Oison held his sword battle-ready as he made his way to where Graham fought his Collar. Graham reached his huge, clawed hands for Oison, ready to kill again—as many times as it took to put the asshole down.
Oison swung his sword, stopping when the tip contacted the Collar. Graham’s agony increased. The Fae held the sword against the Collar, spells on the blade feeding into the Collar and then into Graham.
Graham was being baked alive. He roared, hands going for the Fae’s throat, which still ran with blood.
Oison shouted at him in a Fae language, but Graham somehow understood it. Monster, created of filth. I hold you. By sword and by Collar, you are mine. You will give them to me, the battle beasts, and Fae again will walk the earth.
Graham tried to jerk away from the sword but Oison was merciless. Graham saw runes shimmer across the sword’s blade, heard whispering: weakened, enslaved, obedient.
“That’s what the Collars are,” Oison said, his voice clear, no matter that his throat was a bloody mess. “Chains that will bring you back to us. You have enslaved yourselves.”
Graham used all his will to wrench himself sideways, finally breaking the contact with the sword. He fell down, down, and the flowering vines reached up to pull him to the slick floor.
He heard himself shout, Fuck you! then something started hammering on his chest, dozens of blows, full force.
Graham dragged in a breath to fight this new threat . . . and found himself lying flat on his back on Misty’s couch, the same stupid movie on her TV. Two little wolves were standing heavily on his chest, beating on him with their oversized paws.
• • •
Misty emerged in the morning to find Graham at her kitchen table, red-eyed and irritable, his hands wrapped around a mug of coffee. Kyle and Matt, in their human form and dressed, their faces already dirty, bounced in chairs opposite him. Xavier stood at the stove, a towel over his shoulder, black T-shirt hugging his torso, as he cooked something that smelled wonderful.
Misty poured herself coffee. She enjoyed leaning back against the counter and taking a leisurely sip, happy to no longer crave liquid by the gallon.
Graham, on the other hand, was still under the spell. He lifted his coffee and took a sip, but his hands shook. He pulled the cup from his mouth after one taste, as though stopping himself from pouring the burning brew down his throat.
“You all right?” Misty asked him.
“Do I look all right?”
His voice was harsher than usual. His eyes were bloodshot, lips dry. This was Graham with a hangover, under a thirst spell, and by the looks of it, little sleep.
“No, you look like crap,” Misty said. “You need to drink something.”
Graham growled. “I need to go back to Shiftertown. Only reason I’m still here is to feed Kyle and Matt. And to make sure you’re all right for the day.”
“Xav’s making us chili killies,” one of the twins proclaimed.
“Chilaquiles,” Xav said good-naturedly from the stove. “Mama’s specialty. You’ll love this, Misty.”
Misty’s stomach growled. After the tequila shots, she should be as dry-voiced and red-eyed as Graham, but she felt pretty good. She’d had a dreamless sleep, waking when the sun rose to find the two wolves curled up on the bed next to her.
They’d leapt out as soon as she’d opened the door, and she’d hurried through her shower and dressed, concerned about Graham.
Xav brought two plates filled with eggs, fried tortillas, cheese, and tomatillo salsa to the table and put them in front of the cubs. He’d already laid out forks, and fortunately, the cubs decided to try to use them.
Graham had pushed aside his place setting, his elbows where his fork and knife would be. The flame tattoos climbed up his arms—red, orange, yellow, outlined in black.
“You need to eat something,” Misty said to him.
“No, I don’t. I need to go back to Shiftertown.”
Kyle and Matt didn’t have to be told to hurry. They were already halfway through their meal. All the pizza last night obviously hadn’t filled them.
“Well, eat something at home then,” Misty said. “And drink.” Just because Graham couldn’t control the thirst didn’t mean he didn’t need water.
“Will you let me worry about that?” he snapped. “You stay home. There’s a crazy Fae running loose, and he might get pissed off because you broke his spell. I’m sending over reinforcements.”
“I can’t stay home,” Misty said, watching Kyle and Matt shovel in the rest of the eggs and tortilla chips. “I have to talk to my insurance agent, make sure they receive the police report, call people about getting my store repaired, postpone incoming deliveries, and apologize to all my customers for having to cancel their orders. I’ll be busy.”
“Then you wait for my reinforcements.” Graham shoved aside the coffee and thrust himself to his feet. “Come on, you two.”
Matt and Kyle abandoned their places and licked-clean plates to barrel toward Misty. “Good-bye, Aunt Misty!” The two little boys hugged her legs, two eager faces turned up to her. Misty leaned down and hugged them back, kissing their foreheads. They gave her sticky kisses in return then broke away from her.
“Bye, Xav!” Another enthusiastic leg hug, and then they were out the door, heading for the small truck Graham had driven over.
Misty’s broken front door had been temporarily repaired with a piece of board nailed over the torn part, plus it was guarded by another muscled man in a black T-shirt and black camouflage pants.
“Graham,” Misty called as Graham strode out the door without another word. She caught up to him in the driveway, as the cubs climbed enthusiastically into the pickup. “Wait a minute.”
Graham swung to her. She expected him to give her hell again about wanting to talk, but he said nothing, only waited.
Today he looked less human than ever—a wild animal posing as a human being. His light gray eyes were hard with anger and pain, his short hair mussed, and the scars on his tanned face and arms were stark white. He was battling thirst and need for sleep, and losing.
“You should stay here,” Misty said. “You need to rest. Maybe Reid can find another way to break the spell . . .”
Graham’s words cut over hers. “No. Until this is over, I’m staying far away from you. Stick with Xav and the Shifters I send over, but keep away from me.”
Misty took a step forward. Her body hummed from his pleasuring of her last night, from the way he’d held her when they’d finished, her half-naked body folded into his. Graham hadn’t forgotten that, his look told her, and he wasn’t angry at her. He was scared.
“Graham . . .”
Graham raised his hands. “Stay. Away.” He moved his hands as though physically shoving her back, and then he turned around, got into the truck, and slammed its door.
Without looking at her, Graham started up the truck, backed out of her driveway, and roared off. The cubs waved out the window, then the truck turned a corner and was gone, leaving Misty alone with the warming morning and the stench of exhaust.
• • •
"Warden,” Graham said, walking into the Shiftertown leader’s house. “We need to talk about the Collars.”
Graham hadn’t been invited in, and Eric’s sister and his son, Jace, were in front of him before the screen door slammed, the soft snarls in their throats threatening mayhem.
“Good going, McNeil,” Eric said from where he lounged on the couch. He was in T-shirt and jeans, his bare feet propped on the coffee table. “Why don’t you charge into an alpha’s territory and start giving him commands? That’s the way to get your balls torn off.”
Graham watched Cassidy and Jace, who continued to block his way, their eyes, so like Eric’s, fixed on him with near-feral anger. Diego had come out of the kitchen, and now he paused in its doorway, also watching Graham. He was probab
ly armed, like his brother, and Diego had less of a sense of humor than Xav.
“We don’t have time for this shit,” Graham said. “We need to get the Collars off the Shifters. All Shifters. Right now.”
Eric finally looked startled, though the only sign he made was his Feline eyes widening a little. “And you know why we can’t rush.”
“Things have changed. Collars need to come off. Now.”
“He’s not wrong,” Stuart Reid said from the other side of the screen door. Unlike Graham, he was savvy enough to wait outside until the alpha Shifter invited him in. “Or things are going to get bad for all Shifters, everywhere.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Did Warden leap up, grab his son—who’d just spent a painful time learning about how Collars came off—and start running around Shiftertown doing it? No, he sat there contemplating Graham with his jade-colored eyes, and clasped his hands behind his head.
“You two want to tell me what you’re talking about?” Eric asked.
“You want to call off your posse?” Graham growled, baring his wolf’s teeth at Jace and Cassidy. “If I wanted you dead, I’d have attacked you and not let them stop me. Where’s your mate?” he added, realizing he neither saw nor scented Iona.
“Busy.” Meaning Eric wasn’t about to tell Graham. “Reid, get in here and close the door. It’s hot.”
Reid obeyed. Showed how seriously he took this, because Reid usually gave Shifters who told him what to do a fuck-off glare. Now Reid only walked inside and shut the solid door, closing out the morning heat.
“All right, you have my attention,” Eric said. “Talk.”
Graham drew a breath. The last person he wanted to tell he was weakened was Warden, but the risk went beyond him now. Being alpha, and leader, didn’t only mean Graham could best all other Shifters. It meant he took good care of those he bested.
“I think we’re all screwed,” Graham said. “Because of the Collars. What I’m about to say doesn’t leave this room, all right?”
He launched into the story of what had happened out in the desert, including him drinking the Fae water, the dream he’d shared with Misty, the way they’d tried to counteract the spell, and his dream alone with Oison. He left out the more intimate moments he and Misty had shared in her backyard after the spell had left her—some things were none of their frigging business.
As he spoke, Cassidy moved to Diego, who put his arms around her from behind, and Jace joined his father on the sofa. No one had changed position all that much, but just enough to show that fighting was no longer imminent.
“Oison,” Eric repeated when Graham had finished. “Know anything about him, Reid?”
“Never heard of him,” Reid said. “But Faerie’s a big place.”
“If you’ve never heard of him, how do you know I’m right about him and the sword?” Graham asked. Reid had never hurried to agree with Graham before.
“Because of Misty’s book,” Reid said. “It contains many anti-Fae spells. From what I gleaned from the notes and subtext, the Fae might once before have tried to use devices to bring the Shifters back into their power, I’d say about a hundred years ago. Except, the last time, they didn’t have the technology available to them that humans have now.”
Only Reid could use words like gleaned and subtext with a straight face. “I really want to know about this half Fae who designed the Collars for us,” Graham said. “No, what I really want to do is break his face.”
“He’s dead,” Eric said in a mild voice. “But his son is still around somewhere.”
“I say we round him up and talk to him.”
“I think we agree,” Eric said. He unclasped his hands and rested them on his abdomen. “Write it down. Doesn’t happen often.”
Diego spoke up from behind Cassidy. “Let me see if I understand this. This Fae, in your dream, had a sword that, what, connected to your Collar?”
“Yep,” Graham said. “Like a key and a lock. Only the lock hurt like hell.”
“And from this dream, you’re guessing there are more swords that will affect more Collars?” Diego went on.
“I’m saying they figured out a way to manipulate the Collars,” Graham said impatiently. “Figured it out even before the Collars went on us. Like electronic dog leashes. And they’ve been planning this for the last twenty years.”
“Kind of a long time to wait,” Diego said.
“Time moves differently for the Fae,” Graham said. “At least that’s what that asshole told me in my dream. And he wouldn’t stay dead, which means he was there and not there at the same time, devious bastard. I bet the pain was there for him, though. Not that it makes me feel any better.”
“We need a leader meeting,” Eric said.
Graham’s temper, which he’d barely been holding on to, splintered. “Whoa, what happened to What I’m about to say doesn’t leave this room? I’m not letting other Shiftertown leaders know I’m spelled. They’ll eat me alive. You know it, so don’t give me that patient look.”
“If you’ll shut up,” Eric said. “I’ll tell you I agree with you. Again. That’s twice in one morning. Amazing.”
“If there’s a leader meeting, I’m going to it,” Graham said. “And you’re going to say exactly what I tell you to say.”
“I don’t—”
Graham cut Eric off. “I’m going. There, we disagree on that, but suck it up. Set up the meeting, tell me when and where.”
Before Eric could draw breath to speak again, Graham turned his back and walked out. His heart was thumping hard, in worry and pain.
What Oison had done scared him, not only for himself but for Shifters like Dougal, Lindsay, and others—Shifters who weren’t strong enough to fight the Fae. They’d end up Fae slaves in a second, their wills taken away, made to fight Fae wars in the realm of Faerie, and maybe here too if Oison’s cryptic statements were anything to go by.
Fae had difficulty in the human world because of all the iron and steel. But if they enslaved Shifters to fight the humans for them, the violence the humans feared from Shifters would come to pass. Shifters wouldn’t be able to do anything about it, even if they loathed what the Fae made them do. And Graham knew plenty of Shifters, unfortunately, who wouldn’t hate killing humans, even for the Fae.
Before Graham had met Misty, he might have been one of those not caring if humans suffered. But Graham had met Misty, and he’d kissed her, and he’d kill every Shifter on the planet, and every Fae in Faerie, before he’d let any of them touch her.
• • •
Paul met Misty at her store later that morning. Her brother leaned on a push broom in the main part of the shop and looked dejectedly down at the broken glass and ruined flowers.
He dropped the broom when he saw Misty and came to her, wrapping his rawboned arms around her in a deep hug. Paul had grown up too fast after their parents’ divorce, and had tried to act tough, but underneath, he was still a frightened boy.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m so sorry, Misty.”
Misty said nothing, only held him close. After a few minutes, Paul raised his head and wiped his eyes. “I’ll make it up to you. I’ll fix it. I’ll get you money . . .”
“You don’t have to do anything at all,” Misty said quickly. “Not your fault Flores is a criminal. Don’t even clean up. The insurance adjuster has to look at the damage first.”
“Insurance guy is already here,” Paul said. “In the back.”
“Really? That was fast.” Misty had known people with property damage who’d had to wait weeks, even months, before their claims started to process.
She left Paul and went into her office to find a man in a white shirt and dark tie, holding a clipboard and making check marks on it left-handed.
“Most of the damage is in the front,” Misty said. “Not much back here.” Thank God. Her safe and most valu
able vases had been in her storage room. Flores’s gang had come for Paul and revenge, not petty cash.
“I see that.” The man switched the clipboard to his left hand and stuck out his right. He did it a little awkwardly, as someone who had to practice doing anything with that hand. “I’m Kevin Foster, from your insurance company.” He released Misty, plucked a card from the top of his clipboard, and handed it to her. “They really busted up the place, didn’t they?”
“Pretty much.”
Kevin smiled. He had dark hair and blue eyes that crinkled in the corners. “It’s too bad. This is a nice little place. I hope you can get it up and running again.”
“That’s the plan. As soon as the claim gets filed.”
“Which, I know, insurance companies can take a long time with.” Another little smile. “But I’ll do what I can.”
“Can I start cleaning up? I’d love to get back to work.”
“I’ll clear it. Repairs have to be made by approved workers, though, keep in mind, or the company might not pay the claim.”
Misty strove to remain polite. In the real world, things could move at a snail’s crawl. Meanwhile, businesses went under because customers lost faith in them.
Kevin seemed to understand. “I’ll do my best. Don’t worry. Give it a week, tops.”
“Really?” Misty’s skepticism rose. “I don’t mean to be rude, but . . .”
“But nothing. I’m a friend of Iona Warden’s. She was waiting at my office this morning and pretty much wouldn’t let me even grab my first cup of coffee before she made sure I was headed out here. My company does a lot of work with her family.”
Ah. Iona, mate to Eric, ran a construction and contracting company with her mother and sister. Humans had been kept in the dark that Iona was half Shifter so she wouldn’t have to give up her livelihood. Shifters weren’t allowed to own businesses, or run them, or even hold very high positions in them. Such were the unfair laws governing Shifters.
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