by Ким Харрисон
I took an angry breath, and Jenks caught my elbow, jerking me back. "I don't work for Trent," I said, feeling myself warm. "I broke my I.S. contract on my own. He had nothing to do with it, except that I paid for my freedom by almost nailing his ass for trafficking in biodrugs."
Walter smiled to show me small white teeth. "Says here you had breakfast with him last December after a night on the town."
My flush of anger turned to one of embarrassment. "I was suffering from hypothermia and he didn't want to drop me at the hospital or my office." One would have gotten the law involved, the other my roommate, both to be avoided if one's name was Kalamack.
"Exactly." Walter leaned forward, his eyes fixed on mine. "You saved his life."
Rubbing my fingers into my forehead, I said, "It was a one shot deal. Maybe if I had been thinking I would've let him drown, but then I would've had to give the ten thousand back."
Walter was smug as he leaned into his chair by the window, the sun glinting on his white hair. "The question you will answer is how did Kalamack find out about the artifact's existence, much less that someone knew where it was and where that person is?"
Slowly I sat on the edge of the couch, feeling sick. Jenks moved to the other side of the coffee table, sitting to watch my back, Walter, and the door all at the same time. Male Weres were known to cut females of any species a lot of slack since their hormones guided their thoughts, but eventually logic would kick in and things were going to get nasty. I glanced at the two men by the door, then the plate-glass window. Neither one was a good option. I had nowhere to go.
"I've nothing against you," Walter said, bringing my attention from the possibility of throwing one of them into the glass to break it, thus solving two problems at once. "And I'm willing to let you and your partner go."
Astonished, I stupidly did nothing when the small man pushed up from his chair in a smooth, very fast motion. The two men by the door were already moving. My breath caught and I stifled a gasp when the compact Were was suddenly on me.
"Rache!" Jenks shouted, and I heard the click of safeties. There was a scuffle that ended with his grunt of pain, but I couldn't see him. Walter's face was in the way, calm and calculating, his fingers lightly around my neck, just under my chin. Adrenaline pulsed to make my head hurt. Almost too fast to realize, the older Were had pinned me to the couch.
Heart pounding, I jerked back my first instinct to struggle, though it was hard, really hard. I met his placid brown eyes, and fear struck me. He was so calm, so sure of his dominance. I could smell his aftershave and the rising scent of musk under it as he hung over me, his small but powerful hand under my chin the only place we touched. His pulse was fast and his breathing quick. But his eyes were calm.
I didn't move, knowing it would trigger an entirely new set of ugliness. Jenks would suffer and then me. As long as I didn't do anything, neither would Walter. It was a Were mind game, and though it went against all my instincts, I could play it. My fingers, though, were stiff and my arm was tense, ready to jab his solar plexus even if it did get me shot.
"I'm willing to let you go," he repeated softly, his breath smelling of cinnamon toothpaste and his thick lips hardly moving. "You will return to Kalamack and tell him that it's mine. He won't have it. It belongs to me. Damn elf thinks he can rule the world," he whispered so only I could hear. "It's our turn. They had their chance."
My heart pounded and I felt my pulse lift against his fingers. "Looks to me like it belongs to Nick," I said boldly. And how had he known Trent was an elf?
I took a quick breath of air, jerking when he pushed himself away and was suddenly eight feet back. My gaze shot to Jenks. He had been dragged to the middle of the room, and he now held himself to favor his right leg. He gave me an apologetic look he didn't owe me, and the two men holding him let go at a small gesture from Walter. The dry blood in Jenks's his hair was turning a tacky-looking brown, and I forced my eyes from him and back to Walter.
Ruffled, I refused to touch my neck, instead draping my arms over the top of the couch. Inside I was shaking. I didn't like Weres. Either hit me or back off, but this posturing and threats was useless to me.
Exuding confidence and satisfaction, Walter sat, taking the couch opposite me and mirroring me almost exactly. Clearly the Were wasn't going to break the silence, so I would. It would cost me points in this inane game, but I wanted to see the end of it before the sun went nova. "I don't give a damn about your artifact," I said, voice soft so it wouldn't shake like my hands were threatening to. "And as far as I know, Trent doesn't either. I don't work for him. Intentionally. I'm here for Nick. Now…" I took a slow breath. "…are you going to give him to me, or am I going to have to hurt a few people and take him?"
Instead of laughing, Walter's brow furrowed and he sucked on his teeth. "Kalamack doesn't know," he said flatly, making it a statement, not a question. "Why are you here? Why do you care what happens to Sparagmos?"
I pulled my arms from the couch, putting one hand on my hip and the other gesturing in exasperation. "You know, I asked myself that same question just this morning."
A smile came over the Were, and he glanced to a decorative mirror, presumably two-way. "A rescue of the heart?" he said, and I warmed at the mockery in his voice. "You love him, and he thinks you're dead. Oh, that's classic. But it's stupid enough to be the truth."
I said nothing, gritting my teeth. Jenks shifted closer, and the sentries adjusted the grip on their weapons.
"Pam?" Walter called, and I wasn't surprised when a diminutive woman entered, arms swinging confidently, an amulet dangling from her fingers. She was dressed in lightweight cotton capri pants and a matching blouse, her long black hair coming to her mid-back. Defined eyebrows, thick pouty lips, and a delicate facial bone structure gave me the impression of a china doll. A very athletic china doll, I amended when she pointedly dropped the amulet on the coffee table in accusation.
Truth charm, I guessed by the notches on the rim, and I pulled my gaze away from the clatter of it hitting the table. Weres used witch magic more than vamps, and I wondered if it was because they needed the boost of power more than the vamps, or if it was that vamps were so sure of their superiority they felt they didn't need witch magic to compete with the rest of Inderland.
"She's not lying," the woman said, giving me a quick smile that was neither warm nor welcoming. "About anything."
Walter sighed as if it was bad news. "I'm sorry to hear that," he said softly.
Damn. I looked at Jenks. His eyes were wide and he looked anxious. He had heard it too. Something had shifted. Double damn.
Six more men came in and Walter stood, curving his arm familiarly about Pam's waist and tugging her closer. "Pit them," he said, sounding regretful, and Jenks stiffened. "I want to know if anyone is coming after her." He smiled at Pam. "Try not to do anything that can't be undone? We may have to give them back to whoever backed her in this. She many not belong to Kalamack, but she belongs to someone."
"Whoa! Wait up," I said, standing. "You'd let me walk out of here if I worked for Trent and was after your stinking statue, but you're going to put me away if all I came for was Nick?"
Jenks groaned, and I froze when Walter and Pam looked to the truth amulet on the table. It shone a nice, friendly green. "And you knew it was a statue, how?" Walter said softly.
Crap on toast. Stupid, stupid witch. Now they wouldn't stop until they found out about Jax. I knew Jenks's thoughts were on a similar path when he jiggled on his feet, anxious.
"Find out what they know," Walter said, and a wild look came over Jenks.
I fought to not move as someone put his hands on me, exerting a steadily growing pressure to fall into motion. Brett's stocky figure eased into the archway, his expression clearly saying he thought they were making a mistake. "I'm not going to talk," I said, shaking inside. "There isn't a spell stirred that can make me saying anything, much less the truth."
Walter favored me with a smile that showed his small tee
th. "I wasn't planning on using spells to make you talk. We have drugs for that," he said, and I went cold. "Sparagmos has quite a resistance to them and we've since turned to older methods. He's resisting those too, but maybe we can move him by hurting you. All he does is weep when we ask him where the statue is. Pam, will you supervise her interrogation? My ulcer acts up when I hurt a woman."
He started for Brett and the archway, leaving Jenks and me with a room full of weapons. Frantic, I looked from Jenks to Walter standing by the door, giving a quiet set of instructions to Brett. I scanned the room as if for options, finding none.
"If she knows, someone else does too. Find out who," Walter finished.
"Rache?" Jenks whispered, clearly tensed to move but waiting for me to give the word.
"I claim ascension," I said, frightened. Oh God. Not again. Not on purpose.
Walter jerked, but it was Pam who spun, her dark hair furling with the motion and her lips parted, a surprised doll with red cheeks.
"I claim the right for pack ascension," I said louder. I wasn't about to fight her, but I could stall for time. Kisten would know something was wrong if I didn't call him in three days. At that point I didn't care if I had to be rescued or not. "I want three days to prepare. You can't touch me," I added for good measure.
Anger pulled Walter's white eyebrows tight, and furrows lined his brow. "You can't," he said. "You aren't a Were, and even if you were, you'd be nothing but a two-bite whore."
Jenks didn't relax, but he was listening, as was everyone in the room. Poised. Waiting.
"I can," I said, shrugging out of the grip of whoever held me. "I do. My pack number is O-C(H) 93AF. And as an alpha, I can claim ascension over whomever in hell I want to. Look me up. I'm in the catalog." Shaking, I gave Pam a shrug I hope she understood meant it was nothing personal. She looked at the bruises on my neck, her eyebrows rising but her thoughts unknown.
"I don't want to front your lousy tick-infested pack," I said, making sure everyone knew where I was coming from. "But I want Nick. If I best your alpha, then I claim him and leave." I took a slow breath. "We all leave. Intact and unharassed."
"No!" Walter barked, and everyone but Pam and I jumped.
Jenks looked worried, his green eyes pinched. "Rache," he said, apparently not caring everyone could hear him. "Remember what happened the last time?"
I shot him a poisonous look. "I won last time," I said hotly.
"By a point of law," he said, jerking to a standstill when he tried to take a step and the men surrounding him threatened violence.
"Jenks," I said patiently, ignoring the pointed weapons. "We can try to fight our way out of some crazy survivalist's group, swim for shore, and hopefully elude them, or I can fight one stinking Were. One way, we end up hurt and with nothing. The other way, I'm the only one who gets hurt, and maybe we walk away from this with Nick. That's all I want."
Jenks's face fell into an unusual expression of hatred that looked wrong on him. "Why?" he whispered. "I don't know why you even care."
I dropped my eyes to the carpet, wondering that myself.
"This isn't a game," Walter said, his round face going red. "Get the medic up here with the drugs. I want to know who sent them and what they know."
The man grabbed me and I tensed.
"Ah, Walter, dear?" Pam said, and everyone in the room froze at the ice in her voice. "What, by Cerberus's balls, are you doing?"
In the silence, Walter turned. "She isn't a Were. I thought—"
His words cut off at Pam's low noise. Her eyes were squinting and her hands were on her hips. "I've been challenged." Her voice got louder. "How am I supposed to walk out of this room and not have every last whining dog think I'm a coward? I don't care if she's a leprechaun and has green tits, she just pissed in my food dish!"
Jenks snickered, making Walter's ears redden. "Sweetie…" he coaxed, but he was hunched and submissive. I cocked an eyebrow at Jenks. Maybe I'd been going about Weres all wrong. It was the women who held the balls of the alpha males that really had the power.
"Sugar Pup," he tried again when she pushed his hand off her. "She's stalling for time. I want to know who's coming to bail her out before they get here. She's not a Were, and I don't want to jeopardize gaining the artifact by adhering to old traditions that don't belong anymore."
"It's those traditions that put you where you are now," she said scathingly. "We don't have to give her three days." Pam turned to me, simpering. "We do it now. Think of it as me softening her up. It will be fun. And if she cheats with her magic, the pack can rip her to shreds."
My hope did the proverbial swirl down the crapper. Walter apparently didn't know what to do either as he stood in blank surprise while Pam kissed his cheek, smiling. "Give me twenty minutes to change," she said, then sashayed out.
I looked at Jenks. Shit. This was not what I had planned.
Fourteen
Little sun made it past the fragile spring leaves, and I shivered. It is the cold, I thought, not the rank smell of ash and emptied bowels or the people joining the noisy throng in twos and threes. And it wasn't that Jenks had his hands cuffed before him. And it couldn't be from the air of a festival growing as everyone gathered to see me get mauled. No, it had to be from the chill May afternoon.
"Yeah, right," I whispered, forcing my hands from my elbows and rocking to my toes to loosen my muscles. The scent of old smoke was strong from the nearby fire pit, almost hiding the rising odor of musk. I had a feeling they would've lit the bonfire to add to the travesty if it had been later. As it was, the people in fatigues and little caps were arranging themselves in small knots in one corner. Across the clearing, the street Weres in their baggy, colorful clothes were more cool as they portrayed an indifference that was fake but effective nonetheless. Between them was the third group, wearing slacks and dresses. They were quietly laughing at the guys in fatigues, but were clearly wary of the rougher, wild cannons the street Weres made with their show of jewelry and loud voices. The excited chatter was getting on my nerves.
Under it was the sensation of gathering power. It tickled through me, and my expression blanked as I slowly recognized the unfamiliar feeling. With thoughts of the fiasco at Mrs. Bryant's running through me, I opened my mind's eye to see the surrounding Weres' auras. My gut twisted as they swam into view.
Crap on toast, I thought, glancing worriedly at Jenks. All three packs had the same sheen of brown rimming their auras. Most Weres had an outermost haze reflecting the predominant color of their male alphas, and the chance that all three alpha males on the island had brown auras was slim. They were bound into a round under one Were. Damn it, this wasn't fair!
And the bond was strong too, I realized as I scanned the compound for a way out of this. Strong enough to sense, as it hadn't been at David's intervention, which didn't bode well for the upcoming alpha contest. Listening to the jeers and chatter around me, I couldn't help but feel as if the extra strength came from the subordinate members joining it.
Walter wasn't an especially powerful alpha, and I wasn't vain enough to think that they had done this just to see me get torn apart. I was getting the sensation that they had been bound to a common goal for weeks, maybe. Days, at the least.
Disconcerted, I dropped my second sight and stretched where I stood, legs spread wide and bending at the waist to place the flat of my arms against the hard-packed dirt. I had to find a way to break the round or today would be a repeat of Karen without the happy ending.
My butt was in the air, with only my black tights between me and their imaginations, and at a rude laugh, I came up in a slow exhale. I turned to Jenks. They had let him wash the blood off his hair, and his blond mop was in loose ringlets, throwing his green eyes in stark relief. Youthful features pinched, he stood absolutely still for once, and I didn't think it was because of the armed guard. Actually, I was surprised they had him here, but he was providing a lot of entertainment and was a curiosity in himself. I could understand their confidence. Eve
n if we got away, how could we escape survivalists, street-racer gangs, and Weres with credit cards?
About the only thing going for me was that my rudimentary ley line skills hadn't made it to Walter's report. I was a strict earth witch, according to it, and seeing as I hadn't made a circle or hit the wolves with anything other than an earth charm, they had no idea I could work the lines too. Just as well. They would have put one of those nasty black ratchet-wristbands on me for fear I'd tap a line through my familiar and make them all toads. That I didn't have a familiar was a mute point. The band would have still made me helpless, robbing me of the energy I had in my chi and spindled in my head. And I wanted to use it.
I looked at my feet and stifled a shiver of nervousness. I'd wanted to turn Jenks his proper size before this got started. Jax waited at the hotel, and as long as it was warm, Jenks could fly back and they could get out of here. This wasn't a rescue anymore; we were down to salvage.
Excitement rose through the surrounding Weres—sending the feeling of sandpaper over the skin of my aura now that I was aware of it—and I followed everyone's attention as Pam made her sedate way to us. Her red robe fluttered about her bare feet, and with her hair flowing about her, she looked exotic, walking under the trees as if belonging to the earth. My muscles tensed, and avoiding her eyes, I went to Jenks for a last word.
"Stop!" one of his guards barked before I had gone three feet, and I froze, hip cocked.
"Give me a break," I said loudly, as if I wasn't shaking inside. "What, by the Turn, do you think I'm going to do?"
Pam's voice rose high, carrying a derision I wasn't sure was aimed at me or the guys with guns. "Let her talk to him," she said. "It may be the last time she has her wits about her."
