Blood Promise (A SkinWalker Novel #4) (A DarkWorld SkinWalker Novel)

by Ayer, T. G.

  Cassie pursed her lips and then slid into a stool and faced me. "Look, I am probably not supposed to tell you this, but the offer won't be on the table forever."

  I didn't say a word, just pulled cups and saucers from the cupboard above the counter and laid them out. My pointed finger at the cups got a 'no' from Cassie.

  "You're special," she continued. "We all know that, but even for the Niamh, offers don't stay offered when you keep refusing."

  I stiffened. "So you know?"

  She shrugged. "Most agents who need to know, know. I was tasked with looking after an agent who we'd once thought was the Niamh."

  "My mother."

  Without missing a beat, she continued. "And when we discovered the interpretation of the prophecy was wrong and indicated you, we went with it."

  "And now?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.

  "And now that we know that you are not the only savior, we've planned accordingly."

  I smiled faintly. "Good to know."

  Somehow I'd felt dethroned when Grams had confirmed the prophecy's interpretation had been slightly skewed. Although, if I were honest, I much preferred to be part of a team than to carry such responsibility alone. If the shit hit the fan it would be nice to have company in my shame.

  "There are a few people on the upper rungs who--" she hesitated, "--disagree with this offer."

  Disagree. Pulling out of my thoughts, I grabbed a knife from the top drawer and selected bread, butter, and cheese from the fridge. "Like Paulson?" I grinned as I buttered a slice of bread.

  Cassie made a rude sound. "Paulson is ruled by his male parts. When he calms down he'll realize he would have probably made the same decision you did."

  I hiked my eyebrows. "I thought you guys played by Sentinel's rules?" I just couldn't picture Spy-Man-Paulson doing something nice. Or even something for someone other than himself.

  She shook her head, her blonde hair glinting as it danced around her shoulders. "We do. For the most part. But Sentinel doesn't insist we do things that are wrong, illegal, or against our moral code. If you were on the payroll you would have still been able to make that final choice to save Baz."

  "Really?"

  "Really."

  This was sounding a heckuva lot better than Omega, especially since I was still reeling from the discovery of their underground facility. How could I possibly come to terms with the knowledge that Omega had been holding and experimenting on my mom?

  "Do you have any information on their facility?" I asked her.

  "Irreparably linked to Omega," she said. "They're dicking us around right now, but the Grande High Council wants to get to the bottom of it. Omega is guilty. Once the charges are formalized the whole organization is in trouble."

  I thought of Logan, of Saleem, and my stomach tightened, the buttered bread forgotten. "Not all their agents are guilty of wrongdoing."

  Cassie nodded. "The High Council knows that. They aren't just going to arbitrarily label people as guilty. They would first require proof. And as for the teams on the ground, they're just the worker bees. The council wants the queens."

  The kettle whistled. I switched it off barely registering the noise. My mind remained fixed on my two friends who'd get vaporized when the whole Omega thing blew.

  I sighed. "Who knows what else they've been doing that they're currently scrambling to sweep under the floorboards."

  "You have no idea what Omega is suspected of," Cassie said sadly. "The list of offenses is longer than my arm."

  "Then find the evidence and make it stick," I said. "To the guilty. Just be careful how you do it, Cassie. Too many innocent people are likely to get hurt."

  She got to her feet and reached for her bag. "I can vouch for Sentinel. Their heart's in the right place. And you should trust them. I do."

  "So . . . you think I should say yes?"

  "Of course." She winked. "Join the family business."

  I nodded wondering if Mom would consider rejoining her old team. It would make sense if they were offering her her old job back--especially after what she'd been through. If I were in her place I'd be champing at the bit to slide a knife across Omega's collective jugular right now.

  "Right," she said. "That's me. Now I've really got to get my arse moving." She sketched a salute as Larsson appeared. This time he smiled before they faded into nothing.

  I stared at the empty air, hoping at least some part of my heart would tell me what to do.

  I wasn't stupid. I knew I'd refused Sentinel because it wasn't Omega. Omega meant Logan, and any other choice would have conflicted with our relationship no matter how either of us tried to avoid it.

  But Sentinel and my family had a long history, so joining their ranks would mean I'd be following in my family's footsteps.

  I shook my head and reached for the can of English Breakfast tea leaves. No. Omega was under investigation. Sentinel was doing the investigating. Now wasn't the time to take a position with Sentinel. The last thing I needed was to be tasked with tossing Logan and his friend out on their butts.

  The Elite Corps was looking better every day.

  I grinned as I spooned tea into the teapot and covered it with boiling water.

  Butts or arses, everyone's behinds were on the line.

  CHAPTER 7

  I'D JUST PLACED THE TEACUPS on the dining table when Grams exited the bedroom, her pale skin pink from the heat of the shower and her white blonde hair curling at her temples. The fact she was wearing her gray sweatpants and hoodie was a comfort. It meant she was home for the evening.

  "Kailin, dear." She reached out and pulled me close and into a tight squeeze. Grams was a hugger and I didn't mind at all. "You look tired," she said against my cheek.

  I nodded as I disengaged from her arms and reached for the bread and cheese. Setting the plate on the table, I made a face. "Sorry. I didn't have anything else in the fridge for dinner. Been in Scotland."

  Grams laughed, her face brightening as she shook her head at me. "You forget, I have my spies."

  I snorted and pushed the sugar bowl toward her. "Of course, you do."

  "Was that Cassandra?" she asked as I handed her a spoon.

  "Perceptive of you."

  "She has a particular way of forming her vowels and consonants."

  Yeah, that and the fact that Gram's panther nose worked just as well as mine.

  I rolled my eyes. "Gee, Grams. Speak straight. I'm not old enough for old-people-speak."

  "Watch it, young lady," She gave me a mock glare and then lifted her cup to blow lightly on the steaming surface. She took a sip. "This is good. Hits the spot."

  It certainly did. I drank deeply, enjoying the sweet warmth as it slid down my throat. All that time in England and not a drop of tea to drink.

  Then again, was Scotland part of England?

  I frowned, then sat back noticing that my fingers were still gritty with vamp residue. "I need to be clean. Demon blood gets into all the wrong cracks and crevices."

  I felt a little guilty gulping down the food, but the longer I sat there the more time I spent wondering if I was giving off any kind of demon stink.

  When Grams sniffed the air and twitched her nose, I grunted, swallowed the last of my tea in one long gulp and stalked off to my room.

  Her snickering followed me all the way into my bathroom.

  Fifteen minutes later I padded out of the bathroom in bare feet. I was clean. My hair was clean. I was wearing my 'at home relaxing' sweatpants and hoodie. Could the night get any better?

  I looked up and stopped in my tracks. No. But apparently the night could get worse.

  Gram was busy running a pale pink lipstick over her lips as she peered into the mirror we'd hung on the wall behind our front door. No longer in her comfortable clothes, she was dressed in a dark green skirt suit. A pair of black heels sat neatly beside the door.

  "What . . ." I trailed off as Corin Odel, dressed in a dark gray suit, rose from the sofa with an equally dark look on his face.<
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  "It wasn't me, Dad."

  The words fell out of my mouth, but when a smile broke through the shadows in my father's eyes I was glad of my inability to hold my tongue.

  I went to him, received his hug, gave him mine. "What's wrong?"

  "Get dressed."

  Not a night at home then. "Don't tell me . . . High Council meeting."

  "I raised a smart girl," he murmured as his phone beeped. "So proud."

  That earned him one of my dark glares but as he was busy swiping his screen and answering his phone it was totally wasted.

  I spun on my heel and headed back to my room to change. A few minutes later I returned wearing a deep burgundy skirt suit, carrying black pumps in one hand and running the fingers of my free hand through the mess that was my hair.

  As black as Mom's, it was as unruly as hers if I didn't blow dry it into some semblance of decency first. Having left it to dry while I'd dressed, it now stuck out like a mane around my face as though I were more lion than panther.

  When I reached the table I held onto the edge for balance as I slipped my shoes on. Then I bent and grabbed my satchel.

  "You are not taking that old thing to a meeting of the High Council," Grams said in a voice of ice and iron.

  I rolled my eyes. "Of course not Grandmother. I'm just about to get my purse."

  Total lie.

  "Good save," Dad murmured from the sofa.

  "You're not helping," I snapped and returned to my room for a more acceptable carrier-of-useless-stuff.

  There was no time to fix my hair. The High Council wouldn't care anyway. I grabbed my purse and headed for the door.

  CHAPTER 8

  I DON'T KNOW WHICH UNSETTLED me more--attending a High Council meeting, or actually setting foot in Justin Lake's home again. Memories of the last time I'd been in the place gave me the shivers. The word 'tense' didn't come close to describing it.

  Tonight, however, Justin, the blond Cougar Alpha, who also happened to be both Iain's brother-in-law, and my teenage crush, was too busy herding people around, and met my gaze for only a few seconds as Grams and I entered the room. He didn't need more time though. His golden eyes bore into mine and conveyed a thesaurus of emotions. None of them meant 'happy'.

  I sucked in a breath and sent him a short smile, trying not to remember his kiss, or his marriage proposal. He acknowledged my greeting with a nod of his blond head, then hurried over to my father who was standing stony-faced beside my brother Iain. They were an impressive pair, all wide shoulders, and white blond hair. Justin murmured something in Dad's ear. A moment later both Dad and Justin had disappeared into the crowd while Iain took a seat at the back.

  Tonight was certainly different from the last meeting. Instead of a small number of Alphas, today the room overflowed with spouses and the immediate families of Alphas from all over the North American continent.

  As chivalry hadn't yet died for the walker male only the females occupied the available seating. Members of the High Council were the exception. They'd sit at the head table at the front of the room. Those called on council business would take seats at a smaller table at the side.

  At the moment both tables were empty, but places against the walls were filling up as the non-councilmen arranged themselves for the best view of the proceedings.

  Well, the non-councilmen and me.

  Ignoring Grams' hesitation I put a hand to her shoulder and gently pressed her down into the last available chair. She patted my fingers before I let go.

  The air moved next to me and I looked up to find Mom standing there, her white pants-suit glowing pearlescent.

  "What are you doing here?" I whispered, shocked to see Mom attending a council meeting. To my knowledge she'd never been invited to one. She was human, of course.

  Mom shrugged. "I was summoned," she said, making light of the formal invitation.

  I wasn't fooled. For the High Council to summon a human was not a commonplace thing, so it didn't take long for me to scan the crowd and gauge the number of eyes flickering in our direction, a few expressions of surprise at Mom's presence.

  It was a harsh reality to be faced with the fact that my mom's species was widely known and accepted, by except for me. And more the fact that so many of them seemed accepting of her, and concerned with what her presence meant.

  A few chairs to Grams' right a heavyset blonde woman leaned forward. Mary Hevers, the wife of the lynx alpha of Montana. She waved her fat fingers at Mom and curved her lips in what she probably hoped would be construed as a supportive smile.

  Her lips lied.

  Or maybe I was better at recognizing fake than most. Always being the one on the sidelines had taught me to watch for those little tells that gave away what people really thought--even when they were silent. Especially when they were silent. Words mean little. Actions speak the truth.

  If you know what to look for.

  Tonight Mary held her jaw tight, her spine tighter. She knew something, the thin smile on her face filled with glee and triumph. I glanced at Mom and the tightness at the sides of her eyes told me that she too was very good at picking up emotional tells.

  I took a tiny step closer to Mom and relaxed a little when I felt her arm curl around my waist. I didn't want to be seen comforting her because that would have made her look weak in front of all the other Alpha wives. And my mother was not weak.

  Instead, I leaned into her comfort, glad I was there to be a support during what I felt was going to be very bad news.

  Across the room, Dad now sat at the small council table placed along the wall at a right angle to the main conference table. The light from the ancient chandelier above him lent a hooded, shadowed cowl to his face. Beside him sat Alfred Gordon, cougar alpha of Texas, whose wife was Fae. On his other side sat Jem Gumble, Lynx alpha from Maine. His wife, Elaine, was human.

  Human and fae. Not walker. I was beginning to see a pattern.

  All three men sat very still, blank-faced, not looking at each other or anyone else. They too knew something was wrong but perhaps not precisely what. The meeting hadn't started yet.

  "What's going on?" I muttered.

  "Exactly what you think is going on, sweetie."

  I turned to the owner of that voice of dripping ice--Denise Farnsworth, wife of one of the High Council members--but she'd dropped her little poison bomb and moved away, spine stiff, skin pale as if blood was in scarce supply.

  I glared after her. "Who does she think she is?"

  "High Council wife," was all Mom said.

  The crack of gavel hitting block in the now stuffy room pulled everyone's attention to the head table and the--now seated--High Council.

  I gave the room a quick, sweeping study. From the expressions on the faces of various general members it was clear some of them knew what was on the meeting's agenda and not all of them agreed with it. A few looked downright upset. But here they stood, in spite of their unhappiness.

  It was massively clear who was in control here, and it was the council members whose forefathers had been elected into their illustrious positions decades ago.

  Grams often said that it was high time new members were elected but few walkers, Alphas or otherwise, were powerful enough to go against such an ancient tradition.

  And yet I too had to stand by and watch as the Walker High Council bound the strongest people in the history of Walkers.

  This can not be happening.

  Council Leader Joseph Marsden got to his feet and swept his pale gaze over the gathered Alphas. He stood there for a moment, spine stiff, his hands behind his back like some great leader instead of a power-hungry, turkey-necked wannabe. He loved holding court, this overbearing old creep. As he spoke his throat wobbled, loose skin shivering, making my stomach turn.

  I knew what he was going to say before he spoke, and I listened in cold horror.

  "Alphas of the United States, wives and family members. We, the High Council, welcome you to today's meeting and would like to ext
end our heartfelt appreciation for your immediate acceptance of our invitation."

  I called bull. I didn't think they'd sent invitations.

  A rumble across the crowd confirmed they agreed with me.

  "Just get on with it," someone complained from the back row. Marsden's face tightened and he cleared his throat. "We have received every communication from the alphas regarding our last discussion and we have finalized and passed the Addendum to the Codex of Rules laws. Now we have an unpleasant task to perform."

  As he spoke he moved away from the head table and went to hover over the trio of stony-faced alphas at the smaller table, like an overgrown vulture. Dad watched him, his expression unwaveringly cool.

  "According to the tenets of the new law," Marsden continued, "all alphas in a relationship with, or married to, a non-walker will have their alpha statuses revoked forthwith."

  Forthwith? Who even said forthwith anymore?

  But Marsden wasn't done. "Alphas Odel, Gordon, and Gumble," he toned solemnly. "It is my sad duty to relieve you--"

  The noise of movement behind him drew Marsden's attention and he swung away from the seated alphas to glare at the crowd. Fae Marcia Gordon and human Elaine Gumble were on their feet and moving along their rows towards Mom and me.

  What was going on?

  "Point of order," Mom said clearly and took a step forward. "I believe what you're about to do is a violation of the law."

  He stared at her down his nose. "Really, human? What do you know of our laws?"

  "I know that under the new addendum it's illegal to relieve an alpha of his position if his wife is no longer with him. We"--she gestured to Marcia and Elaine--"are no longer with our husbands."

  "What?" A pallid man to begin with, Marsden managed to blanch a few shades whiter and his eyebrows hiked up as far as they could go. "What are you talking about?"

  Behind him, Dad, Gordon, and Gumble snapped their dropped jaws closed and tried to look as if this was old news.

  "I am saying," said Mom, speaking very slowly, "that I am not with my husband. We've been separated for a good long while now. Everyone is well aware of that." Mom shrugged. "Not sure you can punish a man for his past before a law came into being? I don't believe so."