Jack eyed him warily, then glanced away quickly. “Not once, but three times.”
“Three times? How?” Eadan asked in stunned disbelief. She wasn’t an operative. And she wasn’t a Shadow Agent. Even though they operated off the grid, Eadan had been made aware of who they were because he was a special kind of handler. One who had the trust of the director.
He lifted the photograph Jack was so interested in. The woman was outside a building that had a sign on it.
West Street Shelter.
He didn’t need to be told it was a homeless shelter. The forlorn look on her beautiful face, the dark circles under her eyes, the clothes that didn’t fit her right and looking thinner than she should. She was on the streets.
The knowledge struck him in the solar plexus. He’d have doubled over if he wasn’t already seated. Instead, he used the table and gripped it tight, taking slow, measured breaths.
“Exactly,” Jack stated, sadness lacing his voice. “We pulled a partial print and were able to find information on her from six years ago. Then nothing. What we did find was interesting. It left little doubt in our minds that she’s from the Asia Project.”
“Any word on where she is now?” There was no hiding the desperation in his voice so he didn’t bother trying.
The pensive look on Jack’s face worried Eadan. “In Helmuth’s territory.”
“The dick who controls the paranormal underground in Seattle?”
Jack nodded. “The very same. And it gets worse. Helmuth has now been linked to both Krauss and Molyneux.”
It was bad enough Krauss had big-time supporters. Adding in Helmuth didn’t help matters. Seemed like the whole of the paranormal bad-guy community was gathering together and setting aside differences for an end game Eadan wasn’t sure he wanted to learn about.
“Why not send the I-Ops on this?” he asked. It was a legitimate question. They’d been following Krauss around, trying to get a handle on his next move, for months. They were the likely choice. The Asia Project was, for lack of a better word, their baby.
Jack took a seat. While immortal, Jack was very old for a shifter, so much so that he now looked to be middle-aged. It took a long time for a shifter to get to that point. Jack wore his age around the eyes, as if he’d seen too much in his long life. “Eadan, look at all the photos of her.”
Eadan skimmed through them and came to a grinding halt when he spotted one with Inara drawing. Someone had taken the picture from behind her, and when Eadan looked at the sketchpad before her on the diner table, he understood why. She’d sketched him.
“That’s me,” he whispered, holding the photo tighter to him as if it were a lifeline to the woman. His gaze went to her hand, the one holding the pencil. He wanted to be there next to her, holding her hand, kissing it.
You don’t even know her. Enough, he chastised himself. This wasn’t like him. Eadan was level-headed and he never made a habit of blindly falling for a woman. Yet he felt himself tumbling fast for this one.
Jack moved that photo aside and pushed two others before him. These were also of Inara drawing. Though, she wasn’t in a diner in them. The pictures were different but the subject was still the same.
He looked up at Jack. “She draws me? How? We’ve never met.”
Jack sighed, appearing tired. “Eadan, from what we could piece together about the testing done on her, she’s carrying a fair amount of werewolf DNA in her. But there is so much other introduced feline shifter DNA that we don’t think she can actually shift forms.” A dramatic pause followed. “There is more.”
Eadan wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the rest, but he needed to. “Yes?”
“From the fragmented testing results we were able to recover from the original laboratories, Inara, like all the children in the project, started out with some supernatural base, be it small or large. Inara had Fae in her. Small, but there. Our scientists are guessing one of her grandparents was the product of a Fae and human pairing. Mind you, the files were damaged. The original scientists tried to burn the evidence. We were able to forensically piece back together a portion of it. Not all.”
Staring from Jack to the pictures of Inara drawing him, Eadan began to feel as if he were falling down a rabbit hole. Nothing he was looking at made sense. Not to mention his emotions were all over the place. He’d not had this much trouble with them in years. “Say it.”
Jack eased closer to him. “Eadan, you and Missy weren’t true mates. You know it, I know it, everyone does.”
Nodding, Eadan sat perfectly still, already guessing what was coming. “Yes. And while we’ll always be friends, we’re not in love with each other. She’s with Roi. I get and respect that. I want her happy and I would never try to interfere with that.”
“I know. She found her true mate,” Jack continued. “And our people, putting together all this information before us, think this young woman here might be yours. Before you protest, I called your father in on this and asked him his thoughts. You know he’s high up in the Fae world. He agrees, Eadan. He thinks Inara is your life mate.”
There had to be more to the story. Eadan eyed Jack carefully. “What aren’t you telling me?”
With a long, slow breath, Jack kept going. “Before everything hit the fan here at PSI, before the rogue problems came to light, I was contacted by an ex-PSI agent. The who isn’t important now. What is was that he was calling to tell me he thought he’d found your mate. He wouldn’t say why, but Eadan, regardless of how or why he left PSI, I trust him.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Everything went south here. I needed your focus on PSI. Not elsewhere. It was selfish, I know, and at the time she wasn’t in danger,” he said. “Honestly, I’m still pissed that you and Missy lied to me about having a relationship. But you deserve more than my hurt feelings and anger. You deserve to be happy, and if intel is right, your mate is in grave danger.”
Something wasn’t sitting well with Eadan. “Who was the agent who contacted you?”
Jack was hesitant before responding, “James Hagen.”
Eadan’s temper flared. “He bailed on PSI almost ten years back. He got an agent killed.”
“There is a lot about that mission you don’t know,” Jack replied softly as he lifted his hands to indicate the need to remain calm.
“I know Gus was my friend, a mentor, and James got him killed.”
Jack shook his head. “According to the story you heard. I’m not getting into this now.”
Eadan glanced at the photos of Inara. “What does James have to do with Inara?”
“We’re not entirely sure. I can say they were spotted together more than once. Also, Hagen sent the photos of Inara drawing you.” Jack met his gaze. “Some speculate he and Inara are or were lovers.”
Eadan saw red. No one was to touch Inara. No one but him.
His breath caught at the realization he was ready to launch a war over a woman he didn’t know. Jack watched his movements, almost as if he expected the negative reaction.
“The I-Ops could have learned all this,” he said. “Why just pull me?”
“The werewolf DNA,” Jack answered.
Eadan tipped his head, his anger still bristling at the surface. “I’m not following.”
“It’s a match for Lukian and Roi’s bloodline.” Jack stood and walked toward the door. He looked back. “Lukian has been alive a very long time. He’s king among his kind. He views Roi as his brother because of the bloodbond they share. Where do you think Lukian’s head will be when he learns there is a young woman out there who had a parent that was half-werewolf. Not just any werewolf, mind you, but from his line. A line he thought had no one aside from him, Roi and their soon-to-be children?”
It took Eadan a moment to follow. “You’re thinking she’s family to him somehow?”
Jack inclined his head. “And if she’s family to Lukian…”
“She’s family to Roi.”
“If I had to guess, they’ll see her
as a little sister of sorts. You’re not a shifter, but I am, and I can tell you how I’d feel. How I’d view the young woman if it were me and how I’d probably do something very stupid to save her. And, Eadan, while you might not hold a lot of love for Roi, he’s mated to Missy and they’re expecting twins.”
Eadan stood as well. “And if Roi does something stupid and gets himself killed over Inara, Missy and her babies are on their own.”
“Yeah.” Jack touched the door handle. “For this mission, it’s best you leave the I-Ops out of it. I’ve arranged for another PSI Op to meet you in Seattle.”
“Who?”
“Duke Marlow,” returned Jack.
Eadan groaned. “What is with sticking me with all the damn werewolves?”
Jack grinned. “If we’re right, your soon-to-be wife counts as one.”
Chapter Three
Inara Nash moved through the streets of the city. The sun had set some two hours prior, taking with it her sense of security, regardless how false it was. It didn’t matter if it was day or night. She wasn’t safe. The sun merely changed what was chasing her, not who. The soles of her worn shoes padded along the cracked pavement. Trash lined the side of the street. At some point it would be picked up, but more would be there to take its place. The people who lived here didn’t care. If she had a place to call home, she’d care. She’d tend to it.
That was just a dream. She’d never be free to settle in one place long enough to call it home. And if she was in a place too long, it would probably mean it was her grave. There were days the sound of that appealed to her. She understood how messed up that was, but it was the truth.
As a child she’d visited a few of the shops in this area with her adoptive mother, watching the woman spend money as if it really did grow on trees. Though, back then, she’d thought the woman with her was the woman who had given birth to her.
She flinched as painful memories assailed her.
You’re not natural.
The words still clung to the air around her as if they were only freshly spoken. Funny the weight people’s words held. They were like an albatross around her neck, there to forever remind her of what she was and wasn’t.
The look in her adoptive mother’s eyes when she’d said them haunted Inara to this day. They had been the last words spoken between them. Inara had taken to the streets that night. She wasn’t welcome in the home she’d known as a child. That was fine. She didn’t need them.
She blew out a slow breath, and because of the dropping temperature she was able to actually see it. For the briefest of moments she wished she could go back to a time when she’d press her nose to the shop windows and ask for sweet treats from her mother. The area wasn’t the same inviting space it used to be. Once the area had been a prime location. The place every young and up-and-coming transplant to the city wanted to be. It was the life of the city. Gangs and crime entered and all that changed. Now the area was a place no one willingly wandered into after dark.
Well, no one but her and others like her.
The unnatural.
She walked past two women, each dressed in barely anything. One watched her and grinned. “Got a light?”
“No,” she said, speeding her pace. Her mentor had taught her to avoid the hookers who frequented the paranormal hot spots. They were generally more than met the eye and tended to bring a shit storm of trouble wherever they went. She had enough on her own.
She missed Jimmy. Especially during times like this. He’d been her mentor. A freak of nature who had to make it by staying under the radar, like her. He’d helped her learn to fend for herself. Helped her spot dangers and even taught her how to spot certain supernaturals. Best part was, he taught her the ones to avoid at all cost.
Shifter. That was what Jimmy said he smelled on her when he first found her, rummaging through a trash can when she was only fifteen, looking for anything that was still edible. She thought he was nuts at first, but something deep down told her to trust him. She’d never been able to shift forms like he could, but she did possess similar skills. And a few more they tended not to talk about. They’d forged an unbreakable bond. One she missed dearly.
“Even if you’re not tough—pretend. It can convince a lot of people,” she murmured, thinking of Jimmy’s words of wisdom. “And never lose your ability to laugh.”
His lessons were words she lived by.
Damn him for getting caught. Damn him for sacrificing himself for her. She wanted to hate him for that, but she loved him too much to bother. This area was one he’d taught her about. He’d walked her through it enough times that she knew most of it like the back of her hand. However, this particular section was newer to her.
She knew supernaturals had flocked to the space. They’d taken a deep foothold within the crime community and ran things now. Like they did in so many large cities. If regulars only knew the truth. She could barely remember a time when she was ignorant of what truly lurked in the darkened recesses. It was a happy time. A time before she became a runner.
“Damn men in black.”
She nearly laughed at the absurdity of it all.
Yes, she was on the run from the men in black.
Hollywood would have a field day with her. Then again, they’d have to swallow the truth that some people weren’t really people at all. Some were monsters.
She was a monster of sorts. No one had been able to label her. All she knew was she was more than human, an outcast and wanted by all the wrong people. None of it made for a happy gal.
She kept walking, despite the bitter cold rain stinging her cheeks. The temperature had dropped when the sun went down and would only continue to do so as long as the rain held out. There seemed to be no end to it in sight. Keeping her head low, she avoided making eye contact with anyone. She couldn’t be sure if they would remember her should anyone come looking later.
She stepped into a small alcove in the alley and put her back to the wall. Pieces of the brick flecked off and onto her shoulder. She brushed them away as best she could, considering how damp her sweatshirt was. The hoodie she wore had done little to shield her from the drizzle that had started nearly thirty minutes prior and had remained constant. If anything, the hoodie acted like a sponge. She’d be soaked to the bone soon enough.
She was happy she’d decided to stash her sketchpad and drawing materials. She didn’t own much except them, and her sketchpad meant the world to her. Jimmy used to laugh at her because of the one thing she enjoyed drawing most—a man she’d never met and who wasn’t real. He just sort of came to her when she had pencil in hand, and sometimes even in her dreams, if only for fleeting moments. Didn’t matter. His face and his blue-gray eyes were burned into her brain. She’d even managed to sell a few of her drawings of him. She wasn’t sure what the buyer did with them or why the person picked the naked ones. The money provided much needed food.
The man she drew was her guardian angel, even if he wasn’t real. To her, he represented peace and serenity. She could use a little of both.
Wet, hungry and tired, she closed her eyes and let out a long breath. She needed a place to hunker down and sleep for a few days straight. Not to mention food. She needed food. Her reserve money was tapped out and she’d not been able to shake her followers for long enough intervals to work any odd jobs and make some cash.
Damn them.
She knew what she’d have to do. And she hated it. Hated that she’d been reduced to this. A twenty-three–year-old woman who had to scrape by just to survive. She knew the alley she was on dead-ended into Pierce Street. And Pierce was well-known for its underground paranormal, illegal activities. She’d made it a point to learn all she could about the area before heading to it.
Entering unfamiliar territory while men who wanted to do heavens-only-knew-what were fast on your heels wasn’t smart, and she may be a lot of things but she wasn’t stupid. She nearly laughed. It was that or cry, and she’d shed too many tears already. She wouldn’t gift them anymor
e.
She leaned out, glancing down the length of the alley in both directions. Her long, dark hair fell forward as rain began to fall upon her head once more. She hated the rain anymore. When she was very little, she’d loved it. Having to live on the streets and be subjected to the elements, often without shelter, changed her views on a lot of things. Snow was no longer pretty. It meant cold and cold could mean death.
Possibly death.
She’d survived some crazy things and had wondered what, if anything, could actually kill her. She didn’t want to find out.
Night always brought a new set of challenges. It wasn’t bad enough she was hunted during the day, she had to be hunted even more so at night.
The vamps mixes—that was what came for her in the dark. They were the worst. The cold empty eyes, the lightning-fast speed and the smell. It was unlike anything she’d ever smelled before. That was what normally gave the evil ones away.
Their stench.
Had anyone told her ten years ago she’d be on the run from all sorts of supernaturals, she’d have laughed in their faces. The things that came for her were relentless. She’d been lucky so far, always getting away even if just barely.
A sinking feeling came over. Her luck was running out. She knew it. Felt it in her bones.
Reaching into her jeans pocket, she shivered slightly as she withdrew a crumpled, damp piece of paper. Despair sank to the pit of her stomach. The address was close. She looked to the warehouse at the end of the alley.
She’d get in and get out as fast as she could. These types of underground fight clubs lasted at most a week in one area. If she didn’t get in there tonight, she’d miss her chance and would have to hunt down information on the next one. A red X on the side of the door with a dot on both sides meant she was in the right place. She just needed to grab some money and possibly some food. Stealing from scumbags didn’t bother her. It’s why she dared to come here. Nothing but the bad element was here. She’d have no guilt later and she needed food and a roof over her head. She couldn’t stay in one place long enough to do anything even close to honest work. It was this or go hungry.
Tactical Magik Page 3
