Two men stood inside the room, and at sight of them, one dropped his gun. So much for fearless humans, Alex thought.
Two large-screen desktop computers were actively processing what looked like human and creature’s faces, and a table opposite the desktops was covered in throwaway phones, guns, knives, and identification cards. Without a doubt, these were hitmen.
Thankful Leila stayed behind him, he grabbed the still-armed man by the throat before he could put his magazine into the chamber of his gun. Sophia was already using zip ties on the other human’s wrists, while Heath kicked any weapons out of their reach.
“Tell me what your operation is,” Alex demanded.
The man’s mouth worked, his lips curling and twisting, but no words came. Alex had relaxed his hold slightly, allowing the human to stand on his feet rather than bear his weight in his throat.
It also brought the throbbing in his shoulder from a come on man, you’re making it worse, to a this really hurts on his personal how badly am I injured scale.
“I’m waiting.” He pressed down on the man’s windpipe using his good arm, making the human cough.
He screwed up his lips, undoubtedly to spit something cliché like, “never” or “go to hell,” when he caught sight of Leila. For a moment, Alex could see understanding dawn on the man’s expression, followed by a flash of utter, unfiltered panic. Even more quickly than the emotions came, the human covered them up, his expression becoming shuttered.
Leila, however, hadn’t missed what Alex saw.
“Why did you kill my family?” There was something in her calm, almost soothing-sounding voice, but it didn’t affect Alex, and a quick glance at Heath and Sophia showed they remained unharmed too.
The human wasn’t so lucky. Her words were said with a lulling quality comparable to that of a siren, but they made the man scream, his head thrashing. Veins appeared on his temples, forehead and neck, while no blood burst from beneath his skin, indicating Leila was seriously holding back.
With less energy than it took him to grow a flower, she could have a crowd of men on their knees, blood pouring from places where they didn’t realize they could bleed.
When she didn’t receive her answer, Leila didn’t seem fazed. The man appeared so scared that Alex wasn’t sure he could speak even if he wanted to.
Ignoring the way the human was now trembling, Leila continued softly, as if she were speaking to a child rather than someone who had likely killed her aunt, uncle, and cousins and planned to murder her and her sister.
As she spoke, a thought that should have occurred to him the moment Leila agreed to join them finally rose, making his blood run cold. It also changed everything.
If this man was the human who’d shot Leila, Alex wasn’t sure he could wait until they’d gathered the information they needed before he caused this human so much pain he’d no longer remember the answers they needed.
Chapter 9
“IF you don’t answer me, I’m not going to kill you. I’m going to keep you locked up, fed and watered, until the full moon comes and then throw you in a room with as many unmated, crazed werewolves as I can find.”
Sophia actually clapped, and Heath high-fived Leila over his mate’s head. Alex watched her carefully. There was only reason she would threaten someone like this. Desperately, he tried to rein in the fury he could feel rising like poison.
It was like nothing he’d ever felt before, an all-consuming hunger for blood and destruction that narrowed his vision and made his hand burn in his pocket. Despite the forces building inside him whispering about pain, death, and justice, no one paid him any mind. Leila’s focus was on the piece of scum before them, while an amused Heath watched her and the human. Sophia sniffed, her eyes narrowing as she scanned the room.
“Senator Murphy. He’s hired us to kill anyone who’s a threat to his position.” The human spoke so quickly that it took longer than usual for Alex’s frenzied mind to understand what he’d said.
“Who?” Leila’s voice was a balm to his senses. The voices silenced, and the sharp clarity with which he watched the hitman dimmed. The effect went away the moment her bowed mouth closed, forming an almost imperceptible frown.
“Reporters, journalists, people who were in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Tears sprang into his already-squinted eyes, and Alex had to hold the man back from lunging at Leila. Alex’s temper flared hotter than ever…the man just made a huge mistake.
“You weren’t supposed to live! It’s not fair—I shot you and you died. You’re not supposed to be here! You’re dead. You’re not supposed to be able to hurt me. That’s the rule. Shesdeadshesdeadshesdead,” he sang to himself, rocking forward. By now tears and snot sprang from his nose, running down his face and onto his black shirt.
Alex felt no sympathy for the sobbing human. The blatant, unremorseful admission of guilt was too much for him. Vaguely, he registered releasing the man at the same time a searing pain bit into his hand, making the hole in his shoulder seem like a scratch. It wasn’t until everyone fell still that he noticed the floor disappearing beneath their feet, or the voices in his head screaming in the suddenly strong wind that surrounded the man, holding him up while everything and everyone else in the room plummeted down, down.
The walls shook for a moment before they shattered. Alex could hear the glass of the pictures downstairs breaking, and he added their pictures and the shards to his wind, nicking the human, making him cry out in a voice that made him laugh.
This man had to die.
“You killed Leila!” Alex cried in a voice not his own but many, some gleeful, some as furious as he was. The ground rose to meet them, a tunnel circling like the air and debris, its mouth widening to become the right size for the man who so badly needed to be punished.
“I’m going to bring you so close to the core of the Earth, your bones will melt.”
At the end of the passage was viscous, orange silicate material from the mantle waiting for its victim. It wanted to rise up completely, to burn the Earth’s surface, but he held it back, pushing against the molten rock until it cooled, hardening even as the liquid below tried to force its way up, up. Of course, he couldn’t see any of this. He felt it through his connection to the earth even as it fought his element for control.
“He’s mine!” Leila’s scream—where was Leila?—interrupted his plans, freezing his actions with shock before he could toss the man into what was as close to the middle of a volcano as he could muster in the state of Louisiana. Her following scream, merely too loud to be comfortable over the rushing wind and rumbling earth, made the human open his eyes in shock before his expression froze, his now-dead eyes bright red from burst blood vessels.
She’d killed him.
It didn’t stop Alex from closing the soil over the hitman, placing his body somewhere it would never be found. When he looked up, he sat in the dirt, the ruins of the previously somewhat nice house clattering to the ground around him. How nothing landed on his head, he didn’t know.
Leila.
“Whoa, man. I knew you could do damage, but that’s like, I just caused a dozen earthquakes because I fucked with tectonic plates damage. Are you sure you’re really fifth?”
Alex froze. Brendon. Heat rose to meet his clenched fist, and the malevolence that took him over moments ago rose again.
No warlock can come near Leila. That she and Brendon were both close enough to speak to him meant she was in danger much greater than the humans ever posed.
The other warlock showed himself, allowing his scent to escape whatever spell had contained it. He held up his hands, palm-up, in an attempted show of peace.
“I’ve been here the whole time,” Brendon said slowly. The roaring in Alex’s ears barely allowed him to understand the other warlock’s words. “I saved your friends and your woman, werewolf. You owe me enough to hear me out before throwing me into the fucking center of the Earth.”
The ground had bee
n shaking, preparing for Alex to break it apart again to allow another intruder inside.
“I saved your friends and your woman.” That statement stopped him cold, abruptly cooling the heat in his hand and silencing that strange voice demanding retribution. It was something he never expected to hear from a fellow warlock, and the fact that it had been left up to Brendon to save those he cared about…
Alex’s panic caused his heart to stumble in his chest in a way that might bring death to a human.
If Brendon saved them, Alex would’ve been the one who’d killed them.
“I sensed you,” Alex said hoarsely. He stood to face Brendon, but took a moment to search for Leila. She was behind a pile of wreckage, with Heath and Sophia standing in a line between her and the other warlock. If they needed to, they were close enough to quickly move between her and Alex too.
He growled.
She met his gaze, her own glinting with anger and accusation. He deserved both. Because of him, they’d be blind to whatever came for Leila or Mary next. He’d gone against every single rule he set for the attack, thus causing them to leave here with nothing but a thimble-sized amount of new information and a destroyed home that would undoubtedly become a neighborhood eyesore for anyone who lived nearby.
At the very least, he could fix the house.
“You followed us here, didn’t you?” Alex asked, clutching his head in both of his hands.
Brendon nodded.
“I thought you were Gris-Gris.” Alex muttered this low enough for the warlock to miss. The man didn’t need to know there was an extremely powerful group of conduits running around under the guise of a housecat.
“Get them out of here,” he told Heath. Feeling his now-cool talisman, he realized he had precariously little energy left to fight Brendon. The only person here who deserved to be hurt by Alex’s mistakes was him.
He hoped it didn’t get him killed.
Despite Leila’s angry protest she, Sophia and Heath were gone a moment later, leaving Alex to face off with supposedly the most powerful warlock in the float. While he doubted the title was true, this man wouldn’t have trouble killing him if his talisman carried much more energy than Alex’s fading last piece of paper did.
“What do you want?”
Brendon didn’t answer immediately, but watched the place where Heath and taken the women away.
“I didn’t know werewolves could do that,” he murmured, his brown eyebrows drawn. Apparently Alex didn’t help his puzzlement either. Brendon widened his eyes in mock surprise. “Neither werewolves nor warlocks can do what you did either, unless that’s a mega-talisman you’re gripping.”
Considering how small a fraction of his power had been used today, Alex chose to remain silent. He really didn’t want any shifts in the float rankings.
Shrugging, Brendon scuffed his leather shoe in the dirt, drawing the outline of a bomb before using his heel to wipe the image away. Smoke rose from the area, an unneeded warning about Brendon’s capabilities.
“It doesn’t matter how you did it.” Brendon rose to his full height, which was almost as tall as Alex. Humor fled his expression, leaving grim determination. The other warlock flexed his hands, and Alex braced for attack.
“What matters,” Brendon continued, “is that I think you have the energy to stop the Great Wipeout that’s been planned.” His eyes narrowed, and he studied Alex’s expression while he kept his mind blank…just as Brendon was doing.
There were so many tricks Brendon could use, glamours and spells that might seep past Alex’s defenses no matter how cautious he was. It was, however, a terrible amount of energy to waste in order to fool one man, with even more power used to conceal the magic.
Or Brendon was being honest. It was unlikely, but the man may have followed him here out of curiosity following the meeting.
Either way, Alex figured he had to hear him out. As Brendon mentioned, he had saved Leila’s life, meaning Alex technically owed him his. Not that I’m telling him.
Heath arrived in the same spot he’d left, frowning. A single drop of blood trickled from his nose.
“Your girlfriend wanted to kill my mate.” He crossed his arms over his chest, the eye tattooed on his hand looking over to Brendon. It widened fearfully. “It’s a good thing Sophia can kick Leila’s ass, or I’d have to kick yours.” His frown deepened. “Who the hell are you?”
Alex made introductions, making sure Brendon knew he was now dealing with one of the Head Soldiers of the werewolf pack. Instead of intimidating him, it seemed to please him more.
“If I had the sort of energy to thwart the plan,” Alex muttered vaguely. He grinned. “Don’t worry, Heath already knows what that plan is.”
Genuine shock registered, and Brendon turned to Heath in surprise. If Alex had been the one to tell the pack, he’d already be dead.
“It wasn’t me,” Alex said simply. “We all knew making any sort of advanced plans mean a witch could envision them. Well this one happened in a witch’s dreams who also happens to be a werewolf in the pack.”
Brendon looked from Alex to Heath and back, his frown deepening. “If anyone in the float found out about your witch—”
“—they’d be killed the moment they tried to attack the firehouse,” Heath finished for him. “New safeguards were put in place after you dickheads tried to burn it down last Christmas. We learned our lesson.” Before Brendon could respond, he continued, “The coven knows. And our Alpha informed the werewolf Elders, who’ve passed on the information to whichever sects of creatures they chose to.”
For a moment, Alex wasn’t sure whether Brendon would curse at them, cry, or pull out his own hair. Instead, the man threw his head back and laughed.
Heath met Alex’s gaze, lifting an eyebrow. How crazy is he? he mouthed.
Watching the still-laughing warlock, wondering if lighting, insects, or some other disaster would come from his loss of control, Alex grabbed for his talisman. Certifiable, he mouthed back.
Bowing his head to wipe his eyes, Brendon sighed. “I’m not crazy.” With the snap of his fingers, he had a beer in his hands. Frost melted on the sides of the chilled glass. “I do think that if we fail to fix this”—he pointed his beer at Alex—“we’re dead with all the rest of the creatures. Someone will find us out, put our heads on pikes as examples, and scare anyone else out of moving against the warlocks.” He raised his beer in a salute and drained half of its contents.
“There’s no we,” Alex corrected. “I’ve got some things to deal with here.” Spreading his hands, he indicated the ruins of the house around them. If it weren’t for his last-minute spell to keep humans from remembering to call the police, enforcement and arson specialists would be swarming the place. “Besides, I have no reason to trust you. How do I know you’re not going to alert the float the second I agree to this rebellion?”
Rather than keep his eyes on Alex, Brendon watched his beer. The last bits of foam on the top were moving abnormally fast, but Alex couldn’t clearly see what it was forming. A message to the float? A leaf, like cappuccino foam?
“Let’s turn this around.” Apparently getting what he wanted from his beer, Brendon set it on the ground. Now, the foam dissipated completely, leaving pale gold. “I risked everything to follow you and ask this of you. If anyone is more at risk here, it’s me.”
Shaking his head, Alex clasped his hands. If he were mortal, sweat would be pouring from them, making them shiny and slick to the touch. When he was a young witch, he’d been too nervous to touch a woman because of his hands, which only made the problem worse. Absently, he realized Leila wouldn’t have cared at all, even if it ruined one of those intricate costumes she wore for her dance recitals. He allowed Brendon to see her in his mind, a single peek of her wearing jeans over her crossed legs and a huge smile, her jewel-blue eyes glittering in the sun.
The other warlock had already seen her, and that was far, far too much.
“Ac
tually, you’re wrong,” Alex said softly. In the corner of his eye, Heath nodded, his hand moving to a weapon Alex couldn’t see.
“I see.” Brendon clapped his hands together. The beer disappeared. “If I help you solve this…situation…you’re in, and you see I mean no harm to your woman, you will help me with the float.”
“What do you have in mind?” Alex ignored the furious hand movements Heath was making over his neck, much to Brendon’s amusement.
“Step to the right, please. All the way to the sidewalk.” His chin in his hands, Brendon shooed them with his hands and disappeared. Before Alex could try to locate where the man was—he didn’t simply disappear as Heath could—a new house popped into place as if it had been 3-D printed there.
Like the original house, it was blue with a white porch and trimmings, and it too could have been in a children’s fairytale book. There were subtle differences, like the width of the stairs and the addition of a wooden porch swing, but nothing abjectly noticeable. A card was placed in Alex’s hand. Briefly, he could see Brendon’s mental image walking away, whistling without anyone able to hear him.
On the front of the card in small block letters were Brendon’s cell phone number, email address, and Instagram handle. Wondering why a warlock would have an Instagram account, Alex flipped the card over to see what must have been Brendon’s scrawled handwriting. With the powers he’d just displayed, he could’ve used a touch of magic to make his writing more legible.
“Can you make out what this says?” Alex asked Heath, only able to read roughly one third of the words.
Peering over his shoulder, Heath barked out a laugh. “He said, ‘I wonder, do werewolves smell each other’s asses to get to know each other?’”
Alex squinted, but nothing on the card had changed. Then the letters shifted, and Heath cocked his head, obviously able to see it as well.
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