Beast of All

by J. C. McKenzie

  I sighed again, and Mel walked up to stand beside me.

  “He’ll change his mind,” she whispered.

  “Doubt it,” I mumbled. “Whatever. We have an evil Vampire empire to destroy.”

  Another knock on the door, and the citrus and sunshine scents of the Wereleopards punctuated my statement.

  ****

  Wick’s wolves, the Wereleopards, the Witches, Stan, and I convened in various places around Wick’s supersized dining table. Hordes of paper lay scattered across the dark surface, along with tablets, laptops, and smart phones. The scents of everyone in the room swirled together in a heady mixture, sprinkled with frustration and apprehension.

  I kept Sid’s visit to myself. It wouldn’t change any of our plans at the moment, and frankly my dreams were no one’s business.

  The door shut softly as our planning group bent over the table dissecting building plans and surveillance reports. The quiet click sent a shiver down my spine along with a cold prickling wave. Wick was back. His rosemary and sugar scent barreled down the hall ahead of him. He approached the table.

  Alone.

  “Where’s Amanda?” Steve asked. Though he spoke to his Alpha, his emerald gaze trained on me. He asked the question I wanted to ask, desperately, but refused to. Before Steve refocused on the maps, he winked at me.

  “She went home.” Wick’s gaze stayed as far from mine as possible.

  No one else seemed to have a problem looking at me.

  Steve nodded. “She shouldn’t be here for this kind of stuff, anyway.”

  The group parted to allow Wick space, and he rested both hands on the table. “Where are we?”

  The Wereleopards brought a lot of intel to the table, quite literally, thanks to Kayne Security Solutions, but we still needed a way into the Pharaoh’s lair without going against the entire horde. We might stand a chance, but Vampires weren’t honourable fighters. They’d likely kill my Witch boys before we reached them.

  Wick’s eyebrows furrowed. His neck bunched as Olly filled him in. “So we still need a stealthy way in.”

  Everyone nodded.

  Stan drummed his fingers along the table. “Why doesn’t Andy just infiltrate the building like she did with the KK warehouse? Slither through a vent and use the air ducts to gain entry?”

  Wick growled.

  We jumped.

  “No,” Wick said.

  “Why not?” Stan folded his arms across his chest. “She’s more than capable.”

  Wick nodded. “That method will land her in the lion’s den without any backup. She can’t take on the Pharaoh and save Ben at the same time.”

  “Maybe I could take on the Pharaoh after getting you guys in somehow, and you use the distraction to get the boys out,” I piped up.

  Wick’s mouth compressed. He still avoided my gaze. “Absolutely not.”

  “They might’ve installed external surveillance prior to vacating the KK Warehouse,” Steve said. He tapped his chin. “They might’ve studied the footage. If so, they’ll know about Andy’s skills. There might be a nasty surprise waiting for her the next time she tries to slither around air ducts to gain access to someone’s building.”

  “Exactly,” Wick huffed.

  Silence settled over the group as the wheels in everyone’s heads clanked around. My thoughts focused on the KK Warehouse Stan mentioned. Like a little breadcrumb, I followed the memory down a sequence of events.

  “Something’s not right.” I rifled through the surveillance pictures.

  “What do you mean?” Stan asked.

  Everyone turned to me except Wick. He kept his gaze trained on the reports.

  “When we raided the Pharaoh’s drug operations—almost half a year ago, geez—they knew we were coming. Now we know Tucker works for the Pharaoh, and his phone and office tapping probably gave him the information he needed to tip off the Pharaoh about our plans to take down his drug operation, but…”

  “But?” Ryan snapped.

  “Who bugged Lucien’s horde? The SRD found out about the blood bond Lucien forced on me from recordings, but no one ever discovered the source. That couldn’t have been Tucker, and Lucien said he grilled his entire horde and inner circle, including Wick.” Prickles raced up my spine. Connecting the dots sent my stomach in a knot. “So who’s the leak? According to Lucien, the recording came from an area not easily accessible by general visitors, which means whoever planted the bugs had to have access to someone in Lucien’s inner circle. And that person sent the evidence directly to the SRD and Tucker.”

  John growled. “What are you trying to say?”

  “There could be someone in this pack with ties to the SRD. Hell, maybe even the Pharaoh. We don’t know how deep the corruption at the SRD goes.”

  Ryan and John growled and pushed away from the table. Olly and Angie exchanged a smug glance. The Witches twitched but didn’t say anything.

  “You have some nerve, lady,” Ryan seethed. “We save you, we house you, we help you, and you turn around and point fingers at us?”

  “Whoa!” I held my hands up. “I mean no disrespect. I’m certainly not saying it’s you or anyone at this table. But it is a possibility, and after the VPD raid experience, wouldn’t you want to be sure? It won’t hurt to be extra cautious.”

  Wick growled.

  I tensed and turned to him slowly. Surprise, he wasn’t looking at me.

  “She’s right,” he said. “A mole exists somewhere and the most reasonable explanation is our pack, since Lucien questioned his entire horde. Although I was the only member of the pack to enter that room, a bug could’ve been planted on me or my clothes.”

  “It’s an easy problem to solve,” I said.

  The Werewolves stiffened.

  Before anyone else had a chance to growl or snap at me, I explained. “We can all sense a lie, either through smell or spell.” Well, almost everyone could. I winced and turned to Stan.

  He gave an exasperated sigh and waved at me to continue.

  “One by one, answer this question: do you work for the Pharaoh or the SRD?”

  Wick’s molten brown gaze met mine. I tensed but refused to bolt. When he didn’t look away, I raised my eyebrow. He didn’t need to answer the question, he’d already been interrogated by Lucien, but once he made eye contact, he couldn’t look away first. Alphas.

  He smirked. “No. I don’t work for the Pharaoh or SRD. I did not plant the bug, and I will not communicate the information from our planning to any other group in any way.”

  Well, he went above and beyond. His gaze bore a hole right through me, and my muscles itched to squirm in my seat. He’d enjoy that though. I broke the staring contest and turned to John. He grunted and repeated Wick’s more thorough statement.

  One by one, everyone around the table repeated Wick’s words. Even the Witches, the Wereleopards, and Stan, none of whom were on the suspect list.

  Not one single liar.

  “Well, that clears everyone here,” I said.

  “Still leaves the question of who was involved,” Steve said.

  “Maybe we’re not looking at this quite right. Who would jeopardize the pack to rat out Andy to the SRD?” Stan asked.

  “Christine,” Wick, John, and Ryan answered in unison without hesitation.

  Of course! As obvious as a man in a bra shop.

  John and Ryan’s lips curled in mutual grimaces. Wick looked like he sucked on bitter apples.

  “The question is.” Stan broke the silence. “Did Christine act as a jealous, scorned woman, as an agent for the SRD, or as a mole for the Pharaoh?”

  A grin spread across my face. “Why don’t we catch her and find out?”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Apple, meet tree

  “Never go to bed angry, stay awake and plot your revenge.”

  ~Unknown

  Apparently, stick insects, aka Christine, were adept at hiding. Honestly, the only thing I thought that woman excelled in was resting bitch face and spe
nding a stupid amount of money on designer clothing.

  Wary glances avoided my frothy glare as I searched for something, anything, in the faces around the table. After a week of hunting, we were no closer to finding Christine or the boys than we had been before.

  The only thing good about this week was the absence of Wick’s girlfriend. He’d been focused on the mission, but even during down time, he opted to hang out in the house instead of going out.

  Problems in paradise?

  God, I hoped so.

  Focus, my falcon squawked.

  My wolf snarled at her.

  Stalking mate takes time. My mountain lion yawned. Patience.

  Bloody cat was right. I looked around the table while my brain attempted to compute a new course of action. The Wereleopards and Vampires sat this meeting out. Until we had all our ducks in a row, they weren’t really needed anyway.

  “Well,” I said. “There goes that plan. At least for six days.”

  Wick’s head snapped up. “Six days?” He tapped his fingers on the table top. “What happens on the new moon?”

  “I’m a Demon anchor, remember? Sid will help. I won’t give him a choice about it.” For once, Sid’s impending visit didn’t send nervous pee signals from my brain. If he showed up as planned, I may as well make it worth my while.

  Wick recoiled at my Demon anchor reminder. A low growl rumbled from his chest. Surely, he remembered the circumstances of how I became an anchor. Lucien’s doing, but Wick’s hands held me down so Sid the Seducer got what he wanted. My blood. It had been the final straw for me and what ultimately led me to choose Tristan over Wick. None of it was Wick’s fault.

  The other pack members shifted in their seats.

  “If Veronika’s locator spell was blocked, what can the Demon do?” Wick snarled.

  Veronika and Lucus ended up using a contact within the Elders’ compound to discover the fate of my friends, not magic. We assumed Ben and the boys were held in the mansion the Pharaoh claimed in Shaughnessy, but we had no confirmation.

  I rolled my eyes at Wick’s comment.

  Wick’s gaze flashed wolf yellow.

  Witches and Demons had as much in common as Vampires and Werewolves, but I wouldn’t point that out just yet. “Sid can do lots.”

  Stan snorted.

  “Ew, not like that, pervert.” I shoved him.

  Stan chortled into his beer before taking another swig. The wolves and Witches looked less impressed. Actually, I had no clue what Sid could do to help our circumstances, but I’d momentarily tapped out my idea bank.

  While we twiddled our proverbial thumbs, Christine, the Pharaoh, and Tucker continued to skip along…

  “Tucker,” I hissed.

  The Werewolves turned to me in unison.

  “Let’s put Christine on the backburner for now. We can’t confirm she’s a traitor until we interrogate her, but even if she is, she’s not a key player.” Not in our plan to get the boys back, anyway. She still ranked number one on my revenge hit list. After all, she was responsible for Tristan’s death.

  John tapped his foot. Ryan gave me a pointed glare to get on with it.

  Geez. Tough crowd. “Tucker works for the Pharaoh, and he’s too arrogant and stubborn to know when to run and hide.”

  “You need to get information from him before you kill him,” Wick’s tone disapproved.

  My smile grew. “Oh, I don’t plan to let him die anytime soon.”

  ****

  Tucker slipped into his car after turning his nose up at the guards who escorted him out of the house. The air rustled under my eagle wings as I circled above, hopefully too high for any magical detection.

  Nicely settled at the northwest corner of Davie and Nicola, in the West End area, the grand Victorian estate home embodied everything a classic haunted mansion should. It also seemed familiar. Like I’d eaten pasta there, once.

  Crawling with supes, the home left little doubt as to who owned the property now.

  The Pharaoh.

  With a stone exterior, stained glass accents, and lavish garden space, this home looked like an out-of-place relic in the otherwise bustling area. Beautiful, but on the smallish side of things when it came to power-thirsty world-dominating Vampires. Why would the Pharaoh choose this location? Certainly, larger mansions existed on North Van or Marine Drive to appease his ego.

  This location wasn’t the massive complex we’d focused on during our planning. In fact, this building wasn’t listed as an asset of the Pharaoh’s. He must’ve had it under someone else’s name. One factor working in our favour was the vastness of the Pharaoh’s empire. He had so many properties and interests within and outside the Lower Mainland he had to spread his army of loyal followers thin.

  Now that we knew the physical location of this mansion, a call to Kayne Security would result in more building plans and information on their security system.

  It also left glaring questions: Did the Vampires hold Ben, Matt, Patty, and Christopher at this location or another? Were they being held together or in separate places? If they were at this house, together, who else lurked in the shadows to greet us? They had someone shielding the boys, which meant at least one powerful Witch in the Pharaoh’s employ. Hell, maybe he ordered Ben’s den to cloak themselves. We couldn’t count on the boys to help us liberate them.

  We needed Tucker for information.

  Thankfully, his meeting had been short, and from the smug look on Tucker’s bland face, also sweet. More questions. What had the Pharaoh offered him? Eternal life? Five hundred adoring virgins? Popularity?

  A personality?

  A screech ripped through my throat. I tried to swallow it, failed, and squawked into the night. Dammit!

  I pumped my wings and flew higher into the darkness, veering toward Tucker’s home. Hopefully, no one detected that.

  The flight to Tucker’s modest two-story house in West Vancouver took little time, and I beat ATF home, perching on a nearby roof with a good vantage point. Wick and John roamed among the trees of the nearby park in wolf form, while Ryan, Steve, Lucus, and Veronika sat in a van.

  I have an address of another Pharaoh house, I sent Wick.

  Good, he grunted. Phase two?

  Absolutely. I’d looked forward to this part all night. Time to curb stomp ATF.

  Delight bubbled up from my bird chest; I clamped my beak shut on the threatening screech. I wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

  Geez. And I thought the falcon was a squawker. I had no idea.

  Two cars pulled into Tucker’s driveway

  I gulped. Neither vehicle belonged to ATF. My muscles tensed. I clenched my beak harder until it hurt, and dug my talons into the soft wood of the roof’s trimming.

  Randall Tucker, ATF’s father and the Director of the SRD, stepped out of the first sleek black sedan in full, crisp business attire. He gently tugged at his sleeves and buttoned the top button of his jacket. Three large men exited the same vehicle, followed by four more from the second car.

  Dear ole daddy planned to visit his useless progeny, and he’d brought seven bodyguards. Surely, he didn’t worry about ATF harming him. Why the entourage, then? Or did he always have them?

  I’d never met Randall, but from all accounts, he was as norm as his son. The guards represented unknowns. Were they human?

  I peered closer. At the moment, they appeared like norms, sluggish when compared to a Vampire, and utterly lacking grace. But that meant nothing nowadays. With a history rife with persecution, most supes possessed at least some rudimentary skills at masking their true natures.

  Movement from one caught my eye. He stepped around the vehicle a little too smoothly. Shifter? Were? Vampire? Too bad eagles sucked at smelling things out.

  We have company, I told Wick.

  How many?

  Eight. One norm, seven unknown.

  Change the plan?

  Common sense said yes. We needed to sit back and revaluate. Certainly get more information on the gua
rds or wait for them to leave.

  Y—

  Tucker’s car pulled up and squashed my answer to Wick. Fuck sitting back. This useless sac was going down tonight.

  The guards moved with Randall as he came forward to clasp ATF’s hand, bro-style, and pull him in for a hug. As they walked, their business suits moved suspiciously tight around the guards’ hips.

  I leaned forward, eagle eyes straining.

  A flash of metal. My breath caught, and I swallowed another screech. At least one of the guards had a firearm. Safe to assume they packed some heat. Another guard betrayed his otherness when he moved to survey the yard.

  They’re carrying, I told Wick. At least two are supes.

  Your call, replied Wick.

  He might not trust his emotions around me, but he trusted my judgement for tactical assaults. My chest constricted a little as I continued to watch the men move to the house. Wick had John with him in wolf form. The others still waited in a van down the street. That made seven supes, including me, against nine.

  Good odds.

  We go in. Have the Witches spell the guns first, I told Wick. I’d been shot in the ass too many times not to give the weapons the respect they deserved. Sure, the spell wouldn’t last long, but we didn’t need a lot of time to disarm seven guards.

  Got it. Wait for my signal.

  While Wick communicated with his pack, I launched in the air and angled toward the house. Tucker and Tucker Senior strutted into the two-story home with their brat pack of douchebags following close behind.

  Before landing in the glow of street lights, I shifted to a crow and perched on the edge of the roof. The wind curled around me and rustled my black feathers. Dark shapes moved in the night.

  I tensed.

  Two crows appeared in the glow of light to land on each side of me.

  Piss off, I sent them.

  The birds cocked their little heads and blinked their beady eyes at me. Not Shifters or feras, just regular pests. Gah!

  They croaked a greeting and shuffled closer, wedging me between their little feathery bodies. One nudged my side with her wing, the other nestled his head down into his puffed-out feathers.

  Surrounded by crows, I squawked into the night. Their beady gazes once again turned to mine. I croaked again. They snapped their beaks shut and launched into the air. One cawed back at me. She sounded pissy.