by Aliya DalRae
“Our mother.” The way Rachel said it, like it was a load of crap in her mouth, made Harrier chuckle. Perhaps a change of subject was in order.
“Everything all right with you and Nox, then?”
Rachel shrugged. “I suppose.”
“Do I need to have a talk with him? A little attitude adjustment?” He’d hoped for a laugh, a smile at the least, but his sister merely shook her head.
“No. No, I don’t think so. He apologized, actually. For being a sod.”
“And you forgave him, of course.” Again, with the shrugging. Harrier wrapped an arm around her and squeezed. “Ah, little sister, what must I do to brighten your mood? Should I bring out Dastardly Duck? Silly Swan?”
She glanced up at him. “You would do that?”
“Would it make you smile?”
Rachel stared out into the night. “I don’t know,” she said, the Scottish lilt of her voice evoking in Harrier further memories of when they were young. “I feel an ache in my heart, and it’s not my own. It’s not Jessica—she’s never been happier, with Raven and the baby on its way—and the twins are content.”
Harrier squeezed her arm again, not liking where this was going.
“What troubles you brother?”
And that was the question of the year.
Chapter Seven
M erlin juggled his electronic devices and knocked at the Warlord’s office door, while he spoke to Viper on his cell. The text from Mason left no doubt something serious was going down. After the year they’d had already, he didn’t even want to think what it might be.
“Come,” the Warlord called.
Merlin walked in, laptop in one hand, cell phone to his ear. “Okay, thanks,” he said before disappearing the phone into his hip pocket. “Mason, what’s up? Sounded urgent.”
“Sit.”
Merlin planted himself in the chair in front of Mason’s work desk, opened the laptop on his knees and tucked his long, black hair behind his ears. His fingers hovered above the keys, ready to do Mason’s bidding.
“Fuhrmann’s back.”
“Son of a…”
“Yeah, that’s what I said. Well, not exactly, but the meaning was there.”
Months had passed since the Sorcerer, Ulrich Fuhrmann, had escaped their grasp. His father, Helmut Fuhrmann, was a piece of work, and one they were all glad to see dead. Personally, when the younger Fuhrmann disappeared, Merlin had hoped they’d seen the last of that race.
However, as Mason explained his conversation with the Shifter Overlord, Merlin realized it was wishful thinking. On top of everything, Fuhrmann was apparently working with ferals, precisely as his father had done last year. The orange-eyed bastards were bad enough on their own, but give them a little incentive and they could be hell to contend with.
As the Warlord’s update wound down, Merlin nodded. “What do you need?”
“The usual. See if you can track any recent movement. I don’t know this feral brood he’s working with.”
Merlin’s fingers were already flying over the keys and they didn’t slow when he spoke. “What happened? I mean, you said this information is from the cat Shifters? I would think Nox or Raven would be the target, but they attacked a cat?”
“My thoughts exactly, but this particular cat isn’t unknown to them, at least not to Fuhrmann. Do you remember Kythryn Flannigan?”
The key-tapping paused and Merlin looked up at Mason, his almond-shaped eyes narrowed. “The girl who stabbed Nox?”
“That’s the one.”
“But why? Bastard should be throwing her a party after what he made her do.”
Mason nodded toward the laptop, and when Merlin’s fingers once again took flight, the Warlord answered. “Not a clue, but she was banged up pretty good. A couple of ferals were waiting for her at her home. She managed to escape, but not before hearing them mention Fuhrmann and a feral named Maxx.”
Merlin paused again. “Isn’t Maxx the guy Nox used to run with?”
Mason pointed a finger at Merlin. “That’s where I heard the name. I was having trouble placing it, but you’re right.”
Another knock sounded at the door. Merlin looked up to see the Soldier, Martin, had arrived. The kid stood a good six-foot three, with eager grey-green eyes and blond hair that fell haphazardly over his brow.
Mason waved him in. “Have a seat,” he said, indicating the chair next to Merlin.
Martin hesitated before settling in. It was a split second, but Merlin caught it, and, based on the look the Warlord was passing between them, he hadn’t missed it either.
“You all right Martin?” the Warlord asked.
“Good, sir. How can I help?”
Mason stared at the male a moment longer, then shook his head as if he were dismissing some random thought. He had no way of knowing what was going on between the two. Hell, Merlin couldn’t define it other than to say when that Soldier was in the room with him, Merlin became distracted, and that distraction could prove to be dangerous on so many levels.
“You worked the Fuhrmann case last winter,” Mason said. It wasn’t a question, but the Soldier nodded.
“Yes, sir.”
“Well he’s back.”
“Sir?”
“Merlin is trying to track him electronically, but I need you to get your team together again and get boots on the ground. Coordinate with Merlin.”
The two exchanged an awkward glance then returned their eyes to the Warlord. Mason eyeballed them again, his grey eyes penetrating, as if he could see right through them.
“Is this going to be a problem?”
A chorus of no-sirs hit the air. Merlin went back to his laptop and Martin rose to his feet.
“I’ll get on it right away, sir.”
“Good,” Mason said. “And gentlemen,” he added, gaining both their eyes. “Whatever this is? Get over it.”
“Yes, sir,” Martin said before marching out the door. Merlin returned his attention to the device in front of him, but never said a word.
Chapter Eight
K ythryn stood in front of the cold fireplace, staring at an odd painting over the mantel. The picture itself wasn’t bad, just a pretty woman surrounded by a bunch of cats in a moonlit meadow. The woman looked like a ghost wearing a long gauzy gown, and she had a boatload of multi-colored curls cascading around her shoulders. All those cats, though, were gazing up at her with worship in their eyes. It sort of gave Kythryn the creeps.
The Overlord had been kind enough to find her a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. They were a little loose on her, but didn’t come anywhere near swallowing her up like the ones Harrier had loaned her the night they met. That was the first time he’d bought her chicken nuggets. She froze and huffed out a breath. Why did everything remind her of that stupid Vampire?
Someone pounded on the door. Kythryn jumped and threw a fist to her chest in an effort to still her racing heart while Brandt checked the peephole before opening things up. Gabriel Esposito walked in, that dark hair of his curling up around the nape of his neck and falling into his eyes. He was a cutie, to be sure, and new to the Clowder. He’d shown up last month asking to join them, and of course Brandt had welcomed him. The Fallen Cross Overlord was good about taking in strays.
Kythryn glanced away from all that hotness so she could focus on the conversation. Still, she was thankful for something to distract her from her previous vampiric thoughts.
“Far as we could tell there were only two of them, but they tore the hell out of the woods looking for her. Hey Kythryn,” Gabe added when he caught her eye.
“Hey there, Gabe.” He reminded her of someone, but she couldn’t place who. Maybe, with all those Latin good looks, she was remembering another Italian, a mercenary named Felino Stivali. But that was a lifetime ago, and it didn’t feel quite right.
He turned back to Brandt, bright green eyes shining like emeralds as he gave his report. “We found where they parked their car, and they’ve definitely bugged out, but they se
emed pretty determined. I wouldn’t be surprised if they kept coming back until they got what they were after.”
“Me?” Kythryn squeaked.
“Well, yeah.” Gabe shrugged. “That’s what we’re talking about, right?”
Kythryn tried not to growl at him too much. Still, there was only so much snark she would take, even from a new guy.
“Gabriel, were you able to confirm that they were ferals?” Brandt moved the conversation along.
“Hard to say, but there was definitely the stink of Vampire around the place.”
“But they’re gone, now, right?” Kythryn asked. “So, I can go home?”
Brandt stared at her for a minute, then shook his head. “I’m sorry, Kythryn. After further consideration, I’m afraid if you return, you’ll be putting yourself and your father in danger. If they were after Seamus, they would have attacked him before you got there, so I think he’ll be fine. But only if we find someplace safe to stash you.”
“But you told my dad…”
“I know, I know. However, I believe this is for the best.”
“One more thing, sir.” Gabe was getting on her last nerve. “If we’re dealing with ferals we might be a little out of our league. I’d like to think we could protect Kythryn on our own, but there’s no telling how many of them there are, not to mention the Sorcerer. We might need a little backup.”
Brandt sighed, and sat hard on one of the stools lined up by the breakfast bar. “You’re right.”
Kythryn looked back and forth between the two as they batted the subject around. It was like watching a tennis match, not that she ever had.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Gabe asked.
Kythryn flipped back to the Overlord. What were they thinking?
“I am. I’ll ring them back.” Brandt stood to retrieve his phone, and Kythryn held her breath as they waited for whoever it was on the other end of the call to answer.
“Mason,” Brandt said, and Kythryn blew out that breath like a deflating birthday balloon.
They were calling in the Vampires.
Chapter Nine
H arrier ran down the Sub T corridor and dashed through the War Room door. His midnight flight had kept him away from his phone. Now he was late for an emergency meeting and Mason was going to be pissed. On the upside, it saved him from having to answer his sister’s question.
“Sorry,” he muttered as he took a seat at the giant oak conference table. He would have preferred to stand, but as he was already in trouble, he decided to skip his usual routine. Warlord always won on that one anyway.
Mason’s glare was the only acknowledgement of his tardiness. Harrier took that as a good sign and glanced around the table. Raven was there along with his twin, Nox. With their dark hair and matching blue eyes, their clothes and Nox’s eye patch were the only things differentiating the two. The Australian Warrior, Tas, sat to Harrier’s right, with the tattoo-covered Viper on Tas’s other side. Merlin, the Legion’s e-geek, sat in his usual seat to Mason’s left, and the Soldier, Martin, sat to the Warlord’s right.
“As I was saying,” Mason glanced at Harrier again, “Fuhrmann is back in town, and this time he’s brought some ferals along for the ride. Nox, I think you might be familiar with them. Their leader’s name is Maxx.”
Nox glanced up at the Warlord and shifted in his chair. Based on that grimace, Harrier assumed Mason was on point with his deduction.
Nox drug a hand through his hair, and though he was making a stab at calm, Harrier probably wasn’t the only one who caught the purple spark in the male’s good eye. “Haven’t heard that name in a long time. Has he been spotted?”
“Martin’s pulled a team together and they are working with Merlin to find Maxx and his brood. And Fuhrmann, of course. Any information you have on the feral could be vital.”
“Of course, Warlord. Whatever I can do to help.”
Nox was saying all the right words, but Harrier could tell by the crease in the male’s forehead that finding this Maxx guy was the last thing he wanted to do.
“Harrier, I have a special assignment for you.”
Harrier pulled his attention from feeling sorry for Nox and put it back where it belonged.
“One of the cats was attacked tonight. If you’d have been on time, I wouldn’t have to go over this again. That being said, with the ferals involved, they require our assistance in providing protection. Brandt asked me nicely, so I’m inclined to help them out.”
Harrier tried not to glare at the Warlord, but he had a bad feeling about this “special assignment.”
“I want you to take Perry and a couple other Soldiers and provide around the clock protection for her.”
“Why can’t Raven, or Viper…?”
“The Sorcerer has a vendetta against Nox and Raven, so sending either of them would give the ferals extra incentive to find her. Viper has more important things to do than babysit a cat Shifter.”
“And I don’t?”
“Remind me what you’re working on again?”
“I…”
“Exactly. We have an idea why Fuhrmann is after her, but until we know more, you’re it. Merlin will text you the address. Get your shit together and be sure you’ve got another daywalker in your crew.”
“I’m not a daywalker,” Harrier mumbled. His Shifter blood gave him a certain level of tolerance to ultra-violet rays, but he was by no means sun-proof.
“You know what I mean. Now go. You need to be there within the hour.”
Harrier knew better than to argue, but he felt every bit of calm he’d gained from his flight quickly draining out of him. His neck muscles tightened and a sick tumbling in his gut pushed him to ask the next question.
“Who is it I’m to protect?”
Mason glanced at the paper in front of him and said the two words Harrier dreaded most. “Kythryn Flannigan.”
Chapter Ten
K ythryn paced the length of the cabin. It didn’t take long to get from one end to the other, as the place wasn’t very big at all. Only two rooms, if you didn’t count the bathroom and kitchenette, and all of it was on the tiny side. It reminded her a lot of that cabin she’d holed up in with Stivali and his pal Carabas. That was back in her wild days when meeting strangers in a bar and helping them take down a black-market skin trade outfit was just a day in the life.
She rubbed her shoulder where she still bore the marks of Stivali’s enthusiastic lovemaking. She didn’t know if it was the touch or the memory that made her shiver.
The door banged open, shocking her from her ruminations, and Gabe stalked in. His eyes were everywhere, checking out the place like there might be a feral hiding under that flea-bitten sofa over there. She supposed she should be grateful, but for whatever reason that guy unnerved her. She’d be glad when he went home and all she would have to worry about was a stuck-up Vampire or two. From what she knew of the race, she was pretty sure they wouldn’t force her to have deep, meaningful conversations or entertain them or anything. She would simply pretend they weren’t there and do her own thing. Easy peasey.
“The Vampires are here,” Gabe said, apparently convinced nothing was going to jump out at them.
“Oh, boy,” Kythryn muttered. “Anybody we know?”
“Nobody I’ve met, but then why would I?”
Aaaand more attitude from the new guy.
Kythryn frowned. “Well, I guess you can go then,” she said, hopeful he wouldn’t want to stick around. He was taking this little assignment from the Overlord way too seriously. Of course, Kythryn was glad for the protection, but they were miles away from Fallen Cross, out in the middle of nowhere. There was no way the ferals were going to find her here.
“They’re checking the perimeter, making sure everything is secure,” he said, referring to the Vampires she assumed. “I’ll wait until they finish and send one of them inside as your personal bodyguard.”
“Seriously? That’s what you’re calling it?”
; Gabe smiled, and it was a good smile. A shame it never reached his eyes. “I’ll be honest, Kythryn. I don’t know why the Overlord is going to such measures to protect you. Are you some kind of secret Shifter princess? What makes you so special? And why were the Vampires so willing to drop everything and come running at your beck and call?”
Not that Kythryn hadn’t asked herself the same questions, but coming from Gabe it was flat out insulting. “Have you met me?” she asked, rather than calling him an asshole like she wanted to. “Do I look like some kind of bullshit princess to you?”
Gabe eyeballed her a minute before answering. “I get your point. Wondered what I’m missing is all.”
“I’m surprised somebody hasn’t filled you in on everything by now.” She leaned her butt against the back of the sofa and folded her arms over her chest. “Let’s just say I got in some trouble and it wasn’t my fault. At least that’s what the Vampires keep telling me. Either way, I guess they feel a little guilty and don’t want to see me wind up under that Sorcerer’s control again.”
“Guilt has nothing to do with it.”
Gabe jumped in front of her, his hand at his back as he focused on the newcomer at the door.
Kythryn, however, couldn’t move. The fact that the Clowder’s newest orphan had a gun stuffed in his pants barely registered. All she heard was that gruff, Scottish accent, the one that turned her knees to haggis entirely against her will.
Kythryn did a slow-motion head turn toward the door. It couldn’t be. It wasn’t possible. The Goddess couldn’t hate her this much.
She blinked a couple of times, hoping the giant russet-haired Vampire standing there would somehow change into—anybody else. She attributed the pounding in her chest to frustration, disappointment. And she refused to acknowledge the affect that seeing him in such close proximity—all broad-chested and golden-eyed—was having on her nether regions.
She must have looked a sight because he started to laugh, and that rich sound only intensified everything going on inside her. She tried to say something, anything, but her mouth kept opening and closing like a catfish out of water.
