by Leela Ash
“I thought you were dead,” he told it. With the door closed, Savannah couldn’t hear him.
If his soul had, it said nothing in return. But that longing to walk out with her and never return came back.
Silly. Stupid. About par for his spirit.
His phone rang, interrupting his self-loathing. “Beaumont.”
“Mr. Beaumont, this is Mariset.”
The personal assistant of Lord Alester, who was the closest thing to a supreme leader that the Fangs had. She was also one of the most talented magicians in their order, a formidable Hare in her own right.
Alarm dispelled the fog of his self-pity and brought the world into keen focus. Why were the top tier of the Fangs suddenly calling him?
“It’s a pleasure to speak to you again, Lady Mariset. I enjoyed meeting you in Marseilles.”
“I as well. I’m pleased to inform you that we shall soon enjoy each other’s company again.” Alarms sounded in his head as she said that, but the Hare’s tone was smooth and calm. “I’m in LA now. There’s a matter we need to discuss.”
Personal visits? Even worse. “My time is at your disposal, of course.”
“Excellent. I believe it will take me an hour to drive from the airport. LA traffic is abominable.”
“I shall await your arrival, Lady. Is there anything I need to prepare?” Other than an escape route, he thought.
“No, nothing. All I need is your advice.”
He hung up then and steepled his fingers. What was Mariset playing at? No, that was the wrong question. What was Alester’s game? Powerful as she was, Mariset was her master’s pawn.
Fate, it seemed, sought to drive him into motion.
What about Savannah? He loathed the thought that he might drag her into peril. Should he give her the day off? Get her away, someplace safe?
Reluctantly, he dismissed that idea. Mariset would expect service. Coffee, at the least, and probably other chores. If he dismissed his secretary, that would be odd. At that moment, he couldn’t afford any red flags.
In all likelihood, he was being paranoid. If the Fangs knew of his treachery, they wouldn’t send a lone Witch Hare to confront him. By trying to protect Savannah, he might well doom them both.
He did, however, warn her of their exalted guest and, like a good assistant, she prepared. Coffee, a selection of teas, and a plate of delicious appetizers from a nearby deli. When Mariset arrived, everything awaited her.
The Hare breezed into his office like a queen. A red mane of hair fell in waves around her shoulders. Eyes like chips of sapphire and jade scanned the room, weighing it – and her reception. Then she strode past his shy secretary, straight to him. Their preparations had passed muster… and were thus beneath her notice.
“Mr. Beaumont.” She offered a pale, slender hand.
Jordan bowed and kissed it graciously. “Lady Mariset. Please, have a seat.”
Only one man accompanied her, a short, skinny youngster with washed-out red hair. Shifters saw each other’s souls, and a sick-looking Hare crouched by the man’s feet.
Because of that, Jordan immediately dismissed him. Another Hare. Not a threat.
“How can I be of assistance?”
Mariset snapped her fingers. At once, the male Hare withdrew an object from his satchel. Something small and flat, wrapped in folds of silk. His mistress set it on Jordan’s desk and pushed the edge of the cloth back to reveal a disk of yellowed wax. “Do you know what this is?”
There was something inscribed on it. A curving figure, covered in scales…
Jordan snapped back, glowering at the Witch with sudden suspicion. “It’s a spirit trap. The pattern mesmerizes the viewer – even one as powerful as a Dragon. We dug it up in one of the Greek isles.”
Were the Fangs onto him after all? Send two Hares in to lull him into complacency… and then spring a trap?
Mariset, however, shook her head. “Sadly, no. We lost that artifact. The damned First Flight captured it when they assaulted our bases on Criehaven. This,” she pulled the disk out of its cover, “is what that thing inspired us to make.”
The scaled figure was a worm biting its own tail. The Worm Ouroboros, devouring itself. A familiar image from early magic. To his relief, it didn’t hold any special power. Nothing to fascinate or bind. He took the piece of wax from her and inspected it. “What does it do?”
“By itself? Nothing. It’s just a focus. It reacts when it’s in the presence of certain magics.”
“So, it’s a detector? Why bring it to me? Magic is your job.” A hint of disapproval frosted his words. Lady Mariset might be the Fangs’ foremost Witch Hare, but he was ancient and important too. She had best think carefully before she wasted his time.
Eyes glittering with vindictive pleasure, she leaned forward. “Because this changes everything. This is the future of our war against the First Flight and the Shifters who refuse to submit to us. At the moment, we only have a handful of Hares strong enough to use it. I, of course, am one. Master Alester sends me to you to demonstrate its power. Once you understand, you are to develop a plan to deploy it. To use it to destroy our enemies, once and for all. A great honor,” she added with a faint sniff that suggested perhaps he wasn’t worthy of such trust.
Indeed, he wasn’t. Jordan was already planning how to get this information to Savannah. The First Flight needed to know about this new weapon.
First, though, he had to learn what it did. “An honor indeed. Show me its power, then.”
“Of course.”
Mariset began to hum, a tuneless sound that grated on his ears. Up and down, the note fell. To him, it seemed like random noise. For two minutes, she droned on endlessly, and Jordan found himself growing impatient.
“How long does this take?” he asked.
Or, he meant to ask.
No words passed his lips, however.
Startled, he tried again.
This time, his mouth wouldn’t even open.
Too late, Jordan realized that his original fears were true. The Fangs did know that he was a traitor. They knew he was a Worm too, and that arrogance was the Achilles Heel of his Kind. Yes, they sent two Hares to bring him down. Enemies he would ignore in his pride. Threats he couldn’t take seriously.
Until it was too late.
The waxen image of Ouroboros moved, twirling in a slow, stealthy circle that seemed to echo in his mind. His thoughts spun through rage, shock, and shame, touching each emotion, yet never staying with any long enough for it to break the lethargy that held him in place. Dimly, he could see Savannah, watching this scene through the glass of his office wall.
Run! he yearned to scream. Save yourself!
Not even his feelings for her could break the spell, though.
Mariset raised a long, thin finger, careful not to let the ‘song’ slip or fade.
“Mr. Beaumont?” her assistant asked. “Can you hear me?” When he did not answer, the junior Hare giggled. “It worked. It actually worked!”
With one flick of his wrist, Jordan could snap the wretched man’s neck. What a pleasure it would be to wipe that triumphant sneer off his face!
If he could move.
The assistant scrambled to his feet and stepped out of the office; Jordan’s heart froze. He was going to kill Savannah. If the Fangs knew about him, surely, she was in mortal danger too?
Instead, the Hare yanked open the suite door. “Mr. Adams? It’s done.”
Eddy Adams strolled in. With his broken nose and two black eyes, he looked more like a raccoon than a Wolf. But the elephant gun he held in his hands was no laughing matter. “So, you’re that bastard Nemo who’s been causing us so much trouble.”
How the hell did they know that?
Adams raised the rifle to his shoulder. A move that made Mariset’s aide bite his lip. “Are you sure a mere gun will suffice?”
“Yeah. These days, they’ve got bullets that’ll punch through steel. Good enough to splatter this traitor’s brains all across that wall.”
>
One last time, Jordan screamed at his body.
Move! Kill them! Save Savannah!
But the spell’s iron bands bound him, completely. This was how they’d taken out Aaron Cole, that Dragon from the First Flight. Helpless, he stared up at the gloating Wolf.
“This is my lucky day. I can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to put a bullet in your arrogant face. Why…”
A shot rang out, shattering the stillness.
That weird, enchanting song ceased abruptly. Mariset’s mouth opened in a tiny ‘o’ of surprise as a red stain blossomed on her chest. Then, she crumbled to the ground, blood pooling beneath her.
Adams and the aide spun, seeking their new enemy.
Behind her desk, Savannah stood. A .357 in her hand and grim determination on her face.
“You bitch!” Adams snarled. Once more, he snapped the rifle up and Savannah dropped to the ground behind her desk.
But his secretary was a smart woman. A brilliant woman. She’d broken the magical chains that bound him, and before Adams could squeeze off a shot, Jordan swatted the gun out of his hands.
Terror swept across the Wolf’s face as he realized his enemy was free.
“Sorry, Eddy.” Fangs appeared in Jordan’s mouth as he smiled. “This isn’t your lucky day.”
Chapter 9.
Savannah didn’t have much to say as they fled LA. Once they were free of the city’s traffic, Jordan’s sleek BMW ate up the road. Within two hours, they arrived at a small rest stop. In the town of Beaumont, no less, a fact that amused her.
Distracted by their problems, her former boss didn’t even notice. “This is where we part ways. You have a phone, yes?”
“Yes. Where will you go?” He had plans of his own, but she had one as well. One he wasn’t going to like.
“Best if I don’t tell you.”
“I see.”
He waited, expecting her to leave. Instead, she remained, planning the best way to make her pitch.
Jordan was the first to break the silence. “I do have one question for you. What’s your name? Your real one.”
With a jolt of surprise, she stiffened. “You know?”
“That you’re a spy for the First Flight? Yes.”
“How long…?”
“A month. It’s why I picked you as my assistant.”
“So you could feed me information. Like the other day, when you ‘accidentally’ left yourself logged into the Fangs’ secure network.” He nodded. It made sense, though it deflated her pride a bit.
Guess I wasn’t as clever as I thought.
She stole a glance at his face. Calm and stoic, no one would ever guess his life had just been ruined. “I’m surprised you’re not angry with me. After all, this is my fault.”
“No, it’s not. I didn’t feed you any information on my Nemo persona.”
“You didn’t need to,” she confessed. “I found that out myself.”
“Oh.” No anger, no shock. Jordan simply wrinkled his nose. “I guess I had that coming. That’s what I get for underestimating you.”
They both stared out at the traffic streaming by. A bruised, sore silence between them, until Jordan spoke once more.
“So, what is it? Your name. If you’re willing to tell me, of course. I admit, I’ll have a hard time not thinking of you as ‘Savannah.’”
“You won’t have to. That’s really my name. The best lies are close to the truth – I didn’t want to take some fake name like ‘Alice’ and then forget to answer when someone called me.”
“Savannah…?”
“Savannah Dare.”
A smile split his handsome face. Genuine, warm. Its touch dispelled the gloom that always surrounded him and added an impish gleam to his emerald eyes. For a moment, she saw Jordan Beaumont as he could be. Calm. Proud. Happy.
“That is an auspicious name. A strong name. One you live up to.”
“Thank you.”
“Thank you for saving my life. You didn’t need to. No,” he held up a hand as she began to protest. “No one tied you to my treachery. After they dragged my corpse away, you could have walked out a free woman.”
“And give up the chance to assassinate the Fangs’ greatest Witch Hare?” she scoffed. “Forget it.”
“Ah, I see,” he chuckled. “It had nothing to do with me at all, then?”
“Well, I wouldn’t go that far.” God, she could sit here with him all afternoon. Chatting. Getting to know each other. Away from the Fangs, it was so easy to forget what he truly was.
Self-indulgence like that wouldn’t help either of them. The truth couldn’t be denied and shouldn’t be ignored.
Time to start the ugly, dirty part of this. Savannah took a deep breath and pulled out her phone. “Since you know what I am, there’s no point making this call in private.”
One ring. That’s all it took before Todd answered. “Savannah? Where are you?”
Seriously? That was his first question?
“Are you okay?” he added quickly.
All right, that was a little better. But a hint of panic echoed in his words. A worry so deep it was suspicious. “I’m fine. What makes you think anything’s wrong?”
“You’re calling on the emergency line two days after we met. I hope to hell this is an emergency.”
Oh, good point. Dammit, this work had made her paranoid. Here she was, doubting her own handler. Her lover.
Though, she wasn’t crazy. Somewhere there was a rat. “Have you shared the information I gathered on Nemo?”
“Yes.”
“With whom?”
“Uh, hell. With Finn Donnelly from the First Flight… the Sedona Warren… several of the Shifters of the Aegis… the leader of the local Rats… Why?”
Shit. No telling who the spy was, then. “Somebody told the Fangs. I barely made it out alive.”
“Oh hell, babe, are you all right?”
That was better. That sounded like the Todd Manning she knew. “I’m fine, but my assignment is definitely over.”
“Do you know what happened to Nemo? Er, Beaumont?”
“Yes.”
He gave her a moment to volunteer more info. When she didn’t, a note of petulance crept into his voice. “And…?”
“And I need to think about what I’m going to do.”
“No,” the Bear growled. “You need to tell me what you know and then I’ll tell you what to do.”
“Not this time, Todd.” Annoyed herself, she hung up, quickly switching the phone to airplane mode, so he couldn’t pester her.
Jordan pointed at the phone. “Your contact?”
“Yes. He passed my information on, so there’s no telling who the traitor is.”
“Do you trust him?”
“Yes.”
Did that word tremble? Did she hesitate? Jordan kept watching her, a faint frown creasing his brow.
“Yes,” she repeated. With more confidence this time.
“Good.” He, unlike her boyfriend, didn’t question her every move. “Is there someplace better that I can drop you off?”
Savannah turned toward him. Some conversations demanded you look the person in the eye. “No, but I’d like you to come to Sedona with me. Or, better yet, to Cortez, Colorado.”
Cortez was a tiny town on the edge of Canyons of the Ancients National Monument. She wasn’t sure he knew the place.
But he did know his ‘enemies.’ “That’s where several of the Shifters of the Aegis live. Are you suggesting I meet with them?”
“Yes. I’d like both of us to go.”
Jordan’s lip curled back into a sardonic smile. “Do I look suicidal?”
“I’m not suggesting you kill yourself. Just share your information with them.”
“Then what?” His smile deepened into a sneer. “They’ll just let me walk away?”
She met the scorn in his eyes. Chin raised, unflinching. “If I vouch for you… yes, I think they will.”
“Savannah…” Like ice melti
ng beneath a rush of hot water, his contempt crumbled. Not into acceptance, as she’d hoped. Into despair. “You don’t understand.”
“You’ve done terrible things. I know.” Startled, he looked at her. “What those things are, I haven’t a clue. But you’re a senior member of the Fangs of Apophis. You don’t get a position like that by being a nice guy.”
“Oh, it’s worse than that.” Now, his chin rose in rebellion. “I’m a Worm.”
A Fallen Dragon. One that had committed a form of spiritual suicide. She couldn’t say she was surprised. Not when she recalled that dream, and the ‘Dragon’-fly.
That was my subconscious letting me know it recognized his Kind.
Braced by that, she met his burning gaze without flinching. “I figured as much. Most Fang leaders are Worms.”
“Then you know you are asking me to kill myself.” Was it pain that roughened his voice and put an edge to his words? Did he feel betrayed that she cared so little for him?
“No, I’m−”
“Yes. If I go before those two Dragons, they’ll kill me. They might listen to me first. Then again, they might not. Dragons hate us – with good reason. They kill us on sight.”
“I’m willing to bet that no Worm ever asked a Dragon for help or protection. If you do…”
Jordan’s head snapped back in revulsion. Perhaps the idea of begging for help stung his pride. Worms were once Dragons, after all, and nothing had an ego as large. “Why would I ask them for help?”
Had he not thought this through at all? Exasperated, she put a hand on his knee. At her touch, he flinched – but did not pull away. “Jordan Beaumont, what do you think happens next? What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to, uh, drop you off somewhere safe. Then leave. Find a bolt hole in some faraway place. Somewhere the Fangs can’t find me.”
“And what? Hide for the rest of your life? Alone? Looking over your shoulder every moment, worried about Fang assassins?”
That stung his pride. Jordan glared down his nose at her. “I am not such a coward as that. I will dispatch anyone they send against me.”
“And then you’ll have to flee. Again. Find another bolt hole. Hide. Wait for the next assassin. Over and over again, forever.”
He laughed; a harsh, bitter croak that lacked all humor. “That’s life.”
