by Moira Rogers
Nick pouted at Mahalia. “Is it too late for me to put my money on Alec?”
But Mahalia paid her no mind. “How do we want to do this? Flip a coin, third guy fights the winner? Or are y’all just going to brawl?”
Jackson stretched his shoulders and considered the question. “I just want to hit someone. I don’t care if it’s in a clean, organized fight or a dog pile.”
“Well, then.” Alec swung a punch at Aaron’s head.
“Hey!” Jackson rushed Alec and caught him with a shoulder in the stomach as Aaron recovered and threw a retaliatory punch at Alec. It hit Jackson instead, knocking him dizzy.
The fight soon dissolved into a blur of swinging fists, laughter, grunts, and the occasional muttered curse. Jackson could hear Nick cheering him on and whooping as he landed a hard punch to Alec’s midsection and caught another glancing blow from Aaron.
The back door of the cabin opened and closed, and a whistle pierced the air. Jackson elbowed Aaron one last time and looked up, panting.
Steven stood on the porch, looking stern. “Boys.”
Even doubled over and breathing hard from the solid punch Aaron had landed in his stomach, Alec managed a cocky grin. “Jackson needed to blow off some steam.”
The door opened again. John Peyton seemed less surprised by the scene on the back lawn. “Get it out of your system, Holt?”
He straightened before answering. “Yes, sir.”
“Good.” His steely blue gaze roved over the assembled group. “We move tomorrow.”
Jackson shot Alec a sober look. His partner nodded and straightened as well, wincing as he pressed one hand to his side. “We should go over the plan one more time. Make sure everyone knows their parts.”
Jackson gingerly prodded his throbbing cheek. “Yeah. May?”
“Come on inside. We’ll get you fixed up and triple-check the talismans.” She turned, raising an eyebrow at Nick. “Our boys just cost us a hundred bucks.”
“Damn straight they did,” Nick agreed.
Jackson huffed at Alec. “We shouldn’t feel bad about that, right?”
“With that walking mountain swinging his fists around?” Alec grinned and slapped Aaron on the shoulder. “What do you do, anyway? Carry Michelle around under your arm?”
Aaron was almost completely unscathed except for a slight red mark on his jaw where Jackson had caught him with a stray fist. “Can’t. She bites.”
Alec laughed. “And you say I don’t talk much.”
“You don’t,” Jackson said absently, rubbing his knuckles as he walked back toward the porch. “He just talks less.” His mind was already back on getting Mackenzie out of Talbot’s clutches and back home.
Over the course of three days they’d turned the dining room table into a staging area for strategy and developed a carefully organized plan of attack. Steven and John took their places at the head of the table, leaving everyone else to perch on bar stools or chairs. Steven waited until he had everyone’s attention before speaking. “Going over this again may seem like overkill, but humor me.”
He outlined the plan. Steven, Michelle and Mahalia were to neutralize Charles, with Nick and Aaron there to take care of physical attacks. Either or both of them would have been useful helping Jackson and Alec track down Mackenzie, but Aaron wouldn’t leave Michelle’s side, and Nick couldn’t.
Michelle had admitted it to him the night before. “I don’t think it’s a coincidence that I’m one of the only Seers who’s still sane. You can’t imagine what it’s like, having that much power roaring through you…” Her voice trailed off, but Jackson had been able to see the confusing mix of revulsion and pure yearning in her expression. “The more powerful the magic, the more I-I feel that. Like I want to use it again, keep using it. But when Nick’s around, she grounds me. I can draw more power without losing control.”
Which meant that Nick would have to stay with her, no matter what. He and Alec could find Mackenzie on their own, but it would take more time. Time was something they only had if Charles could be contained in the first place.
Nick stared at the blueprints of the house, the ones Jackson had already memorized. “There’s one thing we haven’t discussed.”
“What’s that?” Mahalia asked.
She raised an almost frightened gaze to Steven. “What if we can’t stop Talbot? What if all we can do is hold him off for a few minutes?”
“Then you all get the hell out of that house, as fast as you can.” Steven’s tone was quiet but firm. “I’ll stay behind. He’s not going to kill me.”
Mahalia started in shock. “Steven, that’s—”
Steven shook his head. “Not now, May. We’ll talk about it later.”
Her jaw clenched, and Jackson laid a hand on her arm. “What exactly is that supposed to accomplish, you staying behind? I think we all have a right to know that.”
“If you can’t get Mackenzie out, it’ll mean she’s not alone there. I swore I’d take care of her twenty-five years ago, and I’m not leaving without her.”
Jackson eyed him, incredulous. “I wasn’t aware that was an option.”
Alec spoke. “No one likes it, Jackson. But if we can’t contain Talbot, we may have to retreat. We’re not gonna do Mackenzie any good if we’re all dead.”
“If we manage to piss Talbot off badly enough, will any of that matter?” Jackson cast a quick glance at Michelle, who stood silently between her father and Aaron. “I’ve heard what happens to Seers when they get drunk off the power. They get a little high and then they get a little nuts.” He glared at Steven. “How can you guarantee Mackenzie’s safety in that situation? Or your own for that matter? God knows what he’ll do if he well and truly loses his shit.”
Steven looked uncomfortable, and Alec said, “We’re going to try. You and I will do what we can to get her out, but you don’t get to make that decision for everyone. You can’t tell them they have to stay and die for nothing.”
“I’m not trying to boss anyone.” Jackson crossed his arms over his chest. “But I’m not leaving without Mackenzie.”
Nick shook her head. “I’m not leaving without Jackson.”
“Nicole.” Her father’s voice cracked through the room like a whip. “You’ll take care of your sister, and if Aaron tells you to leave, you’ll leave. Otherwise, none of you will go.”
She opened her mouth, snapped it shut and lowered her gaze. “Fine.”
Further argument on his part would only serve to plant the notion that perhaps the risk involved with the siege was too great. “I’ve fought his spell caster before. He’s pretty powerful, but cocky.” He nodded to Aaron. “The shifter is a decent fighter but smaller than you, and not too bright.”
Aaron returned his nod, his face just as impassive as Michelle’s, but the tense energy between the two of them was so strong Jackson could almost see it. For all of Michelle’s protestations, it was hard to believe anyone could miss the fact the two were in love.
Then again, with tensions so high around the table, everyone’s emotions seemed closer to the surface. Steven had rested one hand on the back of Mahalia’s chair and was leaning so close that his arm brushed her hair. But the line of her shoulders was stiff, and she wouldn’t look at him. “Testing the talismans could mean trouble,” she said, her tone a study in careful nonchalance. “We’ll have to take our chances.”
John surveyed the group. “It’ll be quick, straightforward. Get onto the grounds and get to the house. If lethal force is necessary, the Conclave condones it. Charles Talbot has become too large a threat to ignore. Stalking, assault, kidnapping, murder… He’s escalated past the point of leniency.” He brushed a speck of lint from his sleeve. “The Conclave has only one request in return for its cooperation. If any wolves are taken alive, they’re to be turned over to us. Casters, psychics and other shifters don’t concern us. But we’ll handle our own.”
“Fine. We leave first thing in the morning.” Steven’s gaze landed on Jackson. “No more f
ighting.”
Jackson couldn’t tell whether he was talking about the brawling or the arguing, and he honestly didn’t care. “I’m done. Let’s get some rest.”
Chapter 19
At first Mackenzie harbored hope that Marcus would get over his anger and talk to her again. She even sought him out the morning after their fight, desperate to find a way to repair the damage she’d done. Marcus had been the closest thing to an ally she’d had, someone who at least wanted to treat her well.
Now he avoided her when he could, and was formally and coolly polite to her when she cornered him. After two days of it, she gave up and retreated to her room, growing more and more desperate about her situation.
In the middle of that second night she even considered giving in, making the best of a bad situation and trying to find what peace she could. Marcus had proven himself to be an entertaining and thoughtful companion when he wanted to be, and Charles obviously had enough money to support them both in anything they wanted to do. She’d live a comfortable life, for as long as she was willing.
And that was the catch. If Charles ever developed the slightest suspicion she might not be, it would be over. He’d pay someone to wipe away her free will, and that would be it. Oh, she’d go on living in theory. Something that resembled her would walk and talk and have as many babies as they wanted. But it wouldn’t be her.
Safety and comfort were nothing but an illusion. Charles’s home was the proverbial golden cage, and she couldn’t stay.
The only problem is…how do I get out?
She hadn’t been outside since the first day, when Marcus had taken her running in the woods. She hadn’t tried, either, but Mackenzie had a feeling it couldn’t be as simple as walking to the door and opening it.
Of course, if it was that simple, she’d feel stupid for sitting around masterminding wild schemes for escape. She’d feel equally stupid if she worked out an escape plan only to find she couldn’t get out the door at all.
Reconnaissance. They called it that in the movies. Mackenzie was starting to wish she’d watched more action flicks and fewer Sandra Bullock movies.
Common sense told her it would be easier to make excuses if she didn’t seem to be trying to escape. She waited until after dinner before wandering by one of the side doors and stopping to peer out the window at the woods beyond. Even though she hadn’t been outside, she’d been practicing every night until she was sure she could shift forms easily. If she could get to the edge of the woods—
Trying to act casual, she wrapped her fingers around the cold metal of the old-fashioned doorknob. Her heart nearly leapt out of her chest with excitement when the knob turned easily under her hand, and the door pushed open. She took a deep breath and bolted.
Or tried to bolt. She hit the empty space of the doorframe and stopped. It was like falling face first onto a feather mattress—not painful, but she couldn’t move forward.
Confused, she pulled back and tried again, this time leading with her shoulder. Her shoulder struck the barrier, and she felt the shock through her body as she jerked to a stop. There was nothing there. The breeze from outside blew against her face, and she could smell the freshly cut grass, hear the birds in the trees. Freedom was so close she could taste it.
She just couldn’t get to it.
“That’s some crazy shit right there, isn’t it?” She whirled to find Eddie standing across the foyer, a bottle of beer dangling loosely from his fingers. Surprisingly, he wasn’t laughing at her.
Mackenzie opened her mouth to deliver the excuse she’d carefully crafted. I just wanted to go for a run, I just wanted a walk, I just—
But Eddie obviously didn’t care. She moved away from the open door and slumped wearily against the wall. “Crazy shit,” she agreed.
“The old man has these things we have to carry so we can leave.” He took a swig of beer and shook his head. “He keeps them locked away until he needs to send us out somewhere. Hope the fucking place doesn’t burn down.”
Eddie wasn’t just drinking. He was drunk. “So everyone’s trapped here?”
He scratched his head, barely stirring his almost militarily short brown hair. “Everyone except the boss. Though I kind of always got the feeling the barriers would drop if the bastard died.”
The only thing that seemed less likely than escaping was surviving a direct confrontation with Charles. Mackenzie closed her eyes and fought her desire to sink to the floor. “Why do you do it?” she asked in a low voice. “Why do you fight for him? Kill for him? Why do you stay trapped in this house?”
When Eddie answered, he was closer. She opened her eyes to find him sitting at the bottom of the staircase. “There’s good money in it. Besides,” he added with a bit of a sneer, “maybe if there are more cougars, you can give the wolves a run for their money. Damn sons of bitches run everything.”
“I thought you were a wolf.”
He rubbed his thumb absently over the bottle. “Not to hear them tell it.” He drained the rest of the bottle and gave her a flat look. “I was attacked. Changed. I used to be human, and now I’m nothing but a mutt.” For a moment he looked vulnerable, hurt. Then he just looked like he wished he had another beer.
Mackenzie sank to the floor, pulled her legs to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. “Isn’t there a better way to change things? If I have these…magical kids, what are they supposed to do? Run around ruining people’s lives, the way yours was ruined?”
Eddie shrugged. “It wouldn’t have to be that way, necessarily. Some people want to do it. Change, I mean.”
“So you’re not going to help me.” It wasn’t quite a question.
“I might be a simple idiot, but I don’t have a death wish.” He snorted. “Even if I wanted to help you, trying would just get us both killed.” His hazel eyes softened. “Look, would it be so bad? I mean, you’d be rich as fuck, and you’d have Marcus. It’s a hell of a lot more than most people get.”
If she hadn’t known better, she could have sworn Eddie was jealous of her.
Why is that so crazy? Lots of people wanted to be rich, and Marcus was attractive, if you appreciated tall, dark and handsome men. I guess there’s no reason Eddie can’t.
The brief glimpse of humanity didn’t change the fact that he’d killed people to get to her. She pushed down sympathy and rose to her feet again. “I’m not interested in being someone’s pet.”
“Suit yourself.” Eddie shrugged and stood, as well. “But the old bastard always gets what he wants, Mackenzie. One way or another.”
“So he told me.” The smile she gave him felt sick. “I guess I won’t have to worry about it, though. If he gets mad he’s just going to wipe my personality. I won’t even notice I’m being raped. Should make it easier for Marcus to get the job done.”
He definitely looked sick. “Crazy shit.” He swayed and started in the direction of the kitchen. “If you need me, I’ll be raiding the liquor cabinet.”
“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.
Something. Somet hing. 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 w
ay 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?”
