Illicit

by Cathy Clamp

  Rachel’s arm shook with the effort of trying to keep still. The snake stopped in front of her, so close she could smell his musty reptilian scent mixed with an exotic spiced cologne. Her body started to tremble so hard that his power was the only thing keeping her upright.

  She didn’t want to be afraid, but her body wanted to curl into a fetal position. Her shaking hand had risen almost to her waist, but the snake still had to bend to reach it. He put one hand under her fist, steadying it, then lowered his head and lightly touched his lips to her hand.

  Memories of Roberto, Sargon’s right hand, filled Rachel’s mind. He used to kiss hands through the bars too. People didn’t live long after that happened. Touching meant painful, torturous death with snakes.

  But here and now, all she felt was the pressure of Ahmad’s cool, dry lips. No bite. No venom. When the man rose to his full height, she saw that his eyes were warm and sad. His voice held something close to pain when he spoke, so quietly that even the best ears might not hear his words.

  “I am not who you believe I am, young owl. I am Ahmad, the son of Sargon, the man you hate. I apologize for keeping you here against your will, but I had to be sure you were truly one of those in the caves before I shared this secret with you.” She felt a wall of magic drop over the two of them. Whether there were a dozen people in the next room or a thousand, she was certain they wouldn’t hear a word he said. Not even Denis, right next door, would hear. “Little owl, I share your hatred of my father and of Nasil.

  “What you endured at the hands of my father and his people, I have also endured. I have more scars on my body than you can probably imagine. I wish I could end your pain as much as I would my own, but I can only offer my sincere apologies and the knowledge that I killed Sargon, using every ounce of hate and desire for revenge that you feel right now. You are one of only a very few who know that I murdered him—and that I enjoyed it.”

  She could read his hatred and revulsion on his face, knew that his feelings were as strong as hers. His grim expression was wiped away by a small, dark smile that told of the satisfaction of doing what she would not have been able to. Something inside her dissolved, a pain she didn’t even realize she still had.

  The wall of silence lifted. The magic that held her in place eased. Ahmad turned to several robed men standing near the door. “This place and these people are protected. Let it be known.” They bowed low, their long robes flowing as they moved. The councilman nodded to Rachel and stepped away; her cell door popped open as though he’d used a key.

  “You may leave this building, but I regret we cannot allow you to leave town. If you try, you will be brought back here. The reasons for this I cannot share with you. But I hope you no longer feel such an urgent need to run.”

  He strode quickly out of the cell block, Rachel several steps behind. He must not have stopped to talk to anyone in the outer room, because by the time she got there, the jail’s door was closing behind him.

  There was a little crowd in the main room, their scents radiating confusion: her father; Marilyn; the cat woman—Mrs. Wingate—who was wearing a gold sweater dress that made her red-gold hair pop; the big bear, Tamir; and the owl shifter who was a Wolven agent, Adway.

  Her dad came close and put a hand on her arm. “What just happened? What did he say to you, Rachel?”

  She shook her head. If the councilman had wanted everyone to hear, he wouldn’t have used magic to block his voice. “Just that he wasn’t who I thought he was.” She could tell the others wanted to ask more questions—which she didn’t want to answer. “I need to go home now. Please.”

  It wasn’t an excuse. Home really was where she wanted to go. Ahmad was right. Her desire to run had lessened. But she wanted a shower and clean clothes. She knew the jail was clean; she was probably only the second person to be held there since it had been rebuilt. But she itched.

  The owl agent stepped forward, almost too quickly. “I’ll take her.”

  The cat shook her head. “Not yet. There are some things we need to discuss first.”

  Ooo … that didn’t sound good. That rat bastard of a bear must have thrown them under the bus. Rachel raised her hands in what she hoped was a placating gesture, knowing she was probably oozing guilt along with the remnants of her fear. “Look, that whole thing on the road … that was sort of my fault. Agent Adway has already had a strip of hide taken. Please don’t beat him up again.” Mrs. Wingate raised her brows and put one hand on her hip, and Rachel added, trying not to sound like she was pleading, “Or me.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about, but you’ve piqued my curiosity. Officer, could you please clear the building?”

  Rachel’s heart sank, Her father cast a worried look over his shoulder as he left. Marilyn ducked into the cell block and returned with Denis, in handcuffs. Rachel wondered fleetingly where he was going to wind up as Marilyn escorted him out of the jail.

  * * *

  Dalvin stood at parade rest in what was now a makeshift Council chamber while one of the Monier siblings stared at him. That she now called herself Wingate made no difference. He’d never encountered any of the Moniers before, though of course he’d heard the rumors of a family plagued by power so strong it could lead to madness. Tamir was right beside him, reeking of annoyance and grumbling under his breath, clearly pissed that Dalvin was here. Or maybe it was the fact that he was exhausted, just like Dalvin was. All night in the forest searching for threats to the delegates, crawling around in the dirt and shining flashlights tied to his wings up into trees. Later, they’d gone knocking on doors, interviewing the locals.

  And then they’d had to chase Rachel. Dalvin didn’t know about Tamir, but his muscles felt like lead, and he suspected, from the way they itched, that his eyes rivaled Rudolph’s nose. Tamir probably felt the same.

  It was the snake councilman’s fault. He’d ridden them like hobbyhorses since they’d arrived. Every one of them came back from an assignment praying that it was time to find a bed to crawl into, and he’d sent them out again on a new inspection. The man rose to a new level of ass.

  Rachel had moved as far away from the three of them as she could without leaving the room.

  Amber Wingate’s power stung Dalvin’s skin as she inspected the wound on his side. “So you had a strip of hide taken, and fairly recently from the look of it.” She asked Tamir, “Care to explain?”

  Tamir’s all-black outfit paired well with the darkness in his the voice and the Russian accent that came and went with his mood. Black boots, jeans, and shirt, a dark gray tie to match his stormy eyes. Dalvin thought, not for the first time, that Tamir really liked playing the villain of Wolven.

  “He deserted his post,” the bear shifter said in a near growl. “The mediator died and it nearly started a war between the sloths. He’s lucky all I did was take a strip of hide.

  Amber pursed her lips and turned to face Dalvin. “And your version?”

  Dalvin wasn’t sure what she wanted to hear, but the truth was probably best. Like he should have done the first time. “The same.” That earned him a look of astonishment. “Except I was lured away—I didn’t intentionally desert my post. But Tamir felt that deserved a strip of hide. I couldn’t disagree that it didn’t really matter why I left. The result was the same.”

  The jail’s front door opened, and a blast of power hit Dalvin so hard he wondered if his feathers would come in singed next time he shifted. He was starting to wish he was wearing Kevlar instead of a pullover and slacks. The man who entered was Middle Eastern, like the snake councilman, though he didn’t move like a snake. He was dressed in a well-fitting dark blue suit with no collar. A gold-and-white cloth covered his hair, similar to the one Ahmad had worn yesterday, but with different patterns. The cloth blew in a breeze generated by his magic as he stalked around the Wolven agents, arms behind his back. He smelled of no particular animal and no emotion except curiosity. Dalvin didn’t recognize him, but from the way Dr. Wingate backed up in deferen
ce, he must be a Council member.

  The man stopped in front of him and stared. He was the same height as Dalvin and stood so close their noses almost touched. His eyes were glowing golden. “Did you arrest her?”

  He blinked at the man’s very American accent. “Uh … did I arrest … who?”

  “The woman who lured you away.” His breath smelled of spearmint.

  His gaze was so intent, so focused, it was hard not to twitch under it. “Why do you think it was a woman?”

  “Your file is thicker than I expected given your time in service, Agent Adway. I keep hearing the word ‘troublemaker’ when people talk about you, but I don’t think that’s completely true. I don’t think you go looking for trouble; I think you have help getting into it. Nearly every page of your file includes a woman’s name. I would frankly be surprised if there wasn’t a woman involved when you screw up.”

  The swallow was involuntary. He’d never thought of himself as a troublemaker or someone who had a thick file. But women? It was hard to dispute there had been a lot of women in his life. “No. I didn’t arrest her. She’s … one of the delegates.”

  A low growl rumbled up from Tamir’s chest. Dalvin risked a glance sideways and saw the bear shifter’s hands clenched into fists and his jaw clamped tight enough to show ropes of muscles in his neck.

  “Ah,” was all the councilman said. He turned to the redhead. “What do you suppose we should do with these two, Doctor?”

  “Three. Mustn’t forget the woman du jour.” The physician made a Vanna White gesture toward Rachel.

  He could look at her now, since everyone else was too. Could she really be his childhood friend? Rachel Washington had been kidnapped so long ago … but this woman sure as hell smelled like Rachel—cherry snow cones, hot cement, and daisies. Summer scents from the inner city. She even had a tiny scar at the corner of her eye where a pop bottle rocket had glanced off her head and nearly set her hair on fire. Yet she didn’t seem to recognize him.

  Admittedly, he’d changed a lot. He hadn’t shed his baby fat until he was a senior in high school, long after she’d disappeared. To him, she looked much the same, only with smooth curves and shoulder-length natural curls replacing the skinny kid with braids down to her butt. He’d never really thought about what she might look like grown up. She was stunning.

  Yesterday, he hadn’t had a chance to ask if she was the Rachel he’d known all those years ago, not with everything else that was happening. And if it was her, why was she in a tiny town in Washington? Her family had been mourning her loss for a decade …

  His attention was dragged back, eyes front, when the councilman asked tersely, “Were you in the Navy, Agent Adway? You seem to have a girl in every port. Or are you just a player who doesn’t give a shit about the women he screws?”

  His face was burning and he struggled to make his words sound civil. “No, sir. Neither one.”

  “Excuse me? Do I get to talk here?” Rachel said from her corner. Dalvin saw the little girl he’d once known in the woman, eyes flashing, jaw jutting out defiantly, staring down any threat or punishment for speaking out. Didn’t matter if it was her mama, the minister at church, her second-grade teacher, or Wolven and the Council. He struggled not to smile.

  The councilman turned all his intensity on her. “Speak.”

  She paled, going from chocolate to coffee with two creams, realizing that she’d just stuck her foot in it. Then she plowed forward, determination in her voice. “I’m not ‘his girl.’ I just got caught in the middle trying to get the hell out of town … which, by the way, I had permission to do from the Wolven agent in charge yesterday. Can I get your guys’ names and ranks? I don’t even know for sure that anyone in this room is more in charge than he was. Can anyone I know vouch for any of you? Are you even Wolven? Or Council?”

  The councilman disappeared. Flat disappeared. He didn’t just move quickly, he blinked out. Dalvin, Tamir, and Rachel looked around the room, trying to figure out where he’d gone. Amber raised one red-gold eyebrow and kept staring at Rachel.

  A voice filled the room from the far corner. Rachel spun around and backed away from the phantom sound. “A pathetic Sazi dares to question the power of the sahip of the Hayalet Kabile?” A big cat roar made the hairs on the back of Dalvin’s neck stand and twitch, and Rachel let out a high-pitched screech that was worthy of the owl she smelled like. Except she smelled more of great horned than screech.

  Silence settled over the room, and the tang of fear and adrenaline rose to overpowering. Dalvin felt his muscles prepare to fight. Tamir caught his eye and nodded, saying without a word that despite their argument, he had his fellow agent’s back. Knowing Rachel was the most likely target, Dalvin moved toward her, placing himself between her and the rest of the room, so she could keep the wall at her back.

  After long, tense moments, Dr. Wingate burst out laughing. “Oh, for God’s sake, Rabi, quit scaring the kids.”

  A chuckle sounded near the table, and everyone spun to look as the man in the suit reappeared. He was now seated in a chair with his crossed feet propped on the table, rubbing a freaking apple on his shirt. His suit jacket was off and his sleeves were rolled up … and he was smiling. WTF?

  “Okay, okay,” he said, then laughed again. “Man, you should have seen yourselves jump. Why isn’t there a Sazi version of Punked?”

  Wingate shook her head, then walked over and attempted to swat him on the side of the head in a friendly way. He ducked, still grinning, and she missed.

  Amber looked at Rachel and let out an exasperated sigh. “I’m Amber Monier Wingate. You can ask your friends Claire or Alek to identify me if you’d like. If you have the nerve, you could also ask Ahmad, before he leaves. I’m the senior physician for Wolven and the Council. The chief justice of the Council, Charles Wingate, is my husband. This joker, I’m sorry to say, is my brother-in-law. Rabi Kuric really is the sahip of the ghost tiger tribe from Turkey, and he really is a Council member. His sister is married to my brother, who is also a Council member. And before you ask, yes, he was invisible. That’s his most annoying talent.”

  The tiger shifter took a bite of the shiny red apple in his hand and shrugged. Talking through the mouthful of fruit, he corrected, “Technically, I’m the liaison to the Council for my tribe. We don’t acknowledge being Sazi. That’s why I’m at this mess of a meeting. I don’t have any stake in who wins. And I speak the language enough to be sure nobody is translating wrong.” He looked at his sister-in-law, with twinkling eyes. “You’re just annoyed with my ghosting because I caught you turning up the thermostat when you swore to Charles it wasn’t you.”

  She sniffed and shifted the subject. “You’ve been spending way too much time with Ahmad, Rabi. You’ve gotten sneaky about the wrong things.”

  “Gotta give the guy chops for instilling fear in his enemies, Amber. Even Antoine is learning a few things. And it’s for a good cause. The three of us have become a force to be reckoned with in the Middle East. It’s really calmed down the tension among the different species of shifters there. If we can extend that peace to the Serbian and Bosnian bears, most of Europe will calm down too.” He took another bite and gestured with the apple. “Speaking of Antoine, he sends his regards. He’s been trying to e-mail you for a week. Tahira’s pregnant again and wants to schedule a physical.”

  Amber smiled. “Another kitten? That’s wonderful! I’m sure Antoine is hoping for a boy after two girls.”

  Rachel finally found her voice again, with the talk turning to mundane things. “What is wrong with you assholes? You scared us half to death! Disappearing, reappearing, growling out of thin air. You lock me in a cage for no reason and then pull this shit.”

  Councilman Kuric turned serious suddenly and pointed the apple at her. “Be careful, Ms. Washington. Just because I’m a little more laid-back than most, I am still on the Council and don’t like being insulted. And if you think carefully, you’ll notice that something very significant happened just n
ow.” He paused and swallowed. “All of you stopped being mad at each other and got scared. Then you got mad at me. In many places in the world, that’s how peace happens. If that makes me an asshole, so be it.”

  Rachel looked taken aback and sat down, nodding.

  “And,” Amber added, “we answered your question of who we are and why we get to make the decisions. Including you spending a night behind bars.”

  “Yeah,” Councilman Kuric said, “don’t let that tiny bobcat frame fool you. If her brother wasn’t the cat leader, Amber would be. She does enforcement even better than him. He gets too emotional.”

  Tamir spoke up. “I always thought Fiona was the member of the Monier family most likely to be on the Council. She’s utterly ruthless.”

  “That’s why she ran Wolven,” Amber replied. “She was too ruthless for diplomacy. Enforcement was better for her. And, hopefully, will be again someday.”

  “I thought she went rogue.” Dalvin didn’t realize he’d said that out loud until everyone turned his way. Tamir and Councilman Kuric winced at Dalvin’s faux pas—nobody ever mentioned the former Wolven chief, who had been taken out by an early batch of the plague drug—but Amber responded.

  “Not rogue. She’s still in her right mind. But she has … episodes where you don’t want to be around her. It’s better for everyone if she stays off the grid. Safer.”

  A roar of pain from outside nearly made Councilman Kuric fall off his chair. Everyone except Rachel raced for the door. Rachel went to the window instead, shaking her head as the others opened the door to look out.

  “Some people,” she said loudly, obviously intending to be overheard. “Running straight into a fight before they know who’s fighting or why.”

  That made sense to Dalvin, who joined her at the glass. A pair of massive bears, one brown and one black, were rolling on the ground, clawing at each other and roaring loud enough to send people racing for cover. “Oh, Gawddamn it! It’s Suljo and Bojan. They’ve been the only two sensible ones up to now.”