Crux

by Moira Rogers

  “Have fun with that,” she snapped, slumping against the barrier in the open door again. It was impenetrable as ever, and she fought the urge to cry in frustration.

  So much for Plan A.

  Mackenzie dragged in a breath and closed the door with growing desperation. Plan A was a bust, but she’d figured it might be. Now wasn’t the time to panic. She’d go upstairs to her room, sit down and come up with a Plan B.

  At the rate things were going, maybe C, D and E, as well.

  Hours later, Mackenzie flopped back on her bed and stared at the ceiling, tears of hopelessness threatening again. Every plan she could think of involved getting out of the house. If Eddie had been telling the truth, that meant getting her hands on whatever item it was that let people come and go at will.

  Some thing. Some thing. It was hardly the easiest description to go on. It could have been anything, from a mystical pendant to an old copy of the Sunday Times. Even if she managed to figure out what it was, she’d have to find out where Charles kept them and determine a way to get around his protections.

  That seemed as likely as surviving a face-to-face showdown with him.

  Mackenzie sighed and covered her face with her hands. Time was running out, and all she had to show for it was a rising sense of panic.

  Someone knocked on the door, quick and urgent, and she heard the sound of shuffling feet in the hallway. “Mackenzie, open the door.”

  Marcus. She recognized his voice easily enough but, more disturbing, she recognized his scent, even through the door. She rolled off the bed and padded across the room to open the door.

  For the first time since she’d met him, he looked disheveled, almost haggard. “How serious are you about wanting to get out of here?” he asked without preamble.

  Her heart leapt. It could be a trap. But she didn’t know how things could get worse at this point. And what would they have to gain by it? Charles already knew she didn’t want to be here. “I’m serious. Really, really serious.”

  He shoved something into her hand. “Get your shoes. We’ve got to go now.”

  It was a small wooden circle of smooth, polished wood, something dark that might have been mahogany. A hole drilled through the top had a thin piece of leather threaded through it, long enough that it would be easy to slip over her head and wear beneath her shirt.

  She’d expected something mystical looking, like an impressive gold medallion with ancient runes. But what the hunk of wood lacked in looks, it made up for in power. Even holding it made her palm tingle.

  Marcus made an impatient noise and she started. Without a word she slipped it over her head and tucked the wooden disc beneath her shirt. It warmed against her skin, but the tingling feeling faded after a few seconds. By the time she found her shoes, she hardly noticed it.

  She pulled them on in silence and looked at Marcus. “Okay.”

  He laid his hands on her shoulders. “If Da—if Charles finds us, I don’t know what he’ll do, but it might be bad. Are you prepared for that?”

  Mackenzie swallowed. “He told me that he’s going to have a psychic come in and make me agree. Wipe my personality and tell you I had a change of heart. I’ll risk just about anything to avoid that.”

  “Me too.” One hand fell away from her, and the other slid down her arm and wrapped around her icy fingers. “Come on. We’ll have to shift and run for it, but I have more clothes and things waiting for us at the property line.”

  “Okay.” She squeezed his hand. “Thank you, Marcus.”

  “Shh,” he hissed as they headed out of her room and toward the stairs. “Thank me later.”

  They descended the staircase quietly, without incident, and she was on the last step when Marcus went rigid. She smelled it a heartbeat later—man, what she’d come to recognize as wolf, and expensive whiskey.

  “Eddie.” Marcus’s voice was tense.

  He lounged in the doorway, much as he had earlier, peering at them through bleary eyes. “Well, well.”

  Her mouth went dry. She tightened her fingers around Marcus’s, unsure of what to do. “Hello, Eddie.”

  The big man didn’t say anything at first, just raised the nearly empty bottle in his hand. It stopped short of his mouth, and he heaved a rough sigh, his eyes on Marcus. “Go on. Run.”

  “Eddie—” She couldn’t see Marcus’s face, but he sounded apologetic. Almost guilty.

  “For fuck’s sake, Marc, get out of here.” Eddie motioned for the door, and his voice dropped to a raw whisper. “Go.”

  When Marcus didn’t move, Mackenzie stepped off the staircase and yanked on his hand. Her eyes found Eddie’s, and the pained look of loss and misery in his eyes tugged at her. “Thank you.”

  He turned away.

  Marcus finally pulled her toward the door, and they slipped through the invisible barrier and out into the night. He led her away from the house at a brisk walk and around to a row of hedges. “Take off everything but the talisman. You’ll need it.” He kicked out of his shoes and started removing his clothes.

  She followed suit, stripping off the borrowed clothing as quickly as she could. The night breeze was cool enough to make her shiver as she stood in front of Marcus, naked except for the talisman that hung between her breasts.

  She ran her fingers over it lightly. “What will happen to it when I shift? It’s not gonna fall off, is it?”

  “You shift first. I’ll adjust it and make sure it won’t. I know how much to tighten mine, but I’m not sure about you.”

  “Okay.” She shivered again, more from nerves than the chill. She closed her eyes and concentrated on finding that inner spark of magic and letting it flow through her.

  Her hours of practice made it easy. A few heartbeats and she opened her eyes to a very different world. Sights and sounds and scents assaulted her at first, but she was already growing used to the confused jumble. Marcus smelled like safety, and her instincts moved her across the space separating them. She bumped her head into his leg, terrified and needing the contact even if it wasn’t nearly as satisfying as it would be when he had shifted as well.

  He knelt before her. The leather cord had two slip knots, each end tied around it, and he tugged them apart until he could barely slide two fingers between the cord and the heavy weight of her fur. “There. Follow me, but we have to be quick. I won’t stop unless you do, not until we get past the last ward.”

  She acknowledged his words by nudging his hand with her head and backing away so he could shift as well. He did, his scent and form changing until he stood before her on four legs. He uttered a deep, purring growl, turned and ran.

  It wasn’t so different from her dreams, racing across the side yard and into the dark woods, except for the fear pounding through her veins. In her dreams, the danger had been vague, nebulous. Here it was real. Known.

  She ran, as fast as she could, until her lungs and muscles burned. She couldn’t stop, though, had to keep pace with Marcus. Just when she thought she could go no farther, he stopped, panting.

  Then Marcus was human again, kneeling on the ground by a large hollow log. “Jesus Christ.” He clutched at his side and grimaced as he dragged a black bag from the log.

  Mackenzie was too exhausted to shift immediately. She collapsed to the ground and panted for breath, wondering faintly if she’d even be able to change back at all.

  It took several minutes for her to find the energy to reach inside and resume her human form. She stretched out on her side on the forest floor, pine needles and branches poking uncomfortably against her skin. The cold ground leached the heat from her body, but she hurt too much to move.

  Marcus had already dressed in a pair of jeans when he returned to her side. “Get up, Mackenzie. You’ve got to get into some clothes and get to the car.” He dragged a black T-shirt over his head and helped her sit. “Come on.”

  She h
ad no idea how she summoned the strength, but somehow she got the button-up shirt and sweatpants on. The sneakers he’d brought for her were too big, but she put them on her bare feet. “How far to the car?” She rose on shaky legs.

  She swayed, and he pulled her into his arms. “Just over this rise here—” He stumbled but regained his footing. “Okay. I’m okay. Let’s go.”

  Marcus carried her to a dark sedan parked at the edge of the woods, out of sight of the road below, and set her next to the passenger door. The car alarm blipped, the locks disengaged, and he jogged to the other side. They both scrambled into the car, and Mackenzie tugged at her tangled seatbelt with a low curse. “Where are you planning to go?”

  “I was hoping you’d have some ideas.” He turned the key in the ignition and the engine purred to life. “Boston, probably. At first.”

  She had to call Jackson before she did anything else. “There’s some people I can call, I think. The ones who were helping me. If you have a cell phone, maybe I can call information…”

  “There’s a disposable one in the glove compartment.” His hands tightened on the wheel. “Just in case he decides to try technology instead of magic to find us. I doubt it, but I don’t want to take any unnecessary chances.”

  Mackenzie found the phone and powered it on before she realized she had no idea if Jackson’s cell phone would even be listed. She could probably find a number for his office, though, or maybe someone at the bar could tell her how to reach Nick.

  The tiny clock on the cell phone blinked on, and she groaned. “Jesus, I didn’t realize it was three in the morning.”

  “I got things settled and ready as fast as I could.” He sounded apologetic. “It took me several days to free up some money and find someone trustworthy to help with the magical things like the clothes.”

  She froze with her finger on the keypad. “Our clothes are magical?”

  He spared her a quick glance as he flipped on his blinker and turned onto what looked like a main highway. “Had to be, so Charles can’t track us. Well, not as easily.”

  “God, I forgot about that.” She shivered and glanced at the phone again. The bars on the left side indicating reception had disappeared. As she watched, one reappeared but vanished. “Reception is crap. How far are we from civilization?”

  “Depends on what you consider civilized.” Marcus kept checking the rearview mirror, as if he expected Charles to be hot on their heels. “It shouldn’t be long before you get a better signal. But you can call your friends in the morning, if you want. We should be in Boston in a few hours.”

  Jackson would be worried, but Mackenzie was exhausted. It was hard to keep her drooping eyelids open, and sleep called to her. She could spend a few frustrating hours battling a weak signal and waking people while she tried to track someone down. Maybe she should.

  Or you could take a nap and call around later when you’re coherent.

  She tucked the cell phone back into the glove compartment and curled on her side. “You’re probably as exhausted as I am, but would you mind if I took a nap? I haven’t been sleeping much since Charles told me that stuff about the psychic.”

  “Sleep. I’ve got a lot of driving to do and…a lot to think about.”

  It was hard to believe he’d been the person she feared most in the world a few short days earlier. The pain in his voice urged her to rest a hand awkwardly on his arm. “I’m sorry, Marcus. I didn’t—I wish it could have been different.”

  He tensed under her touch. “Don’t. I did this as much for myself as for you. Maybe more.”

  “Still.” She dropped her hand back to her lap. “I’m sorry.”

  “Yeah. Me, too.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Jackson rubbed his thumb over the warm surface of his mug and stared out the window over the sink. Dawn was breaking, the sun setting the clouds on fire as it rose above the horizon. It finally broke free of the trees and forced his gaze away.

  Nick stood just inside the kitchen, one shoulder against the open doorframe. “Hi.”

  “Hi.” He tried to smile, but it felt more like a grimace. “How long have you been standing there?”

  “Long enough to know you’re worried.” She shoved her fingers through her hair and braced her hip against the wood. “Don’t be. It makes me nervous.”

  “Can’t help it, Peyton.” Not for the first time, Jackson considered the risk Nick was taking, not only with her own life, but with her sister’s, as well. “Nicky—”

  “Knock it off, Holt.” Her words might have been flippant, but her expression was serious, almost scared. “None of that ‘if we don’t make it out of this alive’ shit. I’ll hurt you.”

  “He’ll snap out of it.” It was Alec’s voice, quiet behind them. “He always does when it’s time to get down to business.”

  “He’d better.” Nick glanced at Alec and shot Jackson a stern look. “Mackenzie works for me. I hired her. I took her in. She’s my responsibility. And don’t get me wrong. I like her. I do. But I like my sister more. If Michelle is going to be in danger, you need to get straight, okay?”

  “I’m fine,” Jackson said harshly. “Just because I care doesn’t mean I’m an idiot.”

  “No one thinks you are.” Alec crossed the kitchen. “We wouldn’t be going in there with you if we did. But it’s just us, Jackson, when it comes down to it. Everyone else’s priority is going to be Charles. It’s you and me going after your girl, and if you get my ass killed because you’re distracted, I’m coming back to haunt you.”

  “And if he can’t manage it,” Nick added, “I’ll find someone who can make you think he’s haunting you.”

  “I get it. My head will be in it, I promise.”

  She continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “I’m not afraid of death, but it would be a crying shame if I bought the farm before I had the chance to bag your secretary’s hot cousin.” She grabbed another mug and filled it from the coffee carafe. “Just my personal feelings on the subject.”

  Alec smirked. “Tell us something we don’t know. That’s pretty much the worst-kept secret in New Orleans.”

  Nick favored them both with a wry look as she added cream and sugar to her mug. “Then help a girl out. I’ve dropped so many hints I’m starting to trip over them.”

  Jackson pulled out a chair at the kitchen table. The banter felt normal, like everything might turn out all right. “Maybe he’s not interested in a tee-tiny loudmouth,” he offered helpfully.

  Oddly, Alec’s reply was more earnest. “Derek likes you too much.” He ignored their startled looks as he poured himself a mug of coffee. “He wasn’t born a shifter, Nicole. He’s got a lot of odd instincts he didn’t have to deal with before, and he wasn’t ready to start anything that might end up serious.”

  Jackson stared at his partner, open-mouthed. He hadn’t known Alec had spent that much time with Derek Gabriel, much less talked about such personal things with him. “When did you become a confidante to lovelorn werewolves everywhere?”

  Alec stomped over to the table, glaring. “It was once. Kat was worried, so I promised her I’d help him out. It’s not like guys like him have a lot of people to go to for help.”

  Nick was suspiciously quiet as she stared into her coffee. When she finally raised her head, her eyes were wide and bright. “Don’t you dare get me killed, Jackson Holt. I have things to do when we get home.”

  “Let me guess,” Mahalia drawled as she walked in and headed for the refrigerator. “Derek Gabriel?”

  Jackson raised his mug in salute. “Got it in one.”

  She clucked her tongue. “You always have had it bad for that boy, Nicole.”

  “See?” Alec took a sip of his coffee and grinned. “Worst-kept secret in New Orleans.”

  Mahalia smiled at Nick’s flustered look. “Hell, Jacobson. Who do you think introduced them?”


  “You couldn’t have locked them in a closet somewhere and saved the rest of us several years of sexual tension?”

  Nick choked on a strangled noise, and Mahalia laughed. “You hush up, Alec. Everyone knows you’re just a soft old romantic at heart. Am I right, Jack?”

  “You always are, May.”

  Alec rose with his mug. “Fuck you, man. I’m going to go pack my shit. I’ve had about all the touchy-feely crap I can take for a morning.”

  This time, the noise that escaped Nick was undoubtedly a laugh. “Be back in time for the group hug, Alec,” she called.

  Jackson barely managed to avoid snorting coffee out his nose. “Oh, Christ. Now she’s giddy.”

  Mahalia shook her head. “You’re going to have a hard row to hoe if you set your cap for Derek Gabriel, Nicole. I hope you know that.”

  Nick didn’t look concerned. “I don’t want to marry the guy, Mahalia. I just want to date him.”

  “Mm-hmm.” The older woman’s eyes were shrewd. “Famous last words, baby girl.”

  The front door opened, and Steven walked in with John Peyton close at his heels. Both men looked deadly serious, and there was a tension between them that made Jackson edgy. Steven’s gaze slid over the room and stopped on Mahalia. “May, will you step outside with me for a second?”

  She stared at him as she took a carton of eggs out of the refrigerator. “That depends. Do you want to talk to me alone, or does John Peyton want to talk to Jack and Nicole?”

  The older man flinched visibly, but his attention didn’t waver from Mahalia. The pain in Steven’s eyes was so intense Jackson felt like he was intruding on something private. “I want to talk to you.”

  Nick cleared her throat and nudged Mahalia, earning a sharp look. Jackson caught his friend’s eye and jerked his head toward the hall. “Nicky, can you help me with something?”

  “No need to leave.” Mahalia tightened the belt of her robe and walked past the two men to the back door. “I like to have all my futile, pointless arguments before breakfast, anyway.”