“Seeing you work the new magic on Lili was an amazing thing to witness,” he said, leaning down to kiss me lightly on the lips, and then he deepened the connection, his lips firm and full against mine. I opened up to him as naturally as taking a breath.
The phone rang, shrill in our quiet room, and we sprang apart.
Rourke met my eyes as he gently tugged me out of the room.
We arrived at the big island an hour earlier than scheduled. The fishing boat had delivered us in less than forty-five minutes, and it was still only 5:04 a.m. There had been no taxi waiting, but the nice fisherman had driven us to the airstrip, where we now stood talking to our sleepy pilot. “The closest available place to land on the west coast of Florida is in the town of Everglades,” he said. “It’s all national park down there. Lots of swampland and little else.”
“That’s fine,” I told him. “We don’t have a better location at the moment. We’re waiting for a friend to show up. Chart a course for Everglades and we’ll go from there.”
He left. The pilot had asked us zero questions, and didn’t seem upset we had woken him early. Marcy had been right, if you had enough money no one questioned you. I didn’t want to know what this was costing the Pack, but from now on I would get used to spending Pack money. That’s what it was there for. And I was Pack.
“Do you see her anywhere?” I asked Rourke for the second time that morning, craning my neck up to the sky as we walked toward the parking lot to wait.
“No,” he replied. “And I don’t have to remind you we’d only see her if she wanted us to see her. But we’re early, so don’t start worrying just yet.”
“Worry is my middle name. And before you start complaining, I like my humanness. It keeps me grounded in this crazy supernatural world. Worrying feels normal and useful. I care about Naomi and if something happened to her it would be my fault, thus I worry.” My wolf yipped. I know you don’t agree, but I’m not asking you.
Rourke stopped abruptly and turned me toward him. “Jessica, I love your humanness.” He pulled me in and I rested my forehead against his clean white shirt. He placed a hand on my shoulders and his warmth felt good.
“I’m glad you do,” I mumbled. “It would be hard if you hated it.”
“Before I met you any scrap of humanness I’d ever possessed was almost gone.” His chest rumbled as he spoke. “You brought it back, and because of it, it’s made me start rethinking things.”
“Maybe that’s why Fate bound us together?” I lifted my head and glanced up at him. “You’re clearly the best supernatural on the planet to teach me how to become an Enforcer, and I’m the best supernatural to keep you human.”
He stepped back slightly, his hands sliding down to my waist. “I swear to you that I’ll make you into the greatest supernatural fighter the world has ever seen.”
“I’m so lucky—”
There was a noise in the trees to our right. I broke away from Rourke immediately, expecting Naomi. But knew I was wrong the moment his scent hit me. “Ray?” I called, moving forward. He stepped out of the trees looking clean, showered and ready to go. “What are you doing here?” I couldn’t mask the confusion in my voice.
“Um, I guess you could say I’m reporting for duty?” he answered musingly. “Why the hell else would I be here?”
I glanced around him into the woods. “Where’s Selene?”
“We landed right in our own backyard about six hours ago, in the middle of a fucking lake,” Ray groused. “We were about a mile from the Safe House. I took Selene there first. She was beat up from the trip and wasn’t healing. No one was there. So I took her to your office. Marcy was just leaving, and let me tell you, that secretary of yours is a spark plug”—tell me something I didn’t know—“and she had a solution in about seven seconds. We took Selene to the local shaman house and they agreed to heal her for a fee, and then deliver her to the nymphs for safekeeping. I guess nymphs are only second in heavy artillery to the witches or some such thing? Anyway, Marcy had a contact there and made all the arrangements. We’ll pick Selene up once we get back.” I started to interject and Ray held up his hand. “Just a minute. Before the interrogation starts, I have one more thing to tell you.” He strode toward us right as a horn tooted in the distance, from what sounded suspiciously like a golf cart. “In order for her to help us, Marcy made me promise—”
“To bring her with you,” I finished. “I know, I figured that out the moment you mentioned you saw her.” I turned as a little white golf cart darted into view, containing a spunky and slightly disheveled redhead.
She flung out of the cart before it came to a full stop. “You didn’t honestly think I’d miss this party for anything in the whole wide world, did you?” She smiled like a shrew as she made her way toward us. “But I can promise you, my hand to the goddesses above”—she struck her chest with her right hand—“I’m never flying Vamp Airline again. That was the most hideous experience I’ve had in a long time. I’m still picking the bugs out of my teeth.” She mocked spitting on the ground.
I laughed as I walked to meet her halfway. “Well, once Naomi arrives,” I said, “the gang is mostly all here. It only makes sense you’d tag along. The boys are heading down from Virginia last I heard.” I embraced her. “The plan is to meet up in Florida. Any word on your aunt?” I asked as I stepped back.
She shook her head. “I haven’t been able to find out much, which is irritating my nails to the quick. I called all the European Covens. It took a long time to find someone who would actually talk to me. Some chick in Romania told me there’s some sort of magic disruption in Italy and there’s been a convergence of supernatural activity there in the last week and everyone seems worried.”
“Italy?” I commented. “That’s where the Mediterranean Pack is headquartered.” Julian de Rossi was the Pack Alpha of the biggest European Pack, located in Florence, and was my father’s ally.
Marcy shrugged. “That’s all I have. But as much as I love my aunt and my little cousin-niece, I’m going to make sure my mate is alive and well first. Once that is done, we can figure out the next Big Bad. My aunt is powerful and fights dirty. She’ll be okay until we can get to her.”
“Agreed.” I nodded. “Pack comes first, everything else is second.”
I’d fill her in on what had happened in the Underworld during the flight. I also needed to pick her brain for everything she knew about the Coalition. The witches kept better records than we did—in fact, it seemed everyone kept better records than the wolves did, but that was about to change if I had anything to do with it.
The pilot exited a small building next to the runway and walked toward the plane. I turned to Rourke. “Do you want to let him know we’ve added a few flyers to the list?”
“Sure,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”
“No need,” Marcy chirped before he turned. “They already know five of us will be on the flight. There was no way you were leaving here without me. And if Vamp Airline had failed, your little plane there would’ve been delayed by an hour or two until I could’ve made it conventionally. As I have the final payment right here.” She reached into the pocket of her cherry-red jeans and said, “Voilà” as she brandished a card in the air. It was black.
“Is that the Pack credit card?” I asked.
“Yep.” She smirked. “My man is crafty. I got in touch with him after we talked and he told me where his was. He also told me where they were in Florida.”
“Great news! That makes this easier,” I said.
“But we can’t get to their exact location by plane.”
“Okay, how do we get there?”
“We need to fly into Florida City, and then we have to rent one of those swampy hovercraft boat things. The boys are somewhere smack in the middle of the godforsaken Everglades.”
“What she says is correct,” Naomi called as she walked out of the trees. None of us had heard her land, but that was likely because she had landed farther away and walked
“Why do they have to wait?” I asked.
She shook her head. “I’m not entirely certain, but I did overhear some of the wolves talking when I hovered over for a brief moment. The news did not seem especially good.”
“What did you hear?” Rourke’s voice held a command.
“It seems the Voodoo Priestess has taken some of your Pack as prisoners.” She cleared her voice with a small cough before she continued. “And your father was discussing giving himself over in exchange for their release.”
Of course he would. He was their Alpha. He was much more powerful than any of his wolves and had less chance of dying. The situation must be dire if he felt he needed to make an exchange.
“That’s not the news I wanted to hear,” I said. “Let’s hope we can get to him before he decides to go through with it. It’s time to move out. I need to contact my brother and hopefully he can make a connection with our father to let him know we’re on the way.”
The plane’s engines started and we headed toward the plane. The stairs were down. I turned toward Marcy. “We told the pilot Everglades, but you said Florida City.”
“It’s all taken care of.” She waved her hand. “The moment Ray and I landed here I called them and they changed it.” She patted her back pocket and I saw her cell phone sticking out.
We boarded the plane.
It was small, but nicely appointed. All the seats were leather and I could smell the coffee brewing. I took a recliner next to Rourke, facing Ray and Marcy. Naomi scooted in behind us. I could’ve sent her and Ray to the Pack ahead of time, but the flight was only going to be an hour or two at the most and we needed the time to come up with our next plan. Plus, the wolves were not familiar with the vamps, so it was better to wait.
Tyler, I called in my mind. Can you hear me?
Yes, he answered. He was running and I could sense his short breaths through our connection. He had to be tired. It was going to be a long run.
Were you able to get in contact with Dad?
Not really, he answered. I’ve been trying for the last hour, but the connection is too fuzzy. I think it’s because you and I swapped blood. I think whatever causes you to block him is starting to affect me. Maybe it’s a built-in protection thing?
I don’t know why it happens—
Marcy’s cell phone rang, interrupting our conversation.
She’d set it on the small tray table between us, along with the black credit card and some other things she’d brought.
Marcy’s eyes shot to mine, mild panic filling them. “That phone is not ringing for me.”
“Do you know who it is?” I asked, effectively cutting off communication with my brother. I knew without a doubt that whoever was calling Marcy’s phone was the same caller who had tried our hotel room.
“Well,” she answered, “I know whoever is calling is not human, that’s for sure. The magic coming off that phone”—she pointed to it with a shaky index finger—“is off-the-charts crazy.”
It kept ringing and we all stared at it, none of us daring to reach for it.
It stopped suddenly and I commented, “I don’t know who would be trying—”
A message began to flash across the screen.
Rourke leaned over.
“What the hell does it say?” Ray asked.
When Rourke frowned, Marcy plucked it up using only her fingernails. She turned it toward herself first and her eyebrows shot to her forehead as she read the message. Then she slowly turned the phone around so I could see it.
The screen was flashing the words PICK THIS UP, CHICA! PICK THIS UP, CHICA! PICK THIS UP, CHICA!
The message scrolled across the screen like a ticker tape.
There was only one person in the entire universe who called me Chica.
I snatched the phone out of Marcy’s grasp, punching it on, and put it to my ear. “Juanita?”
“Oh, Chica, I’m so glad you finally picked up! I was getting worried you would keep ignoring me.” Her voice sounded exactly the same as it always had, even though I knew now there was no way Juanita could possibly be human. The magic signature coming through the phone, now that we’d made a connection, was crazy intense. It was so powerful it prickled at my face as I held the phone to my ear. “You are in a dire emergency. I had no other choice but to contact you. I am breaking all the rules, but I will gladly pay the price to help you.”
“The price for what, Juanita?” I asked, trying to keep the worry out of my voice. “I don’t understand. What’s going on?”
“Your life es in danger, Chica. That’s what’s goin’ on.”
Acknowledgments
I want to thank, as always, all my readers and fans. You inspire me every single day. To my awesome husband, Bill, you light up my life and everything in it. To Paige, Nat, and Jane, you continue to grow into amazing human beings. I am so proud. To my parents, Daryl and Koppy, your support is unparalleled and I appreciate it more than you will ever know. To all my writerchicks. You know who you are and I love you all.
extras
meet the author
Paige Carlson
A Minnesota girl born and bred, Amanda began writing in earnest after her second child was born. She’s addicted to playing Scrabble, tropical beaches, and IKEA. She lives in Minneapolis with her husband and three kids.
Find out more about Amanda
at www.amandacarlson.com
or on Twitter at @AmandaCCarlson.
introducing
If you enjoyed
RED BLOODED
look out for
THE HOUSE OF THE RISING SUN
Crescent City: Book 1
by Kristen Painter
Augustine lives the perfect life in the Haven city of New Orleans. He rarely works a real job, spends most of his nights with different human women, and resides in a spectacular Garden District mansion paid for by retired movie star Olivia Goodwin, who has come to think of him as an adopted son, providing him room and board and whatever else he needs.
But when Augustine returns home to find Olivia’s been attacked by vampires, he knows his idyllic life has come to an end. It’s time for revenge—and to take up the mantle of the city’s Guardian.
Prologue
New Orleans, Louisiana, 2040
Why can’t we take the streetcar?” Walking home from church at night was always a little scary for Augustine, especially when they had to go past the cemetery.
“You know why,” Mama answered. “Because we don’t have money for things like that. Not that your shiftless father would help out. Why I expect anything from that lying, manipulative piece of…” She grunted softly and shook her head.
Augustine had never met his father, but from what Mama had told him, which wasn’t much, his father didn’t seem like a very nice man. Just once, though, Augustine would like to meet him to see what he looked like. Augustine figured he must look like his father, because he sure didn’t look like Mama. Maybe if they met, he’d also ask his father why he never came around. Why he didn’t want to be part of their family. Why Mama cried so much.
With a soft sigh, he held Mama’s hand a little tighter, moving closer to her side. Unlike him, Mama only had five fingers on each hand, not six. She didn’t have gray skin or horns like him, either. She didn’t like his horns much. She kept them filed down so his hair hid the stumps. He jammed his free hand into his jacket pocket, the move jogging him to the side a little.
“Be careful, Augustine. You’re going to make me trip.”
“Sorry, Mama.” The sidewalks were all torn up from the tree roots poking through them. The moon shone through those big trees with their twisty branches and clumps of moss, and cast shadows that looked like creatures reaching toward them. He shivered, almost tripping over one of the roots.
She jerked his arm. “Pay attention.”
“Yes, Mama.” But paying attention was what had scared him in the first place. He tried shutting his eyes, picking his feet up higher to avoid the roots.
Next thing he knew, his foot caught one of those roots and he was on his hands and knees, the skin on his palms burning from where he’d scraped them raw on the rough sidewalk. His knee throbbed with the same pain, but he wouldn’t cry, because he was almost nine and he was a big boy. Old enough to know that he must also control the powers inside him that wanted to come out whenever he felt angry or hurt or excited.
“Oh, Augustine! You ripped your good pants.” Mama grabbed his hand and tugged him to his feet.
“I’m sorry about my pants.” He stood very still, trying not to cause any more trouble. Mama got so angry, so fast. “My knee hurts.”
With a sigh, Mama crouched down, pulled a tissue from her purse, spit on it and began to dab at the blood. “It will be okay. It’s just a little scrape. And you heal… quickly.”
The dabbing hurt worse, but he kept quiet, biting at his cheek. He looked at his hands, opening his twelve fingers wide. Already the scrapes there were fading. It was because of his fae blood, which he wasn’t supposed to talk about. He dropped his hands and stared at the tall cemetery wall next to them. On the other side of that wall were a lot of dead people. In New Orleans, no one could be buried underground because of the water table. He’d learned that in school.
The wind shook the tree above their heads, making the shadows crawl toward them. He inched closer to her and pointed at the cemetery. “Do you think there’s ghosts in there, Mama?”
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