True Colors (The Demon's Apprentice Book 6)

by Ben Reeder

  “And I still have no idea where I stand with you,” I said.

  “As it should be,” she offered a hint of a smile and stepped back to stand by the door.

  “So, seriously, you’re going to lose your magick, but you’re getting super-strength, senses and regeneration. All you need is some claws or a red costume and a pair of swords, and you’re a superhero, dude.” Lucas grinned at me, and I could see the effort he put into the smile, but I could also hear the way his scent was losing the acrid bite that I somehow knew came from stress.

  “Great, leave it to you to make it dorky,” Wanda said.

  “He’s just thinking like a game master,” Monica said. She leaned closer and put her lips to Lucas’s ear. “Play your cards right, and you can be my master later on.” Lucas didn’t seem to react, but I could hear his heartbeat speed up, and see the slightest darkening of his cheeks. Monica licked his earlobe before she pulled away, and I wondered how Shade lived like this, knowing everyone’s secrets in spite of their best efforts. Lucas turned and spoke in a soft voice.

  “Don’t make me spank you,” he said, almost under his breath. Monica’s eyes went a little wide, and Lucas got a smug grin on his face. “Score one for me,” he said to himself. Suddenly I understood the game they were playing. The objective seemed to be to get a reaction out of the other, without anyone knowing. Once again, I wondered how Shade kept her cool.

  I realized Wanda had said something to me, and I looked her way. “I’m sorry, I didn’t get that.”

  “Really?” she said, putting one hand on her hip. “You get super-hearing, and suddenly you act like you’re deaf?”

  “It’s male super-hearing,” Amanda said. “It lets him ignore women better.”

  “No, I keep hearing and smelling a thousand different things, it’s hard to keep track.” As I said it, I noticed the look Wanda snuck toward Amanda, and the scent of her got sharper in my nostrils, more musky.

  “I was asking if they were letting you eat solid foods yet. You look like you’ve lost weight.”

  “They’re bringing me something,” I said. “I hope it gets here soon, too. I’m starving.”

  “At least that much stays the same, then.” Mom said. She started to say something else, but my nose picked up the scent of food, and my saliva glands went into overdrive. Seconds later, the nurse pushed a cart into the room with the promised four trays of food. For a few minutes, I wasn’t aware of much else except steak, hamburger and cheese. I devoured everything in front of me, even the vegetables. I stopped short of licking the tray, but it was tempting.

  “Dude, you act like you haven’t eaten for a week,” Lucas said.

  “I just healed seven years worth of broken bones and injuries,” I said. “Remember what it was like last time I did that?”

  “You ate three or four of everything on the menu at Dante’s,” Wanda said. “Same principle, huh?”

  “I guess so,” I said. “The energy has to come from somewhere.”

  “No wonder Shade’s so...healthy,” Monica said. She looked down at her own full figure, and Lucas stepped in behind her.

  “You’re my kind of beautiful, baby,” he whispered. “And don’t you forget it.” She took a sharp breath in and straightened slightly, and I could smell her arousal. But her heartbeat slowed, and she smiled contentedly, the stress in her posture gone.

  I turned toward the door as two new scents came to my attention. One was Dr. Evans, the other was the nurse from my healing bout. Everyone turned toward the door, Kim and Amanda reaching behind their backs, Dr. C for his coat, and Lucas stepping in front of Monica and dropping his right hand toward his pocket. Wanda’s hand went to her pentacle, and Mom put her hand on my arm. My lips drew up at everyone’s reactions. I pitied anyone coming my way with ill will. Even Death would have to wait at the end of a long line if my friends had it in for someone. By the same token, it was sobering that their first reaction was to get ready for trouble. Everyone relaxed a little when the doctor walked in.

  “If I could ask for a little bit of privacy for my patient,” Evans said with a thin smile. “Visiting hours are ending for today, I think.”

  “We’ll see you tomorrow,” Dr. C said. Everyone else murmured something similar as they left, and in a few seconds, only Mom was beside me.

  “I’m just going to take a little blood,” the nurse said, laying out paper wrapped medical things on the table next to my bed. Her name tag read Michaels, now that I could focus. She took my arm and swabbed the inside of my elbow, then pulled a needle from the array of instruments. Mentally bracing myself for the sting of the needle, it was almost disappointing when I barely felt the stick. When she pulled it out, though, I yelped as much in surprise as in pain.

  “Shouldn’t it hurt more going in?” I asked.

  “It’s a side effect of your new healing ability,” Nurse Michaels said. “Your body healed around the needle.” She dabbed at the spot, but only got a tiny drop of blood. “Less than one centimeter staining,” she turned and told the doctor.

  “That’s good,” he smiled. “Well, Mr. Fortunato, you appear to be well past any physical crisis stage. You’re wounds are closing at an acceptable rate and your body has undergone the initial healing surge. You’re ready to be discharged. Mr. Kain has listed himself as your alpha, so as soon as he gets here, I can let you go.”

  “My son is coming with me,” Mom said. Her tone was deceptively calm, and I recognized the same calculating look on her face as I sometimes got when I was thinking of terrible things to do to someone.

  “Miss Murathy,” Evans said, blinking. “Your son isn’t the same as he was two days ago. He needs guidance from an alpha. If you take him home with you, he would be a danger to your entire family. Himself included. It’s also not customary for a newly Ascended pack member to disobey an alpha’s wi-”

  “I can handle my own son, doctor,” Mom said. “I am Mulani.” The doctor frowned at Mom in confusion but the nurse did a double take. She touched Evans arm to get his attention, and when he turned to her, she nodded.

  “It goes against my better judgment, but I’ll let you take him home,” he said, casting another look at the nurse. “But once he leaves, we are not responsible for anything that happens.”

  “I understand,” Mom said, her tone formal. “I accept it.”

  “Then I’ll have the discharge papers drawn up, and you’re free to take him home.” They left the room, and I turned back to Mom.

  “Are you sure, Mom?” I asked her. “I mean, I don’t think I’ll do anything but I don’t know what to expect. Kain my be a di...a jerk, but he knows what he’s doing.”

  “Chance, you’re not going to hurt me or Deirdre,” Mom said. She went to the closet next to the door and pulled out some clothes, then brought them to the bed. “Just get dressed so we can get you out of here and back home.”

  I slid out from under the sheets and got my pants and socks on under the hospital gown, then shucked it off and pulled the shirt over my head. When I was done, I turned to see Mom looking out the window. She turned back to me and led the way out of the room. The hallways were a tranquil green color that invited depression. There was brief stop at the nurses desk to sign some paperwork, then were headed for the elevator. Wood paneling was a thin veneer over burnished steel, and we stepped on when the door slid open. Two floors passed with apathetic dings, then the doors rolled aside to let us out in the darkened lobby. The lone guard at the desk occupied the oasis of light just inside the doors, and he watched us as we walked past. My newly enhanced senses picked up his scent, a heavy smell that was not human. It took me a second to realize that he smelled a little bit like me. It made sense. Werewolves to protect other werewolves.

  The glass revolving door pushed us out into the afternoon sun, and I was hit by a barrage of new scents. Car exhaust, a thousand different types of pollen, fresh cut grass, and cigarette smoke all hit my nose at once. My eyes watered from the intensity of it at the same time as my ea
rs caught the sound of the whole city at once. The building must have been soundproofed, because it felt like I could hear every conversation in a one mile radius, every car, every radio, and every footstep. I stumbled, my senses overwhelmed.

  Mom was at my side before I staggered two steps. “Chance, honey, what is it?” she caught me and held me upright.

  “Too much,” I hissed. “Noises, smells,” I managed.

  “Okay, just concentrate on the sound of my voice, son,” she said. I shook my head and opened my eyes. I’d done this before, when Dulka had opened my Third Eye. I’d been unable to see the real world for days. Now I did what I’d been shown by a woman named Kari: I focused on the senses that I still had some control over. Concentrating on one voice in a storm of noise was almost impossible for me in a storm of noise because everything hit me at the same time. I could no more concentrate on Mom’s voice than on the squirrel darting through the bushes nearby or the car rumbling by a hundred yards away. I needed something that wasn’t part of that to zero in on. Kari had been blind, and she had taught me to use my hearing to keep my bearings, my sense of touch to detect the air or temperature changes around me. The things I knew how to react to. So now, I stared at Mom’s van.

  With that to concentrate on, everything else faded away, and I could get my equilibrium back. I could listen for Mom’s voice, her heartbeat, and ignore everything else. I could sift out everything but the smell of her shampoo and vanilla body spray and...gun oil. Footsteps, leather on concrete.

  “Mom, get behind me,” I said. My right arm went out and I tried to step in front of her. “Someone’s coming.” Being my Mom, she did exactly the opposite and stepped in front of me.

  “This is my son,” she said to the three men who approached us. “”You’re not going to hurt him.”

  “You know the laws,” the one in front of us pulled his jacket aside to reveal a holstered pistol. His two companions angled around to either side of us. All three shared Mom’s olive skin tone and jet black hair. They wore slacks and blazers, which was a little odd for August. “Get on either side of him, but keep her out of the crossfire,” he added.

  “Better than you,” Mom said back. It took me a second to realize that the leader’s last comment had been in Romani. “And you’re not going to hurt him.” I heard metal on leather, and my brained honed in on the sound. I turned to my right and stared at the guy who thought he had the drop on us, his gun halfway out of his holster. He froze in place the second I turned my head.

  “Don’t,” I said in English. No sense in letting them know I spoke Romani. I reached down and picked up a rock from the decorative bed next to the sidewalk. “In my hands, this will hit you harder than a bullet.” It was more than half bluff. I had no idea how strong I really was yet. Then again, neither did they.

  “Come peacefully, and no one will get hurt,” the man said, putting his hand to his jacket.

  “We will,” Mom told him. “If you let us.” She tilted her head toward his hand, and he lowered it.

  “We’ll take your van,” he said. Mom smiled and led the way to her minivan.

  “Who are these guys?” I asked Mom when I caught up to her.

  “Shut up!” one of our escorts snapped. Something hit me across the back of the head. Before I knew what I was doing, I had him by the wrist, with his arm in a painful joint lock, and my left hand was pulling back from a strike. The guy who hit me was gasping and clutching at his throat with his free hand. I heard metal clear leather, and I dropped to one knee. My left hand snapped forward, and the rock I’d picked up flew at the other guy who had tried to flank us. It struck him in the cheek and knocked him to the ground. The leader spun and drew his pistol, but I was faster. My guy’s gun was in my hand and pointed at the leader before he had turned around.

  “Put your gun away,” Mom said, pointing at the Romani. She stepped in front of me, and I lowered the pistol. “You too, Chance,” she added. I tossed the gun aside.

  “He attacked my men,” he said.

  “Your men attacked him. You’re lucky he didn’t kill both of them. I told you we would come peacefully if you let us.” The Romani leader lowered his pistol and called to his men. I let mine go so he could get to his feet.

  “Go with the others,” he said in Romani. “I will go with them.” The other two men trotted off, then the leader holstered his pistol and motioned toward Mom’s van with his left hand. He took the back seat, and I was pretty sure he had his hand on his pistol from the second I got in the passenger seat beside Mom. He gave terse directions that led us north of town. In the rearview mirror, I could see two cars behind us. We ended up turning west a few miles past the city limits, which put me in unfamiliar territory. Almost every time I’d gone north of Diamond Lake, I’d ended up on the east side of the highway. The sun was low in the sky when we pulled into an open lot in front of an empty building. RVs, campers and tents were set in a rough circle. Our guide pointed us to a spot near a gap in the circle, and Mom parked.

  He led us through the middle of the camp. Men and women in jeans and t-shirts looked up from whatever they were doing, eyeing us every step of the way. A mix of music came from radio speakers, rock trying to overpower country and jazz. We circled around a smoldering fire pit made of a fifty-five gallon drum sawed in half and folded open like a clamshell. At the back, we came upon a large RV set back a little from the rest of the circle, so that the two campers flanking it made up the sides of an impromptu courtyard. The RV had an awning covering the area beside it, with a shade fly added to that. A white haired man with a tanned, weathered face sat at a folding table that held a chess board and two brown bottles. A younger man sat across from him, both men intent on their game.

  For a couple of minutes, neither man spoke nor moved. Then the older man reached out and moved the white knight to take a black rook. The younger man’s face fell, and he reached for a piece on the board but the older man raised one hand to stop him.

  “Don’t make the move yet. Make it in your head, then look at what you would do if you were on this side of the board. I have business to see to. Come back a little later. We’ll continue then.” The younger man got up and walked past us, his gaze on us until he passed.

  “Teaching chess?” Mom asked.

  “Patience,” the older man said. “Something you never learned.”

  “You never set a very good example,” Mom said. “So I had to learn it from others. But I didn’t call you to teach me patience, father. Or to go over my many, many failings.”

  “Then why did you call me?”

  Mom stepped forward and gestured at me. “To help your grandson. He’s been bitten.”

  “I have no grandson,” the old man said. “You gave birth to a gadje child. He is not Roma.”

  “And you wonder why I never learned anything from you,” Mom spat. I shook my head and went to her side.

  “Wait,” I put my hand on her shoulder. “This is your father?”

  “Unfortunately,” she said. “He’s what passes for one, at least.”

  The old man...her father...stood and walked over to her. He was taller than she was by a few inches. He looked her in the eye, then brought his hand up and slapped her.

  “You will show me respect, girl,” he said. “I am still your father, and you are still my daughter.”

  “No,” Mom said with her hand on her cheek. “You might be related to me, but being a father? That’s more than just blood. That’s something you earn. You want my respect? Then be a father. Be a grandfather to my son. Help him. Help us!”

  “He is gadje,” the guy who led us there said. “There is no help for him here.”

  “Do you speak for the entire clan, then?” Mom asked. “Do you speak for him?” She pointed at her father.

  “He doesn’t speak for us,” another man said. Several older men and women had come up behind us, and in the gathering gloom, they were little more than shadows against the backdrop of the camp.

  “But he does spe
ak the same words. There is no help for your son here.”

  “Then why did you even bother to come here?” Mom asked. The shadowy elders stepped closer, and her father turned toward me.

  “Because the creature must be destroyed,” he said. “It’s bad enough that you mix Mulani blood with gadje, but then to let him take the curse of the wolf...he is a stain on our clan’s name.”

  “Who is going to judge you? You are Mulani, Ghost Clan. The other clans don’t even know you exist. You’re whoever you need to be, you use whatever name you need. Kale, Kalderash, Romanichal, or Boyash.” Mom stepped up close to her father and put her finger in the middle of his chest. “It isn’t your honor that got bruised. It’s your pride. And it isn’t worth my son’s life.”

  “It isn’t up to you to decide, Mara,” another elder said. Mom whirled to face the man, then started walking toward him.

  “I’m his mother,” she hissed. “He’s not your child and according to you, he’s not clan, thank the Goddess. He’s my son, my blood, and his fate is not for you to decide.”

  “Arrogant child,” an old woman said. “You can’t stop us.”

  “I don’t need to,” Mom said. “But, you can try. You might even succeed. But know this. If you do try, my son and I will not be facing you alone. We have friends and allies. And if you try, whether you succeed or not, we will come for you, and when we find you...and we will find you… you will all take a long time dying.”

  “You would threaten the clan?” her father growled.

  “No, father,” Mom said, turning to face him. Her words came slow as she walked back toward him. “You threatened the life of my child. I’m just advising patience. Make the move in your head, then look at what you would do if you were on my side of the board. Now, if I were you, I would leave. Another country would be wise. Probably another continent. Come on, Chance. We are leaving.” Mom turned her back on her father and walked past me.

  “Mara, wait,” her father said. “Please.” Mom stopped, then turned to look over her shoulder at him.