The small plane vibrated with engine noise and wind turbulence. Marcus watched the scenery and Sadie had the weird experience of wondering if he dreamed of leaving the plane and flying free. He could jump out and transform into a griffin in mid-air. She gripped his hand and he turned to her, a question in his eyes. She shook her head. She simply needed to touch him.
“It’ll be okay.” He kept hold of her hand.
It was late afternoon when they landed at Amarillo. Nelson was still travelling toward them. Sadie folded the map and squashed it into the back pocket of her jeans. It felt so good to be on the ground. She inhaled the stinky smells of the airport
Marcus headed for the hire cars, only to summarily reject the available options. “We’ll grab a cab and go buy a vehicle. We need something tough that can go off-road and handle speed.”
“It’ll cost.” She couldn’t afford a new car. She wasn’t sure her insurance would even cover the damage—theft—that Marcus anticipated had happened to her van, abandoned at the biker bar.
He shrugged.
Within minutes of a cab dropping them at the car yard, she got a lesson in the power of prestige credit cards. Marcus chose the all-terrain SUV he wanted. There were places in America where a house cost less! The salesman who’d greeted them stuttered at the sight of Marcus’s credit card and passed them on to the dealership’s manager. Not that Marcus appeared impressed by the promotion. “I want the car, now. No, nothing added. I want to drive it off the lot within ten minutes.”
It took them fifteen minutes. Marcus answered the burn phone while he waited, his frown possibly speeding the staff to greater speed. They certainly breathed a sigh of relief when he went outside to speak. “Seth?”
He returned to the office in time to receive the pen held out to him. He scanned the documents swiftly and signed, speaking to Sadie at the same time. “That was Seth. I hoped he’d be near enough to be assigned. They’re on their way.”
Since he was being deliberately vague, she couldn’t question him in public on the specifics of his parents’ new bodyguards. In fact, she had a lot of questions piling up for when they were finally alone. Still, climbing into the new SUV, she was momentarily distracted. “New car smell.”
“It’ll pass.”
“I like it.” She clicked the belt on before sliding her hands along the edges of the leather seat. She refrained from further comment on the luxury, though. “How are your parents?”
“Seth and a partner are driving them to Santa Fe. They’ll get a flight from there to Boston.”
“Your dad’s face will cause comment.”
Marcus drove sedately through Amarillo’s end of day traffic. The sun had a golden tinge to it. “Private jet.”
“Of course.” She stretched back in the comfortable leather seat, aware of how tired she was. Although she’d done little other than track Nelson, she felt exhausted.
Marcus seemed tireless.
She studied his face in profile, the strong lines of it and its new familiarity. Just this morning they’d made love. She suddenly ached to be with him again. She wanted the reassurance that he was real and that last night’s happiness wouldn’t be fleeting, lost again as they’d lost their first love.
Marcus, however, was consumed by other drives; specifically, the hunting one. He had to have a plan if he still thought they could meet her Old School contact in Los Angeles tomorrow.
“You think you know precisely where Nelson is headed,” she said slowly. “It’s more than trying to be in position to reach him wherever he might go. Did Seth mention a location?”
“That’s a logical deduction. But no. This is…” He kept the SUV to a steady speed as a police car and ambulance raced past. Their sirens faded, still urgent, into the distance. “It’s something I felt when I transformed. The griffin’s body has its own instincts. I think that’s true for any form humans assume.”
She considered the idea. “In design, there’s an old saying that form follows function. But if the form comes first, then function has to adapt to it. So your actions in griffin form are shaped by that form’s imperatives.”
“Yes. It’ll be the same for Nelson. More so, since he shows a tendency to default to werewolf form—to activate that spell—when he wants strength.”
“Or feels threatened.” She reached for the mints she’d bought at the airport. Marcus accepted one and she unwrapped her own, enjoying the freshness of the scent and then the burst of sweetness in her mouth. “Nelson is panicking. You have your parents safe and you’re after him. You’re keeping him on the defensive, pressured.” It was a hunter’s strategy.
“I want to end this.” He crunched his mint.
They left the city behind and the land they’d flown over wrapped around them. A layer of spring green and recent rain kept down the dust. The day was darkening. Headlights came on, cutting the gloom as cars approached and vanished.
“But why here?” She’d asked the question before. “Why would a werewolf come to this country? There are no wolves in Texas.”
“Not now. That wasn’t always the case. The gray wolf roamed here. I did a quick search on the phone for werewolf stories in the area. Who knows what attracts a werewolf to a place, but where one has lived, others are likely to be attracted to the same conditions. Plus, remember the barn where Nelson stashed my parents?”
“It’s near here.” She used “near” in the Texas sense where distances were large.
He nodded. “I thought his partner was the link to the barn, but if Nelson scouted this area before denning as a werewolf, he might have found the abandoned structure.” He glanced at the map spread on her knees. “Where is Nelson now?”
She squinted as her finger traced Nelson’s route. “Still travelling this way. But we’re easily a couple of hours ahead of him.”
“That’ll give us time to find his den.”
Chapter 17
“You want me to find a werewolf’s den?” Sadie asked blankly. “Marcus, Nelson isn’t actually a werewolf. He’s a wizard who uses a spell that transforms him. But to be driven to den, he’d have to spend hours, days, weeks, in that form.”
“He has.” The SUV sped up, a sign that Marcus had tensed and pushed harder on the accelerator. He brought it back to a steady speed. “I’ve fought Nelson twice in his werewolf form. The first in the Arena and the second time when I was in griffin form. He is brutal and efficient as a werewolf in a way that requires long and sustained practice. He’s worn the werewolf form for long stretches of time, and if he wanted a safe place to do so, that would be his den.”
“Huh.” She considered the notion.
His crisp tone eased. “There’s a legend along the Canadian river, from centuries ago, when the Spanish called it the Magdalena. They told tales of a desert wolfman. They called him an outcast, said he was a man with no people who had called on hell’s magic for power and it had trapped him in the werewolf’s body. He roamed and hunted and lived in a cave that was little more than a dug out hollow. It’s flat country here.” The evidence of that was all around them. “But go across to the canyon and there are true caves. The wolfman could have denned in those yet he stayed in the flatlands for some reason. I’m guessing Nelson has done the same with his den.” He sounded confident in his reasoning.
She wanted to know why. “How strong are the griffin’s instincts?”
He sighed, a deep exhalation. “Powerful. In that form, whether I was worried about your safety or my parents’, the griffin’s instincts roared through me to tear and rend. To kill to protect my own.” His hands twisted on the steering wheel. “I wanted to taste Nelson’s flesh.”
“Ew.”
He had a strangling grip on the wheel. “I can’t take on the griffin’s form too often. It’s overwhelming.”
“Okay.” She stared at the empty country around them. “So the body a wizard transforms into imprints its instincts on him.”
He glanced at her. The evening light softened the contours of h
is face, hiding its grim lines. “Yes.” He sounded relieved and surprised. His grip on the steering wheel relaxed.
Had he thought she’d reject him for his confession of the griffin’s instincts? She put her hand on his knee.
He covered her hand with his, linking their fingers. “Nelson will kill to protect his werewolf territory. That’s why I want to confront him, here, when I’m human and he’s compelled by his form’s instincts. We’re remote from everyone, which eliminates civilian observers and casualties. I can use my magic.”
“Will you kill him?”
There was a long silence in the SUV. “In a fight, I can’t guarantee that it won’t happen. But my intention is to constrain him.”
“To what purpose?” To Sadie, it seemed night was falling suddenly. She could see an early star. “Nelson could be arrested and imprisoned for kidnapping your parents, but an ordinary jail can’t hold a werewolf. Even if he doesn’t transform, he’s a Stag mercenary, a wizard. He’ll escape.” She was about to share secrets that weren’t hers. If she didn’t trust Marcus completely, she couldn’t do it. “I have a friend. She’s always vague about who she works for or where she vanishes. Actually, she’s not vague, it’s just that there are holes in her story. Ostensibly, Olga works for a senator in Washington. In truth, I think she works for a covert government agency that specializes in magic. She’ll know who can handle Nelson.”
“You have a friend who works for 13OPS?” He slowed the SUV.
“I haven’t heard of 13OPS.” She didn’t understand why it seemed such a big deal, but her pulse rate increased as he drove off the road onto the dirt. “Marcus, what’s wrong?”
He switched the engine off and the night’s silence engulfed them.
“I don’t know what 13OPS is. Is it a problem?” Her voice went high.
“I need to get out, stretch my legs.”
She needed answers, specifically why he’d freaked. It was a quiet, contained freak out, but something he knew about 13OPS wasn’t good. She jumped out of the car and hurried after him. “Olga is a good person. If 13OPS is bad, she’s not part of it.”
A truck thundered past on the road. They were visible to anyone passing. Marcus thrust his hands into the pockets of his jeans, his shoulders hunching and his mood uncertain. “My grandfather was one of the senators who started 13OPS in the 1960s. It was one of the first things he did after he started drinking the phoenix blood potion. At the Senator’s command, I did some jobs for 13OPS.”
She put a hand on his arm. His skin was warm but not unhealthily so, not as if he had a fever. She felt cold, the wind cutting through her sweater. “Were they bad jobs?”
He regarded her bleakly. “I told you I’ve killed people. Those deaths were in the Arena before I learned control and on 13OPS jobs. I was sent after people whom ordinary weapons couldn’t take out. Some were monsters, by anyone’s definition. I don’t feel guilty for ending their lives. It saved other people’s lives and suffering. But there were a couple of jobs where it wasn’t so clear-cut. Two men were classed as enemy operatives. They were wizards for people the USA is involved in military action against.”
She studied his expression of haunted regret, then lifted his arms and wrapped them around her. She hugged him. “Is this the classified government work your dad spoke about in the hotel room, when he said you could take the position as senator? Marcus, soldiers fight. Sometimes they kill. War isn’t glorious, but you are not guilty of murder. You have no stains on your spirit. There’s no hate in your heart.”
“I hated the Senator.”
“Well, your grandfather earned that emotion.” She refused to be deflected. “Even now, you don’t want to kill Nelson.”
He hugged her closer, one hand coming up to cup the back of her neck, his thumb stroking her skin. “Oh, I want to kill him, but I don’t want to start our life together with blood on my hands. I don’t want you to be afraid of me or revolted by what I’m capable of.”
“I’m not. I couldn’t be. I…” She almost said that she loved him. Instead, she kissed him.
He returned her kiss fervently, as if his need for her tore out of him.
She moved as close to him as she could get on the side of a road where they were visible to everyone. Desire leapt between them, scorching and claiming.
He broke the kiss and tucked her face against his throat, where she couldn’t see his face. “When I rescued my parents in the barn, Winona was scared of me. I’d dealt with the kidnapper. I used telekinesis and slammed his own gun against him, after I’d torn the roof and walls off the barn.” The latter was said as an afterthought. Marcus was dismissive of his powers. “I took my knife out to cut the ropes that bound Paul and Winona, and she shrank from me. I saw her fear.”
Sadie pulled back to look at him. “It was a high stress situation.”
He shook his head. “You heard the prophecy she repeated in Oklahoma City. One day the Senator would make me kill her. She still believes that.” By his brooding tone, perhaps he did, too.
“Well, I don’t! You would never kill your mom. Not under any circumstances. Even if the Senator was still alive. Prophecies are not set in stone. Heck, the woman Winona consulted might have been a fraud or just crazy. Yes, you’ve killed people. You’re not the only person to have done so. There are ex-military across the country who live with that. Police have to. Sometimes, there are no good choices. Someone has to take action and live with the consequences.”
His mouth compressed.
She tugged his hand to her heart. “In the Arena, you let Nelson live. You understand mercy. You were willing to die so that a bird could live!”
“I owed Karma freedom. Her mom was bled to feed me.”
“Because the Senator addicted you so as to control you. But even then, he couldn’t make you cruel in the pattern he was or as Nelson is. You are a good man.” She stared into his eyes, willing him to understand, to forgive and accept himself. “You’re not perfect, but I trust you, utterly.”
“Sadie.” He cupped her face.
“And your mom trusts you, too. She was overwhelmed in the barn, scared by violence and danger outside her experience. But she wouldn’t have returned after your grandfather’s death, she wouldn’t have travelled with Paul to meet you, if she didn’t believe she could be safe with you.”
He kissed her, silencing any further impassioned speech from her. So she let her response, her kisses, the urgency in her body, how she touched him—in complete self-surrender and trust—finish her argument for her.
The blare of a car horn and a shouted comment ended the moment.
She blushed. “People can see us.”
“And we should be going.” He slowly released her, hands trailing down her arms to keep a connection; holding her hand, as they walked back to the SUV. “If you check where Nelson is, as long as he’s on track, we’ll have time for dinner.”
Dinner was a burger at a small town diner and homemade apple pie. Sadie felt her energy levels rise. “I think I was hungry.” She debated ordering a second piece of pie. The cinnamon and a hint of vanilla was delicious. Even better, Marcus was eating with appetite, and not simply grimly focused on refueling. She nudged his foot under the table.
He raised an eyebrow, a smile glimmered in his dark eyes.
She still had questions—what did he intend to do with Nelson? who would he hand him over to?—but this quiet moment was good. It was what last night together had promised: passion but also sharing everyday life. “I want this,” she said to him. “You and me, doing ordinary things.”
“Do you want me to go picking with you?”
She blinked at him, surprised by the question.
His smile was slow and real, amused. “I’m free, Sadie.” He spoke quietly so that no one could overhear them. “And I’m not dying. I can choose a future. If you want to continue picking, I can join you. Or I can do something else.” His smile died. “I don’t want you going away for weeks at a time. I’d worry.”
He leaned across the table and kissed her.
A couple of other diners laughed. One wolf-whistled.
Marcus put money on the table and took her hand, walking out with her. The waning crescent moon hung low in the sky. The air smelled green. The night wind flowed over the plains and gathered the scent of spring growth and wildflowers. The Panhandle might look empty, but it wasn’t.
“Nelson will be here soon,” Marcus said as they walked to the SUV. He opened the passenger door for her. “When I’ve caught him, I’ll phone the Stag mercenaries to collect him.”
She’d been about to climb into the truck. Now, she put her foot back on the ground. “What good will that do? They’re his employers.”
“Exactly.”
She stared at him, but his face was in shadow, the distant streetlight behind him.
He turned her around and urged her into the SUV. “The Stag has a reputation to maintain. They’re ruthless, yes, but bound by some rules. Otherwise they’d lose business and risk being crushed by an agency like 13OPS.”
“So they’ll kill Nelson.” She wished the words unsaid as soon as they escaped, but Marcus seemed undisturbed.
He shut her door and walked around to get in the driver’s side. “I’ve heard about the Stag’s employment contract. Under its terms, disciplinary action is allowed.” He pulled out onto quiet Main Street. Even on a Friday night, the small town had rolled up its sidewalks and gone to bed—or rather, settled in front of the television. “There are ways of binding a person’s magic.”
“I’ve never heard…”
Phoenix Blood (Old School Book 1) Page 16
