by Chloe Neill
“Nice work,” Connor said, and clapped him on the back.
“Thank the very talkative registrar. She’s new, and I don’t think she’s learned yet how little information the Order actually likes to share.”
“I’m guessing Paloma will suddenly become a lot more cooperative,” I predicted, “especially with a visit from Chicago’s Ombudsman.”
“Could we have a little break before we leave?” Theo asked. “We’ve been in this vehicle for ten hours, and I’d really like to stretch. And not smell feet. She wouldn’t let us stop.”
“Lulu?”
“Eleanor of Aquitaine.”
The RV’s door opened. Theo, Connor, and I all reached for weapons. But it was Lulu carrying three cans of tuna.
“That was a quick trip,” I said.
“The shoreline is, like, twenty yards away, and it’s dark. Not a lot of land to scape, you might say.”
“So you raided our larder instead?” Connor asked.
“She’s displeased with my travel-food selections,” she said dourly. “Except for the Cheetos. What’s the status in here?”
“It’s possible,” Theo began, “the assholes—and that’s a technical term—found out about a cult dedicated to this wolf-human hybrid idea and borrowed a spell they came up with.”
“We’re going to talk to the spellseller and hopefully blackmail her into telling us the truth,” I said brightly. “But first, we’re going to take a break.”
“Excellent,” Lulu said. “That will give us a chance to catch up.”
“Will you be discussing anything interesting?” Theo asked.
“Menstruation, feminism, and acai bowls.”
“I’m out,” Theo said, and headed for the door.
* * *
* * *
Silently, Lulu loaded the tuna cans into a narrow cabinet. When she’d closed it, she looked back at me.
“So,” she said, “you changed a human without her consent and didn’t want to tell me that.”
“No-drama rule,” I protested.
She narrowed her already angry eyes. “You didn’t make the drama. You just reacted to it.”
I couldn’t seem to help it. I’d kept up a strong face, even for my father, but here with Lulu, the emotion—and the words—just flew out. “What if she dies, Lulu? What if I did this thing, and caused all this trouble, and she dies, anyway?”
“No.” She pointed at me, her eyes hard and hot. “No. You do not get to regret that, and you don’t get to take it back. You saved her life. Period. If you want to regret anything, regret that the beasts made her a victim. Do not regret doing the right thing. That’s vampire hindsight.”
“My mother—”
“Lived,” Lulu said. “She lived because your father saved her life. Period. I know she had some issues to work through, and that’s fair. That’s her right. But he did the right thing, and so did you. That’s who you are, Lis. You’re their kid, and you’re a good egg. You think I’m going to be friends with a sociopath? No.”
“No-drama rule.”
“No-drama rule,” she agreed.
It helped, hearing her say it. She was my best friend, but that required more honesty, not less. And if I’d done the wrong thing, she’d tell me, then do whatever she could to help me get out of it.
“Thank you. Connor and my dad said the same thing.”
Her lips curled upward. “Good. They’re right. And since I’m allowed to assume you did the right thing, being your bestie, I wasn’t asking about that.” She smiled. “I was asking about him and you and the progression with Connor.”
“I’m not going to kiss and tell.”
“Elisa Sullivan. You may be a vampire, but you are not a good liar. You’ve told me about every kiss you’ve ever had. And the times you didn’t get kissed.”
“What? That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Michael McGregor.”
“Michael McGregor and I went to second base.”
“Michael McGregor accidentally brushed your boob while you were showing off Krav Maga moves. Then you threw him to the floor and broke his arm.”
“Nose. And it wasn’t on purpose. He just had a bad landing.”
Her mouth twitched. “Whatever. The point it, you enjoy sharing details with me. So how’s the trip going vis-à-vis the romance?”
“He’s into me, and I’m on the same page. I’m just trying to . . . let it happen. In between attempts to kill me.”
She reached out, squeezed my arm. “My little girl is growing up.”
TWENTY-ONE
Connor borrowed Georgia’s SUV, and Theo and I climbed in for the trip into Grand Bay proper to threaten the spellseller. Apparently a glutton for punishment, Alexei opted to stand guard at the cabin, keep an eye on Lulu.
“Is it just me,” Connor asked when we were on the road, “or is that cat unnerving?”
He pushed a hand through his hair like a man who’d just survived a standoff.
“Unnerving,” Theo agreed from the backseat.
I glanced back at Theo. “You’re a former cop and an excellent shot”—then I looked at Connor—“and you’re a wolf. We’re chasing down magically enhanced shifter hybrids because you’re required by arcane Pack magic, and you’re unnerved by an eight-pound cat?”
“I didn’t say it was logical,” Connor said. “I just said I was unnerved.”
I wasn’t unnerved by her so much as flummoxed.
What did Petra have that I didn’t? I’d fed her. Called her by her full name. Attempted to pet her, although admittedly that hadn’t gone well.
“For an eight-pound cat,” Theo said, “she sure requires a lot of energy. Maybe she’s one of those psychic vampires.”
I opened my mouth to argue, tell him that wasn’t a real thing. But we were chasing down the rogue spellseller who had probably turned a bunch of twenty-year-olds into those monster hybrids.
So I just saved my breath.
* * *
* * *
“It’s not a bad downtown,” Theo said when Connor had parked and we were walking along the brick storefronts. “Cute, with the flower beds and the signs and the happy couples.”
“Everything’s perfect in Grand Bay,” Connor said. “Until you consider the asshole Supernaturals.”
We turned the corner to reach the street where the shop was located—and stared at one of those asshole Supernaturals.
The black hybrid.
My heart began to thud, blood speeding from the possibility of battle, and the memory of the last time I’d faced this particular monster. My monster watched the scene warily, but hadn’t yet decided if it wanted any part of this particular beast.
“What are we calling them now?” I whispered.
“I think the nomenclature is not the most important consideration,” Theo said. “And I’m going to just take this opportunity to say ‘holy shit.’”
“Asshole Supernatural works for me,” Connor said, and I got a minor warm fuzzy for having thought the same thing.
“It’s alone,” I said. “I wonder if it’s headed for the same place we are.”
“It looks like it could use another dose of whatever candy the spellseller is handing out,” Theo said. “I mean, I know I’m the relative newbie here, but it looks . . . sick?”
It still bore cuts and scrapes from the fight, and it still fit the “stringy” description. But Theo was right—it looked thinner than it had at the bonfire, bone and tendons standing out in sharp relief.
“The magic isn’t doing him any good,” Connor guessed. “It’s tearing him apart.”
Magic had a nasty way of doing that to the uninitiated. It was power, and anyone who failed to respect that usually suffered the consequences. I wondered if that explained why my monster hadn’t yet reared its head. It was attracted to
power, but there was degradation here.
“And where the hell are the other three?” Connor asked.
We waited for a moment, watching the other roads for the other beasts to come loping toward us.
They didn’t, but the humans who’d just come out of the bar at the other end of the street screamed. One couple ran back inside; another pulled out their screens to record the scene for posterity.
The beast turned at the sound, swiping out an arm and flipping a bench so it tumbled down the street like a toy.
“Shit,” Connor said. “Anybody by chance have an idea which shifter this is?”
“None,” I said.
“So let’s try them all. Zane! Beyo! John! Marcus!”
He paused between each name, and the beast seemed to flinch when he said, “Beyo,” but it roared again, swiped a planter this time, sending it careening into a bar’s window. Glass shattered, and more humans screamed.
This was about to get very, very nasty.
“I’ll go around through the alley,” Theo suggested, “and come at him from the other side.”
“Do that,” Connor said. “But get the humans inside first.”
Theo nodded, then jogged around the building and out of sight.
“Over here!” Connor called out, and waved his arms, trying to get the beast to move away from the bar, from the people inside.
It lifted its head, bared its fangs at us, and began moving toward us.
“Are all your vacations this fun?” I asked, unsheathing my sword.
“Only the ones with hot vampires,” he said, and pulled his own blade—a wicked-looking thing with gnarled edges. Now on the other side of the monster, Theo guided humans into the bar.
“Go low,” I told Connor. “I’ll go high.”
“Roger that,” he said, and as the distance between us grew shorter, we raised our blades in preparation for the fight.
The creature lifted its muzzle, and I crouched, anticipating the howl that would precede its rush forward.
“Ready,” Connor said quietly, and I nodded.
The howl was unearthly, sending an electric chill down my spine. This wasn’t a beast on the hunt, or even the fury of a clan member who wanted revenge. It was the scream of a wounded animal—and a trapped human.
The beast began to claw at its chest, its arms, still howling, spittle falling from its lips.
“What the . . . ?” Connor asked, and started to move forward, but I held him back with my hand, not wanting him to get too close to the magic.
“Wait,” I said.
Light flashed—not the bright glow of a shifter switching forms, but a sharp and fractured bolt that put the scent of something chemical in the air. With each flash came a concussion of magic, as the boy’s body was racked, pulled, fur displacing skin until there was a final burst of light, and he fell to the ground in front of us, pale and naked and skeletally thin.
“Help me,” he managed, and curled into a fetal position.
“Jesus,” Connor said, and we ran forward.
I caught movement in the spellseller’s window, watched her watch us and make not a single move to help. “Asshole,” I muttered, and caught Connor’s surprised glance.
“What?”
I gestured toward the window, watched his expression go dark. He muttered a curse that was much less mild than mine.
“What’s your name?” he asked, turning back to the boy as Theo made his way toward us.
“Beyo . . .” was all he managed before he passed out.
Connor stood up as a siren began to wail in the distance. “We need to get him out of here. I’m going to move the vehicle around. I’ll be right back.”
“I don’t think we’re going anywhere,” Theo said.
The SUV squealed to a stop in front of us barely a minute later. Connor climbed out, leaving the door open and the motor running, and came around while Theo opened the back door.
“I’ve got him,” Connor said, lifting the young man into his arms as if he were nothing, then placed him in the backseat, closed the door. “I’m going to take him back to the resort,” he said. “I’ll have Georgia keep an eye on him.”
“We’ll talk to the spellseller,” I said. “Maybe witnessing this will have jogged her memory a little.”
Connor nodded, looked at Theo. “Don’t be afraid to show your badge. I’ll come back when he’s settled.”
“Be careful,” I said, and pressed a kiss to his lips.
“Same goes for you, brat.”
He drove off, and we turned back to the woman who stood in her front window, still wringing her hands.
A pretty good metaphor, I thought ruefully. “Let’s go ruin her night.”
Paloma blanched when she saw us coming, then tried to play casual by flipping the “Open” sign to “Closed.”
“Wow,” Theo said. “I don’t know if we should go in now that she’s turned that sign around.”
“Yeah,” I said, pushing open the door. “It’s a real obstacle.”
There was a handful of humans in the store, most near the windows and on screens, reporting what they’d seen—or trying to figure out exactly what it had been.
“I’ll keep an eye on her,” I said. “Can you take care of them?”
“My pleasure.” Theo pulled his badge, raised it. He didn’t have any jurisdiction here, but it wasn’t like anyone was going to read the fine print. “Sorry for the interruption,” he said, “but we need everyone to vacate the premises, please. If you could just all step outside and be on your way.”
Helpfully, he held open the door, waited for them to file out, and closed it again. Then he flipped the lock, turned back to us.
“What are you doing?” Paloma asked, skittering behind the counter as we walked toward her.
“We’re here to get the truth,” I said, idly picking up a geode, examining the crystals inside, then setting it down again. “Because we’re very sick of being lied to.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” Paloma said, but her hands were shaking. When she realized we’d noticed, she crossed her arms, hiding her hands.
“I didn’t introduce myself,” Theo said, taking out his badge. “I’m with the Ombudsman’s office. Do you know who they are?”
“Yeah, I know. You don’t have any jurisdiction here.”
“No,” he agreed, “I don’t. But what I do have is information. You also have information, Paloma. And you’re going to give it to us.”
“I don’t know anything.”
“Oh, but you do. Because you’re the only one who could.” Theo looked at me. “Did you know I spoke with the Order earlier today?”
“You don’t say,” I offered, feigning surprise. “And how are things in Milwaukee?”
“Efficient. They keep really good records, and our Paloma here is the only sorceress—registered or otherwise—in the area.” He turned to Paloma again. “This begins and ends with you, Paloma. Would you like to be honest now, or should we just call the Order and let them deal with you?”
She turned her gaze to the window and looked absolutely miserable. “I didn’t know they’d turn into . . . that,” she said, then looked back at me. “That’s the absolute truth.”
“You’ll pardon me if I don’t believe you,” I said dryly. “Especially since, despite your powers, you stood there and watched. You didn’t even try to help.”
“There was nothing I could do.”
Theo looked at me, brows knit in false puzzlement. “Nothing she could do, Elisa. Doesn’t that seem strange?”
“It really does,” I agreed, enjoying the banter more than I probably should have, given what was at stake.
“You don’t have to believe me,” she said. “Maybe I wouldn’t believe me if I was you. But again, it’s the truth.”
“We
’ll believe you if you tell us the truth,” I said.
Paloma rubbed her forehead. “Can we—can we go sit down? I’m getting one hell of a headache. It’s the magic. It gives me migraines.”
She rustled through a bead-covered doorway along the back wall.
We followed her down a hallway that led to a restroom and a small office. The office held a desk and two visitors’ chairs. It was organized but full of boxes, paperwork, and collectibles. A paper lantern hung from the ceiling, and a poster demonstrating yoga poses was stuck to the brick wall. And the room was thick with old magic, pungent layers that seemed to permeate the air and the furniture and left the air feeling oily.
She sat down behind the desk, closed her eyes, and rubbed her hands over her face. Then she sighed heavily, seeming to contract in the room, and put down her hands again. She looked tired and miserable. Unfortunate those feelings hadn’t pushed her to find us before.
“He came to me because he had a problem.”
“He who?” I asked.
“Zane. He was alone, and he was frustrated. He came in near midnight one night, roamed around the store, seemed nervous or agitated. I watched him, because I thought he was going to steal something. He had that kind of jitteriness. But then he came up to the counter. Handed me a piece of paper and said he needed that.”
“And what was on the paper?” Theo asked.
Paloma swallowed. “A spell. Ingredients for a potion, instructions for use, an incantation.”
“And what was the spell for?”
“I don’t know,” she said, and jerked when Theo leaned forward. “I don’t know,” she said again, but didn’t meet his gaze. “I know how to follow directions, but I don’t, like, have a degree in spell theory. Based on the ingredients, I thought it was supposed to make them stronger.”
We let silence fall in the wake of that statement.
“Do you believe that?” Theo asked, glancing at me.
“I’m not sure yet,” I said, and glared at Paloma.
She put her hands flat on the desk, leaned forward as if to work harder to convince us. “I swear to god, that’s all I knew.”
