Magic Triumphs

by Ilona Andrews

  Word traveled fast. “Yes.”

  “Any chance for a briefing?”

  “Why?” Curran asked.

  “Karen Iversen’s parents owned a house on that street.”

  I had no idea who Karen Iversen was.

  “Clan Jackal,” Curran said for my benefit. “Parents are human. She’s first generation.”

  A shapeshifter had attacked Karen Iversen, and she’d survived it and become a shapeshifter. Happened often enough.

  “The GBI refuses to let her or us on the scene,” Robert said.

  It made sense. Karen was a shapeshifter, but her parents were human, which meant the Pack had no jurisdiction. GBI likely didn’t want to start a panic before they had at least some idea of what they were dealing with.

  “They won’t tell us if they are alive or dead.”

  “They’re dead,” I told him.

  “I surmised that. They’re blocking us from viewing the bodies. I need to know what we’re dealing with before I file the necessary court documents to force them to release the remains.”

  I leaned deeper into Curran, letting the warmth of his body anchor me. “Robert, they can’t give you their remains.”

  “If it’s the matter of a quarantine, we are immune to most diseases.”

  “They can’t give you their remains because someone forced two hundred people out of their homes and then boiled them.”

  Curran’s hold on me tightened.

  “I’m sorry, it sounded like you said ‘boiled’?”

  I explained the puddle.

  Robert didn’t say anything. The kitchen was quiet.

  “Can we meet tomorrow?” he asked finally.

  “Yes. Cutting Edge at nine?”

  “I’ll be there,” Robert said.

  I hung up.

  “Sorry,” Curran said.

  “What for?”

  “For being gone.”

  “Did you catch the magic leopard monster?”

  “I did,” he said.

  “Then it’s all good.”

  “I’ll make it up to you. What do you need?” he asked.

  I glanced at Conlan. “Think he’ll be out for the next couple of hours?”

  “At least.”

  “In that case.” I put my arms around him and kissed him. It wasn’t a tender kiss. I hadn’t seen him for three days. The world had turned grim while he was gone, and I wanted him to know just how much I had missed him. His lips seared mine, the familiar taste of him washing over me, harsh and male. Every nerve in my body stood at attention and I shivered.

  Then my feet were off the floor, and we were moving up the stairs at an alarming speed.

  “Don’t want to wait until after dinner?” I murmured into his ear and licked the corner of his jaw, tasting the rough edge of his stubble.

  “Fuck dinner.”

  I laughed, and he closed the bedroom door behind us.

  CHAPTER

  5

  “NATNED! NATNED!”

  Curran took his gaze off the road to glance in the rearview mirror for a second. “You okay there, buddy?”

  “Natned!”

  “No,” I told Conlan.

  My morning started with Curran kissing me, which was very welcome. At which point we discovered that our son had shifted back into a human in the middle of the night, because he climbed onto our bed in all of his nude glory, slapped his belly, and yelled, “Natned!” Then he grabbed himself, in case we missed his point. After Curran stopped laughing, I handed our child over to him and escaped into the bathroom.

  Conlan had been yelling “Natned” since I packed him into his car seat twenty minutes ago. He’d clearly decided that clothes were overrated. At least he’d stayed human.

  Usually we had a line of people willing to watch him, but he could decide to go furry at any second, and if he did, both of us wanted to be there, so he was coming with us to meet with Robert.

  Outside the Jeep, Atlanta crawled by. Magic drenched the city. I always felt it, a kind of invisible sea, shallower here, deeper there, but ever since I claimed my little chunk of the planet, the invisible currents had gained definition. If I concentrated, I could sense them ebbing and flowing. It freaked me out even after all this time, so I tried not to think about it too hard.

  “Natned!” Conlan yelled to be heard over the sound of the engine.

  “He needs a deer leg bone to gnaw on,” Curran said. “They were my favorite.”

  “Can it be a cooked leg bone?”

  “He is a shapeshifter,” Curran said. “You know we don’t have to worry about bacteria and diseases.”

  “What about intestinal parasites?”

  “I’ve been eating raw meat for all of my life and never gotten a parasite.”

  “I would feel better if it was cooked.”

  Curran studied me for a moment, reached over, and squeezed my hand. “Still having a hard time with the shapeshifter baby thing?”

  “No. I love him whoever or whatever he is. But I spent eighteen months worrying that he would stop breathing at night, or get sick, or become injured, and raw deer femurs don’t go along with that.”

  “Cooked bones splinter. He’ll hurt himself.”

  “It’s funny how you use logic in an argument and think it will persuade me.”

  “He is still teething. He’ll need something to gnaw on.”

  “On one hand, a clean Conlan eating cereal. On the other, Conlan covered in blood gnawing on a deer leg.”

  “Which one seems more like your kid?” Curran asked.

  I gave him the look of death. He laughed.

  “Okay,” I told him. “But if he gets worms, it’s on you.”

  Curran turned onto Jeremiah Street. “I let him eat a mouse in the forest yesterday.”

  “Of course you did. Why wouldn’t you let your baby eat some filthy rodent in the woods?”

  “He caught it himself. I’m not going to take his kill away from him.”

  Why me?

  We parked. Curran shut off the engine and turned to me. His eyes had turned dark. “Don’t leave me, Kate.”

  “Where did that come from?”

  “I mean it,” he said. “I’ve got your back.”

  And I had his. That’s why when my father finally showed up to fight us with his army, I would do whatever I had to do to make sure he and Conlan survived. No matter the cost.

  “I love you,” I told him, and got out of the Jeep.

  * * *

  • • •

  THE ALPHA OF Clan Rat slipped through the doorway of Cutting Edge as if his joints were liquid. Of average height, Robert Lonesco had a slim build. His hair was coal black, his eyes brown and velvety, and he turned heads whenever he entered the room. He was also happily married to his husband, Thomas, and had no plans to change that any time soon.

  Conlan, who’d been running around the tables in a circle, sighted Robert and went into a crouch.

  Robert raised his eyebrows and took a step forward.

  The shift was instant. One second normal—well, mostly normal—human child, the next an oversized black lion cub.

  Robert’s jaw hung open. He actually did a double take. I didn’t blame him. Conlan made an adorable lion cub. At least he hadn’t gone into warrior form again.

  “Congratulations,” Robert finally managed.

  “Thank you,” Curran said, his face nonchalant, as if nothing notable were happening.

  My son shrugged the shreds of his clothes off himself and showed Robert his lion fangs. “Rawrrawrrr!”

  “Is he challenging me?” Robert’s eyes sparkled.

  I put my hand over my face.

  “Rawrwrwa!”

  “That’s the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen.”

  �
�Conlan,” Curran said, putting some growl into his voice. “Come here.”

  “Rawr.”

  Curran got up and strode toward Conlan. My kid lunged sideways, but Curran was too fast. His hand snapped out, and he lifted Conlan by the scruff of his neck. “No.”

  Conlan settled into his father’s arms, eyeing Robert like he was a cobra. We were currently in waiting mode, gathering strength for the time my father decided to invade us, but if I somehow survived and I got to raise my son, I was in for a hell of a time.

  “I want one,” Robert declared.

  “What’s stopping you?” Curran asked.

  “We’ve talked about it.” Robert sat in the chair in front of my desk. “We’re not sure if we’d go the adoption or surrogate route. In any case, the timing isn’t quite right.”

  “The timing is never quite right,” I told him.

  “How are you handling this?” Robert asked me.

  “Last night my husband let my thirteen-month-old spend an hour in the woods rolling in the creek mud and eating raw mice, and then my son passed out on the dog pillow hugging Grendel.”

  Robert winced. “I can see how that would be disconcerting. Did you have to sterilize the child after he touched that creature?”

  “Ha. Ha.” I picked up the file I’d put together last night and handed it to him. “Everything we have. Biohazard did a quick walk-through with a portable m-scanner. The copies of the printouts are in there, together with copies of my notes and Derek’s notes. I’m very sorry, Robert.”

  “Thank you.” Robert accepted the file. His expression turned serious. “I have some news to trade.”

  “It’s not nice news, is it?” I asked.

  Robert pulled a photo from his pocket and put it on the table. A tall man on top of the roof of a ruined building. His trench coat, sewn together from patches of different leathers and hides, flared as he walked across a steel beam protruding over a sheer drop. The beam had to be less than six inches wide. Wind stirred the man’s black hair.

  “Razer,” I said. I’d recognize that green-skinned bastard anywhere.

  When my father felt my aunt waking up, he created a cult of assassins raised to kill her if she became a problem. He called his cult the Order of Sahanu, after an ancient word that meant “to unsheathe a dagger.” He fed them all sorts of bullshit about the divinity of our blood. The sahanu lived for a single purpose: to kill at my father’s command, so they could be granted heavenly afterlife. Their highest goal was to murder one of our blood. My aunt, except I killed her first. Me. My son.

  My father had skated very close to the invisible line that people in our family didn’t cross. Erra reminded me of it at least monthly: whatever you do, don’t become a god. Faith had power, and once your followers believed in you, your thoughts and actions were no longer your own. Not to mention that the more people believed in you, the closer to godhood you came, and gods couldn’t exist in our reality, not permanently. They required magic for manifestation, and the tech shift would wipe them out. Roland had sidestepped the issue by making the blood divine instead of himself personally, but if the sahanu grew in numbers, he would have a serious problem on his hands. His ability to move freely in our world would be compromised, too dependent on belief and magic.

  Sahanu were fanatics, immune to reason, bribery, and pressure. I had managed to break one of them free of Roland’s grasp almost two years ago. Adora was still learning to be a person. During her last birthday, she disappeared right before her surprise party. We’d turned the city inside out looking for her. Given that she was one of the most skilled killers I’ve ever fought, I was sure something bad had happened to her or because of her. She came out of the woods twenty-four hours later, covered in mud. She’d seen some baby otters and followed them around the creek all day.

  Adora was ranked fourth in the sahanu ranks. Razer was ranked first.

  “Where was this taken?” Curran asked.

  “Sandy Springs.”

  Shit. Razer wouldn’t have entered my territory unless he had orders to be here.

  “Is Roland moving?” Curran asked.

  Robert nodded. “We are receiving reports of increased traffic to Jester Park.”

  “He’s pulling in his troops,” Curran said.

  “It would appear so,” Robert agreed.

  “My father is about to restart the war.” I leaned back in the chair. Now? He was doing it now, when we had all this other crap to deal with? His timing couldn’t be worse.

  Conlan gathered himself and jumped off Curran’s lap, clear across the table to me. I caught him, but the impact of forty pounds rocked me back. He licked my cheek.

  I knew we had been living on borrowed time. The sands had just run out.

  “Where does the Pack stand?” Curran asked quietly.

  “Jim and I discussed it,” Robert said.

  Jim’s first loyalty was to his people. The Pack lost a great deal in the battle with Roland. Sixty-two shapeshifters never came back to the Keep alive. Nineteen of them were under twenty. I remembered the bodies and the crying, the din of wailing that rose through the Keep when the bodies were retrieved. I still sometimes heard it in my sleep.

  Fighting my father without the Pack’s help would be very hard.

  “I’m here to tell you that the Pack will not stand against Roland unless directly attacked,” Robert said.

  It hit me like a punch to the stomach. I had suspected this was coming and it still hurt.

  “Given that the Atlanta metropolitan area is home to roughly eighteen hundred shapeshifters at last count, we consider any attack on the city to be a direct attack on the Pack,” Robert continued.

  Wait, what?

  “Which is why I’m authorized to bring you an offer of Mutual Aid. In case either your family or the Pack becomes aware of a citywide threat such as Roland’s invasion, we agree to assist each other.”

  Curran had his inscrutable face on.

  “Will the Beast Lord put it in writing?” I asked.

  “If you insist,” Robert said. “But a verbal agreement should be sufficient. It was passed as a resolution by the Pack Council, so it’s on record.”

  “You realized that after he dealt with us, he would come after you, and he would crush you alone,” Curran said.

  “Pretty much,” Robert said. “We need you and you need us.”

  I looked at Curran. “Are you comfortable with that offer?”

  He mulled it over. I petted Conlan’s furry head. He yawned. Running around in the office and changing shape really made him tired.

  “Is Roland named as the specific threat in the resolution?” Curran asked.

  “Yes,” Robert confirmed.

  “I’m fine with it.”

  Robert looked at me. “Kate?”

  “We agree,” I told him.

  “Excellent.” He took the folder off the table. “Thank you for this.”

  “Anytime. And, Robert? Could you please not mention that Conlan shifted?”

  Robert narrowed his eyes. “Trying to avoid the stampede of excited shapeshifters?”

  “Yes.”

  “My lips are sealed.” He walked out.

  We stayed silent for several minutes. Shapeshifter hearing was excellent, and Robert’s was off the charts.

  “That went better than expected,” I murmured finally.

  “They need us.” Curran grimaced. “I wish we had more time.”

  My heart cracked. “Me, too.”

  I had things to do. I would need to visit the Witch Oracle and let them know that we had to go ahead with the plan of last resort. My husband and my son would survive this.

  The door of Cutting Edge swung open, and Teddy Jo walked in, frowning.

  “Knocking, it’s a thing,” I told him. “You make a fist, lift it, and gently hit the door to
let the person inside know you are out there.”

  Teddy Jo shook his head. “Kate, there is some weirdness happening outside.”

  Weirdness seemed to be stalking me. I got to my feet and stepped outside, Conlan in my arms.

  Sunshine bathed the street, and thirteen people waited there, about thirty yards from our door. Long white robes with deep hoods hid their faces and swept the ground, shifting in the breeze. They stood in two columns, six people on each side, their arms crossed, their hands tucked into their sleeves, with a lone figure in a blue robe waiting between them.

  Magic brushed against me. It felt old and deep.

  The figures didn’t move.

  “Is this a present from your father?” Curran asked quietly.

  “I don’t know.” It felt like him, though. Ancient, dark, but oddly beautiful. Maybe this was his version of that phone call Erra was talking about.

  Curran put his hand on my arm. His eyes had gone completely gold. The hair on his arm stood on end.

  “What is it?”

  “Derek’s not-loup scent.”

  The figure in the center raised his arms. The blue robe slid down, revealing a young, dark-haired man, barely older than a boy. He was nude and built like a Greek statue, every muscle perfect. Dark-blue eyes looked at me from a beautiful face. A gash crossed his chest, carved deep into his flesh, and in the depths of the cut golden sparks flashed, as if he smoldered from the inside.

  “Daughter of Nimrod,” the boy called out, his voice accented. “I await your answer.”

  He lowered his arms to his sides and smiled. The wound on his chest sparked and ignited from the inside. Fire licked his flesh, spreading from the wound. The stench of burned human meat washed over me.

  What the hell . . .

  He kept smiling. His skin bubbled and he kept smiling.

  I spun to Teddy Jo and thrust Conlan into his arms.

  Wings shot out of Teddy Jo’s back. Wind fanned me, and then he was on the roof, out of the way, holding my son.

  The door to Nicole’s Automotive Repair banged open and Mr. Tucker charged out, his placard clutched in his hands.

  “Don’t!” Curran and I barked in the same voice.

  Mr. Tucker grabbed the nearest hooded figure. “Your friend is on fire!”