Harriet shrugged.
“Alright,” Tai said slowly. “I guess I'm on board.”
Harriet jerked him up by the hand and they looked at each other. He almost upended him. “Why didn't you just... I don't know, tell me.” He took his hand back as if burned, glaring at Harriet.
Ford looked at him, his hair stuck together by dried gunk from the change and Tai couldn't help but stare back. Especially disconcerting where the werewolf's package, holy fucking crow. “Like what you see, Simon?” the thing named Ford asked.
Simon gulped. “Blown away, more like.” His eyes went to Harriet. His former partner. Because they sure as hell weren't anymore. Tai didn't know what they were.
“We thought it was a botched acquisition and we'd live with the dens of the south getting a hold of that Blood Queen. But then Karl Truman got involved and everything went to hell in a hand basket.” Harriet was oh, so reasonable.
They're certifiable, Tai thought, backing up a little. Space was better. He couldn't breathe with that thing up his ass and now Harriet was an unknown. Tai was looking at surviving, one moment at a time. The creature had been on his weapon before he could fire. Hell, it'd been almost before he could think to fire. His piece was somewhere in the shadowed ground of the forest now. Damn. Disarmed and fucked. What a hot mess this was.
“The Packmaster of the Southeastern tried to kill Truman,” Harriet announced.
Ford was suddenly human and it made Tai jump a foot. Whoa... shit, Tai thought, backing up further. More space.
“David bit him and he was a red.” Harriet gave Simon only what he needed to know. “He had Were genetics, and a roll of the damn dice... he's a Red.”
“Wait!” Tai said and they looked at him. “So this cop from Homer, traces these... blood people,” he stabbed at his own memory for the naming and they nodded. “And he gets this close,” Simon made his index and thumb almost touch, “and you try to off him?” He spread his palms out wide from his body, saw the gunk on them and wiped them on his ruined- beyond-repair suit.
“I'm a plant for the Alaskan den.” Tai looked at Harriet and he gave a small bow. “I am not from this pack. Those Blood Singers escaped our region when a Were botched the taking of the Blood Queen. Now, we're stuck in a political conflict of regaining control of our blood population through whatever means necessary.”
Tai stood there for a moment, his mind touching on a hundred questions but stalled on the most important one. “What means?” His eyes searched Tom's.
Harriet laughed. “What other means? We travel to where the blooded people live, take what's ours and acquire Truman. We don't want any rogue Reds in this region. Too much of a wild card.”
“The Packmaster of the Northwestern and Southeastern don't know about Ford here.” Harriet jerked his thumb toward Ford, a tough man, low to the ground, hard and brutal in his bearing.
“This is a lot to take in,” Tai said, buying time. He didn't know how long or well that would work, after all, Tom Harriet would intimately anticipate Tai. They'd been partners for going on two years.
“We'll fill you in more on the way. I had to make sure Ford would follow through before we worked together,” Harriet said. Ford grinned but all Tai could see was the way his other mouth had looked minutes ago and shuddered.
Tai stood straighter, warming to his new role of survival. It was the only choice. Death wasn't a good one. “What's the plan?”
Tom Harriet smiled, pleased. He knew Tai would come around. Some wouldn't have been able to wrap their head around it. “We move north, to where the blooded people dwell. I now have the complete loyalty of Ford and he can identify the other Reds. We'll take them and whatever witnesses there were to the night the pack tried to acquire the blood Queen.”
“Who?” Tai asked, he couldn't help himself. It was too weird not to ask.
“Julia Caldwell,” Harriet hesitated then Ford nodded. “Cynthia Adams and Jason Caldwell.”
Tai's brows rose in surprise. “It was my understanding that they were dead and Miss Adams missing.”
Tom shook his head. “No. Truman wouldn't stop digging around and sticking his nose in where he shouldn't have.”
“And now he's been... turned.”
“As you will be,” Tom added.
Tai stepped backwards. “Nah... I know I'm not one of those,” he said, pointing at Ford who stared calmly back, not offended in the least by his disgust.
Harriet laughed. “That's where you're dead wrong.” Tai Simon searched his partner's eyes again, not liking his wording one little bit.
“How's that?”
“I don't make a practice of partnering with males who do not have pack ties.”
Tai Simon whispered, “No.” Being dumb wasn't a flaw of his. Making leaps of logic had been one of his best things. It is one of his best things. He didn't like this connect-the-dot he'd just completed in his mind. Tai prayed he was wrong.
“Oh yes, my friend. Somewhere back there, there's a wolf in the woodpile.”
Nope, not wrong. Heat drove from his feet, flushing through his body to reach his head last. He'd finally reached critical mass and there was just so much the human mind could embrace before it overloaded. Tai Simon didn't hear anymore, because he'd slumped to the ground in a dead faint.
Tom shook his head, they'd been through things together but he'd just taken in more than most human minds could bear. It was a nasty little shock, he thought with a grim smile. “He's a tough man.”
Ford grunted a second time, partly with the slight weight of the man
over his shoulder and partly in disbelief, “He better be a sight better as a Were,” he muttered as he walked to the unmarked SUV, a mere speck of black amongst the filtered gray shadows of the woods.
Tom Harriet followed. Tai would be fine.
Harriet had a nose for talent.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
It was morbid relief, but relieved she was.
Jen looked at the urn and made a face. “I know... the vamp...” Julia looked at her. “William meant a lot to you but do we have to, I don't know, have a shrine or something?”
Julia caressed the alabaster urn. “It's not a shrine, but he saved me. And by saving me he really died.”
“True death,” Victor said from the corner of the parlor where he'd been leaning against the wall. Julia turned away from the mantle where William's ashes sat and agreed simply, “Yes.”
Marcus sat behind his desk. Scott, Jason, and a handful of Singers lounged against door frames and couches, in the general vicinity but they were no longer on alert. Jacqueline and Tony were under magical lock and key for a three month hiatus, the Discerner of the fey having easily “made” the intent of both of them, validating Julia's request for jailing of the two. Her promise to return to the Unseelie mound in three months’ time was one she intended to keep. It bought Julia time to decide a lot of things. The main thing would be what to do with them. In the here and now, she was thinking about Jason.
About Scott.
She tried not to think about William. It was too heart-wrenching for words. But there wasn't any time for grieving. There never seemed to be for her. It was surviving one turmoil to the next. But finally, there was a chance to live normally, with her first choice. A normal choice made before all this happened, before Julia knew just how much her life had been manipulated from birth.
She looked at Jason and he gave a slight smile back, moving into her arms and pressing a kiss on the crown of her head. Then, too low for anyone to hear he whispered in her ear, “'Til death do us part, Jules.” She leaned back to search his eyes and replied, “Yes.” She tried not to cry, really she did, but it was so beautiful to see that expression back in Jason's eyes that a few tears struggled out. He caught them with his thumbs, sweeping them away with a practiced flick. Then his mouth found hers, in the lightest press of lips they'd ever shared. Full of promise, matching that look in his eyes.
Love.
Julia reluctantly to
ok a step back, swallowing all that swelling emotion. She had something she wanted to do. It was important. She needed to start leading her people, beginning with the most important person.
Scott came to her and she took his hand. “I'll be back,” Julia said to Jason and the trust was there. Just back where it belonged and she was beyond glad.
They walked out together, the Combatant standing down when they saw Julia with Scott.
She hesitated at the bottom of the porch steps, the lake in the distance.
“What?” Scott asked, squeezing her hand.
Julia laughed, feeling silly for that cool brush she felt inside her head. “It's nothing... just, feeling a little rattled.”
Scott smiled. “Understandable. A lot of shit went down, we're all feeling like we barely escaped the guillotine.”
Julia frowned, hating the visual. It didn't quiet her unease, but intensified it. She glanced at the Combatant behind her, counting five on the porch alone.
She shrugged her misgivings away, and smiling at Scott, they walked toward the lake together.
*
Jason
Cynthia watched Julia and Scott walk down toward the lake and turned to Jason. “You okay with that?”
Jason's eyes followed the pair and he slowly nodded. “I wouldn't slap an 'okay' on it, more like... tolerable. Barely.”
Cyn let out a breath she'd been holding. “That soul-meld was some creepy-ass shit.”
“Yeah it is. Scott is an okay dude, he's just...” Jason didn't know how to word it.
“He was panting after your lady,” Cyn said with a wink.
“So not funny, Cyn. Bad pun.”
Cynthia giggled. “Yeah, kinda. I like it though. With all this weird supernatural crap, we need some comic relief. Better to laugh than cry, true?”
Jason nodded, watching the pair make their way to that small lake in the valley of Region One. “Jules needs closure.”
Cyn looked at him in surprise. “Did you come up with that?”
He grinned. “Hell no, just repeating what she said.”
Cyn laughed. “I was gonna say.” They were quiet for a minute then Cyn asked, “Now what happens?”
He made a frustrated sound in the back of his throat. “Marcus said that we could have a Singers hand-fasting?” Jason said like he wasn't sure that was the term.
“I guess the human marriage wasn't good enough?” Cyn said with a snort.
Jason shook his head. “No.” Then he gave her a level look, his hazel eyes narrowing as he folded his arms across his broad chest. “Actually, it's enough for me, and I think Jules would agree.”
“But not for them.” She looked up at him.
“No.”
“Huh,” Cyn said, kicking a pebble out of the way. The porch was behind them, the Combatant and the occasional Singer would stroll by, making their way between the training center, the mansion and their houses.
Cyn gave a little jerk of her chin and Jason got the hint, following her a little out of the way. “Yeah?”
“So the Combatant studs stay in place, Julia stays here, doesn't age as fast and...? What, a Red Were becomes king of the Singers?”
“It's not what they want, there isn't that third supe to act like... I don't know- a go-between or something.”
“There's Delilah. They're just gonna have to roll with it.”
“That's what I thought. Julia's in charge, Jacqueline's been put under fey arrest...” He grinned and Cyn smirked.
“For now,” Cynthia reminded and Jason nodded.
He looked toward the lake, searching for those vague forms of Julia and Scott and didn't immediately see them and his heart lurched in his chest. It's okay, he calmed himself, Scott was one of the Combatant, they're all right. Must've gone into that little valley as it dipped to the shore.
Cyn smacked him and he frowned down at her. “Lighten up Jace, she's fine. She's with Super Stud down there.”
“Right,” he said uneasily, his eyes flicking away from that empty vision of the lake to who approached.
“Hey!” Cyn's hand rose as she sent a casual greeting to the cop and Adi, Slash tight on her heels.
That guy is one scary Were, Jason thought. A good guy though. He looked at the little female in front of him, spitfire should be her name, he thought with a laugh. She turned those serious brown eyes to him and he swallowed his humor. Jason got the feeling she wouldn't appreciate his thoughts.
“What's doing?” Truman asked.
“Hey cop,” Jason said and he scowled.
Karl scowled. “I guess I'm forever a cop.”
“Well...” Cyn said, holding up her hands, “you did tag our asses for two years?”
Truman felt the heat rise to his face and cursed his fair complexion for giving away his discomfort. It was too damn strange. He knew he looked like he was closer in age to these guys than his true age, but he was still almost fifty-one in his head, not the good side of thirty like he looked. Hell, it'd only been a day and a night since the faerie fun and he'd spent a half hour this morning in front of the mirror, touching every square inch of his face.
The reflection didn't lie. His brain hadn't caught up with his youthful looks. His hair was all there, his dark slate blue eyes bright. It was beyond weird.
Karl answered her question that was more a statement, “Yeah. But, it's not like that life matters anymore.”
“Did Marcus not say that the human police were searching for you?”
This from Victor, the GQ cover model of the Combatant and Jacqueline's lackey. Truman gave him a reluctant answer. He wasn't sold on him yet. “Yeah. But they're not gonna find me. Where's their resources? Nah,” he shifted with a newly balanced and strong physique, “they'd need a psychic to figure out where you were. Where we are.” He almost bleated out a laugh at the irony of that statement but held it in with an effort.
Victor's eyes became thoughtful. “You did, Karl Truman. You did.”
Karl paused. A thought struck him and he said slowly, “I followed it to Gig Harbor and then got nailed by the sister pack there.” He shrugged.
Victor's brow furrowed and he held up an elegant finger. Of course, Truman knew that he could be savage in battle, the elegance was a persona he slipped on and off when needed. It made him more dangerous in Karl's book, not less. “I think, it is plausible that if you found that trail, someone might have followed it at least to that point.”
Jason chuckled. “Don't worry about it, Vic,” Jason said, who had even less love for the Combatant than Truman. “I've lived in the pack for awhile, and believe me, it's pack business. If they find Truman, we'll deal with it or his Packmaster will.” He looked to Slash and Adi for confirmation and Slash nodded. “He's right.” But his face looked troubled.
“What?” Jason asked, glancing again at the lake. No Julia. Fuck. A prickling riptide of nerves slid across his skin, raising it to pebbled gooseflesh. Did he need to get his ass down there?
“It's just...” Adi began and put a hand on Slash's arm and Jason saw that brutal face soften.
Shit, that dude had it bad for the female. Jason looked at the shore again and saw a speck of gold. Julia's hair. He tension lifted. Not all the way but some.
“... that Slash is Red. Truman is Red. And so are you, Jason,” Adi said.
“So what?” Jason asked, wanting to end the conversation and get his ass down to the lake. He shouldn't have let Jules wander down there with just Scott. Lame.
“Reds are the lost royalty of the Were. They carry... there's a possibility that they're all rulers. That they can separate into different packs.”
Jason was trying to track the conversation despite the distraction of Julia. “What? Each Red splinters from the pack and becomes their own.”
Slash looked at Adrianna and sighed. “It's true. But it's more than just leadership. We're seen as a threat.”
Truman frowned. “ 'Kay, how? Because I like knowing these little details so I can stay alive in the new hierarc
hy.”
Slash's sharp eyes went to Karl's. “It's not good to have this many Reds in one area. It's dangerous. We'll be a target. If we're spread out, other dens don't feel threatened, not enough of us to form an alliance...”
“To do what?” Manny asked from the corner of the porch, jumping lightly over the baluster to the ground beneath as Cynthia moved back.
“Is it true? Can they just make dominant packs from Reds?” Cyn asked and Manny nodded. “They are true moonless changers with the right blood ties.”
This was getting interesting, Jason thought, his eyes moving back to the group. “With who?”
“It's not just alpha females, rare though they are, that can throw pure Weres, though only the Rare One can guarantee the moonless. It is the Singer female, just as the fey noted, that has the neutral blood needed to breed true.”
Cyn gave a nervous laugh. “Seriously? Are you freaking joking?” she asked, her hand to her chest. “Because this girl isn't laughing. Gawd, duh.” Jason thought he heard her mumble, effing perv or something and chuckled. Then his eyes went to the lake and the laughter died. Seeing nothing.
Fuck it.
He looked back to the group. “Listen, I... I want to check on Jules,” he said and didn't care if it made him sound paranoid or jealous. He didn't give a rat's ass. He turned and began striding to the glistening black water, no moon in sight. His eyes didn't need the light, he could see just fine.
Lucius called out from the porch, “Jason!”
He turned halfway, his body's movements already committed in the opposite direction.
“Julia is with Scott,” he said like that closed the potential to problems.
He paused, then, “Just gonna check anyway...”
“We have sentries at every directional point, Were.” Lucius' eyes met his and Jason nodded once and thought, good for them.
“Yeah, okay.” He turned his back on them and continued on his merry damn way.
“Wait up!” Adi yelled and they followed. Jason didn't turn. His tread was heavier than his heart as he made his way.
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