I looked up, my tension easing at the love in his eyes. It was shocking to see it there, honest and raw in so young a face.
He gave me a weak smile. "I left before sunup, but when I heard a new housing development was going in near Eden Park, I went to look over the plans. They were putting in lots of landscaping. I asked Matalina to help me, and when the trucks came, we were there. One person can't hold anything, but two can have the world, Rache."
I had a feeling he was trying to tell me more than his words were saying, but I didn't want to listen. "Hold still," I said, pushing his hair out of the way and putting the bandage on. I leaned back, and his bloodied hair fell to hide it. Turning to the table, I gathered my mess into a pile, not knowing what to do with it.
"Thank you," Jenks said softly, and I flicked a glance at him.
"No prob. Matalina stitched me up right nice, so I'm glad to return the favor."
There was a scuffing at the open archway and we turned. A small man in slacks and a red polo shirt had come in, his pace quick and confident - busy, was the impression I got. Two men in fatigues were right behind him. They had pistols in leg holsters, and I stood. Jenks was quick to follow, tossing his stained curls out of his way.
The man's hair was cut close to his head, military style, with a whiteness that stood out in sharp contrast to his deep tan and wind-roughened features. There was no beard or mustache, which didn't surprise me. Presence flowed from him like cologne as he stepped down into the living room, but it wasn't Trent Kalamack's confidence based on manipulation. No, it was a confidence born from knowing he could pin you to the floor and hurt you. He was in his early fifties, I guessed, and I'd dare call him squat and compact. None of it was flab.
"Boss man, I presume?" I whispered, and he came to a jerky halt four feet away, the table between us. His intelligence was obvious as he looked Jenks and me over, fingers fumbling at his shirt pocket for a pair of glasses while we stood there in our thief-black outfits.
The man took a breath and let it out. "Hell," he said to Jenks, his voice rough, as if he smoked a lot. "I've been watching you the last five minutes, and I don't know what you are."
Jenks looked at me and I shrugged, surprised to find him that open and honest. "I'm a pixy," Jenks said, tucking his hand behind his back so the man wouldn't try to shake it.
"By God, a pixy?" he blurted, brown eyes wide. Glancing at me, he put his glasses on, took a breath, and added, "Your work?"
"Yup," I said, reaching out to shake his hand.
My breath hissed and I jerked back when the two men that had come in with him cocked their weapons. I hadn't even seen them pull them.
"Stand down!" the man bellowed, and Jenks jumped. It was shockingly loud and deep, carrying the crack of a whip. I watched, heart pounding until the two men lowered their sights. They didn't put the guns away, though. I was starting to hate those little hats of theirs.
"Walter Vincent," the man said, hitting the t's sharp and crisp.
I glanced at the men behind him, then extended my hand again. "Rachel Morgan," I said more confidently than I felt. "And this is Jenks, my partner." This was weird, civilized. Yes, I've come to rob you, sir. / How delightful; won't you have some tea before you do?
The Were before me pursed his lips, his white eyebrows going high. I could see his thoughts jumping and I found myself thinking he had a rugged attractiveness despite his age, and that he was likely going to have someone hurt me. I was a sucker for a smart man, especially when the brains came packaged in a body that was carefully maintained.
"Rachel Morgan," he said, his voice rising and falling in amazement. "I've heard of you, if you can believe it. Though Mr. Sparagmos is of the belief that you're dead."
My heart gave one hard beat. Nick was here. He was alive. I licked my lips, suddenly nervous. "It was only a bad hair day, but try telling that to the media." I exhaled, never looking away, knowing I was challenging him but feeling I had to. "I'm not leaving without him."
Head bobbing, Walter backed up two quick steps. The men behind him had a better shot at me, and my heart found a faster pace. Jenks didn't move, but I heard his breathing quicken.
"Truer words may never have been spoken," Walter said. It was a threat, and I didn't like the complete unconcern in his voice. Jenks moved to stand beside me, and the tension rose.
A small man in fatigues silently came in with a sheet of paper, distracting him. Walter's eyes slowly slid from me, and my pent-up shudder broke free. My lips pressed together in annoyance that he had gotten to me. Walter stood by the wide window, light spilling in over him and his paper as he squinted at it. While reading, he pointed to the first-aid kit, and silently the man collected it all and left.
"Rachel Morgan, independent runner and equal third holder in Vampiric Charms," Walter said. "Broke from the I.S. last June and survived?" His attention came back to me. Curiosity high in his rugged, tanned face, he sat in an over-stuffed chair and let the paper fall to the floor. No one picked it up. I glanced at it, seeing a blurry shot of me with my hair all over the place and my lips parted like I was on Brimstone. I frowned, not remembering it being taken.
Walter put an ankle on one knee, and I pulled my gaze up, waiting.
"Only someone very smart or very wealthy survives an I.S. death threat," he said, thick powerful fingers steepled. "You aren't smart, seeing as we caught you, and you clearly work for your bread and butter. Being from Cincinnati, you're logically one of Kalamack's more attractive sacrificial sheep."
I took an angry breath, and Jenks caught my elbow, jerking me back. "I don't work for Trent," I said, feeling myself warm. "I broke my I.S. contract on my own. He had nothing to do with it, except that I paid for my freedom by almost nailing his ass for trafficking in biodrugs."
Walter smiled to show me small white teeth. "Says here you had breakfast with him last December after a night on the town."
My flush of anger turned to one of embarrassment. "I was suffering from hypothermia and he didn't want to drop me at the hospital or my office." One would have gotten the law involved, the other my roommate, both to be avoided if one's name was Kalamack.
"Exactly." Walter leaned forward, his eyes fixed on mine. "You saved his life."
Rubbing my fingers into my forehead, I said, "It was a one shot deal. Maybe if I had been thinking I would've let him drown, but then I would've had to give the ten thousand back."
Walter was smug as he leaned into his chair by the window, the sun glinting on his white hair. "The question you will answer is how did Kalamack find out about the artifact's existence, much less that someone knew where it was and where that person is?"
Slowly I sat on the edge of the couch, feeling sick. Jenks moved to the other side of the coffee table, sitting to watch my back, Walter, and the door all at the same time. Male Weres were known to cut females of any species a lot of slack since their hormones guided their thoughts, but eventually logic would kick in and things were going to get nasty. I glanced at the two men by the door, then the plate-glass window. Neither one was a good option. I had nowhere to go.
"I've nothing against you," Walter said, bringing my attention from the possibility of throwing one of them into the glass to break it, thus solving two problems at once. "And I'm willing to let you and your partner go."
Astonished, I stupidly did nothing when the small man pushed up from his chair in a smooth, very fast motion. The two men by the door were already moving. My breath caught and I stifled a gasp when the compact Were was suddenly on me.
"Rache!" Jenks shouted, and I heard the click of safeties. There was a scuffle that ended with his grunt of pain, but I couldn't see him. Walter's face was in the way, calm and calculating, his fingers lightly around my neck, just under my chin. Adrenaline pulsed to make my head hurt. Almost too fast to realize, the older Were had pinned me to the couch.
Heart pounding, I jerked back my first instinct to struggle, though it was hard, really hard. I met his placid brown eyes, and fear struck me. He was so calm, so sure of his dominance. I could smell his aftershave and the rising scent of musk under it as he hung over me, his small but powerful hand under my chin the only place we touched. His pulse was fast and his breathing quick. But his eyes were calm.
I didn't move, knowing it would trigger an entirely new set of ugliness. Jenks would suffer and then me. As long as I didn't do anything, neither would Walter. It was a Were mind game, and though it went against all my instincts, I could play it. My fingers, though, were stiff and my arm was tense, ready to jab his solar plexus even if it did get me shot.
"I'm willing to let you go," he repeated softly, his breath smelling of cinnamon toothpaste and his thick lips hardly moving. "You will return to Kalamack and tell him that it's mine. He won't have it. It belongs to me. Damn elf thinks he can rule the world," he whispered so only I could hear. "It's our turn. They had their chance."
My heart pounded and I felt my pulse lift against his fingers. "Looks to me like it belongs to Nick," I said boldly. And how had he known Trent was an elf?
I took a quick breath of air, jerking when he pushed himself away and was suddenly eight feet back. My gaze shot to Jenks. He had been dragged to the middle of the room, and he now held himself to favor his right leg. He gave me an apologetic look he didn't owe me, and the two men holding him let go at a small gesture from Walter. The dry blood in Jenks's his hair was turning a tacky-looking brown, and I forced my eyes from him and back to Walter.
Ruffled, I refused to touch my neck, instead draping my arms over the top of the couch. Inside I was shaking. I didn't like Weres. Either hit me or back off, but this posturing and threats was useless to me.
Exuding confidence and satisfaction, Walter sat, taking the couch opposite me and mirroring me almost exactly. Clearly the Were wasn't going to break the silence, so I would. It would cost me points in this inane game, but I wanted to see the end of it before the sun went nova. "I don't give a damn about your artifact," I said, voice soft so it wouldn't shake like my hands were threatening to. "And as far as I know, Trent doesn't either. I don't work for him. Intentionally. I'm here for Nick. Now..." I took a slow breath. "...are you going to give him to me, or am I going to have to hurt a few people and take him?"
Instead of laughing, Walter's brow furrowed and he sucked on his teeth. "Kalamack doesn't know," he said flatly, making it a statement, not a question. "Why are you here? Why do you care what happens to Sparagmos?"
I pulled my arms from the couch, putting one hand on my hip and the other gesturing in exasperation. "You know, I asked myself that same question just this morning."
A smile came over the Were, and he glanced to a decorative mirror, presumably two-way. "A rescue of the heart?" he said, and I warmed at the mockery in his voice. "You love him, and he thinks you're dead. Oh, that's classic. But it's stupid enough to be the truth."
I said nothing, gritting my teeth. Jenks shifted closer, and the sentries adjusted the grip on their weapons.
"Pam?" Walter called, and I wasn't surprised when a diminutive woman entered, arms swinging confidently, an amulet dangling from her fingers. She was dressed in lightweight cotton capri pants and a matching blouse, her long black hair coming to her mid-back. Defined eyebrows, thick pouty lips, and a delicate facial bone structure gave me the impression of a china doll. A very athletic china doll, I amended when she pointedly dropped the amulet on the coffee table in accusation.
Truth charm, I guessed by the notches on the rim, and I pulled my gaze away from the clatter of it hitting the table. Weres used witch magic more than vamps, and I wondered if it was because they needed the boost of power more than the vamps, or if it was that vamps were so sure of their superiority they felt they didn't need witch magic to compete with the rest of Inderland.
"She's not lying," the woman said, giving me a quick smile that was neither warm nor welcoming. "About anything."
Walter sighed as if it was bad news. "I'm sorry to hear that," he said softly.
Damn. I looked at Jenks. His eyes were wide and he looked anxious. He had heard it too. Something had shifted. Double damn.
Six more men came in and Walter stood, curving his arm familiarly about Pam's waist and tugging her closer. "Pit them," he said, sounding regretful, and Jenks stiffened. "I want to know if anyone is coming after her." He smiled at Pam. "Try not to do anything that can't be undone? We may have to give them back to whoever backed her in this. She many not belong to Kalamack, but she belongs to someone."
"Whoa! Wait up," I said, standing. "You'd let me walk out of here if I worked for Trent and was after your stinking statue, but you're going to put me away if all I came for was Nick?"
Jenks groaned, and I froze when Walter and Pam looked to the truth amulet on the table. It shone a nice, friendly green. "And you knew it was a statue, how?" Walter said softly.
Crap on toast. Stupid, stupid witch. Now they wouldn't stop until they found out about Jax. I knew Jenks's thoughts were on a similar path when he jiggled on his feet, anxious.
"Find out what they know," Walter said, and a wild look came over Jenks.
I fought to not move as someone put his hands on me, exerting a steadily growing pressure to fall into motion. Brett's stocky figure eased into the archway, his expression clearly saying he thought they were making a mistake. "I'm not going to talk," I said, shaking inside. "There isn't a spell stirred that can make me saying anything, much less the truth."
Walter favored me with a smile that showed his small teeth. "I wasn't planning on using spells to make you talk. We have drugs for that," he said, and I went cold. "Sparagmos has quite a resistance to them and we've since turned to older methods. He's resisting those too, but maybe we can move him by hurting you. All he does is weep when we ask him where the statue is. Pam, will you supervise her interrogation? My ulcer acts up when I hurt a woman."
He started for Brett and the archway, leaving Jenks and me with a room full of weapons. Frantic, I looked from Jenks to Walter standing by the door, giving a quiet set of instructions to Brett. I scanned the room as if for options, finding none.
"If she knows, someone else does too. Find out who," Walter finished.
"Rache?" Jenks whispered, clearly tensed to move but waiting for me to give the word.
"I claim ascension," I said, frightened. Oh God. Not again. Not on purpose.
Walter jerked, but it was Pam who spun, her dark hair furling with the motion and her lips parted, a surprised doll with red cheeks.
"I claim the right for pack ascension," I said louder. I wasn't about to fight her, but I could stall for time. Kisten would know something was wrong if I didn't call him in three days. At that point I didn't care if I had to be rescued or not. "I want three days to prepare. You can't touch me," I added for good measure.
Anger pulled Walter's white eyebrows tight, and furrows lined his brow. "You can't," he said. "You aren't a Were, and even if you were, you'd be nothing but a two-bite whore."
Jenks didn't relax, but he was listening, as was everyone in the room. Poised. Waiting.
"I can," I said, shrugging out of the grip of whoever held me. "I do. My pack number is O-C(H) 93AF. And as an alpha, I can claim ascension over whomever in hell I want to. Look me up. I'm in the catalog." Shaking, I gave Pam a shrug I hope she understood meant it was nothing personal. She looked at the bruises on my neck, her eyebrows rising but her thoughts unknown.
"I don't want to front your lousy tick-infested pack," I said, making sure everyone knew where I was coming from. "But I want Nick. If I best your alpha, then I claim him and leave." I took a slow breath. "We all leave. Intact and unharassed."
"No!" Walter barked, and everyone but Pam and I jumped.
Jenks looked worried, his green eyes pinched. "Rache," he said, apparently not caring everyone could hear him. "Remember what happened the last time?"
I shot him a poisonous look. "I won last time," I said hotly.
"By a point of law," he said, jerking to a standstill when he tried to take a step and the men surrounding him threatened violence.
"Jenks," I said patiently, ignoring the pointed weapons. "We can try to fight our way out of some crazy survivalist's group, swim for shore, and hopefully elude them, or I can fight one stinking Were. One way, we end up hurt and with nothing. The other way, I'm the only one who gets hurt, and maybe we walk away from this with Nick. That's all I want."
Jenks's face fell into an unusual expression of hatred that looked wrong on him. "Why?" he whispered. "I don't know why you even care."
I dropped my eyes to the carpet, wondering that myself.
"This isn't a game," Walter said, his round face going red. "Get the medic up here with the drugs. I want to know who sent them and what they know."
The man grabbed me and I tensed.
"Ah, Walter, dear?" Pam said, and everyone in the room froze at the ice in her voice. "What, by Cerberus's balls, are you doing?"
In the silence, Walter turned. "She isn't a Were. I thought - "
His words cut off at Pam's low noise. Her eyes were squinting and her hands were on her hips. "I've been challenged." Her voice got louder. "How am I supposed to walk out of this room and not have every last whining dog think I'm a coward? I don't care if she's a leprechaun and has green tits, she just pissed in my food dish!"
Jenks snickered, making Walter's ears redden. "Sweetie..." he coaxed, but he was hunched and submissive. I cocked an eyebrow at Jenks. Maybe I'd been going about Weres all wrong. It was the women who held the balls of the alpha males that really had the power.
"Sugar Pup," he tried again when she pushed his hand off her. "She's stalling for time. I want to know who's coming to bail her out before they get here. She's not a Were, and I don't want to jeopardize gaining the artifact by adhering to old traditions that don't belong anymore."
"It's those traditions that put you where you are now," she said scathingly. "We don't have to give her three days." Pam turned to me, simpering. "We do it now. Think of it as me softening her up. It will be fun. And if she cheats with her magic, the pack can rip her to shreds."
My hope did the proverbial swirl down the crapper. Walter apparently didn't know what to do either as he stood in blank surprise while Pam kissed his cheek, smiling. "Give me twenty minutes to change," she said, then sashayed out.
I looked at Jenks. Shit. This was not what I had planned.