“If we can come to an understanding.”
She lifted a hand to my cheek and patted it. “It’s so cute that you think you have any ground to negotiate. Consider it a privilege that I’m only firing you, Miss Kline.”
Pulling away, I turned, crossing my arms over my chest. “Oh, I don’t think you want to fire me.”
“I’m quite sure I do.”
“You’re keeping Caleb a secret from Igor. Imagine if he found out, the trauma that could cause.”
Any trace of amusement evacuated Inga’s face. “You know how easily I can kill you, right?”
“I know you’re capable of killing me. But I’ve been an employee here for five weeks. I go missing, this is going to be one of the first places authorities are going to look. And by authorities, I don’t mean the Chicago Police.”
That heated up the vampire’s cool demeanor. Dealing with one hood was child’s play. A whole clan, however? Difficult, even if Inga called in her more long-toothed employees to help.
“I imagine you’re a fan of the saying keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Hard to get much closer than working in a lab right inside the heart of your operation on your dime.”
I had her hooked; I could tell by the way she squinted at me.
“And precisely what is your offer, Miss Kline, if you stay on?”
I grinned. “Igor likes me. He thinks we’re friends. I could use that to find out just how much you should or should not trust him. Put me on his project. Give me access to his files, his communications. I’m an expert in investigating misdeeds. It’s what I was born and bred to do.”
Inga chewed on that a moment before finally, relenting. “But if at any point you’re not upholding your end, you’ll be subject to termination.” Her grip enveloped my hand, making my bones crack. “You have so much of your mother in you. I find that... surprising. Report to Lab 3 tonight at 9 PM tonight. I will ask my assistant to inform Igor that you will be joining his team, and I’ll let you know when I expect you to report.”
Chapter Nineteen
Two packages of premium dumplings landed on the table with a thud. Tobias, canine deep in a bowl of discount curry, moved only his eyes and not his head to look up at me with his quizzical expression.
“I have the best news ever.”
Mid-suck on a mouthful of vindaloo, he gave no response.
“Come on, ask me,” I whined. “Or is courteous curiosity after someone comes in the door and throws down top grade pork dumplings not a thing the English do?”
He lowered the bowl. “We’re in the general nature of telling everyone too bubbly over their basket to sod off. But, if you Americans need that sort of thing...” He cleared his throat and held his hand aloft, taking on the form of an overly dramatic Shakespearean actor. “Verily, maiden, what delights thee so that thou wouldst return to our domicile bearing the pasta-pocketed pigs of orient east?”
I plopped down in the seat across from him. “My emotions are wasted on you.”
“Ah, something we can agree on. So, then?”
“Inga Rosenthorn called me into her office and threatened to fire me, but I blackmailed her into transferring my internship to Igor’s lab.”
The wolf’s face curdled. “Let me get this right. Your source of cosmic joy is that you made an enemy of Dracula’s daughter and because of that, will from now on be working under the vampire who admitted he was the reason slayers went extinct and was also part of a conspiracy that murdered my mate and held you in a secret dungeon for three days?”
I nodded. “Isn’t that awesome?”
Tobias let his fork clank against the bowl as he rose from the table. “I don’t know if it’s because you’re American, or because you’re a hood, but there’s something seriously wrong with what tickles your fancy.”
“Come on, Tobias. Don’t you see? This was the original plan. I work with Igor, while using the access to WWL’s files to see who Cynthia’s conspirators were and what they were up to.”
“Conspirators? That’s a great word. Perfect, in fact. Because think about what that means: there were other vampires working with Cynthia, and we don’t know who or why. In fact, it could have been WWL and Inga Rosenthorn for all you know.”
“If it is, I’ll be able to dig that out by accessing the research logs!” I said. “Igor says Cynthia wasn’t funded by WWL, but she was using his lab’s facilities. That information all backed up daily on WWL’s servers. If there’s anything I’m going to be able to find there, that’s how I’m going to get to it.”
Tobias shoved away from the table and crossed to the sink. “You mentioned blackmail as well. What information could you possibly have that Inga wouldn’t want to get out?”
The moment of truth never sets up an appointment to let you know when it’s coming. It just shows up at the door with a suitcase and a machete.
My voice grew tiny and my righteousness shriveled. “There’s a slayer living on the twenty-seventh floor.”
A werewolf’s sense of hearing outstripped Huey’s several times over. When Tobias asked me to repeat myself, his hand cupped around his ear, I knew it wasn’t because he hadn’t heard me. He simply hadn’t believed me. I never knew a wolf could blanch. Their pulse beat so strong, they were often flush with color.
Tobias. Blanched.
“Impossible.”
I shook my head. “I thought so too. But he is a slayer. He was able to pin me to a wall and conjure a ball of sunlight on command. Not to mention he runs faster than my eyes could follow.”
“Not that there’s a slayer,” Tobias mumbled. “That you would discover something like that, and keep it from me.”
Guilt twisted my insides, smashing my pancreas into prune paste. “His being there is kinda a secret.”
“And your loyalty to him is more than your loyalty to—Oh. Wait a minute. I get it.”
Letting go of his rigid stance, Tobias grinned. The anger, pushed down within him, became a concentrated undercurrent between us.
“You fancy this guy.”
“I... I...”
What was I, some pimply teenager being caught sexting? Why did I feel like I should be guilty for being attracted to someone? Tobias wasn’t my father. He wasn’t even clan. I shot some courage into my spine and reminded myself that not only did I have my big girl underwear on, but that was the only kind I owned.
“Yes, I do.” Then, so he didn’t think I was some kind of lovesick puppy, because I did still value his opinion for reasons I couldn’t even begin to fathom, I added, “But that’s irrelevant. Tobias, why are the vampires funding Igor’s research if the slayers aren’t extinct?”
The skin over his mouth suckered. “Isn’t it obvious? Because they only have a male.”
That simple statement, that obvious truth, caused a flurry of understanding to come crashing down on me. One thing I had learned in my life was that two seemingly contradicting truths could exist in parallel. Wolves hated hoods, but they were still good people. Physics explained in simple terms how the world worked, but in ways that taken together were very hard to understand.
Caleb was a refugee, and WWL was using him.
Logic lined up the next question. “Why does WWL want to control the re-creation of slayers? What’s in it for them that they’re covering all their bases?”
“And why are they folding you into whatever goal that is?” Tobias added.
My head snapped in his direction. “What are you saying? That I’m being played?”
“If keeping this slayer they have secret was so critical, they never would have let you near him. Inga Rosenthorn wanted you to learn about him. WWL wants you working with Igor.”
“WWL wants me spying on Igor.” I felt the color drain from my face as I came to grips with how gullible I’d really been. “Dios mío, she even got me to suggest it, like it was my idea.”
Tobias leaned back on his haunches, balancing his forehead on the points of his fingers. “Just because they can’t en
thrall creatures like you and me doesn’t mean they can’t manipulate the shit out of us the old-fashioned way.”
“I am being played.” I picked up my shattered courage self-confidence and pieced it back together. “I’m going to quit tomorrow. We’ll go back to Paradise. We’ll figure something else out.”
“Like hell we will.”
When I turned from the sink, Tobias was inches from me. Our living together had worn away the intensity of my instincts around him. I’d been feeling it for a while, and now, I had a demonstration of my numbness to detect him as danger. The wolf could have lifted his hands and snapped my neck in that moment. Instead of resort to such violence, however, Tobias wielded an emotional weapon.
“You owe me,” he growled. “I’ve been sitting here, twiddling my thumbs, for weeks, trusting you to act. Werewolf blood is still on your hands, and the only way you’re ever going to wash it off is to find out why Kara was killed. Until you do that, your debt is unpaid.”
I couldn’t deny the weight of it, and the possibility that Cody’s dad might have suffered a similar fate still niggled at me. But strange experiments on werewolves having anything to do with resurrecting slayers? Where to draw the dotted line that might connect them?
I was barely twenty-one, and already, my lapses of judgment, my inability to act when actions could count, created burdens that were now forcing my knees to buckle. Just because I bore a name of an infamous hood didn’t mean I had to become one myself. The world was fresh with opportunities for me to earn my own shame, and it seemed I was prepared to pursue those opportunities without regard to my own life.
“You’re right. I have to see this through. Even if Inga’s playing me, I have to let her.”
“And try not to get killed along the way,” Tobias added.
“Would you care?”
“Of course, I care.” His hand planted on the table as he leaned over, putting his face right into mine. “I’m not innocent in this either. I should have found her sooner. I shouldn’t have lived when she died, but I did. Now, my life is an obligation to her memory. Plus, if anything happens to you, Cody’s going to kill me.”
Lifting my eyes, I locked gazes with him. “If not for Cody, would you care though?”
The wolf before me gnashed his teeth. “Because of your indifference, I have lost my mate. Before that, I lost my brother. After, I lost my country, my pack, and my will. What the bloody hell do you think?”
“I think part of you would be happy to see another dead hood.”
He shot up, and I didn’t miss the way he worked his fists. “Beyond genetics, by what qualification are you a hood? You don’t dance around fires in the full moon. You barely even trained in Chicago until I got here. Hate hoods as I did back in England, at least they respected clan like we do pack. But you? You have both of your parents, just a short drive away, and you refuse to even talk to them. Even though doing so would mean you could take your rites and be ready for the battles that are no doubt coming. But you, Gerwalta Kline? You’re not a hood. Not in the ways that really count.”
Something about what he said, something about the disdain with which he said it, lit the embers of anger within me. I’d barely realized I had moved when I was on my feet, reaching for silver – any silver – my fingers could find. The only thing nearby was a modest collection of decorative teaspoons I had mounted to the wall by the refrigerator. I moved like a scythe, cutting across the room, picking one of the spoons from its braces, and sending it spinning toward Tobias.
The wolf grinned when he caught it effortlessly from the air. It never would have pierced his hide, of course. It was only a teaspoon. But, it was silver, ninety-seven percent if I recalled.
The smile on Tobias’s face melted as the metal leeched away from the utensil, and into his skin. Within moments, the werewolf, face contorting, groaned as he gathered enough strength to let the spoon drop to the floor. The pain was sharp enough to take him to a knee.
I lorded over him, making all my five-feet, seven-inches feel like a mile. “Tell me again I’m not a hood.”
Accusing eyes full of rage and hurt lifted from the floor, tears welling. The skin across his palm cracked and sizzled. “Silvering me doesn’t change my opinion.”
Any sense of righteousness fizzled. I reached out to help him, falling into a cascade of regrets. My efforts were met with a snarl. Tobias huffed, pushing away my hands, holding his injured hand up to examine. When he looked back to me, there was no doubt of what I was in his eyes now.
Worse than a hood, I was a traitor.
“You and me? We’re through. Make sure to watch your back every way you go, Geri, because I won’t be there anymore.”
Chapter Twenty
I stared at my phone, propped on the table next to my bed to display the time, as first the numbers grew, then reset, then started their upward climb again. At 4:30 AM, a rosy glow beat the intrinsic sense inside me that dawn approached.
The sleepless night brought clarity, a lack of rest my penance. What Tobias said had been right. If I had listened to him when he first came to me for help, none of this might have happened. Kara might still be alive. But that wouldn’t have saved his brother, and it more than likely wouldn’t have saved Mr. Ryland. Atonement came when the blood on my hands had been washed away. To survive whatever trap Inga Rosenthorn was weaving for me, however, I’d need to be at the top of my game. What I wanted didn’t matter anymore. My life was no longer, would no longer be, my own.
Should I just swallow my pride and take my rites? After, maybe I could convince my mother to let me do what needed to be done. Would she, though? Brünhild Kline wore a hood woven of indifference to wolves and a love of control. She’d lived all her life in tandem with the Paradise Pack and, despite that, her relationship with the Rylands was that of a brute authority, issuing ultimatums. If I went through rites, walked through the fire, and became one of her vassals, she’d use me and my ability to lure in the wolves for all the wrong reasons. Why couldn’t Tobias understand that I might be stronger if I became a righteous hood, but I was a better ally to our cause as a nascent?
I needed him to listen, but the only way Tobias was going to hear me out after what I’d done was if he was forced to. Which meant, I was going to have to call him.
Sleep clung to the edges of Cody’s voice. “So you do still have my number. Your timing still sucks, though.”
Any joy I took from his voice fell away as the woman in the background spoke. “Who is it, baby?”
The sound of smacking lips conjured a vision in my mind’s eye: Cody rolling over to kiss his mate before crawling out of bed. “It’s just Geri, pup. You go back to sleep. I’ll talk out in the living room.”
Just Geri.
“What’s wrong, Geri?”
“Why do you automatically assume something’s wrong? Can’t I just call to chat?”
“The fact that you haven’t called in two months would suggest not. Plus, I got a text from Tobias who said, and I quote, ‘your hood is a conceited slag who can protect her own sorry, secretive ass.’ Not sure what a slag is, but I’m guessing it’s not a compliment.”
I bit my bottom lip. “I didn’t know that he checks in with you.”
“Of course, he checks in with me. I’m his alpha. And as his alpha, I should feel obligated to take his side. Only, the ‘slag’ he’s talking about is you. You got an open mike. Tell me why I should reprimand the newest member of my pack.”
“Because he’s just so... moody. And stubborn. And all he does is sit around the house and brood all day long while I go to work. I mean, he did get a job, but still, it’s only a couple hours a day. I get that he’s frustrated by the lack of progress on finding anything out about why the wolves are being targeted, but he doesn’t seem to understand that I’m just a nascent, and that WWL is run by vampires that could snap my neck in moments if they got the notion.”
“Nah, it’d take them at least a minute. You’d put up a hell of a fight.”
I laughed despite myself.
“Don’t forget that Tobias lost his mate just a few months ago. He’s still grieving. He may be grieving forever.”
“I know. I KNOW. But you know what the weird thing is? He doesn’t seem to be mourning her. At least, what I feel from him isn’t like what I feel around other wolves that have lost their mates.”
Cody ruminated on that in silence for a moment before saying, “Maybe it’s different in cases of unnatural death. All the wolves you’ve been around here in Paradise lost their mates from old age. Most knew it was coming months in advance. God, I still think about the way Reina had to watch Harold being eaten alive by cancer.”
Harold Klimt knew he was dying for two years before finally succumbing to the disease. I was eleven, and just starting the part of my training that saw me accompanying my mother into the packlands on routine meetings with the alpha and beta. My unique gift, the ability to sense wolves, didn’t end at their proximity. Like the wolves themselves, heightened emotional or physical sensations transmitted to me, like a radio signal coming in over an AM channel in the middle of the night. A week before the end, Brünhild put me in the van and drove me to their home. She saw Harold’s pain and Reina’s suffering and shrugged.
I felt it viscerally, and spent the next week crying, both from what they felt, and from my inability to understand what was happening to me.
I choked back my tears even now, recalling that time. “Me too.”
“With Tobias,” Cody continued, “who knows? Plus, we don’t know exactly what them vamps did to Kara before she died, and if the effect of that spilled over to him at all. Didn’t you say that whatever they did to her, she couldn’t sense his proximity anymore? Just at a psychological level, think what that had to have been like.”
My brow furrowed. “Are you saying that whatever they did to her, it might have had a physical effect on him, even though he wasn’t even directly subject to the same condition?”
“Mating bonds are funny things.” The alpha laughed under his breath. “Lately whenever Lisa gets a craving for pickles, I look down and see I’ve eaten a whole jar without even realizing it.”
Relinquished Hood (Red Hood Chronicles Book 2) Page 12
