safe. The only time she left the Lair without her bodyguards now was in Hawk’s company.

  “Good morning, Tasia.” The Were-Alpha greeted her with a smile — one that faded abruptly as she caught a glimpse of the two Shifters lurking behind Tasia.

  “What are these two doing here?” Maartje inquired suspiciously. “We cannot be private with them around.”


  “I’m sorry” Tasia apologized. “But I’m not allowed to leave the Lair without them. Alpha’s orders” she added, confident that it would clinch the matter for Maartje. No one ever questioned the Alpha’s orders, from the Shifter at the bottom of the totem pole to the most powerful Were-Alpha in the Pack.

  “I can ask them to wait outside” Tasia offered as a discomfited Maartje went silent.

  “Not too far, though” Joaquim, the older and more taciturn of her Shifter bodyguards, chimed in unexpectedly. “We’re to keep Tasia within eyesight at all times.”

  Tasia shot him a surprised look. Her Shifter escorts always kept their distance when she met up with her friends. They had established a routine. Escorted to a crowded café or restaurant, Tasia would be left alone in the company of her friends. Joaquim and Evgeny always kept their distance until Tasia alerted them when she was ready to return to the Lair. Tasia, on her part, was careful to never leave the safety of the venues and crowds without the Shifters.

  Joaquim gave Tasia a steady look in response. This was an unusual meeting. Maartje had no reason to meet with Tasia outside the Lair. A suspicious Joaquim, more seasoned at Pack politics, did not intend to leave Tasia to the tender mercies of the Were-Alpha. While Maartje would never allow any harm to come to the Wizard in her presence, Joaquim had picked up on how naïve Tasia was to the ways of the Pack. He did not intend to allow the young Wizard to be used as a pawn in their power plays by the other were-packs. His Were-Alpha had entrusted Joaquim and Evgeny to watch over Tasia when she ventured outside the safety of their Lair, and Joaquim was convinced that Duncan’s command had encompassed not allowing Tasia to be caught in the vicious little inter were-pack political ploys Packs thrived on.

  Tasia, put on her guard by Joaquim’s unusual intransigence, remained silent. She waited patiently while Maartje seemed to ponder her options furiously before coming to a decision.

  “Alright” Maartje assented eventually. “Keep an eye on her from a distance.”

  Tasia ordered a coffee before joining the female Were-Alpha. Maartje had smartly chosen a table set away from the customers at the counter waiting for their morning caffeine fix. The other Shifters were seated closer to the crowds.

  “You’ve received an invitation from Atsá” the female Shifter stated without any preamble.

  Aah, this is what she wants to talk me about.

  “Yes, I have.”

  “What do you intend to do about it?”

  “I’m not sure yet” Tasia responded carefully, already on her guard.

  Maartje studied Tasia, the faded eyes shrewd.

  “Atsá is Hawk’s grandfather.”

  “I know.” Tasia was composed. It was no secret in the Pack and she did not intend to pretend ignorance of it.

  “He’s a good man, Atsá. I’ve known him a long time. He’s also an old man who desires a rapprochement with his grandchildren before it’s too late.”

  “I can understand that” Tasia assented quietly. “But I’m not sure what any of this has to do with me.”

  Maartje contemplated her silently for a moment.

  “It’s no secret that Hawk’s taken a serious shine to you. And Sara will follow Hawk’s lead on this. If you convince Hawk to put in an appearance at the party, you’ll have earned both Atsá’s and my gratitude.”

  Tasia said nothing, focused on putting up a composed front before the female Shifter.

  “It’s also no secret that you’ve had some difficulties with the Alpha” Maartje said slowly, those shrewd blue eyes carefully gauging Tasia’s reaction. “Our world can be cruel and dangerous to anyone lacking allies. If you do this for us, you’ll never have to worry about finding yourself friendless in a dangerous world.”

  There was a pause while the women sized up one another.

  “You overestimate my influence with Hawk” Tasia said evenly.

  “I don’t think so, Tasia” the other woman responded confidently. “The Pack has never seen Hawk like this with anyone. He’ll listen to you.”

  Tasia remained silent. While she had no intention of influencing Hawk or Sara in any way, she was also wary of stating that openly to this formidable Were-Alpha.

  “There’s another aspect I would like you to reflect on. Shifters require their Alpha’s permission to choose a mate from outside the Pack. The Alpha has no love for Wizards. I think you can draw your own conclusions about what a disaster asking him for such a blessing would be.”

  This time, Tasia couldn’t prevent her shock from reflecting on her face. It was not what Maartje alluded to openly that astonished her. That was an empty threat — the Alpha had been very blunt about his views on such matters.

  Rather, it was the insinuation in Maartje’s words that shocked Tasia. What did the Pack think was going on between Hawk and her, Tasia wondered dazedly. The wild gossip and Maartje’s assumptions about her burgeoning relationship with Hawk held Tasia speechless.

  “Some of us older Were-Alphas do wield some influence with the Alpha on such matters, should we choose to exercise it” Maartje hinted as Tasia said nothing.

  Riiight — like that man is ever going to listen to anything he doesn’t want to. The Alpha will always do what he wants, no matter what anyone else says. No one but Duncan has any influence over him.

  Tasia was silent on the drive back to the Lair, seemingly lost in her thoughts, for once unaware of the troubled glances that young Evgeny directed at her.

  “Um … Tasia.” Evgeny attempted to get her attention.

  Joaquim shot his young were-pack mate a glance through the rearview, shaking his head discreetly. Talking to Tasia about this would do her no good. This was Pack politics at a level over their collective heads. But there was one person who would know how to handle this matter. Joaquim had come to like the young Wizard he’d been tasked with safeguarding. She was always polite, gracious, grateful, and never took her Shifter bodyguards for granted. At the Lair for two months now, she had caused no trouble or made any demands of the Pack. Instead, she’d been careful to keep her nose out of Shifter affairs. Most importantly for Joaquim, unlike other Wizards he’d encountered, Tasia never treated any of the Shifters with condescension.

  Once at the Lair parking lot, Joaquim gestured at Evgeny to escort Tasia inside. He waited until they were inside the Lair before pulling out his cell to dial a number.

  “It’s Joaquim. I need to talk to you about something. It’s to do with Tasia Armstrong.”

  The entourage of SUVs came to a stop before the imposing mansion in the well- manicured neighborhood.

  “Why does Mistress Franciszka want to see you?” Stefan Simeonov asked the Alpha as Luis expertly maneuvered the car into a parking spot near the curb by the well-kept front lawn.

  “Beats me” the Alpha shrugged.

  “A social call perhaps, Raoul?” Duncan inquired limpidly, a wicked look in his eyes. From the moment she’d laid eyes on the good-looking Alpha, the Vampire Mistress had made no bones about her interest in Raoul.

  The Alpha shot his friend a glance from his unusual gold eyes that had Simeonov chuckling softly.

  “Watch your back, Alpha” Luis warned softly as Raoul made to exit the car. Luis had not forgotten the last visit here when the Alpha had confronted the Mistress for working with rogue Shifters on Pack territory. That visit had not gone well, mostly for the leeches, but venturing into a nest full of Vampires was always a risky proposition.

  “I’m not walking in there alone, Luis” Raoul countered mildly. “I have two Shifters backing me up.”

  “We’ve got you, Alpha” Simeonov reiterated as the Shifters exited the car.

  The Alpha, flanked by Duncan and Simeonov, knocked on the door of the mansion, while Luis and the contingent of Shifters moved to stand guard by it. A bony, pale man in black evening clothes held the door open in silent invitation. The three Shifters strode into the house to follow the man down an unlit hallway to an imposing staircase. Sconces lit up the hallways; t
he leeches had never believed in modern amenities like electricity.

  Raoul was familiar with the house — this was the local nest. Much like Shifters, Vampires were organized into rigidly structured collectives called nests. But that’s where the similarity ended. The Undead nests were organized in a hierarchical command chain, unlike in the Shifter world where an Alpha Protector only owed allegiance to Faoladh. And while each nest had exclusive right over a clearly demarcated territory, unlike Shifter Packs, a Vampire nest ruled over a smaller tract of land, usually a city or town. At the top of the Vampire food chain sat a handful of Pure Blood Families, led by Pure Blood Masters, each very old and very powerful, who ruled the Clan collectively with an elaborate system of compromises, alliances and barters. A Master Vampire created other Undead to follow him — Vampires bound to him who owed him their allegiance. When a Vampire was considered powerful enough and loyal enough to lead a nest, the Master gifted him territory to administer and allowed him to build his own nest by creating more Undead. But the Vampire continued to owe allegiance to his Master in their hierarchical system of power. In San Francisco, the local nest was led by a Mistress close to the seat of Clan power. She owed allegiance to a Pure Blood Master, the Vampire who led the Zsoldos Family. This mansion was her official residence.

  Their escort led the Shifters up one flight of stairs to another hallway that opened into a vast room. The light of myriad candles placed in the sconces around the room fell strategically on the woman who reclined decadently on a plush daybed. Vampires lined the walls of the room, content to stay in the shadows. Raoul came to a stop in the center of the room to glance around him, silently sizing up the leeches. The Vampire Mistress came gliding towards him, her hands held out in invitation, the skirt of her full-length black brocade gown trailing behind her.

  “Raoul” she cried in delight. “What a pleasant surprise. How lovely to see you, moj drogi.”

  The leeches liked to live well — the ones who could afford it, that is. As usual, the Mistress was richly dressed and elaborately coiffed, with diamonds glittering on her neck and ears.