Undead on Arrival

by L. A. Banks

  Clutching Hunter’s matching talisman in her fist, Sasha wrapped the chain around her wrist and waited for her amber to begin its mysterious inner glow. She looked around the eerily quiet locker room and leapt into the first shadow she saw.

  Sasha tumbled headlong and then flipped in a disorienting spiral to land crouched on her hands and feet, her senses primed the moment she came to a thudding stop on a weird carpet of meadow grass. The darkness was invaded by a strange wash of blue moonlight. Sasha stood slowly, readied for an attack that never came. Instead a beautiful silver-white wolf peered out between a stand of weeping willows. Spanish moss swayed from their thick boughs. The location was familiar but not. She sniffed the air as the she-Shadow lifted her nose and focused her attention just beyond Sasha’s shoulder.

  Sasha turned slowly. The potential threat made the hairs stand up on her neck. He was huge, majestic, coal black . . . his coat so shiny and dark that it almost appeared navy blue. The big male stalked forward, but his head was lowered in a submissive greeting. The shy female backed away a little, seeming unsure. Sasha remained as still as the stand of trees around her, a silent observer in shadow lands that echoed with ancient spirits. The scent and surrounding foliage slowly became familiar—New Orleans.

  The moment the shy female transformed into her human self, Sasha covered her mouth to hold back the gasp. It was Hunter’s mother. Her fragile beauty was breathtaking, and all Sasha could do was stare. The large male wolf who circled the woman’s legs and then became man was not the beta male she’d previously seen cowering in the shadows. He was not the male Silver Hawk had blown away for allowing his daughter to be ravaged by a beast. This male looked like Shogun’s body double, but a head taller and three shades darker.

  Sasha backed away as the pair embraced; then she turned fully away, not sure she wanted to see what intimacies the spirit realm revealed. But as she stood mute, deciding, the temperature around her suddenly dropped. The instant climate change spun her back around, as did a feral argument between the huge black wolf and a new, vicious, golden-amber female wolf. A new scent stung her nostrils. Infected Werewolf.

  She backed up quickly and took cover, surprised to see that the foliage was gone. Her spine hit a carved pillar that was no longer a tree, causing her weapon to dig into her skin. She was trapped in a deep cavern, some underground lair. Gorgeous silk fabrics in reds and shimmering gold tones ensconced teakwood Asian furnishings. The gossamer drapes swayed in the places that the Spanish moss had just occupied only moments prior. From what she could tell, it looked as though she’d entered a sultan’s tent beneath the earth while two wolves at extreme odds circled and snarled. One was infected; one was not. The tension between them was so thick she could taste it. One would soon lunge, instinct told her that, and she prepared to get out of the way, moving with them. Then something changed in the spirit journey.

  The man stood before an exotic Asian beauty with tears shimmering in his eyes. He backed away from her as though she had the plague. She laughed, but the sound was harsh and hollow. Sasha moved in closer to follow them through a teahouse garden. Moonlight swept over them as he yelled no and drew a long samurai blade on her. A repugnant scent of demon death filled Sasha’s nose, making her gag—just as the woman shape-shifted and leapt at the man, tearing at his flesh before jumping to a safe vantage point.

  A demon-infected Werewolf threw her head back and howled. The golden-amber wolf then looked at the man and his ripped arm, oblivious to the long gash in her fur, and transformed. She held her shoulder wound laughing, insane, and naked. Her gaze held satisfaction as it assessed his bleeding arm. He dropped to his knees; she flashed an evil smile and faded into the garden. Sasha held her breath as the garden grass beneath her feet gave way to a thick carpet of snow.

  Immediately she remembered this spirit journey—she’d taken it with Hunter before. She now knew his mother’s wolf form. Saw it all happening again in slow motion.

  Two demon-infected werewolves thundered into the pack lands. One was golden-amber, one black as midnight. The Shadow pack in wolf form was no match for a pair of demon-infected Werewolves . . . but the vision had been misinterpreted. The two weren’t fighting as a pair. Warning barks rang out from the huge black wolf toward Hunter’s mother, even as he struggled with what he’d become. Her husband, the beta male Silver Hawk despised, cowered at the sight of the huge male running headlong toward her. Then the golden-amber wolf broke free of her attackers and the huge male doubled back as though going after her to head her off. But in the chaos, confused Shadow Wolves separated the two. The female was gaining on Hunter’s mother, who was now separated from the safety of the pack.

  Sasha watched in horror as the big male was cornered and pinned down while mortally savaging many of the Shadow pack in an attempt to save Hunter’s mother. History of the battle had been revised in error!

  “No! He’s trying to help her!” Sasha’s voice rang out but the battle raged on all around her, every spirit locked in struggle the way it had occurred and oblivious to her. She knew it was futile; she couldn’t get their attention, but the helplessness of watching it all unfold brought tears of frustration to her eyes.

  Instinct, fight adrenaline, everything wolf inside her panted hard as her emotions rose and fell with the battle raging in the spirit vapors before her. Everything human in her grabbed her weapon as the deranged she-wolf headed for Hunter’s delicate mother. It happened so quickly . . . Silver Shadow was over the ridge with a shotgun in human form. The Werewolf reared up on her hind legs as Hunter’s mother stood on hers to meet the threat, her pregnant belly vulnerable. Silver Hawk screamed in horror as he released the silver shell, the shotgun report ripping through the icy glen. Silver Hawk’s daughter dropped wide-eyed and stunned. The werewolf yelped, her coat grazed, and she fled. The bloody womb trapping an infant rolled into the snow with his mother’s entrails. A huge black wolf cleared the ridge, saw the carnage on the ground, charged Silver Hawk—and this time the old man aimed dead-on, right between the eyes. The massive Werewolf lay dead, slowly transforming back to his human form. Seconds clicked by as Silver Hawk swung around to see his son-in-law cowering. He pulled the trigger and then dropped his weapon, racing toward the convulsing, womb-trapped child in the snow—Hunter.

  Then the shadow lands went dark. Once again they became the mist-filled moonlit caverns of spirit and passage. Sasha wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of a forearm, shaken.

  She glanced around, allowing the images to settle into her psyche. The exotic beauty looked so much like Lei, it was frightening—but at the same time she knew it wasn’t her . . . just as the huge male resembled Shogun, but wasn’t. Why was she being shown images of events prior to Hunter’s mother’s death and his infancy contagion?

  The only thing she was sure of now was that it came from a female Werewolf linked to the Asian Werewolf Clan. The bad blood between that clan and North America’s Federation had been legendary. Now, perhaps, she better understood why. But the only one she’d be able to trust with this information, the only one who was adept in interpreting the mosaic of spiritual images, was Silver Hawk. Sasha pressed forward, searching for a way out to the other side.

  A translucent female image in a ceremonial white doeskin Native American dress stopped Sasha by stepping into her path. Sasha froze. Hundreds of shells and hand-tooled semiprecious stones gently chimed as the spirit moved, her jet-black hair a lustrous wash over her shoulders. A pair of haunted dark brown eyes met Sasha’s gaze. She started at the regal features and the shimmering tears. She would know Hunter’s mother anywhere now.

  “This vision will kill my father. I have dishonored him,” the ghost said.

  “But your son . . . I don’t know what this means or how to help him,” Sasha said in an urgent, reverent murmur. “They’ll kill him.”

  His mother closed her eyes. “This is my punishment—the choice of my father’s death or my son’s.”

  “What did you do that was so w
rong?” Sasha cried out. “Talk to me!”

  “I’ve pitted brother against brother, clan against clan, pack against pack . . . For my heart found its beat after I had taken a sacred vow. So did his. And now we watch the future unravel. One mistake, echoing through the glen. To save my son you must kill my father . . . perhaps even start a war.”

  Before Sasha could draw a breath the vision was gone. This time she ran, feeling the amulet heat her chest, guiding her to fresh air and moonlight.

  Baron Geoff Montague smiled as he looked down at pants rolled in plastic, which were laid on a white linen tablecloth before him. He picked up his goblet of blood and offered the beauty beside him a gentlemanly nod.

  “That, my dear, is nitroglycerine. Are you fully aware of the volatile nature of the game you are playing?”

  Dana Broussard sat back and took a sip of Dewar’s from her short rocks glass, peering at the Vampire over the rim of it. “Darlin’, this is New Orleans. Something like this in the Big Easy is more of an insurance policy than an explosive.”

  “But what brings you into a private Vampire blood club, unescorted in tense diplomatic times, to give us . . . a DNA sample, for lack of a better term, in khaki?” Geoff smiled and took a leisurely sip from his goblet, flashing her a subtle hint of fangs.

  “To the shrewd observer, it could be tribunal evidence to show that there was cause for a dispute between sovereign wolf Federations. Our sources say that a female fed on that human boy . . . we know which male is currently carrying some form of contagion, as do you. Add two and two and do reasonable math, sugah, and we’re now looking at his mate as an accessory to his contagion.”

  Geoff chuckled. “Are the Fae telling fairy tales again?”

  “Nooo,” Dana said with a soft laugh, licking away the amber fluid of her drink from her lips. “But the Succubae and Incubi are such gossips. Off the record, they say that Vampires might have a hand in tainting medicines that a heartsick old Shadow Wolf might have removed ill advisedly from the lab at Tulane.”

  “All is fair in love and war,” Geoff replied with a nonchalant shrug.

  “Especially when the Shadow went into places closed off to Vampires.”

  “Is it our fault that in his haste the old Shadow Wolf stockpiled the meds he stole in a nonsecured location?” Geoff chuckled and took a deep swig from his goblet. “A little tainted blood never hurt anybody.”

  “You didn’t.” Dana laughed hard and covered her mouth. “You had old infected blood from the Dexter incident, yes?”

  Geoff gave her a gallant wave of his hand. “Waste not, want not. We cleaned up the streets of New Orleans. There was so much bloodshed and carnage, it would have left the human world simply aghast. I’d like to think of it as recycling, as well as our way to bring closure to an outstanding debt.”

  “You poisoned the big alpha Shadow?” Her eyes widened and she shook her head, laughing harder. “That is positively evil.”

  Geoff bowed, “Thank you, milady. But if I hear it again, I will categorically deny the charge.”

  “What happens in New Orleans stays in New Orleans.”

  The twosome shared a smile.

  “Well,” Geoff finally said with an aristocratic, bored sigh, “now that we understand our mutual contempt for the same adversary—and since the enemy of my enemy is my friend—how do we make this mutually profitable as a co-endeavor?”

  Dana swirled her drink around in her glass. “The Shadow Wolves are more dangerous to you than we Werewolves are,” she said flatly. “They hunt any entity that preys on humans, which includes Vampires who take a human life. But they’ve been weakened from the last war with Dexter’s demon-infected pack and by the fact that they have the North American leader already behind bars. It’s just a matter of time before they can pin the murder of that human on his mate. That would leave a clear path for a single ruler of both regions, since there’s already an alliance. The Werewolf Federation would be ever so grateful.” She gave him a meaningful look.

  “Ah . . .” Geoff said, wagging a finger at her and clucking his tongue. “But at the United Council of Entities Conference just last month, the Fae stood with the wolf Federations, as did our feudal members from The Order of the Dragon, the Mythics, Phantoms . . . this is a delicate dance, milady.”

  “The Fae have never helped us, except that one time at the recent UCE Conference—and they wield no consistent power. Once they see Max Hunter go down, they’ll panic and lose cohesion, trying to hedge their bets. The others will fall in line with us after the Fae waffle, like they always do.”

  “You make an interesting proposal,” Geoff said, twirling the stem of his goblet between his fingers. “I’ll take it up with my management . . . however, I’m quite surprised to see you at the helm of these negotiations. I would have rather suspected Lei to come to me like this. Help me understand what’s created such a sudden change.”

  Dana’s easy, sensual smile faded to a harsh line the same way the coquettish teasing left her eyes. “That,” she said, motioning to the pants, “is an insurance policy, like I said. Lei is playing all ends against the middle after having promised me a mate-seat as premier alpha female at Shogun’s side. But she’s clearly hedging her bets. I saw that this afternoon. However, this new turn of events”—Dana motioned toward the plastic-sealed khakis again—“ensures that my competition goes down with her mate, and my position is left unchallenged. That’s what’s in it for me.”

  The Vampire set down his goblet and tossed his thicket of brunette tresses over his shoulder, his blue eyes burning with passion for the game. “Tell me, darling,” he said with a smooth lilt, leaning forward and lacing his graceful fingers together beneath his chin. “What’s in it for us, then, pray tell?”

  “Let’s begin with what’s in it for you,” Dana said evenly with a wicked smile.

  “I like the way you think,” Geoff crooned. “Here’s to southern belles and steel magnolias.” He lifted his goblet.

  “You would bring your cartel a foolproof way to divide and conquer the wolf ranks, culling out the most dangerous element within it—the Shadow Clans, in particular, the North American leadership that was responsible for the deaths of François and Etienne, to name a few.”

  When Geoff sat back, Dana chuckled. “You thought I forgot? Werewolves have long memories, too, and can hold a grudge. Don’t you all say fair exchange is no robbery?”

  “Indeed.”

  “Well, Baron . . . This blood feud over a woman, if not addressed, could cause a civil war between the immediately involved packs, one that could last generations. But the larger clan structure wouldn’t allow that. They’d see the danger and call for an alliance to restore the peace. Therefore, regardless of the lovers’ triangle, the nonguilty party—the wolf who had no hand in the murder of the human, and the wolf who was not contagious—would be the final ruler. This is the way of the wolf in a co-leadership scenario. One wolf goes down, but in order to keep the power base intact at the UCE and the new, fragile alliance in effect . . . regardless of improprieties, the Federations would call for unity under the already selected co-ruling alpha—Shogun. See how simple that is?”

  “Brilliantly devious,” Geoff said with a sly half smile.

  Dana preened at the compliment and leaned in closer, causing the Vampire to follow suit. “Shogun is already positioned to take me as his mate, once the she-Shadow is discredited. The last thing he’d want to do is create a feud with the North American Werewolf Clan—my daddy’s people. Once he and I are in power, we’d be very, very grateful if the Vampires would help rebuild after any collateral damage and restrain themselves during the wolf hunt. There’d then be a formal inquiry into the infected, discredited Shadow Wolves’ true motives when the Vampire lairs were attacked, which would shift UCE members’ opinions, perhaps enough to restore the cartel to equal bench seating again. Backroom deals could be struck—but accord would be facilitated. All this you’d bring to your management—something I’d suggest you’d d
o after your position as the bearer of good news was locked in.”

  “I am one of the members of the UCE tribunal that will ultimately investigate this human mauling incident,” Geoff announced proudly. “They have a wolf rep and a Fae rep. The three largest voting bloc members will make the determination about the contagion and the murder.”

  “I know,” Dana said coolly, staring at Geoff without blinking. “Representative Dugan is the Fae ambassador, since he owns the B and B where they stayed and was thus elected to the investigative tribunal. Anyone from the packs of Shogun’s or Hunter’s immediate family is exempt from participation for obvious conflict-of-interest reasons. However, since this is New Orleans, sugah, and it is indeed where the atrocity occurred . . .”

  “Nooo,” Geoff said, beginning to laugh. “This is beyond rich.”

  “Oh, yes, honey, my daddy is the next in line. And nobody messes with Buchanan Broussard.”

  CHAPTER 10

  “She didn’t do it,” Clarissa said through her teeth, rounding the desk to get in Bradley’s face.

  “How do you know?” he asked quietly, his voice sad and no longer accusatory. He glanced at Winters, Fisher, and then finally over to Woods, who was next in command if Sasha went down in battle, before returning his gaze to Clarissa.

  “I just know,” Clarissa said, daring the others with her eyes to dispute her. “I’m the resident psychic, and I don’t care what that old bat you visited in the streets of New Orleans said. Sasha is innocent!”

  Spirit time and earth time were so different that she’d become disoriented. Never before had she gone into the shadow land pathways and gotten so turned around that she couldn’t find her way out. The amulet in her hand was now so warm that it was almost too painful to hold it. But she’d never leave it here where it could be lost forever.