by Susan Conley
Not in your life, buster. “I think my staying back is more likely to draw attention. Plus, if I am with you, you can determine who I meet.”
He gave a sharp nod. “Fine then, come along. You’re still suspended. Don’t say anything.”
Maven Titania was every bit as imposing as Mona thought she would be. Not that she was large—she barely came up to Nic’s shoulder—but her carriage and the amount of magical energy swirling around her, not to mention the absurd amount in her, created a palpably strong sense of being. Despite her hauteur, there was a kind look on her unlined face. Regal, yes, but she was more pretty than beautiful.
She drew to a halt in front of the group, Nic half a pace behind. Graciously she inclined her head as a majority of the group bowed low before her. Warder stiffly bowed just his head, as did, Mona noticed, Cart. Mona settled for something halfway between the two extremes.
“Warder Smythe, Were Protector Dupree, we thank you for your prompt response,” Maven said, her voice surprisingly raspy and mellow.
Smythe shuffled up to the front of the group. “Indeed, Maven Titania, it is very clear why you called us. Such a working as this. . .” His face flushed and his thin jowls shook with anger as his arm swept out to encompass the destruction behind him. “We’ll get to the bottom of it.”
“We have every confidence in your ability to do so,” said the Maven. She caught Cart’s eye and her smile twitched.
Clearly they knew each other. Mona watched as the energy around the Maven became less frantic.
“Come, Abner,” the Maven said, her tone much less stiff than before. “Show me what you observed.”
Smythe hesitated, his palsied hands fluttering with words he wanted to say. Finally he turned and addressed Mona. “You will join us.”
He clearly didn’t want her to stay behind and talk to Nic. Interesting. Behind him she saw Cart signal to the Maven that he wanted Mona to stay.
“The young woman and Protector Nicolai Lombard will join us in a moment,” the Maven said, blithely overruling him. “They share family.”
Protector? Mona wondered when the Maven had given him the title—and if Nic knew it meant he was about to be immersed in the Folk heritage he’d long denied.
And, oh crap, was that his magic swirling around the Maven, protecting her? She needed to talk to him about his emerging powers and the link he was building with the Maven. Thankfully, Smythe didn’t argue.
“Oh, yes, I have been told, good.” He gave Nic a deep bow then shuffled off toward the wreckage, pointing. Cart looked back and forth from Mona to Nic before sending his group off to gather more information.
He said one word, “Careful,” before joining the Maven and Smythe.
Chapter Five
The trio was barely out of earshot when Nic hissed, “Why didn’t you tell me you were working with Folk?”
“Why didn’t you tell me you knew the Maven?” she retorted.
“What other high ranking Folk in the area would I be monitoring?”
Right, she’d forgotten his real job, the one for the government agency that monitored Folk in the area. Of course he’d deny it to his last breath to anyone else, since his branch didn’t officially exist, just like Folk didn’t officially exist.
Crap, crap, crap. His latent magic pulsated, beating against the constraints he’d placed on it. She certainly hoped he, or at least the Maven, was aware of his pending immersion into Folk life.
“Wait.” Nic’s gaze, when not focused in anger on Mona, had been constantly sweeping the area. “Someone else is coming to join the merry band.”
Indeed, a woman was picking her way across the strewn concrete toward them. Mona and Nic rejoined the rest of the group. He leaned over the Maven and whispered something to her.
Taking her cue from the rest, she turned when they did.
The woman was in her late twenties, perhaps a year or two older than Mona. She looked a bit careworn, but sharp intelligence showed as her gaze shifted back and forth between Mona and the Maven while they waited for her to introduce herself. Cart jerked his head at the Maven.
She swept a deep, proper bow, hand flourishes and all, then remained bent at the waist, waiting for the Maven to signal she could rise. Only after she straightened did she speak. “Maven, I come in response to your message to the Buffalo pack.”
“And you are?” The Maven’s voice was laced with annoyance. Mona didn’t blame her; the pack was stuck in the past with women holding no place in the hierarchy. Sending a woman in response to the request was almost a slap in the face to the Maven.
“I’m Averill, of the Buffalo Pack.” Her tone was even, as if she hadn’t heard the anger. “Several of my family including two of my brothers and one cousin each served time as leader. When your message to the pack leader went unanswered the imp brought it to my house.”
The pack leader couldn’t be found and this woman was now the representative? Mona was dying of curiosity, but it wasn’t her place to ask. The woman was certainly strong enough to be a pack leader, even though there was some blockage or something around her totem. Probably had repressed her shifting, something Mona had seen before with women of the Buffalo pack.
“Averill, if the imp delivered the message to you, you are clearly a leader,” the Maven said, a smile on her face.
“No, Maven, I haven’t been trained to do the job.” Something about Averill’s tone made Mona think she was gritting her teeth and holding in an old argument.
“Yet the imp, when unable to find the person you have designated as leader, went to you,” the Maven said, pressing her point. “Despite any perceived lack of training, it recognized you as the current head. You do realize, very few would question an imp’s call in this situation.”
If the woman heard the chastising tone, she simply ignored it.
“I don’t question the imps choosing to deliver the message to me. However, unlike the imp and those present, I’m aware of an . . . inability to reach pack elders as well as those who have held the leadership position.”
“You can’t reach the pack elders? When was this discovered?” The Warder didn’t keep the worry from his voice.
“And you are?” Leader Averill’s voice was polite but cold. Smythe had been unusually discourteous.
Mona fought between amusement that Smythe had committed a faux pas and worry over what was causing him, a stickler for protocol, to have discarded propriety several times now.
“Were Leader Averill,” Maven said, gesturing to each person as she spoke. “If I may introduce Warder Smythe. Mona, who is with Smythe. Protector Nic Lombard, who is with me. Training Master and Were Protector Josiah Carthage Dupree and his crew.”
Averill bowed to each as she had the Maven, bowing longest to Nic. He shot the Maven a dirty look but held his peace. Mona returned her bow.
Smythe waved off the protocol, again.
Mona exchanged a look with Cart, who also seemed to realize how off Smythe was acting.
“Fine, fine, now, when did you find this out?” Smythe barked at her.
“We only discovered the extent of the problem this morning, after I got the message and made calls to other dens in the pack. Based on what I learned today, everything started about three weeks ago.”
“Tell us what you can.” Cart’s voice was calm, non-confrontational, unlike Smythe’s.
“We don’t know much.” Averill’s grimace made clear she was unhappy about that state of affairs. “From what I can gather everything started when our current pack leader didn’t arrive for the elders’ meeting three weeks ago. The next in line went out to look for him. Only he didn’t return, so the elder in his den went to look. When the elder didn’t return, a male from that den asked the elder of another den to look for him, not mentioning the previous missing leaders, only their missing member.
“In turn,” she continued, “every elder went out, each one approached by the den of the previous elder to go. This continued until a few days ago when they co
uldn’t figure out who could go so the idiots—sorry, but really—stopped sending men out.”
“I see,” the Maven said.
They pretty much all did. The Buffalo Pack didn’t adhere to the newer practice of having protectors with access and knowledge of all dens. Small and densely intermarried, the leaders had successfully argued fifty years ago when the change was initiated on a national level, that there was no need for them in such a close community.
Averill also had made clear, subtly, that the males hadn’t told the females until a few days ago. Her guess was the women had put their foot down at sending anyone else out.
“The Buffalo Pack—” the Maven started, irritation in her voice. She paused, and when she continued her voice was once again musical and light. “Well, we will not dwell on what they were, instead we will focus on what they will become. Here, this’ll help you.”
The Maven touched Averill’s forehead, and Mona could see a spell set to mark her as pack leader. “You’ll not miss any more messages.”
“I. AM. NOT. PACK LEADER.” Averill’s face flushed and she swept Maven a hurried and flustered bow, not nearly as well executed as her first. “Your Majesty.”
“Averill,” the Maven said. “You aren’t trained as a leader, no, but you have other qualities that made the imp recognize you as one, including a certain doggedness I can’t help but admire. I promise that you, and any other Were who qualifies, will be taught; some to be leaders and some as protectors because I am not going to put up with this foolishness again. However, until someone else is ready to assume the job, you are pack leader. I, and everyone here, will back your leadership should anyone challenge the imp’s judgment.”
Mona was the first to thump her fist over her heart and execute the half bow due a pack leader. The others followed, except the Maven—and Nic, who seemed to be taking his cues from her.
Stunned, and mouth agape, Averill stared at the group. A long minute passed before she clamped her mouth shut and ducked her head in acknowledgement.
“Were Trainer Dupree will make arrangements for your training to start, Averill. He will also make sure a proper protector station is set up,” Maven said, her voice less strident than a moment before. “I will set everything up with him, so there is no question it is my will and under my authority. In the meantime, Smythe, please show Leader Averill our initial findings. I think it may be pertinent to her problem.”
Averill still looked uncertain and shell-shocked. The Maven leaned in and said something quietly to her that Mona didn’t quite catch. Whatever was said, a smile lit Averill’s face. Then she looked over the wreckage and sobered. She stepped up to the Warder and started asking him questions about the collapse. Mona again trailed behind and did not contribute.
Time and again Smythe pointed out that the type of magic used, the signatures left, all pointed to Weres rebelling and losing control of their magic. Which simply wasn’t true; someone else was forcing them into it. Mona found herself glaring at Cart’s back, hoping he’d correct Abner, but he didn’t.
By the time Smythe called a halt it was clear Averill was shaking with suppressed rage. Then Smythe, not Cart, summed up what they’d found.
“There is clearly evidence that Weres were involved, however it doesn’t seem to be a single Were who did the magic.” Smythe wrapped up his analysis. “Of course, Weres can, if they act in concert, accomplish a feat on this scale.”
He made a sweeping gesture to emphasize the scope. Realizing what was about to happen Mona put her body behind his so he wouldn’t fall when he lost his balance. Mona caught Cart’s eye finally, but he gave his head a slight shake.
“I agree. No matter how you look at it, something is very off. We need to gather more information, though, and see if the disappearances and the collapse are connected.” Cart’s statement earned him a sharp glance from all the leaders except Smythe, who was fussily straightening his coat.
Mona watched as, almost as one, they all looked over at the turbine blade. The image of the men who’d been after her on the bridge rose and she shut her eyes. Finally Averill stirred.
“Maven, Warders, protectors.” Averill bowed her head to each of them. “It is clear Weres were involved in this catastrophe. However, I lack the skills to figure out who and how. Even if I could, with so many missing, there isn’t enough manpower to track them down.”
Reluctant as Averill was to take the job, she certainly seemed ready to shoulder the responsibilities.
“Protector Dupree and his crew will fill you in on what they find,” the Maven said, waving her petite hand graciously at the group. Cart nodded his agreement. “You will need to talk to each den and piece together a timeline of what occurred.”
“I think it’s time to leave things in their capable hands,” Nic said as he took the Maven’s arm. “Let us know if something definitive comes up.”
“Oh, I. . .” the Maven started before looking over at Nic. What ever she saw there made her give in graciously. “Yes, please do let us know. Averill, I’ve set up a meeting with the New York City group at D’Alessandro’s on the Saturday after this. I’ll send out imps, but please let people know. Everyone is to come, we’ll have something set up for the children.”
Done, the Maven turned her blue-grey eyes on the group.
“Warder Smythe.” The Maven waved for him to come closer. Smythe’s frown deepened with every step. “Earlier today we rescued a pregnant woman who was bearing a Folk child. The birth looked to be difficult and there is a chance she won’t survive. You need to find out how she fared and arrange for care of the babe if that is the case.”
“It is my duty and honor,” Smythe intoned ritually, although he was shaking.
“Thank you,” the Maven said before she turned back.
A baby? Difficult childbirth? Mona swayed where she stood. Raine. She knew it was Raine.
Raine had been here, trapped under the overpass.
If only . . . no, she couldn’t think that way. She needed to find out where Raine was and get to her. Cart left off talking to Averill and was already heading her way—either something in her face gave away her thought or he’d jumped to the same conclusion.
Warder Smythe unwittingly stepped between them. “I’ll leave the woman and her baby to you. I’m heading back to the complex.”
Cart was staring at Smythe’s back like he was a puzzle with far more intricate pieces than expected.
Mona felt the same way, but bit her tongue. “I will take care of the woman and her babe,” she said.
“Good, good.”
Once Smythe was in his car she approached the group.
“Look,” Cart was saying, “there isn’t much more we’re going to find out here, no matter what the Maven says. We need to help Averill with her end too. Hyram, Monique, Kofi, and Jens, you go with Leader Averill, stay with her and help support her new role with the pack.”
He looked at Averill, who opened her mouth, then closed it with a sharp nod.
“The rest of you are off until midnight, when you’ll be on duty for the next shift with Averill. The fresh group from New York should be here early in the morning, you’re on until they get here. Oh, and someone—Menlo—get in touch with Loch Lomond, he needs to be filled in.”
Mona couldn’t help but notice the second group was larger. Perhaps he expected more trouble as the word got around.
“And you’ll be?” This from tall, thin redhead with the pixie haircut she thought was Tiffany.
“I’m going to be tracking down the woman and the babe. She might be the lynch pin. Everyone should plan to meet back at base at ten tomorrow morning, or as soon as the new group gets here. Don’t hesitate to call for backup if you need it.”
Base, Mona assumed, was D’Alessandro’s.
Everyone dispersed and Mona and Cart headed back to his car.
“You think it’s your friend Raine?” he asked.
“Yes. Lynch pin?” she asked.
“Sometimes large acts
like this are done to hide a small thing in the midst, leaving us to sort through everything to find the one ‘pin’ that caused it to happen.”
“You think that’s Raine?”
“Possibly.”
“Hold up.” They were crossing a stretch where a lone portion of the skyway still stood amidst rubble to either side. Residual magic, yellow and warm, lingered although there wasn’t a spell. “There’s a line of magic from the Maven here. Actually, two sets; some shorter connected lines that look like they are going in and a longer one headed back out.”
Mona had never seen anything like it; there weren’t any runes or symbols, but there’d clearly been magic used.
“You can see that?” Surprise laced Cart’s voice.
“Well, yeah, Warders can see magic even after it’s done.”
“Not like that. At least, not the ones I know and yes, before you ask, I do know a few, six fairly well and another dozen on a first name basis. Can you point out to me where the magic hops to?”
“Over there, see that clear patch at the edge? That was definitely a stopping point.”
“I’m going to regret this but if the woman they found is the lynch pin, I want to see.” Cart wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close. “Let’s go.”
Her body contoured into his, setting her nerves jangling and a frisson of something she deliberately mislabeled as annoyance through her. Blackness surrounded them for a blink. Two. Just as her mind comprehended there were shadows of something else in the darkness, they were in the spot she’d pointed out.
“Can we do that again?” she asked, curious about what she had almost seen in the void.
Cart looked at her then doubled over in laughter. Mona smiled, wondering what was so funny.
“Oh, Mona, you are a ruby among diamonds,” he finally bit out. “Yes, we’ll do it again. Just show me where the next spot is.”
“Oh, right.” Mona looked around; she’d been distracted by his wide grin. Easy to do. “There, under the skyway, a clear spot at about eleven o’clock. You see it?”
He nodded and wrapped his arm again around her waist. “Got to say, nice to know you aren’t going to faint or throw up on me.”
