by K. F. Breene
“Okay, Frank,” I said once we reached the bar on the outskirts of the neighborhood. I was somewhat winded. It had been a fast walk that had seemed significantly faster with Frank’s chatter. “Time for business.”
“Okay.” Frank looked around. “Do you know how to get home?”
“Yes.” I pulled open the door, greeted by the low light and stale aroma of sick and alcohol. A roar of laughter rolled out of the back by the pool table, from a crowd of people keeping to themselves. I marched up behind the row of patrons sitting at the bar, my eyes on Cindy the bartender. If felt like the heavens had opened up and sung.
I’d forgotten all about her! She was a huge gossip. If anyone knew anything about that handsome stranger, it would be her.
As I rounded the soft corner at the other side of the bar, aiming for my seat, a large back greeted me. A jet-black head of wind-swept hair turned a fraction. The owner had clearly seen me walk in and now monitored my progress.
The stranger, and he’d been expecting me.
A wave of adrenaline dumped into my middle. I stutter-stopped—or maybe jumped and staggered, I couldn’t be sure—before stalking forward again and stopping behind my chair. And it was my chair, too. He hadn’t stolen it. He’d stolen the one next to it, on the non-Mick side.
“Good. I’m glad you’re here. I have a bone to pick with you,” I said to the stranger in a thick, hopefully scary voice.
25
Alexis
“I figured. Sit.” The stalking stranger gestured at my chair as though he owned it.
Best to establish independence in this situation, or he might think he’d gained the dominant position.
“I’d planned on it.” I pulled out my seat so I could slide in without brushing my front against his large, powerful arm. “What’s up, Mick?” I said to the ever-present moody regular.
Mick grunted. “Not a lot has happened since you left. I’m just keepin’ on top of it,” he said dryly, his thick Irish accent made thicker with heavy drinking.
Half a beer and a mostly gone tumbler of whiskey sat in front of him. He was on his way toward getting sloppy, sleeping-at-the-bar drunk. Once he started the whiskey, he wouldn’t stop until he’d thrown a barstool and been kicked out, or landed on his face somewhere.
I scooted in as Cindy bustled down the bar, a smile on her face and lipstick on her teeth. Her dyed red hair didn’t dare let the gray creep into her part. “Hiya, love, what can I get ye?”
“Guinness, please.”
“I got that,” the stranger said, lifting his finger.
“No.” I held out my hand, hoping he understood the next phrase. “I’m on my own.” I didn’t want him to buy me a drink for obvious reasons, but also because bar etiquette said I would then owe him a beer in return. Doubly bad news.
“You’d piss away your hard-earned money at the bar?” the stranger asked disapprovingly. “Let me buy you a drink.”
“Give me a break, Mr. I Know Everything but a Bunch of Important Details. I’m sure you’re entirely aware that the owner of this place pays for my drinks. Everyone knows it.”
“Does he, fuck!” Mick jerked and looked over at the same time. That had been his way of asking a question.
Apparently, everyone but Mick.
“I would ask if that bothered you, given the owner is your ex, but…” The stranger let the sentence hang.
“But you’ve already ascertained that my pride isn’t affected?”
He didn’t respond, and I didn’t really care what he had to say for himself anyway.
“Listen,” I said, putting my hand on the bar between us. “What the fuck?”
“Yes!” Mick clenched his fist and shook it in the air. He loved random acts of swearing and violence.
The stranger’s eyes glittered. “I’ll need more details,” he said, but I knew he was full of crap. He knew exactly what I was talking about.
I played along anyway. “First, what is your damn name? You know all about me, and all I know is that you are a meddling, stalking, aggravating asshole.”
Mick slammed the bar top. “Big, slopey-shouldered bastard,” he barked out.
“That you haven’t already heard my name is telling,” the stranger said cryptically.
“Yes, it is clear you are very important,” I said. “Well done. Speaking of, where is your entourage tonight?”
“I do not require their assistance just now.”
“Uh-huh. Formal answer.” I adjusted my seat, more for appearances than an actual need to get comfortable. Mick continued to mutter away to himself in the background. “Your name?”
“Why are you here, Alexis?”
The stranger wrongly assumed that his name would be enough information to clue me in. Little did he know that I didn’t know anything about the magical hierarchy because I tried to avoid the whole governing body like the plague. Something that would be increasingly difficult if he kept sticking his big nose in and forcing me to visit the headquarters.
“Right. Fine,” I said, letting it go. “Listen, you saw Mordecai the other night, right? That sick kid for whom you bought the blanket?”
“I still haven’t gotten that blanket back. Does that mean you’re intent on keeping it?”
“Really? Now you’re worried about getting the blanket back?” I couldn’t help but smile. “Cold at night, huh?”
Fire lit his eyes. “Yes. I’ve denied anyone else the pleasure of my bed. I’m waiting for you.”
I nodded in a businesslike fashion. “I’ll make sure to get you that blanket as soon as possible. You’ll need it while waiting for hell to freeze over.”
A smile played on his lips.
“Anyway,” I went on. “Earlier this week, he was coughing blood. He was barely hanging on. We got lucky and found him some medicine, but it was a close call.”
His smile melted away and the glimmer in his eyes turned somber. Thankfully, he was at least taking this seriously.
“As you’ve noticed”—putting the stranger’s name there would’ve really helped with a personal touch—“we don’t have a lot of money. Nearly none, actually. He usually suffers a week out of a month. Suffers like you couldn’t possibly imagine.” My eyes stung, and I cursed my constant fear/sorrow/heartache for my inability to cure Mordecai. Talking about his struggles always jacked my emotions. “He can barely move around the house sometimes. Right now we’re riding high on medicine, so he’s in decent condition. Last night, you saw him at his best.” I paused so my words would resonate. “That was his best. Ponder that for a moment. He had a cheap, thin turquoise blanket wrapped around him in public, a beanie covering a head to hide the patches of hair that have fallen out, he’s thin as a rake… I mean, need I go on? That was him at his best.”
I paused again as my Guinness arrived. Cindy beamed at the stranger and leaned against the counter. “Now. How’s it goin’? Are ye well?”
Mick leaned more heavily against the bar, his expression deadpan. “Wonderful. Great. Time of our lives.”
Cindy wasn’t fazed. “Have you heard about Shamus hanging around with that younger girl?” Her eyes widened. “He’s nearly double her age.”
“I’d say he’s got a good supply of Viagra,” Mick said, then burped. “He’s got the whole town nervous.”
Chuckles bubbled up through my middle, laughter never far away when Mick was in one of these moods. But this wasn’t the time. I needed Cindy to find something else to do so I could finish my business with the stranger.
I elbowed Mick.
“Would ye fuck off?” he roared.
Cindy startled, having no idea he was actually talking to me, before pursing her lips and heading to the other end of the bar to tend to the only other live patron. If only the dead actually drank, she’d have plenty to do.
“Effective,” the stranger murmured.
“You shouldn’t try it,” I said. “He’ll throw a punch if a guy messes with him. He’ll likely miss and fall out of his chair, but he’ll still throw it.”
I batted at the hair clinging to my face. The smell of detergent, sweetness, and salty sea wafted toward me. The stranger had clearly inherited a little something from his mother.
I remembered the wave of sexy magic he’d hit me with earlier in the week.
Maybe a whole lotta something.
“I saw your ward. What is your point, Alexis?” the stranger asked.
“My point is, if you demand that he go in and get tested, his pack will know he’s still alive. They’ll be intimidated by the threat he could be if he were healthy. The alpha will want to kill him, and in a couple years, when Mordecai is of age, the alpha will legally be able to challenge him, regardless of which zone he lives in.”
“It seems you didn’t read the summons very closely.”
I hesitated in reaching for my drink, my eyebrows nearly at my hairline. The scant few words I’d read tumbled through my memory. I distinctly remembered reading that I was being called in for testing, and farther down the page, I’d definitely seen Mordecai’s name. I said as much.
“Yes. He is being called in for a diagnosis,” he said.
“We already know his diagnosis. It only gets worse with age. The only possible cure is a risky procedure. End of story.”
“The field of magical medicine has come a long way in the last few years. The procedure to cure Mordecai’s situation is now commonplace. No riskier than, say, heart bypass surgery. And just as easy to schedule. The cure would be within reach for a great many people.”
“Fine. But I’m not one of those people. Which means his condition isn’t going to change.”
The stranger took a drink of his Guinness, sucking down a good helping in one gulp. Mick’s muttering invaded the silence.
“You are shortsighted if you think the alpha of the Green Hills pack won’t circle back at some point when Mordecai is of age to make sure the potential threat is wiped out. Will is thorough and ruthless.”
Fear froze me. “But they think he’s dead.”
“Every alpha signs off on a death certificate for the shifters in his or her pack. It’s protocol to identify the cause of death. Mordecai is technically in the Green Hills pack. Will has noticed the death certificate hasn’t passed his desk, trust me. I don’t know the man well, but he sits on a very fragile throne. He isn’t well liked. He’ll make sure all viable threats are squashed, no matter how sickly.”
“Then why don’t they kick his ass out?”
“Because, like I said, he is thorough and ruthless. Not to mention cunning and he doesn’t fight fair. Do you know how he killed Mordecai’s parents?”
“Happened upon them late one evening, I heard.”
“Yes. Ambushed them. Came upon them when they were out on a date night. The two were heavily intoxicated and walking home. They were at a severe disadvantage. The official report is that Will challenged a sober Ray. Moesha, Ray’s wife and beta, Mordecai’s mom, apparently jumped in to help, so Will killed her, too. There was no mention of the bar, the late hour, or the couple’s disadvantage… But Will and his closest followers handled the forms related to the takeover. Backdating is an easy way to get around sticky situations like murder, especially when you’re in a shifter pack and killing isn’t all that uncommon.”
I couldn’t do much but stare at him in shock. “I’d never heard that.”
“It wasn’t advertised. The governing body tends to let the alphas handle their own affairs as long as all the i’s are dotted and t’s are crossed. The autopsy reports acknowledged some inconsistencies, but the matter was dropped.” His jaw clenched. “This outlook is viewed by…many as a weakness in the current magical governing body.”
“Yeah. I’ll say. So what happens to the weaker members of the pack? How do they get help if they need it?”
“They can leave, if they want. They can appeal for a transfer. There are options. Many more options than back before magic was out in the open.”
I shook my head. “I’m thankful I’m not a shifter. A self-serving asshole trying to boss me around would not sit well.”
“No.” A smile tugged at his lips and his eyes intensified as he looked down on me. “I don’t suppose it would. Your fire and determination wouldn’t allow it. You would be a wise and just leader, but a mouthy, troublemaking subordinate.”
“I don’t know about one of those things—half the time the kids act like the parents and I’m schooled on how to properly behave. But the subordinate thing is true enough.”
“You lead when you must, and you allow others their free will. It’s the sign of a good leader. And many of the packs have good leaders. I never met Ray and Moesha, but the reports say they were well liked and respected. They led their people to prosperity. A prosperity that has dwindled.”
“So how will a renewed diagnosis help? Why bring him in to reestablish what is already in the files?”
“His condition, if left untreated for too long, will have permanent effects. It may damage his body to the point that he can no longer be healed. He’ll then have to be on medication until he dies.”
“O-kay, but still, how will knowing that help? You may be right, but even if the alpha comes after him, it won’t be for another few years. Besides, the guy could very well have forgotten. You can’t say for sure. But if you bring Mordecai in and check him out, and we can kiss even that small chance goodbye.”
“It’s worth the risk.”
“For who?”
“Don’t you want to know if he can ever be cured?”
I traced the sweat down the side of my glass. “I’m dreaming small at the moment. Right now I’m job hunting and working on increasing my stockpile of money. I did well at the freak show the other night, even though you stiffed me. If I keep getting that kind of business, I can hit the fair for a month or so and then—”
“No,” he said.
“What?”
“You won’t be going back to that fair. You’re above that.”
“Thanks, Mom. That’s nice of you to say. But I will be going back, because I need the money—”
“Alexis, no.” His commanding look jabbed through me, followed by a jolt of his magic. I felt it in every inch of my body, filling me in a way I would be hard pressed to explain. My chest tightened and my blood heated, the magic’s presence inside of me…delicious.
I grabbed on to the bar and closed my eyes. This magic was different than the sexy magic from earlier in the week, but no less pleasurable. I’d never felt anything like it, unique and potent, exciting yet homey. It spiked my energy while covering me in a blanket of safety.
Aggressively protective. Primal. Sensual. Butterflies filled my stomach as the feeling of his magic settled low, tightening my core and making my sex ache with need. I craved fulfillment. I wanted to feel the stranger’s exquisite body as it pressed me into a soft mattress. To run my palms over his back as the muscles flexed and relaxed, moving to the rhythm of his powerful thrusts. The man was so damn sexy that it defied logic. Almost made me want to forget the way he’d tampered with my life so I could go to bed with him.
“I’m not sure what your magic is meant to do,” I said, slowly coming up to the surface. “But you’re not the boss of me. You have no control over the freak show. It’s a non-magical affair, and they’ve granted me access. That’s the end of it.”
His intense look held utter bewilderment, but not anger. He wasn’t pissed off that I’d thwarted a direct order, just confused. Possibly no one had ever said no to him before, and he needed a little time to adjust.
“Anyway, to answer your question, no, I don’t want to know if I’ve damaged Mordecai beyond repair. Because if I have, I will never forgive myself. And if I haven’t, I’ll be terrified I will. When a miracle falls in my lap, and I can get him that procedure, then I’ll want someone to look at him.”
“I am your miracle,” he said, his voice husky and his eyes hungry. “Because if you work for me, I’ll make sure you and your wards have magical medical. The ability to cure him will be withi
n your grasp.”
26
Alexis
Fireworks went off in my middle—joy and fury both. I’d known he would try to get me to work for him. I’d felt it the other night. I’d also known he would piece together the one-sided part of my conversation with his mother and realize I’d lied.
I just hadn’t known he would use emotional blackmail to get me in the door.
“What do you have in mind?” I asked, staring at my drink.
“I want you to help me put my mother to rest.”
I closed my eyes and minutely shook my head. “I don’t know how. I’ve researched the matter a bit further, and her inability to call her seal skin doesn’t make sense. She should be able to summon it.”
“I think you’re the only person capable of figuring out why that is.”
I put out my hands and half turned to him. “Who am I gonna ask? A bunch of derelicts at a forgotten pub in the dual-society zone? That’s the extent of my social circle. And I can’t even ask them if they know anyone I can talk to, because they’re all dead.”
A few of the guys looked up, one clearly angry. He’d get lippy if I didn’t head him off. It had happened more times than I could count, and it wasn’t cool to look crazy while arguing with what others thought was an empty seat.
I stared at him. “Don’t pretend what I said is a surprise. Only a sad sack doesn’t want to cross over because he’d rather sit in the bar all day, which is the thing that killed him in the first place.” I refocused on the stranger, who had paused patiently. “You’re the one with the connections. Why don’t you consult a few selkies about how this type of problem might manifest?”
“I have. They don’t know. Largely because no one has heard of this situation. If it has happened before, and someone figured it out, they didn’t or couldn’t pass the information on.”
“Right. Correct. And they are gone now. I can’t randomly call out across the Line and hope someone turns up to help me. I need an actual person or thing to focus on. Without specifics, I’m no good. And any spirits on this side of the Line are unlikely to have any answers. Either way, I can’t help.”
