“Right here,” said a new voice, directly behind me. I felt hot breath on the back of my neck and screamed—I couldn't help it. I started to turn, but a large cold hand circled my arm as the speaker swept aside the black curtain and pushed me into the room.
The tray with the open wine bottle and the three fragile glasses, which I'd had balanced on my hip the entire time, spilled forward. All three glasses hit the wood floor and shattered like crystal bombs. The heavier wine bottle begin to tip, overbalancing as I was shoved forward, and I could almost see the wine inside splashing out and drenching the already pissed-off head werewolf. But that didn't happen.
What happened was that Savage let go of Doctor Locke's sweater and reached out to pluck the tilting wine bottle out of the air in one smooth motion. It happened so fast that my eye could scarcely follow it, but in the next second, he took a long drink from the bottle and slammed it down on the table. I had a dazed moment to wonder if Ben could move that fast before Savage dragged me back to the here and now.
“H'lo Carl,” he said, to the man who was holding me. “How long has she been out there?”
“Dunno. Five minutes at least. I was standing right behind her watching her watch you and the doc here. Nosy little bitch.”
He'd been behind me all that time? I turned to look at the man who was holding me and had another moment of sickening recognition. It was the big bartender from The Cloven Hoof. The one who'd sold me my Shirley Temple and refused to give me any information about McKinsey's whereabouts.
“Please,” I said, twisting uselessly to get free. “I didn't mean to—”
“Didn't mean to what? Sneak in here and eavesdrop on our private conversation?” The cold light glittering in Savage's slotted eyes made my skin crawl. “What are you anyway? Some kinda private detective hired by McKinsey's old man?”
“Whatever she is, she's been all over town askin' the same questions. Tried to pay me to talk last night in the Hoof,” Carl the bartender supplied. His grip on my arm was nearly pinching it in two. “And that's not all she's been doing.”
“Is that right?” Savage's deep voice dripped with sarcasm.
“I believe she is a reporter for the local paper—the Sun Times,” said Doctor Locke, who had turned around to face me. “Hello, Ms. Linden. I think I told you that you would find only grief if you continued your search for McKinsey.”
“A reporter, huh?” Savage's face grew dark, and I could feel that same aura of tension building around him that I had felt around Ben. But his was darker somehow—like a shadow of some evil I was afraid to name, even to myself. “A dead reporter is more like it,” he said.
“Not so fast, Thrash.” Carl held up a hand. “I told you askin' questions isn't the only thing she's good for. This little bitch and her man raised a power current like you wouldn't believe at the Hoof last night, right after he fought Dutch and forced him to change. It was like nothin' I ever felt before. I think half the bar creamed their jeans.”
“This true? You're not just good at snooping around—you can raise power too?” Savage looked at me as though I was supposed to have any idea what he was talking about. Of course I didn't, but I was all in favor of living to snoop another day, so if he thought I had a talent he could use I was definitely willing to pretend.
“Sure.” I shrugged as though it was no big deal. “I'm a member of the Winterhaven Coven,” I said, taking a chance.
“Huh,” he grunted thoughtfully, then looked up at Carl. “But you say she was raising power with her man? She's no good to me if she has a recent mating mark on her.”
Carl shrugged. “That's the thing—they raised a hell of a lot of power but they didn't even consummate. And she doesn't smell marked to me. Sniff for yourself.”
“All right.” In a move so fast it was a blur, Savage came around the table, dropped to his knees, and stuck his face directly in my crotch.
I pulled back my leg and kicked him as hard as I could in the face. My sensible black heel connected with the side of his nose and I heard a dull crunching sound of cartilage crumpling like an aluminum can when you step on it. It was a reflexive action, and one I might not have taken if I'd had time to think about the consequences, but it had the desired effect. Savage immediately yanked his face away from me and stood. I was sure I had caught him off guard, or I never would have gotten the kick in at all.
There was blood streaming down the big werewolf's face. As he loomed over me, looking down from an almost two foot height difference, it occurred to me that his shoulders were almost exactly twice as broad as mine. When I was with Ben, the fact that he was so much bigger and stronger than me made me feel safe and protected. With Savage it was the exact opposite. I felt the way a mouse must feel when a snake is just about to swallow it whole—tiny, helpless, and doomed.
As I watched, Savage's nose, which was crooked from the kick I'd delivered, straightened itself as if by magic. Then the blood flow dried up. I'd seen Ben heal in a similar manner the night before, but there was still a strangely surreal quality in watching the injured tissue repair itself.
“You're feisty. I like that.” Savage smiled at me, but there was rage in his inhuman yellow eyes. Without warning, he drew back one ham-sized fist and back-handed me. I saw the blow coming, but I couldn't avoid it—he was too damn fast. I felt the sharp agony of my bottom lip splitting and heard the flat crack of his hand across my cheek, which immediately went numb from the stinging blow. My mouth filled with the warm, copper-salt taste of blood and my eyes watered in pain, but I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of seeing my fear.
There was a high, buzzing hum in my ears and a sharp throb that promised to become a really nice bruise across my right cheekbone. I hadn't been physically assaulted since my last fight with Mitch, the one that finally made me go through with the divorce. It was painful as hell, but not as shocking as it might have been. I think once you've been hit like that, once you've experienced a truly horrible beating, a part of you is always waiting to get hit again. But I was no victim.
I turned my head and spat blood on the floor. “If you kill me, I'm no good to you,” I said.
Savage laughed. “That was just a love tap to keep you in your place, little girl.” He looked up at Carl. “You're right—no mating mark and I like her spirit.”
Carl frowned. “Ya know, I didn't think about this, but she's new to the pack. Molly isn't gonna like this.”
Savage shrugged. “Fuck Molly—she doesn't speak for the pack, I do.” He nodded at me. “She's new, but we'll have a formal claiming ceremony tonight at the Skylight and bring everybody around to the idea.” He grinned at me, showing teeth that were sharp and white and far too long. “If she's as good as you say, tomorrow night should be a Mabon to remember.”
Chapter Twelve
Ben
By the time I got to La Bella Luna, Dani was gone. I found the back room easily enough while pretending to get lost hunting for the bathroom, but there was nothing in it but three chairs and a half empty bottle of wine sitting on the table. Broken glass crunched underfoot, and the coppery tang of freshly spilled blood hung in the air. I lifted my head and sniffed deeply—under the blood I could smell Dani's unique scent—warm, vanilla musk with just a hint of jasmine and amber. She'd been here all right, but she wasn't here any longer and hadn't been for some time. Her sweet scent was already growing cold in the air.
Mingled with the blood and the smell of Dani were three other masculine scent signatures. I was terribly afraid that I knew who those signatures belonged to, and one of them had to be Thrash Savage. Where had he taken her and what had he done to her? If the blood I smelled in the air was hers…I clenched my fists at my sides, my knuckles popping in rage.
“You won't find her here,” said a voice behind me.
I whirled to see Doctor Locke standing in the doorway, framed by the black curtain on one side and his white wolf on the other. I crossed the room in two strides and yanked him up by the front of his sweater.
“What did they do to her?”
“Nothing as yet,” he said mildly. At his side the white wolf growled and crouched, as though working up the nerve to spring at me. I bared my teeth and growled back at her. She backed down with a whine.
“What do you mean, as yet?” I demanded. “Where can I find her?”
“If you'd put me down…?” He nodded at the front of his sweater, which was still bunched in my fist. I dropped him, and he stumbled and caught his balance against the wall.
“Talk,” I said. My blood was boiling, and outside I could feel the moon rising, calling me to shift and run with her. I resisted—I couldn't be of any help to Dani in wolf form, no matter how much my body wanted to change.
“I will give you some information in exchange for some of your hair.” Doctor Locke took off his glasses and polished them carefully against the stretched out form of his gray sweater.
“What?” I stared at him, not sure what to make of such a bizarre request.
He shrugged. “It is for a series of experiments I am running to isolate the gene that causes subjects to manifest the signs of Lycanthropy. I need as many samples as I can get. Just a few strands will do.”
I could have beaten what he knew out of him, and a large part of me—the part that was other—wanted to do just that. But if I lost control of myself and got violent, I knew I would have a much harder time controlling the change. That stopped me.
“Fine.” I yanked out several strands of my hair and gave them to him. He produced a crumpled, white napkin and wrapped the hairs carefully in it. “Now talk,” I said. “Hurry, before I lose my patience.”
“Savage and his cronies have taken her to the Skylight,” he said. “I assume you know it?”
I did. It was an old antebellum mansion on the far end of town that was owned by the local pack. They used it for gatherings on nights of the full moon because it was set on several acres of uncleared land where they could hunt after they changed. It had gotten its name from the fact that the huge ballroom in the center of the house had a ceiling that was entirely made of glass. On full moon nights, it was as though the moon was right in the room with you.
I knew the Skylight because it was the place my grandfather had taken me for my one and only pack gathering. A feeling of dread gathered in the pit of my stomach when I remembered what I had seen there before. Just the thought of Dani in that house made me feel sick.
“What are they going to do to her?” I asked, feeling terribly afraid that I already knew the answer.
Doctor Locke cleared his throat. “I believe they plan a claiming ceremony. You see, the girl Savage chose as his Mabon queen is, er, unavailable. I believe they thought Ms. Linden was an acceptable substitute.”
“Mabon queen?” I growled. “Shit!” This just kept getting worse and worse. I might not be part of the local pack, but I knew enough to know what that meant—what she would be expected to do.
“You should go to her,” Locke said to me. “Savage won't be expecting any competition. You may be able to catch him off guard.”
I frowned at him. “Why are you telling me this, anyway? Why should you care?”
He shrugged and ran a hand through his weirdly striped hair. The gray bands at his temples made him look a little like a skunk. “Let us just say I have a…personal stake in the matter. Savage was funding a pet project of mine, but the results were not to his liking.” He cleared his throat. “It's an open ceremony, you know,” he said. “If you hurry you may be able to—”
But I didn't hear his last words. I was already out the door and into my truck. One thought kept throbbing in my head: I had to get Dani back.
* * *
They had already hurt her. I had driven as fast as I could, feeling the moon like an icy hand on the back of my neck, urging me on, and still I hadn't been in time.
I felt my hands fist into balls of rage as I looked at the woman I loved tied in the center of the Skylight ballroom. Dani was stretched spread-eagle across a round stone platform that was engraved with Pagan carvings, and she had on a tiny, flimsy, white silk teddy that barely came down to her upper thighs. Thrash Savage was leaning over her, bare from the waist up. There was a cruel smile twitching the corners of his thin, liver-colored lips, and he held a ceremonial knife in one hand. The blade looked very sharp, and it was already wet with Dani's blood.
“By my might I claim you,” Thrash intoned as the rest of the pack stood around in a loose semicircle and watched. He placed the point of the knife at the bend of her elbow and began a long, parallel cut that would reach down to her forearm. I could see that he had already marked her other arm and her inner thighs the same way. Nothing he had done was life-threatening by a long shot, but that didn't lessen the maddening fury that filled me when I saw her red blood on the stone altar.
“By your blood I claim you,” he continued. “By your—”
“You have no right to her,” I shouted, pushing through the pack members who looked at me as though I'd gone crazy. “This woman is mine. I claim her.”
Dani's eyes, which had been squeezed tightly closed, flew open, and I saw the pain and fear in their green depths. “Ben,” she whispered. “Please…”
“Well, well. The boyfriend. I wondered if you were gonna show up.” Thrash pulled back the knife, his cut only half finished, and looked up at me with a hard smile. “You're too late, buddy, I'm just about to claim her. In fact—” He popped open the top of his jeans and leered at Dani. “—it's all over but the fuckin'. Sorry about that.”
“You touch her again, and I'll kill you,” I said and meant every word. The fury inside me was incredible—insurmountable, as was the urge to change. But if I changed now, I lost any hope of saving Dani.
“You will, huh? Is that a formal challenge?” Thrash dropped the knife and wiped his bloody hands on his jeans, leaving maroon smears that made me sick with rage. That was Dani's blood he was wiping away so casually, Dani he had wounded. I wanted to make him pay, and pay dearly.
I opened my mouth to formalize the challenge when another voice interrupted me.
“A formal challenge is not proper on Mabon Eve. Such a duel should take place on Mabon itself, with the Goddess watching over all so that she may dispense her healing to the pack afterwards.”
I looked up to see a middle-aged woman with curly salt and pepper hair approaching us. She was dressed in the long, flowing white robes of a priestess, and there was an air of authority about her that said she was used to being obeyed.
Thrash turned on her. “He challenged my claiming. This woman has no mating mark on her—he has no claim, Molly.”
“You chose to do this in front of the entire pack, Theodore,” the middle-aged priestess reminded him, ignoring the way Thrash winced at the use of his real name. “So this is an open claiming,” she continued. “Anyone who wishes to may try to make a claim.”
Thrash closed the distance between them and leaned over her, obviously trying to use his height to intimidate. “You may be the pack priestess,” he growled. “But I am Lead Wolf. I want this woman for my Mabon queen, and you're sure as hell not going to stop me from having her.”
The priestess looked up at him, her gray eyes flashing. “You already chose and claimed a Mabon queen. Why you decided to change at the last minute is beyond me, but the pack is unsettled enough as it is already. Don't forget that Mabon and the Great Rite are about the healing and unification of the pack, not just claiming power for yourself.” She poked a finger in his broad chest, having to reach up to do it. “I allowed you to throw together this ceremony at the last minute, but I will not allow you to profane it.”
“Someday, old woman, you're going to push me too far,” Thrash snarled. “Then you'll be sorry. I'll make you sorry.”
“When that day comes, we'll both be dead.” The priestess was about half his size, but she made the threat without a trace of irony.
There was a low snarl building in Thrash's throat, but the priestess held
her ground. There were murmurs from some of the other members and their mates, still gathered in a circle around the center of the ballroom. Clearly, this wasn't the first confrontation these two had had. Personally though, I didn't give a damn if they ripped each other apart. I just wanted to get to Dani, and both of them were obstacles in my way.
“She's mine,” I said again, feeling the threatening, possessive rumble vibrate my words into a growl. “Mine!”
Thrash threw me a hostile look. “Well, if we're not supposed to have a challenge, then how in the hell are we supposed to settle this?” he asked. Apparently the priestess had won this round, but he still stood between me and Dani. I was going to go right through him if this wasn't settled and quickly. I took a step forward, but the priestess stepped between us.
“If he has a valid claim, his kiss will heal the wounds of claiming that you laid on her,” she said. “It is Mabon Eve and the power of the Goddess grows strong in all of her children, especially those who show both aspects of her face.” She turned to me. “Are you willing to test your claim?”
I knew what she was talking about, knew what I had to do—but I wasn't sure it would work. I loved Dani with all my heart but we had never made love, and I had never laid a formal mark on her. Would the strength of my love be enough to close the long, shallow wounds Thrash had made on her arms and legs? There was only one way to find out.
“I am,” I said, stepping forward.
“Wait a minute.” Thrash put out an arm to stop me, and I growled at him, letting the pure hatred I felt show in my eyes. His own eyes narrowed.
“Theodore, you have an objection?” The priestess's voice was steely.
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