by L. A. Banks
Russell nodded. “Thanks, Bob. Maybe you’re right. I’m sick of sitting around here; wanna get in on some of the action.”
The small ghost-hunting team raised their beers toward Russell.
“Hey, we need an embedded journalist.”
Excitement ripped through Russell as he reached into his wallet and produced the Blood Oasis card. Murmurs of awe tore around the table as the three men and one woman who made up Ghost Finders, Inc., leaned in to finger the coveted access card.
“You ever kill an entity?” Russell asked the group leader.
“Uh, no, not really,” Bob said. “We just sorta monitor activity and tell people if their home or institution is haunted. Like, dude, it ain’t that serious.”
“It is that serious,” Russell said, and then moved to stand. John placed a hand on his forearm, staying his leave.
“Hey, hey, wait a minute. Just because we haven’t done that before doesn’t mean we can’t—if something attacked us, I’m sure we’d all fight.”
Russell sat back down and leaned in. “That’s all I’m saying. I’m not about to go into the Blood Oasis with a bunch of amateurs and get sucked dry by Vampires. But I’ve been researching supernaturals for years, and the one thing I know is that Vampires and Werewolves are mortal enemies. From the little bit of truth that’s leaking out in the regular media, I’m pretty sure that the killings were done by Werewolves. The Vampires in the area are not gonna take kindly to having a rogue feeding on humans in their backyard. If we stir the pot a little, maybe go to a Vampire arbiter and offer ourselves as bait for a chance to get a real Werewolf attempted attack on tape so the Vampires can bag it and tag it . . . we might make some history.”
“That is so fucking outrageous, dude,” Bob said, shaking his head as he dragged his fingers through his hair. He looked around at his team. “John . . . Ralph, Sally, you in?”
“That’s crazy, but yeah,” John said, gaining nods.
“No time like the present,” Russell said with a half smile. “First off, we hit the club and make the offer. If they accept, we go to the location where all the military scoured. I know something happened out there, and it’s still a full moon.”
“Your proposal is bold, innovative . . . and completely insane, Mister, ahem . . .”
“Conway, Russell Conway,” he repeated to the club manager. “But surely you don’t believe in Vampires, do you?” Duval Hempstead rubbed his jaw and sat back, his large gold pinkie ring catching the pulsing red club lights.
“I believe that some humans are in denial, others ignorantly oblivious,” Russell said flatly. “I want wolves seen for the monsters that they are, and I’d love to get an attack on tape. Once something that frightening is shown and the authorities can prove that it hasn’t been digitally altered, maybe they’ll send tanks down city streets to do a wolf hunt in earnest.”
“And you are willing to be bait . . . you and your team of ghost finders, oui?”
Russell memorized every facet of the Vampire’s café-au-lait face and watched his piercing green irises begin to be eclipsed by the expanding black pupils. “Yes,” he said, feeling the magnetic pull of an attempted mind seduction.
Duval Hempstead smiled slyly, allowing a slight crest of fang to show. “Brave man. But I will have to take it up with my management.”
“Of course. And while you mire yourself in bureaucracy, we’ll be out at the Bayou House trapping a rogue Were. If you care to join us, please know that you’re welcome. Under normal circumstances we would wait, but it’s a full moon.”
Duval nodded as Russell stood. “We’ll be in touch.”
“I’ve never been at a site this hot with paranormal activity in my life,” Sally whispered, scanning the area and holding out a boom microphone.
“Where’d you get all these guns, man?” John said, holding a pump shotgun in one hand and a heat-sensitive digital camera in the other as they trudged along.
Russell kept his camera held high and a tight grip on his handheld automatic. “If you’re going to do something like this, you can’t be stupid. I collected this stuff over the years as I was doing my research.”
“So the Vampires said they’d come?” Bob said eagerly, stopping every few steps to film the group in motion and to do a bit of narration.
“They were noncommittal,” Russell said, not bothering to hide his disappointment. “But it doesn’t matter. The main goal is to get an attempted attack on film.” He looked back at Bob. “Keep up with the group, man.”
“This place is so hot,” Sally said quietly. “Look at the readings—they just spiked off the far end of the scanner. I don’t feel good about this. The hair is standing up on the back of my neck.”
“Mine, too,” Russell said quietly.
That was the last thing said before they heard Bob scream.
“Did you hear that?” Sasha turned to the group. The four wolves remained still for a second.
“Humans under attack,” Hunter said quickly, and instantly their group started running toward the sound.
Moving in and out of the shadows at breakneck velocity, Hunter, Sasha, and Crow Shadow arrived on the scene with Shogun skidding to a halt behind them. A burst of semi-automatic fire ripped through the trees in their direction. Hunter snatched Shogun out of a fatal path of gunfire, but not before Shogun’s arm was grazed by a blistering silver bullet.
“Hold your fire,” Sasha shouted. “We’re here to help.”
She stepped out of the shadows to find one lone human brandishing a weapon with a digital camera still running.
“Sir, you’re going to be all right. We are here to help you.”
“They’re dead! They’re all dead!”
Sasha didn’t look down. She didn’t have to; she could smell it. But when she stepped on something slippery, she looked down and cringed. It was a section of skull with long brunette hair still attached to it.
“This man is bleeding badly,” Hunter said, glancing at Shogun. He hoisted his brother up. “I need to call Rodney and get him to the sidhe. We need to get there, too, for the night, judging by what’s left this carnage.”
“Sis, listen to the man . . .” Crow Shadow said, stepping forward but standing still when Russell brandished his weapon.
“If you make a wolf call now, I guarantee you this man is going to melt down and spray us,” Sasha said carefully, ready to leap out of the line of fire. “Let me talk to him, all right?”
“Do it fast,” Hunter said though his teeth. “We go to the sidhe; Rodney can have his guards take this man back to town and then disappear . . . maybe even glamour him till the shock wears off. But my brother must have healing attention now.”
“I’m okay,” Shogun argued and then winced. “Just need to get the silver to stop burning.”
“Sir, what’s your name?” Sasha said as quickly but as calmly as possible.
“Russell Conway—reporter,” the traumatized man said.
“Okay,” Sasha said quietly, walking forward. “But we can’t leave you out here alone. You fired on one of our men and he’s bad off. We’re going to have to ask you to put the gun down so we can call our friends. We’ll get an armed escort to take you back to wherever you’re staying in town while we seek medical help. You can go to the police and have them help you, all right, Mister Conway?”
“I got it all on tape—I got it,” he said, laughing and crying like a madman as he offered Sasha his weapon. “Wolves did it!”
CHAPTER 16
“This really looks bad,” Sasha said with her head in her hands. “I almost wish your Fae archers hadn’t made a quick duplicate with their magic. If I hadn’t seen this, I would have felt a little better maybe.”
Sir Rodney shook his head as Shogun, Hunter, and Crow Shadow gathered around the sidhe war room table. Ancient coats of armor remained at attention under vaulted ceilings, guarding the Old World luxury of the castle. But not even being ensconced in the hidden world of the Fae could make Sasha feel as thoug
h the danger was behind them; Colonel Madison was going to crap a kitten.
“The evidence is damning,” Sir Rodney admitted. “All you can see is screams and shouts. Body parts go flying and you hear machine-gun reports; then you guys step out of the shadows, eyes gleaming and canines shown. Not good at all.”
“Tell me about it,” Hunter muttered.
Shogun rubbed his bandaged arm. “Run it back again.”
“Dude, your aunt was moving too fast,” Crow Shadow said leaning against the high-back chair and closing his eyes. “All you could see was a black blur.”
“And us,” Sasha said with a groan.
“But in her Were state,” Shogun argued as he looked around the group, “Lady Jung Suk is a white snow leopard with black spots. Run it again.”
Sasha managed the technology as Sir Rodney’s elderly magic advisors gathered more closely, their wrinkled bald heads and thick pointed ears turning subtly to watch and listen to the video replay with rapt attention.
“Slow it down,” Sir Rodney commanded; his voice was distant and distracted as his senior advisor pulled out a wand from his brown monk-like robe sleeve. “There, there, stop it there.”
“It’s shaped like a wolf, but is almost transparent in a black blur . . .” Sasha frowned and stared hard, but then sat back in frustration as the digital camera disintegrated into a pile of leaves. “Great.”
“Just kiss my ass!” Crow Shadow shouted and then pounded the table. “So what do we do now?”
“I take it that it’s midnight,” Shogun said sarcastically, closing his eyes.
“There’s nothing more that can be done tonight, good lady and gents,” Sir Rodney muttered in frustration. “I suggest a hot bath and strong ale and a good night’s rest. On the morrow we can go find the inimitable Mister Conway and glamour his digital recording away from him.”
“Just a question—not trying to cast aspersions on the archers who escorted him back to town safely,” Crow Shadow said. “But is there any reason your men let him walk with the real camera and gave us the bogus one?”
“Most assuredly that is a sound question,” Sir Rodney said with a weary shrug. “But I’m pretty sure it had something to do with not wanting Mister Conway to rush to the human police, who are already somewhat wary of supernatural goings-on, and then have a camera turn into a pile of leaves right before their eyes. We, the Fae, have been in the human detection avoidance business for thousands of years.”
Crow Shadow just nodded. “My bad.”
Sasha dragged herself out of the plush velvet seating of the war room and pushed away from the round table. Sudden fatigue finally claimed her as she, Hunter, and their two brothers passed enchanted suits of armor that stood magical guard, saluting the wolf retinue as they passed. She loved Sir Rodney’s sidhe, but the prospect of having to stay behind the walls of his Neverland-like fortress for the duration of her natural life span, all because they were being set up by Vampires, was not one she could tolerate.
It took everything within her to climb the huge stone stairs and follow Rupert, Sir Rodney’s most efficient and ebullient valet, to their suite. No matter what time of night or outrageous time of morning, Rupert had the same hospitable disposition and a warm smile on his gaunt face.
“Milady,” he said with a quiet bow. “Milord. Your baths have been drawn; all the toiletries and supplies you may need are in your suite. Just speak into the silver domed trays on your dining table and your menu choice will appear. The goose down in your bedding has already been bespelled to offer you a peaceful, healing sleep . . . and as you know from previous visits, just drop your soiled clothing in the hamper and it will be returned freshly laundered and folded in the morning. Good night, all.”
“Good night, Rupert,” Sasha murmured, giving him a quick hug.
She delighted in his smile. He was family, as far as she was concerned.
“I could truly get used to this,” Hunter said once she’d shut the heavy wooden door and latched it.
“Man, no, you couldn’t. Tonight, yeah. But after three nights of not being able to run free in the North Country—you’d be baying at the moon.”
“Not if you were here,” he said with a half smile and began shucking his clothes.
“Maybe . . .,” she said, loving the view of his back as he tugged his T-shirt over his head.
Every defined muscle in Hunter’s back moved like cables beneath his skin, functioning as though they were brackets around his shoulder blades, cording his shoulders and biceps and along his spine . . . down to his deliciously muscled behind.
He glanced over his shoulder as he undid his jeans and kicked out of his boots. “You getting in the tub?”
“Yeah . . . just enjoying the view.”
He smiled and stripped off his pants. “I hate to admit it, but after all this bull today, about all I have to offer you is a view.”
She chuckled softly and began undressing. “Don’t mind me, I’m just talking trash. I’m so tired that I just want you to be sure I don’t drown while we take a bath.”
“Ditto,” he replied with a deep yawn.
They’d slept like the dead . . . well, not quiet dead, but close to it, Sasha thought as she stirred awake. Sir Rodney had the best beds on the planet, sprinkled with a little Faery dust for a relaxing sleep no matter what the circumstances.
Opening her eyes slowly, Sasha glanced around the room. Sumptuous Old World luxury surrounded them, and it was going to be hard to go back to battling in the bayou. But dawn brought reality and she knew they had to get up.
Sunshine warmed her face as she stretched and pushed back deeper into the spoon of Hunter’s embrace. Cool, soft cotton sheets that covered sensual goose down felt like a drug as she struggled to fully wake up. Add to that Hunter’s steady breathing, the rhythm of his heartbeat against her spine, and his warmth coating her entire back and backside, it was enough to keep her in the mild coma she’d been in all night. Once they’d lain down, neither of them had moved. The possessive hold he had over her waist felt like a huge tree limb had captured her, pinning her to the bed.
But she had to move; they had to get up. There was much to accomplish . . . but damn, the man felt so good.
“Good morning, baby,” she said, beginning the difficult task of untwining their bodies.
“Not yet,” he said, releasing a deep rumble inside his chest.
She felt it through her back and felt his grip tighten. “C’mon, don’t start.”
His answer was simple and definitive and nonverbally male. He just flopped a heavy leg over her legs, holding her in place.
“Not fair . . . I don’t have the energy to lift your leg, man.” She relaxed back against him and kept her eyes closed as his hand stroked a lazy hypnotic pattern against her belly.
“Not trying to be fair.”
She wanted to laugh, but only a groggy chuckle came out. “We have to get up.”
“Why?”
He kissed the back of her head and slid his hand up to capture her left breast. His body was definitely awake and pressing against her backside, even though he was only semiconscious. Warmth radiated through her body and lingered between her legs as he gently kneaded a taut nipple until she moistened.
“I’m trying to remember,” she said through a quiet moan. “Aw, c’mon, Hunter, don’t do this—we’ve gotta get going.”
“True,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss her shoulder. “We’ve definitely gotta get going before we leave this room.”
“Colonel Madison,” the MP said, as soon as the call connected. “We have a civilian at the guard entrance checkpoint trying to enter the base to see you, sir. He has some sort of video—the same video that is breaking on the news. Should we detain him, sir, or bring him to your office?”
“What video breaking on the news?” Colonel Madison said, looking at the clock.
It was zero-six-hundred. He’d already been up since zero-five-hundred, unable to sleep.
“The news br
eaking on the local channels, sir,” the MP exclaimed, clearly unable to keep the panic out of his voice.
“Bring the civilian to my office,” Colonel Madison said, grabbing the remote and turning on the television.
Only three minutes passed and his direct line from the Pentagon rang.
“Good morning,” Sasha said, greeting the small team assembled in Sir Rodney’s war room.
Crow Shadow and Shogun grunted a reply as they ate, and she was glad that his arm had healed.
Sir Rodney lifted his coffee cup in salute. “Top of the morning to you. Breakfast?”
Rupert scurried over to pull out Sasha’s chair as the men at the table stood.
“I’m good,” Hunter said with a broad smile. “Already ate.”
Sasha refused to look at him as she sat, and Sir Rodney gave him a wink.
“Coffee then?” Rupert said, trying unsuccessfully to swallow a smile.
“Thank you,” she replied and gave Hunter a sidelong scowl before turning her attention to the group. “What time is it? My clock gets all messed up in the sidhe.”
“This is a timeless place, that’s why,” Sir Rodney said with a gallant bow from where he sat. “But in human time, it is six A.M.”
“Okay, then—thank you for the hospitality, but can we get that coffee to go?” Sasha looked around the group as everyone stopped eating. “The base starts reveille at zero-five-hundred. There are bodies in the woods, so even if Russell Conway couldn’t get anyone out there in the dark, at daybreak he might get some action. I can’t get a cell phone signal in here, and you don’t have a TV.”
“Whew . . . somebody got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning. Sis, you are seriously stressing,” Crow Shadow said, slurping his coffee.
“I thought I’d rectified that,” Hunter said under his breath, accepting a cup of coffee from Rupert.
Shogun chuckled into his cup. Sasha shot out of her chair as though a bee had stung her.
“Look,” she said, now talking with her hands, “a feeling just came over me. I know you guys don’t approve, but for better or worse I’m half human and I know how humans think . . . I’m connected to their energy, and when big stuff goes down the hair stands up on my neck—the same way it does when I get a wolf feeling. I respect both; I act on both . . . plus I have the advantage of a little feminine instinct that you guys in the magic kingdom still haven’t been able to quantify.”