A Fistful of Charms th-4

by Ким Харрисон

  "And you just let me keep talking to Ivy?" I said, not believing it.

  A shrug lifted his shoulders. "They're Weres. They aren't going to make a scene."

  Normally I would have agreed with him. Heart pounding, I snuck a look at the six Weres at the exit. They had scads of jewelry and were in bright colors, making them from the street pack. Bringing up my second sight, I felt the last of my bravado wash out of me. Their auras were rimmed in brown again. How had Walter managed to pull them back together like that?

  "Ah, Jenks?" I said, knowing Ivy was listening. "They're in a round. They aren't going to just sit there. We have to leave before the rest arrive."

  Jenks looked at me, looked at the Weres, then looked at me again. His gaze went to the roof, and he was probably wishing he could fly. "There's only one layer of shops," he said suddenly. "Let's go."

  Grabbing my arm, he pulled me into the fudge store. Feet stumbling, I followed him in, breathing deeply of the rich scent of chocolate. There was a small line at the counter, but Jenks plowed to the front of it amid a chorus of indignant protest. "Pardon, me. 'Scuse us," he said, flipping the barrier up between the front and the back.

  "Hey!" a large woman called out, her apron tied with the smartness of a uniform. "You can't come back here!"

  "Just passing through!" Jenks called cheerfully. The bags he held rattled, and letting go of my arm for a moment, he dipped a finger into the puddle of fudge cooling on a marble table. "Needs more almond," he said, tasting it. "And you're cooking it half a degree too long."

  The woman's mouth opened in surprise, and he pushed past her and into the kitchen.

  "There," I said, and Jenks's eyes shot to the back door, outlined by the boxes stacked around it. The security door was open to let the hot air of the kitchen escape through a normal-looking screen door. Beyond that were the employees' cars in a nasty-looking alley, and beyond that, the main road. In the distance, the straits sparkled, looking as big as a lake.

  "Ready?" Jenks asked.

  I jerked my splat ball gun out of my bag. "Yup. Let's go."

  "What the hell are you doing back here?" a masculine voice called.

  I turned, and the man's eyes went wide at my cherry-red gun, then he got nasty. "This is my place of business!" he shouted. "Not a paint ball stadium! Get out! Get out!"

  "Sorry," I mumbled, then bolted for the door when he shambled forward, hands reaching. Jenks and I dove through it, skittering into the alley in a surge of adrenaline. The bang of the heavy door slamming shut shot through me.

  "Oh look, Jenks," I said, as we slowed to get our bearings. "A dead-end alley."

  The wind was brisk, blowing up and against the back of the store, and with my blood humming and my steps quick, I started for the street and the cracked sidewalk beside it. It would take the Weres some time to work their way out and around to the back of the store unless they trashed the fudge shop. But I didn't think they would. Like their supposedly distant wild brethren, Weres weren't aggressive unless defending their own. But they were in a round, so who knew what they would do.

  "Ivy," I said breathlessly as we jogged to the road, knowing she could hear. "We're outside between the mall and the—Shit!" I exploded, skittering to a halt when, in a sliding sound of gravel on pavement, a trio of Weres skidded around the corner.

  They were wearing khaki pants and matching polo shirts to make them look like they were in uniform. Even worse, one of them dropped a duffel bag, and after unzipping it, started tossing nasty looking weapons to his buddies. I stood there, frozen. Were they nuts? This went way beyond a public show of strength. Hell, even vamps never did this! Not in broad daylight and on the street where any passing human could see, anyway.

  Someone cocked their weapon, and Jenks jerked me back. My mouth was still hanging open when we landed against a salt-rusted four-door, the front full of crumpled fast food sacks.

  Brett came around the corner, his pace fast and his eyes darting everywhere. Seeing me, he smiled. "We have them, sir," he said into the phone at his ear, slowing to a stop behind the three Weres with aggressive stances. "Behind the fudge shop. It's all over but the howling."

  Heart pounding, I looked at the road and the sporadic traffic. The memory of finding Nick tied to the wall swam up from my subconscious. A chill purged everything from me but a fierce determination. I wasn't strong enough to survive that. I couldn't let them take me.

  "You want me to make a circle and wait for Ivy, or you want to fight our way out, Jenks?" I said, my grip on my splat gun going sweaty.

  In a sliding sound of metal, Jenks pulled a dull metal bar from the nearby recycling bin, swinging it a couple of times. The three Weres with guns took a more aggressive stance. "You think we need Ivy?" he asked.

  "Just checking," I answered, then turned to the Weres, my arms shaking. "Right. Like you're going to shoot us?" I taunted. "If we're dead, you can't beat Nick's location out of us."

  Brett's jaw clenched. From the other side, three more Weres loped into view, to make seven men. I had fourteen sleepy-time potions. I had to act, and act now.

  "Subdue them," Brett said, squinting from the sun. Annoyed, he snatched the weapon from the nearest man. "Use your fists. You outnumber them, and I don't want the I.S. out here because of weapon discharges."

  Adrenaline surged, making me feel weak, not strong. From beside me, Jenks shouted, then leapt forward. Half the Weres came to meet him, their speed and ferocity shocking.

  Panic struck. Taking aim, I downed one with a charm. Then another. I wanted to help Jenks, but they were coming too fast. One slipped past him, and I gasped, falling to one knee.

  "Not today, you son of a bitch!" I exclaimed, plugging him. He slid to within three feet of me. I leveled my gun for the next one. He got three steps closer than the first.

  "Jenks! Fall back!" I shouted, retreating with my gun going puff-puff-puff.

  Three more went down. Frantic, I tossed the hair from my face. There were a lot more then seven Weres. I had downed at least that many. Where in hell was Ivy?

  "Rache!" Jenks shouted in warning. "Behind you!"

  I spun. A Were in leather was running for me. Behind him, the door to the kitchen was wide-open and full of rough-looking Weres in street clothes.

  I stumbled backward. They had come through the shop? Damn it! I had been afraid they would. They were not acting normal!

  "Rachel!" Jenks shouted again as the Were smiled to show his beautiful, beautiful teeth and closed his grease-stained fingers about my wrist. Big mistake.

  Grunting, I twisted my arm to grip his own thick wrist. My right foot came up and my sneaker smacked him in the kidneys. Wrenching around, I used his own weight to yank him down, falling to kneel so his elbow hit my upraised knee, bending it backward and snapping. He grunted as his elbow shattered.

  Puffing in satisfaction, I let him go and got to my feet. Where in hell was my splat gun?

  Spotting it alone on the pavement, I darted for it.

  "Hey!" I shouted, my foot pulled out from under me. Arms flailing to get between my face and the uprushing pavement, I hit the cement. Shocked, I twisted to find the Were I had downed wasn't withering in pain and holding his broken arm, but using it!

  "You bloody bastard!" I shouted, kicking at his face. "Let me go!"

  But he didn't, grimily holding on. Panic slid through me as I realized they were using the full potential of the round and someone was muting his pain. He utterly ignored the broken nose I gave him with my heel, and I smacked him again. Blood gushed and he finally let go, but not before he fastened one of those damned zip-strips on my foot.

  "You freaking bastard!" I shouted, scrabbling for my gun and plugging him right in the face. Furious, I turned to the two Weres following him and shot them too.

  The three collapsed, and shuddering, I got to my feet, holding three more at bay, my arms shaking as I shifted the aim from one to the other.

  "Jenks!" I shouted, and he was suddenly at my back. Stupid, stupid
witch. Until I got the thing off, I wouldn't be able to make a circle. All I had were the four charms in my gun and Jenks, his back now pressing lightly against mine.

  I could smell the sweat on him, reminding me of a meadow somehow. He had lost his disguise amulet at some point and his blond curls were tousled. The cut on his forehead was bleeding again, and red streaked his hands. My face went ashen when I realized it wasn't his but from the five Weres he had beaten into unconsciousness with that pipe.

  Brett stood with Walter behind two military Weres, their weapons cocked and ready to gun us down if they couldn't subdue us any other way. Past them, traffic passed, and curious onlookers were being soothed by professional-looking Weres in suits and ties, probably explaining this away as being a movie shoot or something. Behind us, the street Weres waited, hanging back but ready to descend when someone gave the order.

  I swallowed hard. With the strength of four alphas at his fingertips, Walter had driven them into a higher pitch of aggression, and with the lack of pain, there was nothing to stop them. Just the thought of gaining the focus had been enough to get them back together.

  Incredible, I mused, grip shifting on my splat gun as I tried to figure out how four charms would be of much help. What would happen if they actually got the focus was a nightmare in waiting. Every single Were would want a piece of it. The alphas would come flocking, and soon the major cities would be fighting their own little turf wars as vampires started taking them out, having decided they didn't like aggressive Weres who felt no pain and could Were as fast as witch magic. And with the focus binding them, the round wouldn't break apart. No wonder the vampires had hidden the ugly thing.

  "Jenks," I panted, knowing Ivy could hear. "They tagged me with one of those zip-strips. I can't make a circle to hold them off anymore. We can't let them get the focus. And I'm not strong enough to keep my mouth shut if they capture me."

  Jenks glanced at me and away. His grip tightened on the bloody pipe. "Any ideas?"

  "Nope." I panted, shifting my feet. "Unless you can hold them off long enough for me to get this damned strip off my foot."

  He jiggled out his knife, handing it to me. It was smeared with blood, and I felt sick. "I'll keep them off you," he said, his face going grim.

  I handed it back, knowing he was more effective with it than I was. "They're designed to be tamper resistant. It's going to take a pair of bolt cutters."

  Jenks shifted his balance to his toes. "Then we fight until Ivy gets here."

  "Yep," I agreed, fear settling firmly in me. This was bad. This was really bad.

  My gaze darted to Brett as he scuffed his feet. Walter had joined him, the savage glint in his eyes born from his grief. From behind me came the sound of the street Weres pulling chains from around their waist and the snick of knives being opened.

  Damn it all and shit on it. I did not want to die like this.

  "Ma'am?" Brett drawled, drawing my attention to him. "It would save everyone a good deal of trouble if you would surrender your weapon and come with us."

  "Trouble?" I shouted back, releasing some pent-up frustration. "For who?" My gaze traveled over the Weres. They kept filing in, surrounding us. There were five alphas now. The street Weres at our backs, military Weres at the front, and the credit card Weres at the outskirts, keeping everything nice and quiet and the pedestrian traffic moving.

  My stomach clenched when I realized three of the street Weres behind the Dumpster weren't injured, but shifting. They were shifting in broad daylight. In a public street. With the intent to tear me to pieces. And they were doing it really fast.

  "Ma'am," Brett tried again, playing the good cop or simply buying time for the turning Weres. "Put down your weapon and kick it to me."

  "Go to hell, Brett," I said darkly. "I've seen how you treat your guests. I know what it is now, and you aren't getting it. And this isn't a weapon, it's a gun!"

  Angry and frightened, I took aim and shot him.

  A blur dove between us. One of his men took it instead. The Were hit the ground and skidded to a stop, out cold before his face ground into the pavement. Brett seemed shocked I'd actually shot at him, and I shrugged. At the outskirts, stupid people clapped in appreciation. I could not believe this. I was going to be hacked to shreds to the accompaniment of applause.

  Brett glanced at them, then frowned. "Shoot her," he said softly. "Just shoot her in the leg."

  "Good going, Rache," Jenks muttered.

  Safeties clicked off. I spun. I had three charms left, and I wanted those four-legged bastards asleep before they finished putting on their wolf's clothing. Ignoring the chaos, I calmly plugged them both.

  The street Weres surrounding them exploded in anger. I backpedaled as they rushed me.

  "No!" Brett shouted, red-faced as he gestured. "Get out of the way!"

  Jenks was a blur of motion, the thuds of the bar meeting flesh sickening. The occasional chime of metal on metal rang out as someone threw a chain into the mix. My first thought, that we were going to die, turned into an ironic relief. As long as the street Weres were surrounding us, the military faction couldn't shoot.

  One of the Weres broke through Jenks's defenses, and I sprang forward. Grabbing the hairy arm someone conveniently gave me, I twisted and shoved. The Were stumbled away, howling in pain as I dislocated his shoulder. A nasty grin came over me. He had felt that. The bond was breaking. They were acting independently, and the round was falling apart!

  A sharp crack shocked through me and I jumped. They were shooting anyway!

  A closer burst of gunfire brought me spinning around. The Weres fell back, their aggression flaking to nothing as the packs divided. Heart in my throat, I found Jenks, weapon aimed at the sky and a savage expression on his face. The more disciplined military faction held their ground, but the street Weres panicked. In an instant they were gone, streaking past Jenks and me and dragging their downed companions, whether in fur, leather, or polyester.

  "Hold together!" Walter shouted from behind a row of men, but it was too late. "Damn you!" he swore. "Hold together! He's not going to shoot you!"

  Faint on the cool spring air was the sound of sirens.

  "Tink's diaphragm, it's about time," Jenks swore. The Weres who were left heard it too, and they began to exchange looks as they panted. The crowd watching started to break up, their steps fast and their faces pale as they realized that was real blood on the pavement.

  "You know who I am?" Jenks shouted, bloody but un-bowed. "I'm Jenks!" He took a breath, grinning. "Boo!"

  Several of the well-dressed Weres jumped, and a few of the military Weres touched their tattoos as if for luck or strength.

  Walter shoved himself to the front. "Hold together!" he shouted as his control over the second pack slipped away. "You swore an oath to me. You swore, damn it!"

  The alpha male in a suit gave him an ugly look. Saying nothing more, he turned and walked away. His wife slipped an arm in his, seamlessly snagging a store bag and heading for the top of the wide alley. There were no more bystanders watching now, and they melted seamlessly into the tourist traffic.

  Hunched and panting, I watched unbelieving as the ring of business Weres dispersed. I smiled sweetly at Walter, hefting my splat gun. It was empty, but he didn't know that. The sirens grew closer. If they had held together for five minutes more, they would have had us. It hadn't been the sirens, it had been their inability to stay together. Without the focus, they couldn't hold together when things got sticky.

  Choleric, Walter gestured to Brett.

  "Rache!" Jenks shouted.

  At least a dozen weapons turned to us. There was only one thing to do, and I did it.

  Grunting, I leapt at Brett. It surprised him, and though he was by far the better military person, I got him down, attacking not like a professional, but like a sissy girl with my arms around his knees. We hit the pavement together and I scrambled for a better hold.

  My arm went around his neck and I wrenched an arm painfully. And w
hile he would have felt no pain had they still been in a round, he certainly felt it now. "Tell them to back off!" I shouted.

  Brett started to laugh, the sound choking off when I pulled.

  "Ow," he said, as if I was simply bending back a finger, not ready to dislocate his shoulder. "Ms. Morgan. What the hell do you think you're doing, ma'am?"

  I could hear Nick's truck. "Getting the hell out of here," I said, stumbling as Jenks helped me stand upright without losing my grip. It was as awkward as all get-out, but we managed. A ring of weapons pointed at us. Jenks took my place, his face ugly as he bent his arm and pressed a knife to Brett's throat.

  "You ever see a pixy battlefield?" he whispered in the Were's ear, and Brett lost the vestiges of humor. White-faced, he went passive. Which was really scary in itself.

  The flash of a blue truck sped past.

  "Too far, Ivy!" Jenks shouted, and there was the squeal of brakes quickly followed by the horns and the gunning of an engine.

  I looked at my waistband and the phone. An insane need to giggle rose through me. I sure hoped we weren't roaming.

  Another squeal of tires, and Nick's blue truck rocked to a stop at the end of the alley.

  "Mom's here to pick us up, Jenks," I quipped, limping to the curb. "I'll get the bags."

  I scooped up one of our bags, seeing as it was on the way and it sort of added to the travesty. My empty splat gun never shifted from Walter, though he was behind two rows of men. Coward.

  "Hi, Ivy," I said tiredly, tossing the bag into the truck bed and lurching in after it. Yeah, it was illegal to ride in the back, but seeing that we had just somehow beaten up three Were packs, I wasn't going to worry about it. "Thanks for the ride."

  Nick was in the front seat, and pale. He handed a pair of bolt cutters through the window.

  "Hey, thanks!" I said, then started when Brett came thumping in beside me like a sack of potatoes. The Were was unconscious, and I looked at Jenks in question when he followed him in, admittedly a hell of a lot more gracefully. "I don't want a hostage," I said. Then wondered when Jenks had knocked him out. He wasn't dead, was he?