The Rainmaker

by Petra Landon

  “What do you have in mind?” Raoul asked after a short pause.

  “I’ve sent out some feelers to DiZeyla and she’s amenable. How about we set up a meeting with the three of us for some preliminary discussions and see where we go from there.”

  “Count me in” Raoul agreed with alacrity. A formal body to co-ordinate matters of concern common to the Chosen in this city was not a bad idea. He’d have to bring Franciszka in eventually, once they’d agreed on the basic parameters. The leeches could not be left out of a pact like this, not if it was meant to be city wide. But her inclusion could wait. Knowing her, Franciszka’s presence at such an early stage would only prove disruptive to the process. And Raoul knew he’d have his work cut out to convince the others to include the leeches.

  “Great, I’ll set something up. In the meantime, I meant what I said about Bianchi and his Vampires.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind, David. I mean to have a chat with Bianchi — make him see sense before it’s too late.”

  “Good luck with that, Raoul.” David smiled as he hung up the phone. Raoul Merceau could be quite a terror when he was like this, on the rampage to avenge his Pack. David could still remember his first meeting with the new Alpha of the Northern California Pack. He had heard rumors of the Alpha’s animosity towards Wizards. Yet, Raoul had managed to disarm him with his brusque, albeit straight-forward honesty, his fierce defense of his Shifters and his willingness to work with other Chosen without any preconceptions.

  “Sara and Tasia are here, Raoul” Duncan announced from the doorway to the Alpha’s Room.

  “Send them in, please. I’ve something to tell you, Duncan, when you have a minute.”

  Duncan arched an inquiring eyebrow.

  “An interesting conversation with David Hamilton” Raoul remarked, with a pointed glance.

  “Sounds intriguing.”

  When Duncan ushered in the two ladies, Raoul invited them to the small sitting area set up at the other end of the compact room. The witchling’s aversion to his desk had not escaped his notice. There was also the matter of the single chair. He’d need to order a new one soon, he reminded himself.

  “None the worse for wear after your lunch, I hope?” he remarked, seating himself across from the two friends who’d elected to share the couch.

  “We’re absolutely fine, Alpha. Right, Tasia?” Sara inquired of her partner in crime, who nodded mutely.

  The Alpha frowned. The witchling seemed subdued, preoccupied by weightier matters than an encounter with a dangerous leech.

  Sara glanced from the Alpha’s faintly puzzled mien to her friend’s closed-off expression. She tended to ignore Pack gossip — Sara did her best to keep her involvement with the Pack to a minimum. For her, it had been easy to dismiss the malicious whispers of someone like Justin Markham. After all, she’d been present when the Alpha had fought the leeches hired to kill Tasia. And, was aware of the operation mounted by him to rescue Tasia from the Guardian, after her friend had walked away from the Pack. Moreover, Sara liked and respected the Alpha. The newly minted young Alpha had once stared down his Were-Alphas for a pair of young Shifter twins whom no one had wanted in the Pack. Since then, his attitude had only reinforced her early impressions of him. Distant he might be, but he was always fair, kept himself above the fray from petty bickering in the Pack, never interfered in the personal lives of his Shifters, and never patronized her or played games with her like some of her Pack mates. Thus, this peculiar disconnect between her friend and her Alpha puzzled Sara. She set out to ease the tension in the room.

  “You should’ve seen Tasia handle the Bianchi guy at lunch, Alpha. He came this close to throwing a hissy fit in the restaurant.”

  “Is that so?” Raoul murmured. Having witnessed the witchling’s temper on the odd occasion, he wasn’t surprised. The last time they’d had a major disagreement, she’d given as good as she got until remorse had interrupted her fury.

  “Made you mad, did he?” he inquired of Tasia.

  His words served to remind Tasia of her unexpected fury this afternoon. She glanced up to meet his eyes for the first time that evening.

  “Yes” she assented bluntly. “He was joking about our last encounter — mine and his.”

  The gold eyes transformed into chips of ice before their eyes. Now Raoul understood what had riled the witchling. She was right to be furious. Bianchi had ordered Tasia to be killed at their last meeting, simply because his men had kidnapped her by mistake. The Alpha’s jaw flexed as the scene from the Chicago house flashed through him. Jason using his powers frantically to stem the witchling’s blood from the wound inflicted on her by a leech. Sienna’s distraught expression as she hovered over them, while the witchling’s beseeching eyes begged him to take care of the dead leech behind her, blindly trusting in him to do the right thing.

  “What did he say to you?” he asked brusquely.

  “That he hoped our meeting would be more fortuitous for me than our last one” Tasia quoted, her voice shaking with remembered anger. “I was so furious, I told him it would be as much a spectacular fiasco for him as Chicago.”

  “I don’t know what came over me” she muttered bemusedly, her bewilderment evident.

  Raoul’s lips twitched in response. He wished he’d been present to watch Bianchi’s reaction to her words. “I bet he liked hearing that.”

  “No, he didn’t” Tasia answered earnestly. “And then …” She stopped, unable to come to terms with how she had lost her temper so spectacularly.

  “He tried to ignore Tasia by focusing his attention on me” Sara jumped in, happy at having done her part to get everyone talking without any hint of constraint. “He wanted me to deliver a message to you, Alpha. Said he wanted a private meeting with Sienna. Then, Tasia interrupted him to ask in this incredulous tone whether he was actually daring to threaten Raoul Merceau. What made him think he could get the better of you here on your own turf when you’d already vanquished him quite comprehensively in Chicago, she told him.”

  For a pregnant moment, the Alpha stared at Sara’s dancing eyes and Tasia’s chagrined expression before throwing his head back to laugh heartily. Sara joined in, but Tasia watched him warily and in some confusion. She’d never seen him like this. As his laughter mingled with Sara’s, the gold eyes lit up by amusement, he looked young, unfettered and carefree. A far cry from the self-controlled, dangerous and ruthless Alpha who demanded absolute fealty from his Pack.

  “I was due for a chat with Bianchi” Raoul choked out amidst his laughter. “But it sounds like you’ve already accomplished my job for me, witchling.”

  “I’m sorry for not being more circumspect” Tasia apologized. “You’re probably not happy with me for blabbing about Chicago in Caro’s presence.”

  Raoul’s mirth abated at her words. This was the reason for her preoccupation and grimness, he realized suddenly. In the early days, he’d come down on her like a ton of bricks for sharing what he considered Pack information with her friend. That was an interlude that had not ended well for either of them. Clearly, she was worried that he would react badly to her indiscretion again.

  “It’s fine” he found himself assuring her. This time, he knew that the indiscretion had been accidental, a result of her temper, lost at Bianchi’s goading. “Chicago’s not that big of a secret anyway, and neither is it Pack business precisely. The Wizards have as much interest and investment in this investigation as us, if not more.”

  “Regardless, I should have better control over my temper” Tasia reiterated contritely, taken aback by his easy dismissal of her transgression, when he’d taken serious affront on the previous occasion.

  “No apologies necessary on that score. I’ve quite a temper myself. You can certainly attest to that.”

  There was an awareness in the depths of the gold eyes that told Tasia that he was remembering the many times she had faced his temper. Tasia blinked. He was being magnanimous at her indiscretion.

  The Alpha tu
rned to Sara. “Did Bianchi say anything else?”

  “He said he had no beef with you and just wanted a private word with Sienna. He probably had more to say but after Tasia reduced him to angry oaths, he basically gave up” Sara threw a laughing glance at her friend, who was able to respond with a sheepish grin this time.

  “You did well” Raoul said bluntly. “Both of you” his glance encompassed the two ladies. “Duncan is arranging cover for you, Sara. Just be careful while the leeches are in town. Bianchi is dangerous.”

  Sara nodded soberly. Tasia’s account of the Chicago encounter had shocked her. Chosen did not casually order the death of their brethren that lightly, not unless there were serious mitigating circumstances involved. This Vampire with his casual cruelty was to be avoided at all costs.

  The Alpha turned to Tasia. “You’re confined to the Lair. Unfortunately, I don’t see a way around that for now.”

  Tasia sighed silently. She’d expected as much, though she didn’t necessarily disagree with him on this. Bianchi and his henchmen were too dangerous for her to risk it.

  The door rattled softly in warning before Duncan strode in. “You done, Raoul?” he inquired. “The Pack Council is ready for you.”

  “We’re done here. I’ll be out in five minutes, Duncan. I need a quick word with the witchling.”

  Tasia, who had stood up with Sara at the Alpha’s words, waited for Sara and Duncan to exit the room.

  “I want to talk to you about something” he said. “But my schedule is full today and I’ll only be done by ten tonight.”

  “That’s not too late for me. We can meet after you’re done” Tasia offered.

  The Alpha contemplated her for a moment. “Meet me in the parking lot downstairs at ten.”

  For one stupefied moment, Tasia stared at him, nonplussed by his words. He stared back at her, unfathomable as usual, his eyebrow arched as he waited for her response. Eventually, Tasia found herself acquiescing silently, mesmerized by the almost hypnotic quality of the gold-colored eyes.

  “Don’t be early” he warned. “I don’t want you out there by yourself.”

  The gold eyes gave her a quick once over. “And make sure to wrap up warmly. It’s cold out there.”

  Confused, and thrown off kilter by the cryptic exchange, Tasia allowed herself to be escorted out into the Pack Room.

  What …. Why meet in the parking lot? And why bring up the weather? He never feels the cold.

  Tasia walked to the door in a trance, pondering the Alpha’s strange behavior, and thus missed the curious glances some of the gathered Were-Alphas directed at her. Maartje, in particular, wore a faintly puzzled air as she stared at Tasia.

  “Goodnight, Tasia” Duncan called out.

  “Goodnight, Duncan” she answered absently.

  Chapter 5

  The Alpha makes an overture and Roman makes the wrong call

  At five past ten, Tasia, attired in jeans, comfortable shoes and a warm jacket, made her way down the stairs. Three bored-looking Shifters lounged around a booth by the main entrance to the Lair. These must be the sentries on guard for the evening, Tasia realized. During the day, the offices on this floor buzzed with activity. The first floor housed Pack Administration and Services, as well as offices of the myriad Pack-run businesses.

  “Tasia Armstrong” one of the Shifters called out as she passed the booth.

  Tasia swung around to see a familiar face. She didn’t know his name but she’d seen him at the Lair Café a few times.

  “Are you headed out?” he inquired.

  Tasia nodded, wondering for a mad minute whether the Alpha had given orders for her to not be allowed to leave the Lair without an escort. She wouldn’t put it past him — control freak that he was.

  “You’ll need this to get back in.” He held out a small keycard.

  Tasia strode forward to accept the nondescript keycard from the Shifter.

  “This one is good for forty-eight hours” he explained. “After that, just ask Margaret in Administration to assign you one. Or in a pinch, use the buzzer on the right side as you enter. There’s always someone on sentry here, once the doors are locked for the evening.”

  “Thanks.” Tasia pocketed the key. She’d forgotten about the gated doors that provided access to the Lair at night. Truth to tell, she’d never had to access the Lair by herself after hours. From her early days at the Lair, Evgeny and Joaquim, and, occasionally Hawk, had always escorted her to and fro.

  Tasia pushed open the glass doors to make her way outside. The parking lot lay mostly empty, a dozen cars scattered around it. She stepped deeper into the lot, a wary eye on darkened corners. A figure peeled away from the shadows to make his way to her. It was the Alpha.

  “Come” he said simply.

  In a corner of the lot, by the Lair entrance, were five covered parking spots. The Alpha ushered her to a convertible parked in one of these spots. The car was black, low-slung and a two-seater, its top down. Tasia couldn’t help but smile to herself as he held the door open for her. Hawk had more in common with his Alph than Shifter genes, she mused in amusement. For one, they had similar taste in cars, except Hawk seemed to like his sporty vehicles in bright red.

  The Alpha slipped into the driver’s seat. The convertible top slid back up, its journey heralded by a low whirr. Tasia glanced at her companion, attired in his usual uniform of t-shirt and jeans. After her weeks at the Lair, she knew that inhumanly high metabolism kept the Shifters from feeling the cold.

  “The wind will whip at you, this time of the night” he remarked, driving them out of the darkened lot.

  Disarmed by his thoughtfulness, Tasia was nevertheless bewildered by it. Given what she knew of him, such solicitousness, even brusquely offered, confused Tasia.

  At his direction, she had dressed warmly. San Francisco at night, especially in winter, was not the sunny California advertised in pictures. The bay gave the city its own micro-climate, different from the almost Mediterranean feel to the rest of the region that surrounded it.

  He drove silently, the powerful engine purring through the streets, to park on a side street off the Embarcadero. They crossed the street to the wharf where bars, cafes and lounges teemed with people, even this late. The wharf itself lay deserted, dotted with a few people on the walkway by the bay. The walkway was tucked away from the main thoroughfare, snaking in and out of the buildings that housed the wharf. Lights from across the bay twinkled in the distance, as they followed the walkway.

  Tasia glanced at the impassive face of her silent companion.

  “What … Why did you bring me here?” Her voice held curiosity, tinged with a hint of uncertainty.

  “I thought fresh air might benefit you.” He was his usual enigmatic self. “Was I wrong?” A tawny eyebrow arched, as Tasia continued to stare up at him.

  At the blunt inquiry, Tasia shook her head. “No, I was going stir-crazy in there” she admitted. It was thoughtful of him, she reminded herself. This sojourn tonight might have to last her awhile. She’d be confined to the Lair in the coming days, her freedom curtailed while Bianchi and his Blutsaugers roamed the city.

  They walked in silence, his much longer stride adapting to Tasia’s pace. As usual, the aura of inscrutability that hung over him, combined with his reserve and an air of detachment, made him a difficult man to read. Tasia mused on her history with the enigmatic man beside her. Theirs had been a difficult association from day one. No, she corrected herself, not from day one. She could admit that her own missteps, generated by her ignorance of Shifter customs and a Pack culture where the Alpha’s commands were never challenged, had not helped matters. The mitigating factor in their fractious relationship had always been the Alpha’s ability to keep his word, regardless of their personal equation. Yet, despite weeks of working together, he remained as much of an enigma as when she’d first met him almost two months ago.

  “This is my favorite part of the city” he remarked, his eyes on the distant lights over the
water. “It’s here that I made the decision to stay in San Francisco.”

  Shaken out of her reverie, Tasia glanced at the man whose eyes were trained over the bay. By silent agreement, they stopped to gaze out over the water together.

  “Where did you live before here?” she asked curiously.

  There was a short pause. “Wyoming” he offered quietly.

  “You came to San Francisco on a visit?”

  His answer was brief. “Yes.”

  Tasia wondered whether it had been ambition that had drawn him to San Francisco. This was an influential Shifter Pack, with control over a large swath of prime California territory. It was common knowledge that Raoul Merceau, unlike other Alpha Protectors, had never led a Pack or even a were-pack before claiming command of the Northern California Pack. Why had he not attempted to command his Pack in Wyoming, she wondered curiously.

  “I wasn’t part of a Pack in Wyoming.”

  Tasia gasped, drawing a wry glance from him.

  “But how …” She stopped. Every Chosen knew that Faoladh didn’t tolerate rogues. “I thought Faoladh insists that all Shifters belong to a Pack” she said uncertainly.

  Raoul Merceau had been Alpha Protector for a decade, winning his command well after Faoladh had organized the Shifters into this modern paradigm of Packs with control over distinct territories, dragging the Wyrs willy-nilly into the new arrangement. Before Faoladh’s decree, Shifters had lived in smaller were-packs that had fought constantly over territory and dominance. Much to their detriment, a few had even lived as rogues and mercenaries, without a were-pack to watch over them. Faoladh had subsumed the older were-packs in each Shifter territory under the overarching umbrella of a Shifter Pack led by an Alpha Protector. With each Pack with its own delineated turf to administer, it had led to less conflict between them. Under this new arrangement, an Alpha Protector was a very powerful beast. The only one with the authority to question an Alpha Protector or his command over his Pack was Faoladh, and he was known to interfere only rarely under exigent circumstances.