Fated to the Traitor (Portal City Protectors Book 4)

by Georgette St. Clair

  “I’ll take the grainery then. No use having meat without bread. We can come back with the others later.”

  Lorack snorted. “You know there won’t be any of the better meats left by then. If we don’t strike before midday, we’ve lost our chance. Getting the younger ones in on the training will only slow us down.”

  Heath couldn’t argue, but something in his gut made him hesitate. The wind was calm—no storms in the sky—but the atmosphere was pregnant, a heavy mass waiting to spew. He couldn’t shake the chill in his spine.

  But it was too late. Lorack focused on the nearest shack and directed the flames to unnatural levels around the soot-covered stones. Thick, black smoke billowed as Unseelie raced from the confines.

  “Meet you back at the square.”

  Heath only nodded, studying their surroundings. Something was gods-damned wrong.

  He spotted the problem just as Lorack leapt from the building. The Escala were there.

  “Lorack!”

  He didn’t stop in time, sliding to the ground just steps away from one of Daemon’s elite soldiers. The golden-masked warrior gripped his sword as he spun around to strike out at Lorack in a wide arch.

  Terrified, Heath blasted him with shadow, hoping to blind him long enough to race in and take Lorack.

  The move only worked for a few seconds, but it allowed Heath to slide across the cobbled walkway and yank Lorack behind him.

  “Goddess’s tit. Where did they come from?”

  “I don’t know, Lo, but you should have looked before you jumped,” Heath raged. “The Escala won’t stop until they’ve found you. We can’t lead them back to the others.”

  “Take them to the outskirts of town and back in. Maybe we’ll lose them in the maze.”

  It was pointless, but they couldn’t just let themselves be captured. Without Heath and Lorack, the orphans would be alone to fend for themselves. Heath grunted, kicking his feet as fast as he could. Daemon architecture was high, without low-standing entry points or windows. With the overcast sky, the best visibility came from magicked lights hovering every few feet. He’d be stuck on the ground until he could find an abandoned residence to race up to. Thinking quickly, Heath cast a shadow around him and his friend, darkening the corners they slid into.

  “Keep after them. I can smell them headed this way. Find a tracker to mark their signatures.”

  Gods dammit.

  Without using his magic, Heath and Lorack would be sitting ducks, but with each second of magic use, he increased the trail they left behind. They streaked around the bend, heavy footsteps following them.

  “Lorack, split!”

  “I’m not leaving you.”

  “I’ll draw their attention toward the square. They can’t fight with complete freedom there. Go!”

  “Don’t do this.”

  “Don’t argue with me. Go now.”

  Heath pushed Lorack with all his strength before he spun and ran back toward the Escala. They didn’t disappoint, already lifting their spears to attack him. Gritting his teeth, sweat dripping down his brow, Heath slid under a cart and darted into the alley behind it.

  There has to be something. Think!

  Doors shut as he ran, the citizens hearing the war cry of the Escala. But Heath didn’t let up. He couldn’t. The longer he kept them occupied, the better chance Lorack had of getting away.

  Finally.

  He slammed through the makeshift wooden door and bounded up the stairs. For twenty years he’d kept the orphans safe, trained them, provided them with shelter. He was not going to lose now.

  “Xaerelathimtorhil,” Heath commanded, creating his sword from his darkest shadow. It gleamed like a dark, starry night, and he felt better having it in his hands.

  Armed, he tucked into a darkened corner, wrapping glamour and shadow around him.

  Come on, bastards.

  He noticed the Escala’s gauntlet first—the bright gold unmistakable—before the warrior came completely into the room. Heath moved in silence, using skills he’d honed for years—things he would never teach the children—to slide through the air and cleave the Escala’s head from his shoulders.

  One down.

  Already moving, Heath continued up the stairs until he reached the second floor where windows were. Once on the sill, he scanned quickly for some way out. A small outcropping may be enough to take his weight. He prayed it would be and jumped.

  Hovering in the air, shadow dancing around him to camouflage with the sky, he saw an Escala bear down on Lorack.

  No!

  Heath changed course, slamming into the wall and slipping to the ground again. Bruised, his bones vibrating from head to toe, Heath shook his head and forced himself forward. Lorack would die. He raced harder, screaming out his war cry as he swung his sword.

  The Escala met him with the shaft of his battle axe, but Heath would not be deterred. He used his shadow to make it appear as if he was darting in and out of the living realm, flashing only close enough for a single strike before backing out of the way.

  “Run, Lorack!”

  Lorack stumbled … right onto the sword of another Escala.

  Ruby-red blood dribbled from between his lips, the blade sticking out from his chest like some demented optical illusion.

  He didn’t cry out, blinking in shock and gripping the sword between his fingers. “Help. Me.”

  But Heath couldn’t. It was too late. Much too late.

  “I’m sorry, Lorack.”

  The Escala smirked. “Not as sorry as you’re going to be when we’re finished with you.”

  Heath jerked awake next to a pile of wood, once more in front of the house where he’d first touched Ash. She hovered over him, her wide eyes sad as she stroked his cheek.

  “You lost your freedom for trying to save your friend.”

  Oh gods. He could remember. The trial—or farce—that it was. His charges of rebelling against social order and harming a member of a higher caste. The way he’d been dragged from court and put in shackles to be shipped to the Seelie for service.

  All because he’d tried to save Lorack.

  Someone he’d forgotten.

  A smile he hadn’t seen for nearly sixty years.

  A man who looked so much like Lorenzo in Unseelie form, Heath wondered how he’d ever forgotten him.

  “You are kind.”

  No, he wasn’t. He was a fucking asshole who was always too late. Always making mistakes. He should have told Lorack to wait. Should have said he didn’t feel right. Heath knew better.

  “You could see the memory.”

  Ash nodded. “I lived it along with you, turning this place into it. While you relived it, I watched. You fought so hard to protect him.”

  “I never should have let him go.”

  Ash cocked her head to one side. “It is not your fault. You could not have saved him.”

  “Yes, I could have. But I didn’t. And what’s worse? I didn’t even fucking remember him.”

  She ran a cool hand across his forehead, leaning over him until her eyes filled his vision. “And perhaps it was good you did not. This remembered pain can break the heart anew, but it also makes you stronger. Reminds you of who you are, Foraltin.”

  “And who is that?”

  “The Fae who will save my life. Perhaps you have always failed so you know you never want to taste defeat again.”

  Chapter Seven

  “Tesoro, you are free to attack any of my men who displease you.”

  Carlo swallowed his exasperation at Arturo’s statement to Isadora. Arturo had long ago lost his wife and the child she would have bore him. Carlo knew, perhaps better than anyone, how Arturo had craved family.

  The Alpha may have been death on wheels, but family meant a lot to him.

  So much so that he’d invited his granddaughter and heir to spend time among his pack for the weekend. Men and women who shot first and asked questions later, the Moretti Pack was still mafia, through and through. It didn�
��t matter if they sometimes sported claws and could kill with their teeth.

  The Code was one they still chose to live by.

  Something Isadora, if her devilish smile was anything to go by, relished.

  She walked—the four-month-old child walked—through Arturo’s foyer like she owned the damn place. Well, she did, in a sense. As the designated heir of both the Moretti and Lombardi Packs, she was shifter royalty. Arturo’s men respectfully bowed and exposed their necks in submission as she passed them.

  Arturo had called Isadora “treasure,” and she was. Named after the wife he’d loved so much, there was nothing she couldn’t ask for and not receive on pain of death.

  “Nonno, meat.”

  Having received the report on Isadora’s growth, Carlo still wondered how she was growing. She wasn’t speaking in full sentences yet, but her development was uncanny. She wore a yellow babydoll dress, white socks, and flat black slippers. Her hair had been styled into a braid that hung over her shoulder, the green stripe prominent as it wove through the braid. Innocence personified. Until Carlo looked into her eyes.

  She watched him, a small twist in her lips. “Neck.”

  Did she just …?

  He had to be imagining it.

  “Neck,” she demanded again.

  No, he wasn’t. Isadora was ordering him to expose his neck, to show his submission. She may be Alpha-born, and may eventually one day outrank him, but right now he was a Capo, and second only to Arturo. Until she was strong enough to put him on his ass, he would not be exposing a thing.

  “Grow a bit more, pup, before you bite off more than you can chew.”

  “Carlo.”

  Arturo’s warning growl permeated the room, but Carlo didn’t back down. He was born during the recession, had survived his transformation during the Pendulum Swing of the 1950s, and had even regained his fucking senses when he’d stepped into the Chaos Realm.

  He’d been a Made man of the mafia for nearly as long as he’d known how to carry a gun.

  Carlo caught Arturo’s gaze. “She must know the hierarchy if she’s going to survive. Alpha-born does not make her my Alpha.”

  He didn’t have anything against the child. On the contrary, he loved her. It was because of that care for her that he wanted her to be careful. If she came across another wolf from another pack, like the Moonstone, she’d cause an incident. With their numbers larger than the combined force of the Moretti and Lombardi, they bowed to no one. It was only because they had interest in the district they ran with no inclination to expand that they weren’t a direct threat.

  “She isn’t around other wolves; she’s around her famiglia.”

  “All the better to teach her, Alpha. Am I to be disrespected in front of my men to satisfy her need for dominance?”

  “Neck!”

  The sudden blast of Alpha call made Carlo stagger, but he locked his knees to keep upright. The little shit. A rumble filled his chest, his wolf answering her challenge with deadly warning.

  You’ll have years yet before you can challenge me.

  Carlo had been mindless for a time. “Soft in the head,” as Ottavio used to call him. Standing to his seven-foot height, he didn’t hide his displeasure on his face. He’d been bullied and knocked around enough by his brother after his change had damaged him. It was well-known that changing a wolf could often lead to their death. Luigi, that sniveling shit under Primo, and Ottavio both found Carlo to be more deadly than they thought possible when they’d tried to betray the Morettis.

  “Yield,” he told Isadora.

  Arturo stood to one side, watching the stalemate, his dark hair with a silver streak slicked back from his angular face. Though Arturo was a seasoned wolf, he still had many, many years of life in him. His amber eyes flashed with amusement.

  “She isn’t so weak, primo. Be careful, or she’ll take your head off.”

  Arturo was crazy enough to enjoy that sentiment. Carlo didn’t take it personally. Arturo was a wolf who masqueraded as a man, not the other way around. It was what made him so dangerous. The Capo di tutti Capi had taught Romano and Dominic the ropes of leading their own Family before Dominic had ever thought to take over as Alpha.

  Isadora curled her fingers, her claws growing out of her nails.

  A partial shift. That’s … unexpected.

  Still, Carlo wouldn’t be deterred. He rolled his shoulders and stepped forward. The Alpha call was stronger the closer a wolf got to the Alpha using it. Isadora’s was no different, but Carlo wanted to prove he was unafraid and strong enough to face her.

  Another step, and the weight of her order pressed down on him. He fought to keep his breath even, his countenance unaffected before her.

  You will not break me.

  Another step. More strength. A driving urge to go down on one knee. Carlo resisted it all until he towered over her, daring her to strike out at him.

  “As a wolf, you will have your respect. You are powerful, Isadora, there is no doubt of that. But I am much older, wiser than–”

  She lashed out, punching at his balls before leaping away from him. With a pained groan, he fell to his knees and dropped his chin to his chest. Cazzo!

  “Neck.” Laughter and satisfaction filled Isadora’s voice.

  Too late, Carlo realized he’d inadvertently exposed his neck to her.

  “Brava, tesoro. Brava! Next time, turn your hand upward and rip his cajones right off him, like I taught you.”

  Carlo laid down and rested his head on the floor. Not his best hour. “Why’d you teach a child something like that?”

  “Not a child. She is my heir, and she will use any means necessary to win in a fight. Remember that the next time you deny her.”

  Arturo and Dominic were crazy for spoiling her fucking rotten. Slowly, Carlo got to his feet, keeping his legs slightly apart to account for his throbbing nuts.

  Arturo smiled at Isadora. “Now, mia bella, do you want to watch a movie, or would you like to go with me to the child amusement park?”

  “Park!”

  Carlo cleared his throat so he wouldn’t squeak when he spoke. After the strike, he feared he’d have a permanent falsetto. “You want to take her to Moonstone territory? Aren’t we supposed to keep her in hiding until we knew more about her … condition?”

  “She’s not a prisoner and deserves the best money can buy. There will be plenty of men there to protect her, and I’ll also rent out the whole place for her to enjoy herself.”

  Of course.

  Still, the Entertainment District was closer to Council Headquarters. Even with Kalinda at the helm, some bastard mage who wanted to get ahead could spill the beans. They’d already seen that when Benedict tried to make a fucking mockery of them all when he banded together with Primo and Ottavio against the Moretti.

  “Make the arrangements, Carlo. I want the entire park.”

  “Yes, Alpha.”

  Carlo grabbed his phone, thinking his only option was to call Adonis DeLuna—the Alpha of the Moonstone Pack. He waited several rings and nearly hung up before a deep voice answered.

  “Cerote. It’s been some time since I’ve had the pleasure. Where have you been?”

  Carlo wouldn’t get into it in front of Isadora. “Changed.”

  “I heard, yeah? I assume you won’t be needing more time with the ladies.”

  He’d assumed right. Carlo had only gone to him when he needed … help. He’d been trapped in his head, all of his understanding and mind intact, but he couldn’t communicate outwardly. That didn’t stop the needs he had, and he had found ways to deal with them.

  “No. I’m calling on behalf of my Alpha.”

  “Hay algún un clavo?”

  Fuck, the wolf was always prepared to handle some issues. The Moonstone Pack was known for staying in their neck of the woods, but they could cause problems for all shifter clans if they wanted to. Whenever they wanted to.

  “No, no problem. And English, please. You’ve just about tapped out
what I remember of your language. I wanted to rent out one of your parks.”

  “Ah, my friend, you should have said so sooner. We have openings this weekend for the casino, burlesque–”

  “No, the children’s park, and today.”

  “Can’t do it. We’ve got an important visitor with us today.”

  “More important than the Moretti Pack?”

  “It’s not about the Pack; it’s about family. My brother is having his daughter’s party today.”

  Carlo looked to Arturo. “Today is a no-go.”

  “Park.”

  Carlo stifled the urge to roll his eyes. He was not going to have another match with Isadora. “Is it for the entire day?”

  “Afraid so. Tomorrow is better.”

  “Tomorrow, Alpha?”

  Arturo sucked a breath through his teeth. “So be it. We will go tomorrow, tesoro.”

  “Tomorrow, Adonis, and thank you.”

  “It is my pleasure. I will send the invoice to the usual?”

  “Sure. It’ll be taken care of.”

  “Done.”

  Adonis was off the phone before Carlo could even respond.

  “Park.” Large tears pooled in Isadora’s eyes.

  The child was too smart for her own good, and she had Arturo wrapped around her little finger.

  He knelt before her. “We will have fun today, I promise. Would you like to play a game?”

  Isadora glanced at Carlo, and he swore his balls shriveled up and hid when he saw the look in her eyes.

  “Hide.”

  “Hide?” Carlo turned to Arturo for help.

  “Hide-n-seek. She enjoys playing the game.”

  Isadora pointed to Carlo. “Hide.”

  “It seems she wants you to play with her.”

  That’s what Carlo was afraid of, but one look at Arturo told him he wouldn’t be able to say no.

  “Okay. Count to ten, and I’ll go hide.”

  Isadora shook her head. “Hide.”

  “You want to hide?”

  She nodded, all traces of her tears gone.

  Odd.

  “Okay.” Carlo covered his eyes. “One … two … three …”