Finn’s ragged breaths troubled her and Jeremiah suffered the same, coughs exploding from him even as they kept pace. Not like any of that would matter if they didn’t escape in time.
Sierra had reached the front door by the time they closed in on it and Navi wasn’t stopping for anything. The creaks and groans from the back of the warehouse increased and, when she paused to glance back, the amount of noxious smoke through the place had tripled within seconds, spreading in their direction. Finn and Jeremiah followed Sierra out through the exit and Navi came out last, nudging the door shut behind her with a slam.
The cooler night air hit her lungs and her chest throbbed as she wheezed in response. The moment they made it near the perimeter of the warehouse, Finn hacked up crud onto the gravel and Jeremiah bent over and began hurling. She could barely smell anything and her throat felt coated, like she’d swallowed acid for the last hour. Her fur was singed and the skin beneath tender.
Navi shifted into human form, the transition slower than normal. On top of her depleted energy from tapping into her powers, the aftermath of the explosion had left her sore. As her fur changed to skin and she shifted onto two feet, her injuries throbbed and patches of her skin were sensitive from the heat. Even with the accelerated healing powers of her kind, she’d ignored the gouges she’d received in there during her fight, and Finn would take even longer to heal.
She hadn’t made it a few paces toward the Challenger before hands wrapped around her. Navi was too exhausted for a fast reaction time, but she didn’t need to worry—she knew who held her tight. Finn’s chest pressed against her back and, despite the way her skin ached, she sank into his embrace, the relief soaking through her.
Navi turned around to face him and her eyes heated at the sight of her mate standing in front of her. She traveled her fingers across his skin before she could help it while she examined him for injuries. He’d sustained some intense burns along his arms, along his back, and a couple of areas leaked blood. She’d bandage him up when they got out of here, but first she needed to place a call to the emergency services again. The firefighters would have a field day with this one.
Finn circled his arms around her and drew her tight to him. She didn’t wait for him and pressed her mouth to his, just as anxious to feel his touch in the wake of the battle they’d fought. She could barely taste him or even feel his lips with how raw her skin was, but the simple act sent shuddering relief through her.
This was what she’d been terrified of, what Akio dealt with every time his wife joined him on a mission. As much as the explosion had struck her dumb with fear, she trusted Finn to fight by her side. If they’d weathered this, she had faith they could brave the challenges they would face on the road. As she stared into those tender eyes she’d come to know so well, she saw a future so beautiful it made her heart break.
Sierra approached, dropping the stack of papers on top of the Challenger in front of them. “Between letting those slimy bastards run free and getting cues on what Kendricks might be up to, I chose the latter. I hope there’s something in here you can use.”
Navi shook her head, breaking away from Finn to grab the stack of papers. “You made the right call. Not like I expected any less from a Red Rock.” She glanced to Sierra, Finn and Jeremiah who gathered around the car while the warehouse crackled and blazed in the background. “I’ve traveled through many, many cities and I can honestly say I’ve never met a pack like this. You’re a remarkable crowd.”
Her eyes locked with Finn’s. She’d traveled all across the East Coast on Tribe business, but those words held true when it came to him. Navi had had one-night stands, friendships and even attempts at relationships crumble to pieces. As Tribe, she was never able to sustain anything lasting. However, for the first time in her life, she allowed herself to hope again. Because all those mistakes, all those failed relationships didn’t hold a candle to the connection that blazed stronger than the fires in the distance between her and Finn.
They could hop from state to state, from one hotel to another, but the distance no longer mattered, because Navi had found her home.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Finn pulled in front of the Beaver Tavern, his nerves on edge.
A hand rested over his, the comforting touch the only thing he’d ever need. He glanced over to his mate, Navi, who leaned back in the seat as if she belonged there. The sight of her made him want to make a detour before the rendezvous with Jess and the others a couple of hours north. Several weeks had passed since he’d killed Dale Rossi and they’d broken up the smuggling ring, and he’d healed well despite a painful first week. Except, despite the way they’d taken down the head distributor, Mackey’s involvement remained complicated.
Because Joe Ganzorig’s name was stamped all over those invoices. And when they’d driven down to pay their shaman friend a visit, his place had been cleared out. All those years Rossi had spent selling people out had caught up to him, because Ganzorig had made him into the scapegoat this time.
“Hey, we’ll probably be around these parts before you know it,” Navi said, her words bolstering him. “After all, something about this area seems to keep attracting Mackey’s attention.”
He swallowed, his throat tightening on reflex. He was shit at goodbyes and this would be the biggest one he’d ever faced. Today, he would say goodbye to the place that had nurtured him, one that helped him grow into the man he’d become. He would be leaving behind the gym he’d put up for sale, and lifelong friends who meant the world to him.
However, his wolf had stopped the restless march in his chest that had filled him with anxiety the past couple of years. His newfound path gave him the contentment he’d been longing for, the challenge he’d been searching for ever since he’d lost the alpha position. And he’d be fighting alongside a mate he not only adored but respected.
Finn sucked in a deep breath. Game time.
He hopped out of his driver’s seat and headed for the front of Beaver Tavern. Navi slunk up behind him and, as they approached, she grew quiet with a contemplative look in her eyes. He stepped to the door, but the normal buzz and chatter wasn’t flowing from inside.
The moment he stepped in, he understood why.
“Surprise!” dozens of voices hollered when the lights flicked on. Red Rocks of all ages, from the elders to the littles to his best friends, lined the tavern. Even Raven stood behind the taps as usual, a half-smile on her face.
A wide grin rolled onto his face and Navi smirked beside him, unruffled.
“You knew,” he accused.
She shrugged. “Unlike you, I’ve got a poker face.”
He shook his head, stepping inside as Sierra and Jer approached to greet him. Jer slung an arm around him and Sierra passed him a pint of Guinness.
Jer squeezed his shoulders and leaned his head in. He was Finn’s oldest friend and, no matter how far he traveled, nothing would change that. “Should’ve known you wouldn’t settle for the little leagues. Can’t just aim for another pack—you’ve got to go and start working for the Tribe.”
A sarcastic quip leapt to his lips, but he stopped himself. That fit their usual interchange, but he was leaving. “And you deserve to find your own happiness, brother.” Their eyes met and, for a moment, he saw all the shattered pieces in Jer’s gaze, one that gripped him, Jer and Raven alike. He’d fought to break the cycle, but it hadn’t been easy. He hoped with all his heart that his friends had managed to do the same.
“Hard to believe our pack beta is leaving us,” Sierra murmured, unable to hide the sadness in her voice. Finn swallowed the ale, and he couldn’t dodge the way his eyes pricked with heat. “Your position might be filled, but you know, Finn Kelly, you’ll never be replaced. You will always be a Red Rock.”
“Always,” he said, his voice coming out hoarse with emotion. That was the solemn truth, one it took finding the woman of his dreams and the adventure of a lifetime to learn. No matter how far he traveled, he would always be part of this
pack.
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The Whitfield Files:
Of Tinkers and Technomancers
Katherine McIntyre
Excerpt
Theo Whitfield had been dreading this visit before she entered the building. Any one of an assortment of grisly jobs sounded more appealing than the task she faced now, whether it be sucking down clouds of noxious black steam while repairing an airship vent, or tromping through the sewage and muck in the Underground. Blazes, she’d even rather devour her mother’s charred attempts at supper, a feat that caused even the most ironclad stomachs to falter.
Yet, her sister Ellie had never come home last night, and Theo needed answers.
Theo swallowed hard as she stepped to the storefront and rested her knuckles on the freshly painted door. The polished bronze sign of Kylock Industries glared down at her from the overhang, and she gritted her teeth while gathering her courage. Autocarts rattled behind her while they raced along the cobblestones, part of the average hustle of Barnsbury. Each one that passed elicited a stream of curses from the street thugs who were half-rats by noon and reeked of gin.
She gripped the knob and turned it, entering the business.
The dim gas lamps in the entryway flickered their sallow light onto the tarnished floorboards. A woman sitting behind a mahogany desk stationed in the front of a sprawling parlor startled in her seat as if she’d been caught napping. Even with the posh and polished entrance of the shop, the scents of iron, steel and copper tickled her nose and made her fingers itch. For a technomancer like herself, the contraptions devised in this place were rife for exploration.
“How may I help you?” the attendant asked, smoothing her skirts before she stood from her seat.
“I’m here to see Silas,” Theo said, slipping her hands into the pockets of her trousers.
She didn’t miss the way the woman stared her down, lingering on her shocking attire. With her long black curls left free and wild rather than pinned back, and the lack of a corset to give her an unrealistic waist, Theo would never be mistaken for a lady. Though the populace’s judgment didn’t matter. As a technomancer in a city of industry, she would always, always find employment, whether she followed social norms or not.
“Mr. Kylock is occupied. Did you want to make an appointment?” the woman replied as she forced a smile.
Theo lifted an eyebrow. The high-and-mighty bastard’s too busy playing with his toys to spare a second? As if I’m surprised.
“He’ll see me now,” she demanded, her fingers itching all the more. Whenever her temper sparked—which happened often—the magic tended to flow with it.
The attendant bristled at her demand. Based on the sharp glint in the woman’s eyes when she opened her mouth, another denial was about to follow.
A fancy auto-stylus attached to a typewriter sat on the desk and bore Kylock’s tinker imprint—a K with a surrounding cog. The fancy piece of tech could imprint different fonts and handwriting onto letters and would sell for a high price in a lot of the upscale salons. That would do just fine.
Theo lifted her hand, and the conductive ring she wore nearly vibrated from the magic at her fingertips. Wisps of it condensed in the air, like tufts of cumulus clouds, at her will. She urged the energy onward with a twist of her wrist, and the buttons on the typewriter began to type. The stylus lowered to the blank pad of paper.
“I can send this machine into a frenzy in about three seconds,” Theo said. “I don’t suppose your employers will appreciate their fancy equipment getting broken. Now, take me to Silas.”
The stylus moved faster and faster, scribbling more furiously with every keystroke she manipulated from afar. Condensation filled the air with the outpouring of magic, like the steam that billowed out of the machinery in the city. The woman’s eyes widened and she threw her hands up in defense.
“Stop, stop,” she bit out, the fear illustrated by the pallor on her skin. “I’ll take you back to the workroom.”
Theo’s kind was rare enough that when they encountered normal folks on the street, respect or fear became common currency. After all, not everyone had the ability to manipulate mechanics with magic.
The woman led her through the fancy trappings of the parlor, from the bookshelves filled with leather-bound tomes to the mahogany table and chairs next to a cabinet displaying crystal glasses and decanters of fine liquor. This wasn’t the sort of place meant for ruffians like herself.
Theo’s footsteps echoed down the hall, her thick-soled boots made for stomping, unlike the quiet click of the woman’s heels while she guided her to a double door at the end of the main corridor. Her loose curls tickled her neck, annoying her enough to bat them out of the way before she came to a stop in front of the workroom doors. Her agitation threatened to bubble over the moment she stepped foot inside this place. The attendant bent forward, inputting a number sequence. A series of whirrs and clicks followed until the lock opened.
“Step along now,” Theo said, swerving past the woman’s petticoats to grab the knob. “I’m sure I can handle the rest.” For extra emphasis, she waggled her fingers in the attendant’s direction, which had the desired effect of sending her scurrying. If the ladies and gents were going to treat her like a freak, she might as well reap the benefits.
The door whispered as she pushed it open and stepped into the heart of rolling steam that kissed her cheeks and burning metal that tickled her nose. Absinthe-colored aether bubbled up in tubes lining the room. The power-source not only served as fuel but also cast rays of light to add to the meager flicker the dim overhangs offered. A large workbench spanned the entire back wall, and every spare inch of the monstrosity was covered in projects.
The tick-tick-tick of clocks echoed through the place, coming from at least six different sources, and scrolls of blueprints and designs covered entire shelves of the three bookcases that towered along the right wall. Gears, lavers, burnishers and drills lay scattered about, half on the floor, half on the table and in no particular order. Amidst the chaos of the room, one man hunched over the worktable, neck-deep in his latest project.
“Silas, I know where your missing automaton is,” Theo called out, her voice echoing through the room.
The man’s shoulders tensed, and he placed whatever he was tinkering with down before swiveling around on his stool to face her. His rust-red hair glowed in the wake of the sheer amount of steam pumping through the room, and he lifted his goggles with their magnifying attachments to rest them on his head. He smirked upon meeting her gaze, the sheer amount of arrogance in his dark brown eyes igniting her temper on the spot. The man was too pretty for his own good, yet Theo refused to be swayed.
“Well, well, whatever did I do for one of the Whitfield girls to pay me a visit?” He cocked a thick eyebrow, the elegant arch perfecting his defined features. “Last time I saw you, Theo dear, your employer required my consult on a situation because you refused to admit your utter lack of knowledge on the subject.”
Her fingers curled into fists. They had both grown up in Islington, even getting into scuffs on the streets as teens, but as they’d aged, he’d become ever more insufferable. Once he’d become a full-fledged Tinker, and she’d found technomancer work as a handyman, their paths continued to cross, over and over and over again. Unfortunately, punching him in the face at a job site would get her pay docked, and she needed every penny for Mother’s treatments.
“You want to talk utter lack of knowledge?” she ground out. “Where’s the latest model of your line of clockwork maids?”
His eyes flashed with irritation. He leaned against his worktable and folded his arms over his chest. He was one of the few who didn’t fear her kind. “What did your sister get mixed up in this time?”
Theo bristled. While he might be right—out of the two Whitfield girls, she’d gone the straight and narrow while her sister had taken to thieving with a naturalness that worried Mother endlessly—she didn�
�t appreciate the derision in his tone.
“Do you want the automaton she stole back or not?” she asked, ready to exit this infernal room with the man who’d become a nightmare in her professional life as well as a personal irritant.
“You’ll have it back here by tonight, or I’ll give your sister’s name to the constable,” he responded, keeping his gaze level.
Despite the firmness in his voice, shadows crept underneath his eyes and the three-day stubble gracing his chin implied the disappearance had caused him more trouble than he’d ever admit. He fidgeted with one of his cufflinks, the constant motion betraying those nerves.
“That’s the problem.” Theo swallowed, a pit forming in her stomach. “She disappeared before she ever made the drop with your clockwork maid in tow.”
The tapping stopped.
“So, you’ve come to me why?” Silas asked, his voice sharpening. The hungry way he eyed her suggested she was treading on dangerous ground. However, Theodosia Whitfield made a habit of stomping through delicate territory.
“Because I can get your automaton back, delivered without anyone the wiser. I just need your help. Specifically, I need the scrap metal you forged the clockwork maid from so I can trace it.” She lifted her chin and matched his gaze. He might be taller and have developed more muscles than necessary while smithing, but she threw a mean right hook and knew his blind spots. If it came to a fight, she’d still bet on herself.
“And what do I get in return?” he asked, an infuriating grin returning to his face. “Because I have the blueprints—I can always make a new clockwork maid. However, you only have one sister.”
Theo heaved a sigh, not bothering to hide her irritation. “You get the satisfaction of being a decent man for once.”
Silas snorted. “That’s not a barter in the slightest. Offer me something worthwhile.”
Forged Decisions Page 19
