One inch, one breath at a time, she eased herself out of his arms until she was standing. She hadn’t woken him, but she felt cold, bereft, and longed to throw her self back into bed—back into his bed, because it didn’t even feel like her own bed anymore—back into his arms….
No.
She forced herself to back up quietly and slipped into the bathroom, where she showered in water as hot as she could make it, scrubbing herself raw, trying in vain to remove his touch from her skin.
Ryder woke luxuriously in a bed redolent with Caitlin’s perfume and the smell of sex. His erection was hot and hard and throbbing with wanting her, and he growled in his throat and reached for her…to find nothing, no one.
He sat up, blinking against a shaft of light from the windows. He could feel no sense of her in the room or anywhere else, and heard nothing, either, but a slow drip from the shower.
Caitlin sat in Fiona’s kitchen, dressed as austerely as she could manage in a black turtleneck and gray jeans, her hands wrapped around her third mug of coffee. She was wired and nervous as a cat, and every time she moved she could feel Ryder on top of her, and feel her face burn and her chest flush with heat.
Luckily Shauna was chattering on, filling the silence, but Caitlin had seen Fiona glance at her appraisingly several times already. No way to hide anything from her—ever.
Caitlin reached for a croissant and smothered it with raspberry jam. Her hands were shaking so much she could barely hold the knife.
The front door opened, and she jumped about a mile. All three sisters went still, listening, then relaxed as they heard male voices and then Jagger stepped through the kitchen door, followed by Ryder.
The shifter was freshly scoured, in a leather jack et and tight jeans, and Caitlin could smell the combination of leather and pheromones from where she sat. She felt her pulse jump and blood throb between her legs.
“Look what I found on the street,” Jagger announced to the sisters. Ryder glanced at Caitlin, and her heart was in her throat. Every detail of last night was in his eyes as he looked at her; they might have been naked in her bedroom right there, and she wouldn’t have stopped him if he took her on the kitchen table.
She looked away from him and gulped coffee.
“Excellent,” Fiona enthused. She pressed a mug of coffee into Ryder’s hands. “Can I make you an omelet? We have croissants and juice and pastries on the table.”
“Just this for now,” Ryder said, lifting the mug, and glanced innocently at Cait.
Shauna was already up, demanding of Jagger, “The autopsy?”
Jagger looked to the three sisters. “Some of the signs are there. Massive adrenaline spike. Heart failure.”
“But the chemicals are wrong,” Shauna finished for him. Jagger nodded silently. “So it was a walk-in. Possessing a were.” Shane scowled.
“Which means even the Others are at risk,” Fiona said tensely.
“Not just at risk,” Ryder said. “If the lead entity has been hiding in one body, it may be using the body of an Other.”
“It could be anyone, then,” Shauna said.
“Hiding in plain sight,” Ryder said, underlining the possibility.
“We need the Council to meet tonight,” Caitlin said. “We can’t wait.”
“Yes,” Jagger said.
The five of them looked around at each other, and Fiona suddenly stood up from the table. “Then let’s do it.”
Caitlin saw Ryder meet Jagger’s eyes, glance to ward the door. Neither of her sisters saw it, she realized.
Jagger stepped over to Fiona. “I have a full day—is there anything you need from me?”
“Go,” Fiona said. “I’ll call Armand, and we’ll send out a summons. All you have to do is show up.”
As Fiona started to walk Jagger to the door, Ryder looked toward Shauna and asked casually, “Bathroom?”
Shauna pointed. “First door to the left.”
Caitlin pretended not to watch as Ryder walked casually out. She started clearing the table and then slipped out after him.
She hurried into the hall just in time to see Ryder shift.
She’d seen Case and Danny shift before, but as accustomed as she was to weirdness in her role as a Keeper, to other facets of reality, witnessing a shift was always unnerving. She wasn’t sure if other, less attuned people would experience it in the same way, but for herself, she felt a queasy sense of not just the shifter but all of reality shifting around her, a momentary dissolving of anything concrete and tangible, while the shifter’s body rearranged its molecules into something else entirely.
It happened now, and the nausea was instantaneous and racking as Ryder…melted, which was as close as her rational brain could come to describing it, and then there was a raven there in his place, a huge black bird, and he was flying out the open French doors and over the courtyard.
The room slowed its shimmering and returned to something resembling normal.
Caitlin held on to the wall and gagged from the dizziness, the overwhelming feeling of vertigo….
Then she forced herself to straighten and bolted toward the stairs after him.
Jagger waited on the outside of the compound wall, beside the gate. He turned at the rustle of wings as the raven landed on the gate, and then the air shimmered and Ryder stood in front of him.
The men regarded each other warily.
Jagger was the first to speak.
“I gather you don’t think much of this plan.”
Ryder shrugged. “Too many cooks.”
Jagger’s face tightened. “That’s the way this city works. The communities work together. That’s how we keep the peace: coexistence.”
“Yes, yes, very high-minded of you all, and I’m just a lone gunman. But the only thing I think this meeting is useful for is to see if a walk-in shows up in the body of one of your friends.”
Slipping through the front door, Caitlin willed her feet to step lightly and ran at her most silent across the courtyard, coming to an abrupt halt just behind the wall, with the fountain providing cover so she could listen to the two men standing just outside the gate.
Ryder looked to the vampire and kept his voice level. “Do what you have to do, it’s your city. But you have to know this. It’s the Keepers who are the most vulnerable here.”
He saw Jagger tense with suspicion as well as with worry, and felt a stab of satisfaction as he continued inexorably. “And not just Caitlin but all three of them. The lead entity is already aware of Caitlin, has directly threatened her twice, and I’d be shocked if it doesn’t know of all of them. So do what you need to do, bring others into it, have your Council meeting, but know that every second we don’t take action is giving these things an opening, and your woman is in the direct line of fire—just like mine.”
Behind the fountain, Caitlin’s heart leaped at his words. His woman? Is it true? Is that how he thinks of me? She eased closer to the wall to make sure she heard everything.
“Your woman?” Jagger was saying contemptuously. “Don’t tell me you intend to stick around town after you’ve done what you came to do.”
Ryder was silent, and Caitlin’s heart plummeted. Finally he muttered, “What I do, where I stay, is none of your business, vampire.”
“It is my business if it has to do with Cait,” Jagger said coldly. “She’s family now, my sister.”
Caitlin felt a strange disorientation, a burning in her chest. His sister? Me?
Jagger continued. “You may have no conception of family, but make no mistake, shifter, I’ll kill anyone who even thinks of hurting her.”
Ryder was surprisingly and uncharacteristically silent. Behind the wall, Caitlin held her breath, hoping for him to jump in, to say something, anything….
Nothing but silence and the soft rustling of the wind in the trees.
Jagger snorted contemptuously. “As I suspected. So I’m telling you now. If your intentions aren’t honorable, back off from Caitlin. Leave her free to find he
r own happiness. She deserves that.”
Caitlin felt hot tears in her eyes, but what was making her cry, she couldn’t have said. Jagger’s words…or Ryder’s silence? She only knew she felt torn up inside.
And still nothing but silence from beyond the wall.
And then—finally—Ryder said, “I’ll leave her alone, brother. Just don’t interfere with my investigation.”
Caitlin felt his words like a white-hot blow. He doesn’t care, then. It was nothing serious. He was only toying with me, and Jagger knew it.
She felt as if her whole heart had dropped out of her body, felt like a complete fool, used and discarded like so much garbage.
“Right,” Jagger said. “I’ll see you tonight, then.”
“I’ll be there,” Ryder answered roughly, and then Caitlin heard footsteps, two sets going in opposite directions, quickly fading down the street.
She leaned back against the fountain, sick with betrayal—and grief.
Somehow she made her way back to Fiona’s rooms, knowing that she had to go on, to act as if everything was normal and fine. She had to make everyone think she was all right.
The table was already cleared, the dishes put away, and Fiona and Shauna were in the living room, talking, Shauna as usual prowling the room like a wild animal. She stopped in her tracks when Caitlin entered from the garden door.
“And where did you just go off to? Or should I say ‘get off’? What’s going on with you and that shapeshifter, anyway?”
Her younger sister wasn’t teasing. Caitlin could feel the sharpness of the question underneath the joke.
“Nothing’s going on with him,” Caitlin said coldly. “He has prior knowledge of the walk-ins. We need to know what he knows, whatever he’s telling the truth about, which may not be much. That’s all.”
Sensing a storm brewing, Fiona stepped in smoothly. “We need a Council meeting. I for one think Mallory is telling the truth, and we need to prepare ourselves, and root out these walk-ins any way we can.” She looked at Caitlin penetratingly as she asked the next question.
“You don’t have any reason to doubt that whatever happens will happen on Samhain, do you?”
Caitlin met her eyes, answered reluctantly. “No. I think we need to be ready for a mass possession on Samhain, if we don’t act before then.”
Fiona looked at both her sisters. “Then let’s move.”
Chapter 17
Ever since restaurateur Armand St. Pierre had assumed the position of head counselor of the shapeshifting community, shifter-called Council meetings had taken on a sumptuous elegance far beyond the usual freewheeling style of the Communities. St. Pierre owned the historic restaurant Viola’s, catercornered to Jackson Square. It had been an old Creole mansion, and now the downstairs rooms served as an upscale restaurant—closed to the public tonight—famous for its Sunday jazz breakfasts, and the upper level, with its polished cypress floors and enormous fireplaces in every room, was rented out as a banquet hall for parties. It was a perfect gathering place for Council meetings, as the upstairs had several discreet back entrances, and the entire floor was completely private, its own self-contained universe, more than big enough for the dozens of Others who gathered for a meeting of the appointed Council representatives of the various races. And the food St. Pierre provided was so excellent that not even the werewolves complained about the upper-crust surroundings.
Caitlin loved Viola’s because of its timelessness. The upstairs was like a tour through history: the stairwell where Gregorian chants played continuously, so softly, subconsciously, that it felt like a dream, like ghost music; the red-wallpapered Victorian bordello rooms with their gilt mirrors and horsehair couches, and even an Egyptian sarcophagus; and the elegant banquet halls, one room flowing into another with twenty-foot-tall doors separating them, and marble fireplaces in each hall.
When St. Pierre hosted, he demanded formal dress at the Council meetings. While there was no way technically to enforce the dress code, New Orleans residents being costume fetishists at heart, a surprising number of the Others complied, even went full-out and got competitive in their period elegance.
Armand particularly expected to see the three Keepers setting the bar in the costume department, and even Shauna, who favored jeans and tank tops, would not have denied him. If a little lace and perfume kept the shapeshifters’ high counsel happy, it was worth an extra hour spent dressing.
And despite the seriousness of the occasion, after phoning, emailing and racing around the city all day to ensure that all the Council members would be present at the impromptu summit, all three Keepers were looking forward to a party.
The MacDonald sisters, particularly Fiona, had a long-term association with the best costumer in the Quarter, Rosalyn Connor, who met the three sisters at Viola’s with some of her best vintage Creole finery.
Now Caitlin stood in one of the bordello rooms with her hands propped against the wall as Fiona laced her up into a corset. Rosalyn was handling Shauna, who muttered darkly about this part, but Caitlin loved the pretty clothes and the excuse to wear them. Rosalyn had as usual outdone herself, and the sisters’ dresses were beaded confections of silver, lilac and gold.
“Someone could try explaining to me how these instruments of torture are supposed to help us think better,” Shauna grumbled, as Rosalyn yanked her corset strings. “Cutting off the oxygen to our brains…”
“Anything that will make you talk less and listen more,” Fiona said tartly.
“Hah-hah.” Shauna pulled away from Rosalyn and adjusted her bosom, unperturbed. She glanced in the mirror, and Caitlin could see she wasn’t displeased with what she saw; the golds and reds of her gown made her exotic coloring shimmer.
“Thanks, Roz. You’re a miracle.” Shauna kissed the costumer’s cheek quickly, and escaped the room.
Fiona had finally finished Caitlin’s stays and tied them off, tucking the strings into the bodice. “That was too easy,” she said to Caitlin, frowning. “You’re not eating, are you?”
Rosalyn was pulling the silver dress off the form that had held it. “Girls in love don’t eat,” the irrepressible costumer quipped, and Caitlin felt herself redden. Luckily Rosalyn had already dropped the dress over her head, so no one could see the tears springing to her eyes.
He doesn’t want me. It’s just a job. She swallowed and forced a scoffing tone. “With a shapeshifter? Not in this lifetime,” she retorted, her voice muffled under yards of gossamer fabric.
Beyond the dress, there was a suspicious silence. Caitlin felt hands tugging the gown down over her corset and petticoats, and as her head and shoulders emerged, she caught a glimpse of Fiona giving Rosalyn a significant look.
Rosalyn snatched up a velvet shawl and said loudly, “That Shauna—she left behind the most important part. You can button the dress for Cait, can’t you?” she said to Fiona, and promptly headed for the door, tossing a “You look beautiful, baby,” over her shoulder as she bustled out.
Caitlin’s eyes narrowed. “I know you two are up to—” Then Fiona turned Caitlin toward the mirror, and Caitlin fell silent as she saw herself in shimmering silver. It was a stunning dress; she felt as beautiful as she’d ever felt in her whole life.
“It would be a shame to waste all that gorgeousness tonight,” Fiona remarked, as she started to do up the buttons.
“Are you pushing me toward a shifter?” Caitlin demanded in disbelief. “I swear, that vampire has fried your brain.”
“I’m not pushing anyone anywhere,” Fiona demurred.
Liar. But I’m just not like you. No one will ever feel that way about me.
“And don’t call him ‘that vampire,’” her sister added, with a coolness that made Caitlin pause. Fiona so rarely lost her temper that Caitlin knew to be very careful if there was even a hint that she might.
“Sorry,” Caitlin muttered, and turned away, tucking her gris-gris bag into the bodice of her dress.
Fiona sighed. “Caitlin, we work with O
thers. We will always work with Others. But even if we didn’t, are we really serving anyone by thinking of them as Others to begin with? We share the planet with them. We share this city with them. We want the same things—music, good food, good times. Happiness. Love.” She paused.
“I know you’ve been hurt,” she continued carefully, and her hands were gentle as she continued to button the dress up Caitlin’s back. “But you could have been hurt just as hard by a mortal. We fall in love, we make mistakes—that’s life. We’re all doing the best we can.”
Caitlin found her throat aching, tears pushing at her eyes.
Fiona laughed softly. “It’s scary, isn’t it?”
Caitlin nodded, unable to speak.
“Every day since I met Jagger, I’m scared to death,” Fiona said, but she was laughing as she spoke, her happiness evident.
Choked up though she was, Caitlin was able to laugh with her.
Fiona hugged her from behind.
“This shifter—you may not think so, but he cares about you. He sees you.” She paused, glanced in the mirror at their dual reflection, and continued wryly. “And you’re not always the easiest person to get.” She stopped again, then continued slowly. “But I think he does. And sometimes love is about someone who is willing to see you—and love you despite everything.”
Caitlin’s emotions were roiling, and she didn’t trust herself to speak. Fiona was almost never wrong. Could she possibly be right, now?
Fiona had reached the top button, and now she smoothed down the back of Caitlin’s gown with a satisfied look in the mirror.
“All I want is for you to be happy. And you’ll never be happy without someone who’s your equal—and who loves you. That’s all I’m saying, and I’ll stop now. It’s all about love.”
The sisters were silent, looking at each other in the mirror, through a shimmer of candlelight—and tears.
The Shifters Page 12
