Prophecy Mates
Page 11
“It’s strange, but someone told me a story just tonight. A wizard lived with a shifter and even had a child by her.”
“We’ll do it.”
He was already shaking his head no. “She worked for him as a live-in maid. We’d have to pretend to be strangers.”
Ice settled in her stomach. “Oh.” Her voice was very small.
“I’m sorry.” Daniel rose to his feet. “But it’s really for the best. With that geis, you won’t be completely safe until I find the parchment. I need to cast that locater. You have to go.”
The cool, detached tone made her uncomfortable. She rose, too. “Why?”
“Magic sends out a trace on the ethereal, like a sonic boom. I don’t want to chance snaring the attention of any nearby witches while you’re here, especially any Council Enforcers.”
“But if we’re not kissing—”
“I don’t want anyone getting even a hint of a wrong idea.”
“Oh.” She made her way to the door, cold at the thought this might be one of the last times she’d see him. “I suppose.” She wished he’d contradict her, invite her to stay.
But as she unlocked and opened the door, he looked relieved.
She stepped through the doorway. Stopped, the door still open. Was this his gentle way of telling her that he was glad for the Council’s injunction?
Chest throbbing painfully, she tried to catch his gaze. Needing his reassurance. Needing her Daniel, always there for her, the one boy who saw her heart’s desire and simply took care of it.
Tell me we’ll work it out. Whatever it takes. That, like high school, you’ll stick until we get this.
His back was to her, studying a pan on the table. His mind was already on his magic.
Unhappiness flooded her. She choked back a pained sob as she shut the door. A shiver rumpled her flesh just as a magical click locked the door with gentle finality.
Zoe stood there, ice in her veins, staring at the closed door. Mating without romance, her worst fear. Right. She laughed without humor, nearly sobbing it.
Mating a man who didn’t want her at all was a hundred times worse.
God. Was this what Daniel had felt when she’d brushed him off in high school? Pain throbbed harder with each beat of her heart. Not that she’d ever been as bad as the other girls, but she’d blithely taken his help and hadn’t given him much thought beyond that.
Her nose itched with tears, her eyes prickling in their mask. She thumbed the corners of her lids, her thumb coming away wet.
When her boyfriend, Tommy, had dumped her, Daniel had picked up the pieces. Offered, not just marriage, but something more important—respect. Support. Real, committed friendship.
A partnership, a we that transcended them both.
Now he was helping her, but he’d shut her out.
More than romance, more than desire, she wanted their relationship whole again.
She stood there, trembling with yearning that he’d call her back. She desperately needed him to be present for her the way he had in high school…and what about her?
Her breath froze. Her needing, him doing…that wasn’t we.
We was a two-way street. Him doing things for her, but also her doing things for him. Beyond a blowjob, which, with his equipment, frankly wasn’t all give and no take for her anyway.
“What can I do for Daniel?” she asked out loud.
He’d wanted the Quatrain. Maybe his magic would locate the parchment, maybe not. Wouldn’t that make a nice surprise if she found it for him?
But who had it?
Whoever had made a copy of the key.
She’d smelled the key after Daniel had stolen it back from Zeus. She remembered her scent on it, and Daniel’s, and Zeus’s. None of them needed to make a copy of the key. But one more scent was left on the key. All she had to do was smell all her guests and match it to that last scent. That was the thief, and her wolf could sniff the trail out.
Excited, hoping anew, Zoe made a beeline for the ballroom, recalling the mix of scents on the key. Four distinct smells. Daniel, Zeus, herself…and she knew the last, elusive scent without even smelling anyone.
Hell. Dorine.
Her wolf howled. The hunt was on.
Chapter Eleven
The elements of Daniel’s Locate Object spell were still out, the canned heat and lancet and chafing dish filled with water.
But the water had been fouled by his search for the key. He’d have to dump it before refilling from the carafe. He left the prep room with the dish, headed for the bathroom, prepared to make excuses to Zoe as he passed her.
She wasn’t there.
On the one hand, he was relieved; he could get on with his work. On the other, she’d seemed hurt. Had he, despite the impossibility of her caring for a dork, hurt her? He’d have to make it up to her, later.
Except they had no later.
In the bathroom, he dumped the foul water and wiped the chafing dish with a thick serviette. Was possible she might actually might want to live with him…? It would be complicated. A joyous complication, but probably she didn’t understand how serious the Council’s injunction was. Even if she wanted to risk it, what about any children they might have?
Children. His heart clenched. Miracle of miracles, him a father…and he and Zoe would have to pretend to be strangers.
Pained pleasure turned to total pain. Inside him, something howled against rebuking his own wife, his own children. His inner wolf?
He shook pain, pleasure, all of it, away. Work to do. Zoe’s life was on the line.
Returning to the prep room, Daniel poured the rest of the carafe’s water into the pan and set it over the flame.
Carefully he unfolded his handkerchief, picked out the thread with his fingernails, and dropped it into the water. Stirred the liquid three times.
He pricked his finger with the lancet, held it over the water, and opened his third eye.
* * *
Zoe had last seen Dorine in the ballroom. Finding the woman’s freshest scent, she followed it to the south service entrance—heard running footsteps and looked left, down a long corridor.
The party planner sprinted toward the end, where she threw open a door and dashed outside.
“Dorine!” Zoe sped down the hallway.
She threw open the door and spun into the courtyard just as Dorine reached the door on the other side.
“Damn it, Dorine.” Zoe ran after her, stumbling in her high heels. “Wait.” She kicked them off as the planner tore open the far door.
The woman glanced over her shoulder. Seeing Zoe, her face paled. She ducked inside.
Zoe swore again. Only her wolf could catch Dorine now. Scanning for witnesses and seeing none, she prepared to shift.
Werewolves were human and beast, two halves making one whole like two halves of one brain. To shift, Zoe mentally hunched her human down and let her wolf expand until it enveloped her human, coming “outside.”
When the animal manifested, she looked exactly like a natural wolf, although her human brain stayed dominant in the form, just like her wolf’s senses continued to function when she manifested as human. From the outside it appeared as if shifters actually moved blood and bone between the two forms, but it was really a magical change. Her human stayed intact, clothes and everything.
Because she was in the line of alphas, it took her less than a second to transform.
Her wolf bounded across the courtyard in half the time her human could’ve run it—and a third of the time her human could’ve run in heels and her rubber band of a dress.
She lost time shifting back to open the far door, and since shifting took energy, she was panting and dragging her tail by the time she hit the upper terrace.
Even so, she’d narrowed the gap. Dorine was just disappearing down the south set of stairs.
Zoe took a step after her—and trod on a canapé some asshole had dropped. She slid, her heart skipping a beat, and nearly turned her ankle.
Since she’d have to be human when she caught up to Dorine, she tried to scrape the damned thing off as she walked—or rather limped—across the terrace. The stupid creamed goo refused to come off.
Grudgingly, she slowed to a walk, squishing every other step. She got to the top of the stairs in time to see five people meeting on the lower terrace.
Dorine held up a scroll case. She was ringed by three men and a woman, all dressed and masked for the ball. One man wore a domino, one with a dark purple nose she recognized as the drunken marquess, and the third…had an off-kilter nose in a ripped leather mask.
Zeus.
“Dorine, you damned traitor.” Zoe hobbled down the stairs. “Are you auctioning off my parchment?” She stumbled onto the lower terrace and nearly skidded on her canapéd foot.
“Ms. Blackwood. Sorry you followed me.” The planner raised her arm. “Stop right there.”
It wasn’t her cool tone that stopped Zoe dead in her tracks.
It was the gun barrel aimed straight at her face.
* * *
As Daniel’s blood welled from his fingertip, an image slammed into him, so strong it nearly threw him off his feet.
The lower terrace. Zoe and her party planner. And a gun.
Dorine held a gun on Zoe.
The lancet dropped from his shocked hand, clattering to the floor.
He started to reach for it. The spell was incomplete, but the glove thread was already locked in. If he didn’t finish the spell, it would break, leaving the thread sterile. No second try.
Without the thread, he might never find the Quatrain…and the world would suffer. He had to finish the spell.
But Zoe needed him.
But the world…ah, fuck it.
Daniel spun and dashed out of the room. The spell broke. He’d lost his only chance to find the Quatrain, but it didn’t matter. Only Zoe mattered.
He flew through the building and across the terrace. Even as he pounded down the stairs toward the lower terrace, his breath rasping and heart hammering, he knew the Quatrain had never mattered—not as much as knowing Zoe was safe and happy.
All those years, painfully erecting a shield over his heart. None of it mattered.
What mattered was whatever it took to make sure Zoe was safe and happy. Even if the only way was to relegate him to the role of the dork who helped her. Even if he didn’t count except as a poor soul on whom she bestowed the occasional kindness, he’d do it.
However much it killed him inside.
* * *
Gaze on Dorine, Zoe held up her palms in surrender.
Or rather, mock-surrender. Shifting healed minor injuries including small gunshots.
“This fires fifty-caliber ammunition, Ms. Blackwood. I’d guess that would put a hole even in you.”
“I guess it would.” Using careful, gliding footwork, Zoe slid closer to the woman without her being aware she was moving. The footwork would’ve been easier without the smashed cream cheese on her sole, but she managed.
“Zeus I recognize.” She talked to cover her sneaking. “And Mr. Sash, though I can’t believe I actually invited him. But who are the rest of these people?”
“None of your business.” Dorine smirked.
“Fair enough. Tell me this, though. Why are you auctioning my parchment? The illuminations are nice, but it’s not priceless.”
Dorine shrugged. “For some reason, a lot of people are willing to pay a lot of money for it. I like money. And apparently, I’m the only one who could actually liberate the damned thing.”
The woman buyer sniffed. “There’s a hex on it. I’d have snatched it weeks ago, but my principal’s intent prevents me.”
The geis. A witch couldn’t steal it, and apparently not even a mundane working for a witch. So Dorine was mundane, and not working on anyone’s behalf but her own.
Mercenary bitch.
“Well,” Zoe began, “I don’t know much about hexes, but I hope your principal’s intent doesn’t also stop you from collecting the parchment after you pay for it. Because it’s still mine. It would be too bad for you if I’m the only one who can really give it away.”
“Not an issue,” Dorine said. “I took it, I’m the new owner.”
“You hope.”
“I am.” Dorine steadied the gun on Zoe and mimed flicking the hammer. “Or I’ll make absolutely sure by getting rid of the previous owner.”
Zoe swallowed her next taunt and tried a different tack. “One thing bothers me, though. If you knew you were going to take it, why leave the key in the lock? Did you really forget it there?”
Dorine rolled her eyes. “So the theft wouldn’t point to me.”
“But I locked the case.” She edged ever nearer. “How did you get the parchment out without breaking glass?”
“I’m not stupid, am I? I made a copy of the key, just in case.”
“Nice.” She was in striking distance. “So you could’ve taken the parchment at any time. But you waited until closer to the auction.”
“Which is happening now. This girl talk has been fun but enough stalling. The bidding has reached two million. Do I hear two-point-two?”
The instant Dorine’s attention was split, Zoe lunged in, arm swooping up and out. She caught the woman’s wrist with an outer block so hard it knocked the gun out of her hand, sending it skittering across the terrace.
“You fucking bitch.” Dorine swung a fist at Zoe.
She swayed back from the punch then bounced back like a spring and grabbed for the scroll case.
Dorine took a panicked hopped back. Zoe’s grab swished air. Zoe leaped after her.
The planner’s hop carried her into the men. The dominoed stranger tried to grab the case. Dorine swung it away—into Zoe’s face. She clocked her.
Shocked, pain ringing her jaw, Zoe stumbled. Off-balance, she grabbed the planner’s wrist as she fell. They both went down, Zoe pulling Dorine on top of her.
Dorine scrabbled, trying to escape. Zoe, when she realized what she’d done, held on for dear life.
“Girl fight,” the sashed-up creep crowed.
“Yeah,” Zeus said. “Show those boobies.”
Zoe glanced down. Damn her paws. Her neckline had lost round one.
For Daniel. She had to get that case.
Using her hips, she levered Dorine off and landed on top, flipping them so hard it knocked the air out of the smaller woman.
Dorine thrashed, trying to suck in a breath. Zoe grabbed for the case. With the planner’s arms flailing, it was like swatting at flies.
Exasperated, she just snared the mercenary bitch’s upper arm with both hands and ran her grip up like a sleeve. When she controlled Dorine’s wrist, she levered the case away from her.
With a triumphant crow, Zoe sprang to her feet, scroll case in hand.
The marquessy guy hooted. “Wave at me, big girl.”
She gave him a cocky grin and waved—until Mr. Sash reached out to honk her breast like a bicycle horn, fingers biting into naked flesh as he twisted her nipple.
“I am not some crappy radio!”
She cocked a fist to punch out his lights, but he hopped back, hands covering his nose.
“Don’t hurt me! Your tit was asking for a honk.”
“And your face is begging for my fist.” She paused to tug up her bodice, only to feel a chill at her bikini line. A quick glance down revealed her exposed her lace undies. She’d thought Dorine had picked this dress to distract men—but maybe she’d picked it to distract Zoe.
Which, she realized as she gave up on the garment and returned her attention to the buyers, it had done admirably.
Zeus was holding a curl of mahogany hair and chanting.
“By this tress, oh so fine, by this lock, you’re locked as mine… Give me that scroll case.”
His command rang in Zoe’s head. To her shock, her limbs locked like an automaton, and she spun from the marquess to haltingly stumble toward Zeus, fighting herself the whole way.
“Freeze.” Male, commanding as hell, from above. “Step away from her. Now.”
Zoe’s other nipple rose in recognition and gratitude. Daniel.
The marquessy guy and the two other buyers stiffened, but Zeus snarled, “You’re too fucking late, Hero.” He snatched the scroll case from Zoe’s frozen hand, turned, and ran.
Zoe tried to pursue, but her legs were still locked. She tried to shout, “Daniel. Go after him!” Her voice emerged in a whisper. Instead, she tried to urge him mentally. Be the alpha for me.
Instead, he reached into his pocket, drew out a black, wire-wrapped wand, and threw it.
She groaned. That little stick wouldn’t do anything.
Except it looked bigger. She blinked. As it flew, the stick grew to the size of a log.
It smashed the cowled wizard in the head, the clonk against his skull audible.
He went down, and stayed down.
Pride swelled her chest. That was her Daniel. Always thinking. Always saving the day. She should have trusted him. She loved him a little more right then.
Oh God. She loved him.
He plunged down the stairs toward her. “I saw a gun. Are you all right?”
She tried speaking again. “I think so.” Her voice worked fine. Apparently, with Zeus unconscious, his spell freezing her ended. She tested all her limbs, wiggling them. Everything seemed normal, although the shaking popped her breasts out again. She sighed.
Mr. Sash grinned. “N-i-i-ce.”
“Shut up,” she said.
“You heard her.” Daniel rubbed the knuckles of his fist suggestively.
The marquessy guy turned his grin on Daniel. “Hey. You’re a guy. You know it’s flattery. Chicks should learn to like it.”
“You really are a shit.” He took two steps and punched Mr. Sash in the face.
His eyes crossed, and he folded unceremoniously to the pavement.
Her wolf approved.
Dorine edged toward Zeus. With a growl, Zoe took one threatening step toward her.