“It’s not a good time, Faythe. What do you want?”
I took a deep breath and tried to keep in mind how difficult this whole thing must have been for Brett. He knew his father was a lying, ambitious, hypocritical, sexist, bigoted bastard, and there was nothing he could do about that. Unlike Jace, he was Malone’s actual son and couldn’t just walk away from his Pride. Not without leaving his mother and the rest of his family. And not without permission, which Malone would never give.
But the time for easy choices had passed.
I sighed and let a hint of true fear and frustration leak into my tone. “There’s never going to be a good time, Brett. I need a favor. Information.”
For a moment, I heard only the whistling wind and the heavy rustle of evergreen boughs. He was in the woods behind his house, hopefully out of hearing range of the rest of his Pride, because if anyone overheard what I was about to ask for, he could be locked up for the rest of his life. Or worse.
Finally Brett spoke, and each word sounded like it hurt coming out. “I’m all out of favors, Faythe. Things are bad around here. They’re going to notice I’m gone.”
My heart ached for Brett. I knew what it was like to stand in conflict with the rest of my family. The rest of my Pride. But lives weren’t at stake when I argued with my parents. My Alpha wasn’t psychotically ambitious.
However, as strongly as I sympathized with his position, I had to think of my Pride first. Of Kaci and Manx. Of my father’s precarious position on the council. If he lost it, he’d lose the ability to protect us all. So I steeled my spine and forged ahead.
“Are you enjoying life, Brett? Truly treasuring each breath? Because if it weren’t for me, you’d be rotting in the ground right now.”
“I know, but—”
“You owe me. You said, ‘Let me owe you, Faythe.’ So I’m going to let you.”
His sigh seemed to carry the weight of the world. “I already repaid you.”
“Yeah, well, that bit of information didn’t come in very handy.” When he woke from the attack that nearly killed him, Brett had warned me that his father would try to take the council chair. “Your dad jumped the gun and challenged mine before I even had a chance to warn him.”
“I had nothing to do with that.”
“I know.” I sank into my desk chair and picked up a novelty pen with a fuzzy purple feather sticking up from one end. “Okay, forget the favor. I’m asking you as a friend. We need this, Brett. You know what’s going on with the thunderbirds, don’t you?”
“Thunderbirds? What are you…?”
“Save it.” I dropped the pen on my desk. “Don’t insult me with lies. You’re better than that. You’re better than Calvin.”
Brett’s next exhalation was ragged, and twigs crunched beneath his boots. He was walking. Hopefully moving farther from the house. “I only have a minute. What do you want?”
“The truth. Is your dad doing this? Did he sic the birds on us?”
“Faythe, I can’t…He’ll kill me.”
“Jake Taylor’s dead, Brett. And Charlie Eames may never walk again, if he survives.” I shouldn’t have disclosed our damages to the enemy; that was on page one of the don’t-screw-your-own-Pride handbook. But you don’t make gains without taking risks, and I believed in Brett.
Of course, I’d believed in Dan Painter, too, but then his double agent act had nearly gotten me killed. But Brett would come through for us. He had to.…
“I’m sorry. I—”
“Apologies aren’t good enough, Brett. They almost got Kaci. You know what your father will do if he gets his paws on her.”
“He would never hurt her.”
“No, he’d just whore her out to one of your brothers the day she turns eighteen. Earlier, if he can pass it off as in the best interest of the species. Are you going to let him do that? Are you going to let him sell her in marriage just so he can get his sticky hands on our territory? Or the Di Carlos’?” Because Umberto Di Carlo had no heir, thanks to his daughter’s murder, and once he retired—or was forced into retirement—someone would have to take over his territory.
And in our world, he who has the tabbies has the power.
“Is that what you want for Kaci?” I asked when Brett didn’t answer. “Hell, is that what you want for Mel?” Melody Malone was only fourteen, and already being courted by several toms handpicked by her father. By all accounts she’d bought into his propaganda and believed that her decision had the power to make or break her Pride. She took the responsibility very seriously and would have done anything to please her father.
Poor, warped kid.
“Of course not,” Brett said at last, and his next pause was long. “But if I do this, I can’t stay here.” If his father found out he’d betrayed his Pride, Malone would take his claws and his canines and throw him in their cage so fast he’d still be reeling from the first blow. And he’d never get out. I had no doubt of that.
My toes curled in the thick carpet, as if they alone anchored me to the floor. Was he saying what I thought he was saying? “What can I do?”
“I need sanctuary. If your dad gives his word, I swear I’ll tell you everything I know.”
I exhaled in relief and actually felt the beginnings of a smile coming on. This was what Blackwell needed. With proof, he would have to revoke his allegiance to Malone and begin prosecuting him instead. The pendulum of power would shift back to my father. Or at least away from Malone.
“Let me see what I can do.”
“Hurry…”
I threw open my bedroom door and tapped and shoved my way through the crowd to Owen’s room, the tile cold against my bare feet. Dr. Carver sat in the chair by Charlie Eames’s bed, drawing more clear liquid into a syringe from a small, inverted glass bottle.
I glanced briefly at Charlie and noticed that his skin was paler than I’d ever seen it. And that his stomach looked…puffy. But then my gaze caught my father’s, and I waved for him to follow me. Dr. Carver only looked up briefly, but both Marc and Jace followed us into the hall.
Once we’d escaped the crowd, I held up Jace’s phone, blocking the sound, already heading toward the living room since Blackwell still occupied the office. If Brett came through like I hoped he would, we could let him speak directly to the old man who would then have no choice but to believe Malone’s involvement. “I have Brett Malone on the line, and he’s willing to tell us what he knows, in exchange for sanctuary.”
Marc’s brows rose; he was obviously impressed. Jace beamed. “I wish I’d thought of that.” But even if he had, half brother or not, Brett might not have talked to Jace. Not like he would talk to me. I’d saved his life. Plus, I was a girl, and like it or not, most toms weren’t threatened by me. At least, not until I’d had reason to prove they should be.
My father frowned and sank wearily into an armchair angled in front of the picture window. “What makes you think we should trust him?”
I perched on the arm of the overstuffed couch, facing him. “He told us his dad was going to challenge you. For what little good that did us.”
“Exactly.” He templed his hands beneath his chin, a sure sign that he was considering my proposal, even if he sounded skeptical. “That made him look loyal and grateful, but the information came too late to be of any use. It sounds to me like he’s been studying his father’s playbook.”
“He didn’t know Cal was going to move so quickly,” Jace insisted, sitting on the edge of another chair pulled near the window.
My father thought, and I bit my lip to keep from rushing him. “What does he know?”
I could only shrug, still holding the phone up with my hand covering the mouthpiece. “He’s waiting for your word that you’ll take him in.”
“Then how do you know he knows anything?”
Jace frowned. “If Calvin’s involved, Brett knows.”
Marc nodded solemnly. “And he’s probably risking a lot, just talking to Faythe.”
“He is. And he d
oesn’t have a lot of time.” Too nervous to sit, I stood, watching my father anxiously. My heartbeat ticked off each endless second of silence. Then, finally, he opened his eyes and held one hand out.
“Give me the phone.”
I handed Jace’s cell over and my father held it up to his ear, then stood to walk as he spoke. “Brett? My daughter tells me you have information about your father’s involvement with a Flight of thunderbirds? Are you willing to volunteer that information?”
“I am—in exchange for sanctuary.” Brett’s voice actually shook, and I took Marc’s hand where he still stood, squeezing it to offer him the comfort I couldn’t offer Brett. “I can’t go back after this, Councilman Sanders.”
“I’ll go one better than that. If you can bring us proof of your Alpha’s involvement, you’ll have a job here as an enforcer.”
Brett exhaled, and I could hear his simultaneous relief and unease, all in that one breath. “Are you serious? Sir?”
“Completely.” My father smiled, amused by the young tom’s nervous doubt. “Anyone willing to stand against his own father in the name of justice belongs here with us.”
“Thank you, sir. I accept.”
My grin was so big it threatened to split my face.
“I’m in the middle of something, so I’m going to let you give Faythe the details. Then I want you to get your proof and come straight here. And be careful. That’s an order.”
“Yes, sir.”
My father was almost truly smiling when he handed me the phone, but his worried frown was back by the time he made it to the hallway. He was concerned about Charlie. And probably about the rest of us. “Take notes,” he instructed, then disappeared down the hall.
I leaned back on the couch, already digging in the nearest end-table drawer for a notepad and pen. Fortunately, my mother stashed them everywhere. “Thank you, Faythe,” Brett whispered into my ear, and I had to blink back tears in order to speak clearly.
“You can thank my dad when you get here. For now, just tell us what you know.”
Marc settled onto the cushion next to me, and Jace leaned forward in his chair, listening carefully as his brother began to speak. “Two days ago, one of our guys took down a deer, then went to ring the proverbial dinner bell. Before he was fifty feet away, this huge bird swooped down on his meal. Our man killed the thunderbird in a dispute over the kill. When we reported it, my dad went nuts. Said the last thing we needed was to piss off the thunderbirds. It took him a day or so to get there.…”
I glanced at Marc to see if he’d caught that, and he nodded. How far out had they been, if it took their Alpha a full day to get to them? Of course, if they were expecting our attack, broad patrols made sense, but the Appalachian territory wasn’t that big.
“…and by the time he did, he was almost…excited.” And anything that excited Malone would be bad news for us. “He didn’t want to bury the body. He said they’d come looking for their lost bird, so we had to sit still and wait.”
“How did he know they’d come for it?” Marc asked.
Brett started to answer, but Jace beat him to it. “When I was little, there was a flock that migrated through our territory every year. Cal claimed he’d actually talked to one once, but I never believed him. Guess he was telling the truth for once.”
“Yeah,” Brett said over the line. “So we waited. Six hours later they showed up. Three of them. I have no idea how they found us. They can’t smell for shit with those beaks.”
“But they can see for miles from the air.” Marc ran one hand slowly up and down my back. “At least, natural birds can.”
“I always hated that phrase,” Jace said. “It makes Shifters sound unnatural.”
“Anyway…” Brett ignored them both. “They landed, and it was totally bizarre. They Shifted in midmotion, with their feet first, so fast it looked like movie special effects.”
I nodded, though he couldn’t see me. “I know. We’ve seen the show.”
“Oh. Yeah.” Brett cleared his throat and continued. “Anyway, they landed and saw their boy dead, surrounded by, like, five of us. Three of us in cat form. They started to go feral. But before they could lunge, my dad said he knew who’d killed their man and wanted to make a deal.”
“Then he set us up,” I guessed, my eyes closed in frustration.
“Yeah. He told them that one of your cats had to have done it, because yours was the closest territory.”
Marc growled. “Where the hell were you?”
Brett exhaled heavily. “Four miles from your western border in the free zone. I’m sure you know why.”
Yeah. Sounds like they were just as ready to invade us as we were to invade them. So much for Malone’s promise to Blackwell that he wouldn’t start the war.
But then something even more infuriating occurred to me. They’d put five toms on our western border—the opposite direction we’d expect them to come from, because Malone was headquartered east of us, in Kentucky. But five wasn’t enough for a large-scale offense. Which obviously wasn’t what they were planning.
They were counting on us to start the war. Expecting us to take most of our men northeast, into Appalachian territory, leaving Manx, Kaci and my mother largely undefended. At which point those five or so toms would sneak in the back way and plunder our most valuable resources. Our most treasured, vulnerable members.
Fury crept up my spine in a white-hot blaze, but I forced it down. Their plans had obviously changed, and I needed to focus.
“So, the thunderbirds promised your dad they’d get the tabbies out, then they’d rip us to shreds, one by one?”
“That’s the gist of it, yeah.” Brett sounded miserable.
“And you have proof?” Marc prodded.
“My testimony, and the dead bird’s feathers, stained with his killer’s blood. Dad told us to clean up the mess, and I kept a couple of the feathers. I had a feeling this would go downhill. But I’m not sure how much good they’ll do. These birds can’t distinguish one cat’s scent from another’s.”
“At least it’ll help with the council,” Jace said, voicing my exact thought. “But we’ll have to come up with some other way to prove it to the birds.”
“If we can even find them.” I frowned, suddenly overwhelmed by the new burden, when we could least afford it. Kai was going to have to talk—that’s all there was to it.
“I have to go. They’ve probably already noticed me missing,” Brett said, and twigs snapped as he made his way back toward the house from the woods.
“Wait, Paul Blackwell is here. You have to tell him what you told us.”
“I don’t have time now, but I’ll speak to him when I get there. But there’s one more thing. Our tom? The one who killed the thunderbird?”
“Yeah?” I stood, eager to report to my father.
“It was Lance Pierce.”
Parker’s brother.
Well, shit.
Eight
“Son of a bitch!” Jace pounded the arm of the couch and I jumped, his phone bouncing in my open palm. “To clear our name, we have to sell out Parker’s little brother. How’s that for a rock and a hard place?”
“We can’t just turn him over…” I started, but my words faded into silence as soft sobs and footsteps sounded down the hall. I made it to the doorway just as Kaci flung herself into my arms. “What’s wrong?” Though, really, the sheer number of ways she could have answered that question was staggering.
“He died. Charlie’s dead.”
“Oh, no…” I wrapped both arms around her as my father stepped out of the somber crowd of toms still gathered around Owen’s room, now staring at their feet as if they were afraid that eye contact might trigger tears.
Kaci was crying freely. She’d only met Charlie Eames that morning, but at her age, with all the tragedy she’d already witnessed, any death would have been traumatic. Murder, even more so.
My father’s gaze was heavy as Dr. Carver followed him into the hall, both of them
headed our way. “What happened?” I asked, pulling Kaci into the room with me so they could come in.
“Internal bleeding.” Dr. Carver laid a hand on Kaci’s shoulder briefly, then sank wearily onto the couch next to Marc.
“Did we make it worse by moving him?” I had to ask. Not that the answer would change anything.
“Probably.” Carver twisted on his cushion to face me. “But we had no other choice, and the truth is that with such major, full-body trauma, his chances were never very good in the first place.”
Kaci whimpered in my arms, and I squeezed her tighter. Physical contact was the only comfort I had to offer.
My father sat stiffly near the front window, where crimson, late afternoon sunlight slanted across his white dress shirt like translucent streaks of blood. He leaned forward with his elbows propped on his knees, staring at his shiny shoes. He’d shed his suit jacket—the house was warm from all the extra bodies running on accelerated Shifter metabolism—but his shirt was still buttoned to his neck, his gray striped tie still neatly knotted.
I glanced at the hallway, where toms were now gravitating toward the kitchen, then at Kaci in indecision. Then I sighed and closed the door, gesturing for her to take a seat next to Jace. Keeping her in the dark wouldn’t comfort or calm her, but being with those she trusted most just might.
She curled up on Jace’s lap, resting her head on his shoulder as he wrapped both arms around her, cocooning her as if she were his little sister. Though, he and Kaci were already closer than he and Melody had ever been.
The living room wasn’t soundproof, and anyone who really wanted to hear what was said would have little trouble. But in a house full of werecats, a closed door was a formal request for privacy, and our present company could be counted on to honor it. Including Blackwell, should he emerge from the office before we finished. He and my father might not agree on everything, but Blackwell would never intentionally do something he considered dishonorable.
My dad looked up when I closed the door. “That’s two murdered toms, one attempted kidnapping, and one mauling, all in under three hours.” The Alpha’s voice was grave, with a strong undercurrent of anger and bitter frustration. And his expression was tense beneath the strain of what he wasn’t saying: that we could ill afford the deaths of two allied toms less than two weeks after we’d lost Ethan. Not that there was ever a convenient time for so much death.
Shift Page 8