Blood Heir

by Ilona Andrews

  “I understand.”

  “What do you know?”

  “If you go home, Mom dies.”

  Ah. “Grandfather?”

  He nodded. “He told me eight months ago. I haven’t told anyone. I understand the gravity of the situation. Let me help.”

  “It’s imperative that your parents don’t know.”

  “I understand.”

  “You must learn everything you can about Moloch.”

  “Who is he?”

  “The enemy. An ancient god has been reborn as an avatar. The Witch Oracle foretold that in the future he will kill your mother. We’ve been trying to alter that future, but so far we’ve failed. If your mother finds out about the prophecy, she will die.”

  He sat very still. Fear flickered in his grey eyes. That’s how I reacted the first time the meaning of the prophecy had really sank in.

  “The eye you took, did it belong to Moloch?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Is that why you look different?”

  “Yes.”

  I pulled an unmarked book off the shelf and put it in front of him. He opened it and stared at the pages lined with my handwriting and illustrations of sigils.

  “This is everything I know about Moloch right now. This book doesn’t leave this house. Read it here, commit it to memory. Once you’re done, you must go to Grandfather and get as many details about Moloch as you can. Moloch attempted to invade Shinar in the past. Grandfather can tell you more. I need you to figure out what to watch out for. I need you to guard your mother. If you spot any signs of Moloch or his shithead priests, you must tell me immediately. Do everything you can to keep Kate and them from interacting.”

  The distant cry of an eagle echoed through my mind. Turgan.

  I let the eagle’s sight unfold in my mind. Nick’s house came into focus, like a vision woven in a net of glowing threads. Turgan turned his head. A large lupine shape was coming toward us, running at full speed down the dark street.

  What in the world?

  The wolf stopped by Nick’s front door. It was massive, bigger than any wild wolf I’d seen that wasn’t dire. A shapeshifter. Their beast forms ran larger than their animal counterparts.

  The wolf sat on its haunches and gently scratched the door. A moment and the door swung open. The wolf’s body surged up, a controlled whirlwind of flesh and bone, and a nude woman rose on Nick’s doorstep, long blond hair falling down to her waist.

  Ummm…

  The woman threw her arms around Nick. The eagle caught a glimpse of her face, and I almost fell out of my chair. What?

  He scooped her up, carried her inside, and kicked the door closed behind him.

  Nikolas Feldman, the Knight-Protector of Atlanta’s chapter of the Order, the paragon of knightly virtue, was having a torrid affair with Desandra Kral, the alpha of Clan Wolf.

  I got the hell out of the chair. This I had to see.

  “Earth to Julie?” Conlan said.

  “I have to go.”

  “I’ll come with.”

  “Not this time. But there is something you can do for me tonight. Read the book first. Then go to Shriker Boulevard on the edge of the Honeycomb Gap. One of the ruins has a wooden pole with a phone line going from it. I cut it this afternoon. If they repaired it, cut it again. Don’t let yourself be seen.”

  My brother smiled. “Done.”

  I told him my phone number. “Don’t write it down anywhere. Call me tomorrow when tech hits and tell me how it went.”

  I was almost to the sanctuary doorway when he called out, “Julie…”

  “Yes?”

  “Do you blame Mom for that time?”

  I stopped and turned around. When Kate washed my blood with hers, she created a magic bond between us. That bond gave her the ability to suppress my will. For the next few years, I was magically tethered to Kate. I was aware of her at all times. I couldn’t pinpoint her exact location, but I knew in which direction to go to find her from miles away. I sensed when she was hurt, and if she gave me a direct order, I was compelled to obey.

  She had only given me that kind of order once and for the best of reasons. The shock of having my will crushed haunted me for years. It was the deepest violation of me I’d ever experienced.

  The bond was no more. Kate’s death had severed it. She had died for mere seconds, but it set me free. The freedom was agony. The severed bond left behind a gaping raw wound that burned and gnawed on my soul. It took me a long time to heal. My Uncle Hugh and I had that in common. He too had been once bound to Grandfather. If it hadn’t been for him, I would’ve suffered more.

  I’d rather die than experience that again. It wasn’t just an empty turn of phrase. If anyone ever attempted to bind me again, I’d slit my own throat.

  Conlan was waiting for an answer.

  “I don’t blame her. She was trying to save my life. I love Kate very much, Conlan. She, Curran, you, and Grandmother, you are the people I treasure most. You are my family. In this wide world, with all its knowledge, riches, and pleasures, only the people you love matter most. Read the book. Call me tomorrow.”

  I walked out.

  The full moon shone in the night sky like a coin of white gold, sliding in and out of ragged clouds. I sat on Tulip’s back, in the shadow of a large dogwood on the edge of what used to be West End Park. Decades ago, the trees inside the park had rioted, fed by magic. They grew at a shocking rate, spreading their branches, stretching their roots until the park became a forest.

  Across from me, on the other side of Lucile Avenue, a solid two-story building rose in the middle of a lot. Built like a fortress, with thick stone walls and windows shielded by steel and silver grates, it sat alone, the nearest neighbor five hundred yards away. Nick liked his privacy.

  A lone oak spread thick branches near the house. Technically, it presented a security issue since someone could hide in its branches, like Turgan was doing right now, but Nick clearly didn’t care. Anything that could climb that oak could likely climb the building, and the tree shaded the house. In a time when air conditioning was an unbelievable luxury, a shady spot was worth its weight in gold.

  It took me about thirty minutes to get here through the deserted streets, and I had disconnected from Turgan for most of it. Eavesdropping on Nick and Desandra’s private time was close to dead last on the list of things I wanted to do.

  The night breeze fanned my face. So nice after the heat of the day. The city around me lay empty. Anyone with a crumb of sense hid indoors at night, behind thick walls and sturdy doors.

  Why Desandra? I wouldn’t have imagined those two being together in a million years. Nick was a rock in a storm, calm, steady, unmovable, never losing his temper until the very end. His was a cold kind of crazy. Desandra was a hot whirlwind, funny, unpredictable, and often wildly inappropriate. She said things that made boudas blush.

  She was also deadly.

  Years ago, Kate and Curran went to the Mediterranean with some heavy hitters from the Pack to get panacea, an herbal remedy that reduces the occurrence of loupism. They came back with Christopher, who was now Barabas’ husband, along with Desandra and her twin newborn sons. She made her first kill on US soil two days after she joined the Pack and within a year clawed her way to becoming the wolf alpha.

  Was she using him? I couldn’t imagine what for. Well, I could imagine, but I didn’t want to.

  If I delayed any longer, they might fall asleep. I shut my eyes and gingerly tried to listen through Turgan’s ears.

  “…Haywood murder,” Nick said.

  Oh good, good, good. Talking. Talking was great.

  “Good people don’t last, but assholes live forever,” Desandra murmured.

  I sank into the glowing web of Turgan’s sight and saw them through the window. They were lying in bed, Desandra’s head resting on Nick’s arm, her golden hair spilling over the pillow in a tangled curtain.

  “Where was Desimir last Thursday night?” Nick asked.

>   “Where he usually is, home.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Desandra turned, leaning her head on her bent elbow so she could look at him. “Do you think my son murdered Haywood?” Her tone wasn’t hostile, just softly chiding.

  “The killer flew in through the skylight, ripped the body to shreds with its claws, then went back out through the skylight. It was a cat kill.”

  Desandra sighed.

  “He’s going through puberty,” Nick said.

  “Yes. Between him and Miladin I knock before I open any door in the house. Every sock is a possible landmine. I make them do their own laundry.”

  Was there something wrong with Desimir? Desandra’d had a weird pregnancy; her two sons were born at the same time but had different fathers. Miladin was a wolf, and Desimir was a lynx. I’d babysat both when they were toddlers a dozen times. They were normal shapeshifter babies. Their magic was identical hunter green. Why would Nick think that Desimir could fly? Weirder and weirder.

  “You see him every weekend,” Desandra said. “Why don’t you ask him?”

  “Because I don’t want him to think I suspect him.”

  “But you do.”

  “No, I don’t. But other people might and if it ever comes up, I want to have all my facts ready. If I have to defend him, I need to be able to honestly say where he was at the time of the murder. If you tell me he was home, I believe you. I just need you to be sure we can prove it.”

  Desandra sighed again. “Was it eaten? Haywood’s body?”

  “They took his heart, but no.”

  “Well, there’s your answer. We both know what my son is. He also knows what he is. We raised him well. He’s a smart kid. He has no interest in power or turning into a monster. He spent Thursday at home doing what he usually does, which is reading old comic books and listening to music. There are half a dozen people besides me and Miladin who can confirm this.”

  “Good.”

  Desimir had nothing to do with it. No matter what he turned into, his primary magic was that of a shapeshifter. Lyc-V left a magic trail a mile long, and it colored all other magic a person might have. Years ago, before I left, Curran fed on divine beasts to gain more power and save Kate from death. He’d been a hair away from true divinity and his magic was still green. The creature that killed Pastor Haywood was golden silver.

  “I know mothers don’t know everything, but I don’t see him doing this. He is a thirteen-year-old boy. Can you picture him smashing through a skylight, ripping apart a holy man he’d never met, and digging out his heart?”

  “No,” Nick said. “Even if he turned, there are easier targets. He could hunt homeless in the Warren and nobody would know for years.”

  Desandra traced his jaw with her fingertips. “Then why did you ask?”

  “Ferara is sniffing around this case.”

  Desandra collapsed onto a pillow, her arms in the air. “Of course he is.”

  “Do you think he knows about Desimir?”

  “If he does, Andrea or Raphael told him. Kate would never. Neither would Doolittle or the bears.”

  She was right. Besides Curran, I was the closest person to Kate, and I had no idea what the hell they were talking about. This was clearly Pack business, and at least a dozen people knew, but somehow everyone who came back from that trip managed to keep this secret. Curiosity was killing me.

  “Does Jim know?” Nick asked.

  “I imagine he does.” A low snarl reverberated in Desandra’s throat. “He was the chief of security at the time. Curran would have told him.”

  “So, this could be coming from the top or from the boudas.”

  “Jim and I have never had a problem. We have our disagreements, but he isn’t petty. If he suspected something, he would’ve given it to the rats.”

  Clan Rat ran the Pack’s security.

  “You know Jim,” Desandra continued. “He does everything by the book, with a paper trail and receipts. No, this is coming from the boudas.”

  “Ascanio could be acting on his own. He’s ambitious,” Nick mused.

  Desandra grimaced. “There’s the understatement of the year.”

  “If Desimir was responsible and Ascanio found the proof, would he try blackmail, or would he bring it to Jim and try to remove you?”

  A golden sheen rolled over Desandra’s irises. Her hand flexed on the pillow as if it had claws. “I don’t know exactly what his game is, but I’ll find out.”

  A chill dashed down my spine. Nope, she hadn’t mellowed. Not even a bit. Ascanio wasn’t stupid. Why would he screw with her?

  Nick leaned to the side, pulled a piece of paper out of something I couldn’t see, and held it out to Desandra. “Smell this.”

  She grinned. “Oh baby, such inventive come-ons you have.”

  Nick rolled his eyes.

  Desandra plucked the paper from his fingers and sniffed it. “Why am I smelling this?”

  “A woman showed up at my office. This is a form she filled out. She has a badge that dictates that I assist her in every way possible.”

  “Mmmm, kinky. How do I get one of those?”

  “You have to render a great service to the Order.”

  Desandra grinned and smelled the paper again. “Oh, I’ve done that. Many, many times.”

  Nick smiled. Oh my gods.

  “Have you smelled this scent before?”

  Desandra shook her head. “No. I would remember. Why?”

  Nick frowned. “There’s something familiar about her. I can’t put my finger on it but…”

  “Keep your finger and everything else away from her.” Desandra’s eyes flashed again. She toyed with the paper. “Is she pretty?”

  “Pretty is the wrong word.”

  Desandra’s voice dropped into dangerous territory. “What is the right word?”

  “Regal.” Nick grimaced and held out his hand. “I need the paper back.”

  “No.” Desandra held the paper out of his reach and sniffed it again. “I like smelling it.”

  My magic gave me an affinity to horses, birds of prey, and wolves. They liked my scent.

  “Seriously.” Nick reached for the paper.

  “You can’t have it. Mine.” Desandra waved the paper and stopped abruptly, her eyes looking straight at me like two shiny moons. “Honey, where is your crossbow?”

  “By the bed. Why?”

  “There is an eagle in your tree.”

  “So?”

  “I grew up in the Carpathian Mountains. We had many eagles. They sleep at night.”

  Busted. I sent a mental push to Turgan. Go!

  The eagle took off. I tossed a handful of wolfsbane into the air, spun Tulip around, and urged her into a canter. She flew through the night-soaked streets like a ghost. Wind tugged at my hair. Even if Desandra chased me, she’d have a hard time catching up, and the wolfsbane would leave her nose-blind for a couple of hours.

  Ahead, Lucile Avenue dead-ended into Abernathy Boulevard. We made a right and headed northwest.

  An eerie howl floated on the night wind. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end, an instinctual reaction coded in my genes from when humans were food and feared being eaten.

  It had come from the left. If Desandra had chased me and howled, it would’ve come from the right or behind us. Were there wolves guarding her? She could’ve brought a team with her. Had I blundered into a trap?

  I sent my magic out in a pulse. It splayed out, searching, collided with bodies, and I felt wolves, running fast through the wrecked houses on my right. One, two…

  A second group, on the left, gliding through the overgrown wood that used to be Westview Cemetery. Three more, all larger than a wild wolf had a right to be.

  Shit.

  Another howl rose, a vicious song of hunt, a promise of sharp fangs and a swift death. A second howl answered. The pack was closing in.

  Tulip neighed, more outrage than fear, and broke into a gallop. We thundered up the deserted street past the hu
sks of abandoned homes. The wolves sang again. Ice rolled down my spine. This wasn’t a pretend chase. I was being hunted.

  A new presence came in from the right, moving fast on the edge of my magic. It lashed my senses like a knife, emanating power. Not Desandra. Something else. Something savage, something more… Moving way too fast.

  Tulip screamed in alarm.

  We rounded the curve. Ahead, something blocked the road. The moon peeked through the clouds. An overturned semi, flanked by a bunch of smashed cars.

  Wolves burst from the woods behind me.

  Forest on the left, semi in front. Turning right, toward East I-20, was my only option. I swung Tulip onto MLK Drive.

  The overpass in front of me had crumbled. A hill of debris blocked the road.

  A dead end. They’d ran me to ground.

  I let the reins go slack, so Tulip could stop on her own. She made a wide arc by the rubble, slowing, and I turned her toward the road and the cemetery on the other side, our backs to the overpass. I was done running.

  No more howling. It was quiet now. The only sound was Tulip breathing hard.

  Shadows congealed from the gloom between the trees on the other side. Slowly, paw over paw, the wolves padded out into the open. Three from the woods, two from the right, coming from Abernathy. Two grey Eurasians, one white Arctic, and the other two grey sprinkled with cinnamon—Timbers. Every single one was over two hundred pounds. Five pairs of glowing eyes stared at me.

  Tulip bared her teeth.

  The odds weren’t in my favor. With the magic up, I could take them, but then the Pack would come after me in force.

  A huge shape leaped from the roof of a brick building on the left and landed in front of the pack. Magic screamed a warning in my head.

  The grey monster, bigger than any lupine shapeshifter I had ever seen, raised his head. He was almost as big as Curran and Curran was a fucking prehistoric lion.

  Two golden eyes focused on me, their gaze pinning me in place. Suddenly it was hard to breathe. My body locked up, convinced that I was prey. The alpha stare.

  He dared.

  I stared right back. Holding his gaze was like trying to lift a car.

  The moon tore through the clouds, spilling pale light onto the intersection. It slid over the giant wolf’s fur, setting it aglow. He wasn’t grey. He was silver. Unnaturally silver.