by Cathy Clamp
Amber touched her. “Time for you.” The cat’s magic felt like an extension of Bitty’s, which sort of made sense, since they were part of the same pack, although Amber was only occasionally attached. Rachel felt her feathers flow so smoothly into place that she imagined it was like what being an alpha must feel like. They slipped beneath the waterfall and into a dark, open cave.
I can do this. I can do this. She had to remember that she wasn’t alone. There were others, powerful others, who would support her.
Ahmad’s booming, Sargon-like voice echoed down the stone walkway. Her feet tried to freeze and time seemed to stop. She knew it was an act. But he really had that voice down. A shudder coursed through her and her heart fluttered frantically.
“Who is the careless fool letting new turns wander the countryside?”
“My lord!” came an astonished and delighted male voice. “We had heard you were killed.”
The snake’s laugh was rich and self-satisfied. “By my feckless son? Yes, I had Nasil let that be known. My first attack was a failure, unfortunately. But the next one will not be.”
Rachel heard Anica make a bawling sound, like she was in pain. “Put this one to work. She seems healthy. Let her make more.”
“Of course, my lord. Immediately.”
“You. Show me to my chambers.” That was the signal. They crept forward on their claws, taking care not to make any clicking sounds, Rachel and Angelique at the front, with Amber just behind to keep her shifted.
“Your … chambers, lord? We have no particular chambers set up.”
Ahmad’s voice went low and menacing. “Then where will I and my consort discuss … matters?”
They were close enough now that to see shadows of the speakers, cast on the walls by flickering gas lamps. There were three men, all large but made bigger in shadow.
“I . . I mean—”
The big cobra moved so fast that Rachel wasn’t sure what happened, but the other man fell, clutching his chest. He screamed once and then was still. “You were useless. Now you are at least food for the bears. Who is second in command?”
Another person spoke, voice tremulous. “I am. We are few in number, sire, after so many years. But—”
Amber said quietly, “Three, two, one. Now!”
Angelique flew down the passageway like a bullet. Rachel struggled to keep up. When Angelique opened her beak, Rachel did too, and they let out a simultaneous screech that stopped all movement in the caves, except for the good guys.
“Did you have to kill him, Ahmad?” Rabi was touching his paw to the side of the first man’s neck, his scent angry even over the smell of animal waste.
The snake barely turned his head. “Of course. My father was known for killing the first person he encountered at every base. Besides, I doubt that man was in charge of anything other than the list of those who would be turned.”
“Watch out,” Rachel called. “Incoming!” She was glad she could fly and sorry she couldn’t fly higher. The cave was about thirty feet wide but only ten feet high.
One of the bad guys had gotten away and had freed their captives. The problem with attack victims was that even if they successfully shifted, they were often just mindless rogues who would kill anything in their path.
The bears who flooded into the chamber were both brown and black. They could reach all the way to the ceiling, but they weren’t very fast. Rachel ducked, dived, and swooped, screeching with every breath. She wasn’t as good as Angelique, who could drop enemies unconscious with a single sound.
Pained wash over her, but she hadn’t been injured. Rachel looked around and saw that the others were doing fine with their opponents. That could only mean—“Outside! Quick!”
Amber followed her down the passage. The rest stayed to finish the fight in the cave. On the far side of the stream, Dalvin was under attack from a trio of falcons who were slicing at him from all directions. Rachel grabbed one in her talons and tossed it into the roiling waters of the waterfall. When it surfaced, Amber snapped its neck.
One of the remaining attackers was a powerful little bird, fast as a whip, with deadly, sharp nails. Already Dalvin was bleeding from a dozen cuts and punctures. Rachel let out a screech that dropped the two remaining, including Dalvin, to the ground. She pounced on one of the birds while Tuli, fast as lightning, grabbed the other, slamming her fangs straight into its heart. Like the guard inside, the bird screamed once and died. It happened so fast that she knew she never wanted to get on the wrong side of a snake.
“Rachel, look out!” Dalvin screamed in her ears and her mind. She turned to see a massive bear paw slashing at her. She dodged, but the blow connected with one wing, nearly severing it at the shoulder. She screeched, but her throat was getting dry, so the sound wasn’t as effective as it could have been. The bear paused barely long enough for Rachel to get out of its way.
Dalvin attacked the bear like a bird possessed, slashing and tearing. But the bear was giving as well as it got. Dalvin was taking damage—a lot of it—and everyone else was too busy to help.
With her wing damaged, her only real weapon was her voice. And that was gone, her throat parched beyond speech. Rachel had no choice. She half hopped, half fluttered to the water and threw herself in.
“Rachel!” Dalvin shouted.
I’m fine. Keep fighting. He didn’t believe her—she could nearly taste his worry—but he struck at the bear anew, pushing it ever closer to the water. Rachel was holding on to a boulder as water swept over her, filling her mouth to overflowing. The pain in her arm was tremendous but was also just the tip of the iceberg. As she clung to the rock, she recalled every pain she’d endured, every humiliation. It was all about this—some maniac’s attempt at world domination. Ruining other people’s lives for No. Good. Fucking. Reason!
She pulled herself out of the water, feeling like a phoenix rising from the ashes. There were now a half dozen bears and a similar-size flock of falcons attacking her friends. Rachel assumed the others had encountered more trouble in the caves, since they had not followed her out. Relying mostly on her one good wing, she flapped hard to get some altitude.
“Dalvin, Zarko, Tuli! Take cover!”
Dalvin broke away from the bear he was fighting, picked up Tuli like she was going to be a midmorning snack and, along with Zarko, dove into the river. All three of them ducked under the surface.
Rachel screamed, filling her voice with every good thing that had ever happened in her life. She’d used up all her pain. She was no longer small or helpless or weak. She was powerful and proud. She thought about the persistence and unwavering hope of her parents and family; Dalvin’s fierce determination to find her; Scott, Bitty, Asylin, and everyone else who had ever been kind to her, had loved her, had faith in her …
She pulled on the memory of everyone she knew and cared about for the magic she needed. She could feel the shock wave spread out, clean as fire, cool as water. Spent, she collapsed into the river.
The ground was littered with bodies. Not unconscious. Dead.
Zarko Petrovic plucked Rachel out of the river as easily as if he were rescuing a drowning kitten, while she gasped and retched up water she had swallowed. “Poor little owl.” He repeated the insult Larissa had uttered on the stairs, but in a completely different tone of voice. Had that been just a week ago? “Come to Serbia. You will teach us to be tough.”
Dripping wet, the quartet gathered on the grass. Rachel was still trying to catch her breath, and Dalvin, in human form, was holding her injured wing in place, when the others came out of the caves. They were dirty and bleeding and smelled to high heaven.
Surveying the scene—their little group and the mass of bodies on the grass—Rabi growled. “What the hell happened out here?”
Dalvin patted Rachel’s feathers and looked down at her, smiling. “Rachel happened.”
CHAPTER 22
The big old Episcopal church on the corner of Seventh Street had seen better days. The neighborhoods surro
unding it, which had once filled the pews, were empty now, or nearly so. But it was still home to Dalvin and his family. He heard the pure, clear sounds of choir practice as he walked through the doors. His mom spotted him right away.
“Dalvin, honey! When did you sneak into town?”
He gave her a quick hug. “Just flew in. I wanted to stop by here as soon as I got in.” He nodded hello to the choir members and embraced Florence Washington. “How are you, Mrs. W?”
Rachel’s mama held him at arm’s length and looked him over. “Well, Dalvin Adway, you look like you’ve been through a war! Where in the world have you been?”
His mother clucked her tongue and waved a finger at the other woman. “Now, you know Dalvin can’t talk about his work. Can you, Mister big-time special agent?”
“Actually,” he said with a big smile, “this time, I sort of can.” His mother looked surprised and quickly began to smell anticipatory. She’d always loved to hear the stories of what he did. “Why don’t we all run downstairs real quick? I’ll bet it’s still on one of the news stations.”
“Ooo! You got my curiosity flowing now, Son!” In moments, the entire choir was traipsing down the carpeted stairs like a herd of buffalo, heading for the meeting room in the church’s basement—the only room in the building with a television. It was mostly used to play religious animated shows for the children during day care. But today? Today would be long remembered.
He found the remote and turned on the set, then had to get help from the head of the day care to switch the input from the DVD player to regular television. He checked his watch: 9 p.m. Perfect.
The station played the special music that signified breaking news, as the anchors, a man and a woman, appeared. “And now back to our lead story, from central Europe.” A photo flashed on the screen, showing Dalvin, with his arm around Rachel, who was sporting a sling. Beside them were Anica, with a blanket around her shoulders, being guided by Liz, and finally, Ahmad, bringing up the rear. A real credit hog, that one.
“Oh, my goodness!” Mrs. Jenkins was first to spot him. “Why, that’s you, Dalvin Adway! Right there on the news!”
“The State Department today has confirmed that operatives of the federal government, in conjunction with members of a UN Special Task Force on Human Trafficking, raided what appears to be a slave camp in Serbia last night. Jill, can you tell us more about how this came about?”
The blonde reporter likely had flown to the site fairly recently. She sounded rushed and breathless, accenting the urgency of her report.
“Sarah, this quiet village in Serbia was apparently the scene of a horrific slave camp that contained children from all over the world.” Behind her, viewers could see a steady stream of children getting into vans. The team had found them in side caves off the main cavern. Some had shifted; Amber and Ahmad had changed them back to human form. They all were in shock, both from the sudden shifting and the bright lights in their eyes.
“This is amazing news, Jill. It looks like there are dozens of children there.”
Jill put a finger to her earpiece for a moment, then nodded. “There are, and it’s hoped that even more will be found. Authorities are crediting two escaped captives with bringing down this ring.” The image changed to the photo Dalvin had so carefully staged. Going back to the caves after the bodies had been cleared away and the team had had a chance to shower was a masterstroke, Dalvin thought. His mother was staring at the screen and clutching his hand so tight he was afraid she would break one of his fingers. Rachel’s mama was standing stock-still, her whole body trembling.
“We’ve learned that these two women are Anica Petrovic, a native of this area, and Rachel Washington, from Detroit, Michigan. They have just been appointed as the newest members of the UN task force. Quite a pair.”
The studio cut in. “Wait. Jill, are you saying that the same Rachel Washington who disappeared a decade ago from right here in Detroit was being held in a camp in Serbia?”
Another pause and another nod. “That’s right, Sarah. We have no idea what she had to endure before she managed to escape with her friend Anica, but authorities say it was their tireless work tracking down the constantly moving camp that led authorities to this raid.”
The last sentences were drowned out by the screams and shouts praising God, Jesus, and every saint, whether from their church or not.
The live feed cut off and the anchors returned. “Wow. That is amazing, isn’t it, Bob?”
“It sure is, Sarah. The two women are being held in a secure location, awaiting debriefing by the UN and the American government.”
Florence Washington collapsed into Dalvin’s arms, sobbing.
His mother rubbed the side of his head like she’d done since he was a kid. “You done good, boy. You done real good.” She shook her head. “Oh, my. When your father hears—”
Dalvin smiled and whispered to her, “Oh, he’s heard. Who do you think picked me up at the airport?” His mother looked at him oddly … not a surprise, since he normally didn’t use a plane to get home. But one of his fellow passengers couldn’t fly so well at the moment. “I’ll bet he’s upstairs by now. He was parking the car. Let’s go up and see.”
He led the way back to the sanctuary. His mother, just behind him, stopped cold at the top of the steps. She burst into tears, then moved to let Florence through the doorway.
Rachel stood there, battered and bruised, her arm in a sling.
Dalvin said, “I couldn’t think of a more secure location for her to stay.”
Florence screamed and raced forward to envelop her daughter. Rachel started crying as she kissed her mama repeatedly, all the while trying to keep her wounded arm away from the rest of the choir, who were all trying to hug her at once. The place was pandemonium.
His dad grinned broadly as he put an arm around Dalvin. “Our boy, huh, Mags?”
“This was a Wolven job?” She spoke quietly, but she could have yelled and nobody would have heard.
“Yep,” he replied. “Hope you don’t mind a new member of the flock. She’s an attack victim and a three-day. She’ll need some extra help every month keeping the secret. That wing of hers will probably be healed by the next moon or so, and she could use someone to help give her an aerial tour of the parts of the city that have changed.”
He paused to let the moment build before he said with a straight face, “Maybe have a nice meal in the park, or find a bridal shop for her to wander around in?”
“Oh,” his mother said, and her eyes widened. “Oh my!”
Then she smiled and hugged him.
Rachel smiled too and hugged her own mama.
It was an ending and a beginning all at once.
TOR BOOKS by CATHY CLAMP
Forbidden
Illicit
BY CATHY CLAMP and C. T. ADAMS
THE SAZI
Hunter’s Moon
Moon’s Web
Captive Moon
Howling Moon
Moon’s Fury
Timeless Moon
Cold Moon Rising
Serpent Moon
BY C. T. ADAMS and CATHY CLAMP
THE THRALL
Touch of Evil
Touch of Madness
Touch of Darkness
Writing as CAT ADAMS
Magic’s Design
Blood Song
Siren Song
Demon Song
The Isis Collar
The Eldritch Conspiracy
To Dance with the Devil
PRAISE FOR CATHY CLAMP
“An entertaining (and occasionally very dark) mystery.”
—Locus on Forbidden
“A perfect jumping-on point for a newcomer like me. Right away, I was captivated by the magic of this world [and] amazed by the social dynamics of Luna Lake. Recommended for fans of strange and beautiful magic.”
—The BiblioSanctum on Forbidden
“Popular urban fantasy author Clamp returns to the world of the Sazi in a
new series sure to appeal to fans of Ilona Andrews and Patricia Briggs. This action-packed story is laced with a strong dose of romance. Its multiple YA characters made this a solid choice for crossover teen readers.”
—Library Journal on Forbidden
“Cathy Clamp is a visionary author, creating new worlds that are both strong and vividly drawn. Adventure and excitement at its best.”
—Yasmine Galenorn, New York Times bestselling author
“Immersive shape-shifter fiction with plenty of action, a wealth of detail, and supernatural features that are just plain cool.”
—Jim Butcher, New York Times bestselling author, on Cold Moon Rising
“Each new Sazi adventure in this thought-provoking, intense series adds further luster to an already stellar body of work. Guaranteed page-turners!”
—RT Book Reviews on Timeless Moon
“I read the book in one sitting. A world this enjoyable deserves more than one visit. This book has some new twists in the werewolf’s tail that were very cool.”
—Laurell K. Hamilton on Hunter’s Moon
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Cathy Clamp is the USA Today bestselling author of Forbidden, the first book in the Luna Lake series, and coauthor of the original Sazi series. Clamp is also coauthor of the first six Blood Singer novels, published under the name Cat Adams. She lives in Texas.
www.cathyclamp.com, or sign up for email updates here.
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