by Riley Storm
Khove frowned. “You don’t believe me.”
Rachel shook her head. “No, no, it’s not that. You actually showed pride in yourself there, which is a first. Usually you’re actually somewhat humble.”
“You find that odd?”
She shrugged. “Usually, someone with your skill and expertise is not quite so…reserved.”
“I try,” Khove said with a smile. “But then, what was the confusion in your voice for?”
Rachel looked away, unsure if she should ask the question or not. Just ask it. What else are you going to do while you wait?
“Rache—”
“Why do you always say the word company with such a funny twist?” she blurted before he could prompt her. “Like it’s not a word you would usually use?”
Khove fell silent, looking straight ahead, his eyes fixed on something only he could see. Not the monitor or gravel-covered roof in front of them, but something else. The pause stretched on and on, the only interruption to the silence the quiet rumble as a car passed by on the street below.
She was about to repeat her question when he opened his mouth first and started to speak, the words coming slowly. Rachel listened intently, recognizing that whatever his answer was, this was a subject of great importance to him.
“It’s because we don’t actually think of ourselves as a company,” he said slowly, obviously choosing his words with care. “It’s much more like a family. We think of ourselves as a House.”
“A house?” she echoed. “I don’t get it.”
“Not house. House,” he said, stressing the word. “Capital H. House Ursa.”
“House Ursa,” she repeated slowly, trying to wrap her head around it. “Wait. Like an aristocrat? Nobility? That old-timey sort of stuff?”
Khove nodded.
A gust of wind whipped across the roof, forcing her deeper into her layers of blankets and winter clothing. Next to her, Khove barely twitched, the only sign he felt anything the rise and fall of his eyelids as they lowered to near slits until the wind died back down.
“House Ursa,” she repeated, trying to understand. Did such things truly exist in the world anymore? There was the British Monarchy and their various branches and the like, and a few other countries across the sea had it as well. But that was it, wasn’t it? Nobody else still worked like that. Or so she thought.
“Yes,” Khove admitted to her unspoken question. “We’re kind of old fashioned like that. I know it’s weird and unusual, but it works, and that’s really what matters.”
“Hence the Queen title you called the woman on the phone,” she said slowly, piecing it together. “Okay, it sounds crazy, but I mean, if I choose to believe you, then it makes sense, though I can’t fathom why so many people would agree to such an archaic scheme…for a company.”
She didn’t phrase it as a question, but Khove could tell she was asking nonetheless. Was it really an official company?
The big man stayed silent, stoic against the wind as it swirled up some of the bits of snow that remaining atop the roof. Most of it had melted, but here and there pockets remained, and now they were pelted with it. Rachel blocked her face with an arm. Khove just closed his eyes, and brushed off the remnants once it calmed again. They’d been dealing with this for two hours now, both of them used to it, though she was starting to feel the cold seep into her bones. Hopefully, something would happen, and soon. The monitor still showed no signs of life moving near their building, but neither had anyone else radioed in at their sites. So far, everything was quiet.
Rachel didn’t believe for a second it was going to last.
“Who do you protect the Queen from, then?”
Khove’s head twisted slightly to look down at her.
“You said you were a bodyguard, right? Your training seems…excessive, for that sort of security role.”
This time, the giant grinned. “Maybe. Maybe not,” he admitted. “She has enemies. People who think they can harm her.” There was a pause. “People who think they can usurp her power. People who try to kill her. People like Korred.”
Rachel was taken aback by the cold fury of his words. The rest of his face betrayed no emotion, but his words were another story entirely. She could have written a novel based on how much emotion they contained. Not just his anger at Korred and she guessed others who had tried similar things, but also his dedication to his Queen, and the sheer reverence he gave…to a position.
It sounded similar to some fanatics she’d heard before talk about the men who guarded the President. The Secret Service detail were expected to be like this man—loyal to the office first, regardless of whoever sat in the chair. It was remarkable to encounter that elsewhere. Just who were these Ursa? How come she’d never heard of them before?
She hadn’t said anything earlier, but after looking at the map and all the possible targets that Khove had laid out, it became apparent that House Ursa, whoever they were, owned roughly a third of Plymouth Falls. It was unbelievable, to say the least. There had been nearly two dozen marks on the map, between the ones already hit and the remaining “large” businesses. What else did they own?
It was likely any inquiries into them would be shut down, given the pull they seemed to have in town. The ease with which they’d convinced Sheriff Dottner to assign a civilian to help her—no matter how highly trained—was probably an indication that she’d politely but firmly be told to cease her investigation into their business.
“Are there a lot of people like K-Korred?” she asked, her teeth chattering at the last word.
Khove shifted. “You’re cold,” he remarked.
She decided to let his avoidance of the question go. For now. “It is the d-dead of winter out here,” she said, unable to hold back another shiver. “Despite your seeming indifference,” she said, indicating his lack of blankets and layers compared to hers.
“I generate enough heat,” he rumbled, eyes flicking between her and the screen, ensuring nothing was missed while she was glaring up at him. “I don’t need it.”
“Must be nice,” she muttered, returning her gaze to the screen.
A moment later, a large arm dropped over her as Khove came closer, into her personal space. Rachel was about to protest when heat came flooding into her, banishing the cold as she tucked in close to his side. It was amazing. He seemed to be surrounded by his own personal heat bubble.
“You weren’t kidding!” she exclaimed quietly. “You’re so warm!”
Khove nodded and she felt his entire body move under her. Under her. Rachel stiffened, suddenly very acutely aware of their proximity. She was practically resting on his chest now, the impossibly broad, powerfully-muscled chest…
It reminded her of their other recent closeness, the way their hands had seemed to find each other’s on the planning table a few hours earlier. And—as always when she entered into his personal space—with that proximity came a sense of calm and peace. Safety, like tranquility, was dangerous in its relaxing nature. She had to blink several times, forcing herself back to high alert.
Who is this guy? How was it that he made her feel so at ease?
Another burst of wind blew straight across the roof at them, and despite the arm around her shoulder, Rachel found herself shivering again. She tightened as Khove moved next to her unexpectedly.
“Relax,” he said, the words coming unexpectedly close to her right ear.
With a casual ease that she knew shouldn’t be possible for even the strongest of people, Khove slipped an arm between her back and the wall and under her curled up legs, and casually lifted her up and put her in front of him.
She froze, unsure of what to do as his bent legs formed walls to the sides, and his arms came around to hold her back to his chest.
Sapphire-blue eyes went wide. If beforehand she’d felt warmth, now there was a blast of heat that beat back the windchill with ease. Rachel gasped despite her best efforts. The man was a bloody walking furnace! How was any of this possible? More importan
tly, why was she letting it happen?
“Khove.” Her voice was tiny.
“Shhh.”
Rachel frowned. Nobody shushed her! Not even this fiery colossus. She opened her mouth to give him a piece of her mind, but a giant hand clamped over her lips.
“Shh,” he repeated, and the other meaty hand lifted, a single finger pointing straight ahead.
At the screen.
Rachel stopped moving instantly, watching closely as her eyes picked up the red blobs creeping out of the forest on the back side. They had done it. They had picked right, this was the target.
Reaching up, she grabbed his hand and pulled it away from her mouth, too busy to focus on the screen to remember to let go of it once her mouth was free.
It was time to do her job.
16
Watching regretfully as Rachel extricated herself from his grip, Khove cursed the attackers for their poor timing. His brain was still trying to process why he was frustrated at that when another thought went through him.
The shapes on the screen were generating heat signatures. Fae were creatures of magic, beings from another plane. They would show up on video, or on motion detectors, but they did not generate any heat. Silently, he rose up into a crouch and peered over the wall. His sharp eyesight almost instantly picked up the trio of humans.
Humans. Not Fae. Khove breathed a heavy sigh of relief. Humans, he could handle. If they were Fae with them, he would have had to find a way to stop Rachel getting involved. She simply wasn’t up to the task. Yet. He vowed to find a way to change that.
“What are you sighing for?” Rachel hissed. “Are you relieved that they’re attacking?”
“No, but it’s nice to be right,” he said wryly.
“Right?” she growled. “You weren’t right. This was my site. If we’d gone with your suggestion, we’d be across town right now.”
Khove winced. He’d forgotten about that, and had been simply trying to play off his initial reaction.
“Uh, right. It’s good that we’re the ones in place to intercept though,” he said. “So that none of the others are forced to deal with this.”
Rachel gave him a look that said she didn’t believe a word he’d just said. Which was weird, because he actually meant that as well. Whoever these people were, they weren’t just casual street thugs. They would be hardened criminals, quite possibly the only ones in Plymouth Falls, assuming Korred hadn’t brought them with him from elsewhere.
“What’s your plan?” he asked before she could speak again, trying to deflect the attention back to Rachel. Force her to think about stopping them, and not Khove’s reaction.
“The plan is simple, like always. We stop them,” she said. “Before they can burn it down.”
On the monitor, the group of red blobs was getting closer. Rachel got into a crouch and started heading for the back of the building where the ladder to the ground level was located. Khove looked at that, calculating how long it would take Rachel to get down, and then run four shops down to the alleyway and through.
He didn’t have a time, but he knew it was too long.
“Not that way,” he hissed, unhappy about what his mind was suggesting, yet knowing it was the only way to achieve their plan. “No time. If we do it that way, we’ll be too late.”
Rachel stopped and looked back at him. “Do you have a better idea?”
He nodded. “Do you trust me?”
She started to shake her head, then paused, a weird, scrunched-up look on her face. “Yes,” she said, sounding like she couldn’t believe she was saying it. “I think I do.”
“Good. Whatever happens, don’t scream. Put a hand over your mouth,” he ordered, and picked her up in his arms. “Seriously, I’m not crazy. Trust me.”
Then he turned and without warning, leapt over the three-foot high lip wall that ran along the edge of the roof.
Rachel shrieked, but she kept a hand clamped to her mouth, the sounds muffled and hopefully drowned out by the wind, blowing fiercely in the open street. Khove on the other hand, broke out into a wide grin as they dropped the two stories to the ground, his legs bending easily to absorb the impact. Then he took off at a jog across the street.
Or tried to. A fierce hammering on his chest stopped him.
“I can run, you maniac!” she hissed, slipping from his arms and pulling her gun, keeping the barrel pointed at the ground as she raced across the empty street.
Khove was right on her heels, trying to keep a grin from his face as they charged into the face of danger. Now this was something he could get used to. The detective was fearless and brave. Knowing they were simply going up against humans now, he let her do her job, watching as she flung herself up against the wall outside a side door.
“They went in there,” he confirmed, his senses coming fully alive as he tapped into them, tracking the scent through the door.
Rachel leaned in closer, looking at the lock. “It’s been jimmied open,” she confirmed. “They’re inside. Cover my six.”
“Roger,” he growled sharply, intending to cover her from three-hundred-sixty degrees. Nobody was getting past him.
Khove had left Rachel alone once before, and he’d seen how she’d reacted to that, and he didn’t intend on letting it happen a second time. Not now he knew she was counting on him, and they were heading into a building that most decidedly was not safe. There were three criminals inside, probably wiring some sort of firebomb even now, as the duo crept up on them.
Preternaturally sharp eyesight pierced the darkness, looking deep into shadow for any lookouts or other warning devices. Khove knew he would have done one or the other, but without knowing who he was up against, it was impossible to say if the trio inside was experienced enough to do such a thing.
Rachel seemed to move with an idea as to where they were headed, and so he didn’t try to correct her. The restaurant wasn’t that big, and if they weren’t in the back, they would be up front somewhere. Not only after clearing a quartet of offices in the back, they moved into the kitchen, but there was no sign of their targets there either.
Motioning with her hand, she pointed at the swinging doors that led into the dining room, indicating she was going to go out there. Khove held up a hand to stop her, closing his eyes and reaching out with his senses.
Muffled voices, speaking very quietly, reached his ears. Whoever they were, either they were behind some tables, or they knew how to speak softly and not in whispers, because their voices were not carrying far at all. Perhaps it was both.
He held up two fingers, pointing off to the ten o’clock position, if the doors were noon.
Two people, talking, that way, he said with his hands.
Rachel nodded sharply, held up three fingers and shrugged. Her question was clear.
Where’s the third?
Khove strained hard, listening for a third voice, or anything. On a whim, he tested the air. Eyes wide, he motioned for Rachel to back away from the door. She looked around wildly, but her only path was straight back from the door. Frantically, she backed away, trying to move silently, a compromise between speed and stealth.
It was too slow. The door opened in front of them, and the third man walked through it. He paused in surprise as his eyes picked out the shape of Rachel in the dim lighting provided by the emergency exit light. He couldn’t know who was there, but she was outline enough for him to realize it was someone.
Khove rose up from beside him like a wraith, pure shadow as his arm snaked around the man’s neck and squeezed. His other hand locked it into place, fingers covering the attacker’s mouth so he couldn’t make a noise.
“Shhh,” he spoke into the man’s ear. “Don’t fight it. That’s a large arm.”
Rachel came forward as he sank to the ground, pistol pointed right between the eyes. She gave a shake of her head, letting him know what would happen if he fought. A moment later, the body went limp.
“Don’t kill him,” she mouthed, her voice barely audible.<
br />
Khove grimaced, but let go. She was right. These were humans. Not shifters, not mages, but plain dirty human criminals. Rachel needed to be able to arrest them and put them in custody. Khove had no jurisdiction to wantonly kill them. His frustration was not born from letting them live, but from forgetting that he had no need to kill them. His bloodlust was taking over.
Keep it under control. Save it for Korred, the one who truly deserves your wrath.
With one of the criminals down, it was two on two, and together they crept into the main room, easing the door closed behind them. Khove nodded to their left. The pair was still over there, talking about…something. The words were too muffled, even for him.
They could see them now, two shadows, hunched over an object. The streetlights and storefront signs cast enough light for him to see that much, though he still couldn’t tell what they’d brought with them.
Suddenly, white light bathed the criminals. A split second later, Rachel’s voice barked out orders. “Freeze! Police!”
Khove hadn’t realized she was intending to go about things this way. He’d intended on sneaking up on them and taking them out simply by clunking their heads together. Caught in a crouch and entirely unprepared, he was unable to stop the criminals as they whirled, guns coming up.
As they did, he caught a glimpse of what was behind them.
“Don’t do it!” Rachel shouted, but it was too late.
There was only one way he could save her. She might get one of them, but not both. Not before she was riddled with bullets. Khove snarled and launched himself forward, aiming for the only thing he could think of: the detective.
Twisting mid-air, he put his back to the criminals. Thunder filled the restaurant, and he grunted as pain blossomed across his back. The bullets posed no threat to him, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t any pain. The metal slugs were still traveling extremely fast, each impact like a hammer blow.
Rachel screamed as he caught her up in his leap, flinging them both up and over a nearby booth, only to crash down onto the table beyond. To his immense satisfaction, she landed on top of him, seemingly unharmed by the entire ordeal.
