by Mark Henwick
Last out of the building was Ursula. She loomed over me, eyes narrowed.
“I’ve called it in,” she said. “Felix wants your report. In person.”
She climbed into the van and they took off.
Well, the good bit of that was I’d never have a better chance to talk to him alone.
“Felix can go howl at the moon,” Bian murmured in my ear. “You’ve got bigger problems. Skylur’s been called away to LA, and what you gotta worry about, Round-eye, is what the frigging hell you’re gonna say to Naryn about committing Altau to a position on Were politics.”
Chapter 40
I sat in the study at Manassah that evening.
Hiding away, said Tara.
A tactical regrouping.
I’d called Felix and simply said I would visit Coykuti tomorrow. And I wanted to talk to him alone.
“Make it early,” he’d grunted and closed the call.
That was going to be fun, persuading him that there was such a thing as a sociopathic Were and then that he had to give me a list of pack members. No point stressing about how difficult it would be; it just had to be done.
Naryn was going to call me in when he was ready to bite my head off.
But not tonight. No, tonight I had Pia’s kin visiting and with Jen’s agreement, I’d invited Tullah and Jofranka. That was enough to get me nervous.
Then I’d returned to find Alex and Jen having an steaming argument, of all things, about which of them should pay for the truck that I’d blown up rescuing Jen at Longmont. It was Alex’s truck. It was Jen’s rescue. Insurance didn’t want to know because it hadn’t been where it was supposed to be, or some such bullshit.
I’d tried intervening, and they’d both shouted at me.
How could my kin be so wonderful and so awful at the same time?
Their arguing was actually painful, so I’d taken the coward’s way out and hidden in the study.
And sitting here, I had started double-guessing everything I’d done over the last couple of days. Not helpful.
I tried concentrating on the rogue incident boards instead.
Melissa’s information now covered the maps like a multi-colored spider’s web. The web reached out and connected to victim photos. The one on the far right was Barbara Green. It was an old army photo. She was in camo, a forage cap on her head and her hair held back in a tie. Her rifle was slung across her chest, pointing down. Her square, competent hands rested casually on the rifle’s butt and she was half smiling, but her eyes were already shadowed. They seemed to be accusing me of not trying hard enough.
The panel on the far left was for Melissa’s list of potential victims, people who had disappeared without trace. I was still sure there was some similarity in their photos, something that would make everything else fall into place.
I knelt in front of the panel.
All women. Attractive. Slim, curvy, blondes, brunettes, redheads, tall, short; no physical typecasting from what I could see. Hair dos, jewelry and upscale clothes; wealthy. In their thirties. Healthy-ish. Tan at the swimming pool, diet and aerobics, tennis and golf club sort of healthy.
Tullah had listed facts about them. Clubs; no overlap. Work; none of them really. Second homes all over the place. All of them had marital problems or were separated. Some of them had disappeared before, only to return. Lots of things in common without being something that bound them together.
I sat back on my heels and tried to imagine them all meeting at some glitzy function, but all I could think of was a sort of catty preening; neurotically comparing houses, cars, holidays and maybe the performance of the gardener in bed. Quietly, desperately unhappy. Or maybe that was just what the rest of us thought, jealously watching them in their privileged lifestyles.
Like I could talk, living here in Manassah.
Was Melissa right? Had the rogue shifted his attention to these high risk victims for the thrill of it? To show that he could get away with it?
Or was I being completely distracted, and these weren’t rogue victims?
I heard the door open behind me and sensed Tullah, alone.
“Where’s Jo?” I said.
“She’s coming.”
“She knows who’s going to be here?”
“Yup.”
“How is she about us?”
“Cool. She knew there was something. It was almost as if it was the missing piece that completed the jigsaw for her. She was nervy at first and she’s not going to forget it, but it’s not something that’s really on her mind. And she understands the stakes about keeping it secret.”
She sat down.
“She’s moved out as well.”
I looked up sharply. “What about her brothers? She can’t leave them with her father.”
“No, she hasn’t. We’ve all moved in to the rooms above the Kwan with one of Pa’s aunties. The kids love her and I don’t think her father’s actually realized yet.”
That was a good result all around. At last, some good news.
“Alex and Jen stopped arguing yet?” I asked.
“Nope.” Tullah smiled.
Jofranka called and Tullah went to meet her at the door.
It was time for people to start arriving. I couldn’t do anything more tonight. There was some hard work to come on this case, but we’d gotten a start.
And yes, I should listen to my own lectures sometimes; being a PI was hard work. Maybe I should have taken Mom’s advice about going back into accountancy…
Oh, my God! Mom.
I switched on my old cell, the one that Mom called. Only about a thousand missed calls and texts, and only three quarters of them from Mom. She’d been back all week and I hadn’t even called.
I was so dead.
Holding my head in my hand, I called her on one of my burn phones.
“Amber, what on earth has happened?”
“Hi, Mom. I’m sorry. Nothing has happened.”
I could hear Tullah and Jofranka talking outside in the hall, but the silence on the line seemed even louder.
“Well, lots has happened,” I said, speaking quietly. “But I just can’t tell anyone about it. It’s been busy.”
“I understand you’re busy, Amber, but not even a call? Surely you could spare enough time to come around for a coffee?”
“No! I mean, Mom, this is really not a good time to meet. There are dangerous people out there who are looking for me. I can’t risk coming to your house.”
“Amber, what is this? You’re scaring me. Why aren’t the police doing something?”
“It’s gotten beyond the police. You know there was an arrest in your street a couple of days ago. Two guys in a van?”
“Yes, but—”
“Those guys were waiting to see if I turned up there, and the people doing the arresting were the FBI.”
“This is ridiculous, Amber. Why are you whispering? Look, where are you? I think I should come and see you.”
“No, Mom. I can’t tell you.”
Alex opened the door and looked in. I waved him in and mimed closing the door. He’d given me an idea.
“Is this something to do with, well, your personal life?”
It was and it wasn’t. I just couldn’t tell her without making it even more confusing. But I had a plan.
“Look, I told you Alex wanted to meet you to record the Arapaho stories you used to tell us.”
“Well, yes,” she said hesitantly.
“What if we all meet at Alex’s house on Sunday afternoon? You, me, Alex and Kath.”
If I kept it brief, I could divert one of the pack’s teams to provide guard and make sure there were no Nagas in the neighborhood.
“I guess that would be wonderful.” She sounded unsure. Probably about Kath.
Alex nodded, so I gave the address. “Please get Kath to bring along the necklace I asked about. Remember, Speaks-to-Wolves’ necklace you loaned her?”
“I’ll ask.”
“Thanks. It’s important. I l
ove you, Mom.”
“I love you, too. Bye.”
I ended the call and leaned against Alex.
“Family is difficult,” he said with a tight smile. “You were talking about the necklace you think was used in the Were changing ceremony?”
“That’s the one. And once I have it, all I’ve got to do is find an Adept who remembers the ceremony and who I can persuade to do it or teach me and…”
I stopped. I really didn’t know what it would take or whether it was possible. Olivia was one of the Were that hadn’t managed to change and I’d promised I’d help her. I’d used the Athanate oath ‘on my Blood’, and that, I guessed, made it a kind of binding.
I sighed. “What else did you and Jen find to argue about?”
“Why you’re staying here for instance.”
“Because Felix said I can’t stay with you.”
“And this is such a pleasant place.”
“Yeah.” I put my arms around him and squeezed. The strongbox rattled a bit, but stayed closed. I buried my face in his shoulder. “It feels like home, here. I know that’s not fair, and I’ve never tried staying at your home. It just does.”
He hugged me back, as carefully as if I was bruised.
“What’s the real problem between you and Jen?” I said. “Apart from the obvious.”
“It’s her attitude to anyone in business who doesn’t run it like she does the Kingslund Group. I’m a ‘dilettante’, I’m not serious about business, I’m a waste of space.”
“Hmm. So much for what you think her problem is. Takes two to argue. What about your attitude to her?”
“She’s privileged. All her so-called business acumen is just capitalizing on a position she was born into.”
“You’re both wrong.”
“No, she’s wrong and I have an arguable, considered opinion.”
“You are full of—”
“I gotta go make some calls,” he said. “This dilettante has a business to run.”
I snorted and let him go.
∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞
I walked to the living room to find Jen.
“Casual?” I said. For me, that was my working clothes, jeans and T, which made up most of my wardrobe.
“Casual,” Jen confirmed. She was wearing tight leather pants. It looked as if she’d had her legs covered with thick, glossy paint. Her blouse was a square loose smock in cream with a wide neckline that fell off one shoulder. The sort of thing that looks like a shapeless tent on the peg and wonderful on someone like Jen.
I didn’t have time to comment.
Pia had arrived, and her kin, part of my House, followed her through the door.
“Amber, may I present my kin,” she said proudly.
“Irene Rhodes kin-Shirazi,” the first said shyly. Irene was darker than Jofranka by no more than a dash of creamer held back, but very different. Her hair was a burnished bronze, cut short and styled in ringlets that framed her open face, with a single lock spiraling down over a wide forehead.
I made the Athanate bow. “Honor to you, Irene kin-Shirazi, and twice welcome.” That was as much as formality dictated, but I wanted to set a precedent and kissed her on both cheeks, following Jen’s style. She shared Pia’s scent and that meant she had traces of mine as well.
House said my Athanate with a thrill.
Kissing cheeks also gave me a couple of seconds to catch up with my surprise at the other two.
I understood why David was concerned.
Redheaded twins. And, gods above, they were an attractive pair.
“Well, hello, boys,” the demon in my throat purred, without the slightest acknowledgement to Athanate formalities or the color that rose in my cheeks.
Chapter 41
Whatever else had gone on, Jen was the perfect hostess.
We had dinner in the formal dining room, which I would have thought would be almost scary, but she’d got Carmen to cook a succession of small dishes. Everyone moved around the table.
It was a little awkward, but everyone seemed to be getting on and relaxing. Except me.
In my mind, my Athanate House would be the same thing as my Were pack and my Adept community. So in addition to these people here tonight there would be the colonel and Vera, Mary and Liu, and Olivia. Maybe Matt. If Julie stayed, maybe Keith.
How could I keep these people in this room safe, let alone if I expanded the House. How big was too big and how fast was too fast to grow?
What would Skylur and Felix think about it?
Melissa definitely was shy, but she and David were talking earnestly now. Jofranka and Tullah had ganged up with Irene and were giving Alex a hard time about something, stabbing him on his chest with their fingers to make their points. The redhead twins, Gary and Leon, were chatting to Julie. Jen and Pia were laughing about something.
Why did I feel so clumsy?
Some of it was unfamiliarity. As House, I would be expected to share Blood with David and Pia, but the position also meant I would have rights to their kin. All of them had made it plain that they looked forward to being bitten by me. I wasn’t ready for that yet, by a long way. The thought of biting Jen and Alex was exciting, but actually drinking Blood? Still had the eww factor for me.
The others, Melissa, Julie and Jofranka—I felt they were looking at me wondering if I wanted to bite them.
And Tullah’s spirit guide wanted me to bite her.
All on top of a snowballing weight of responsibility for my House, which I still had no idea how I’d run or finance. Or even where we’d live long term. We couldn’t all live in Manassah.
No wonder I was being awkward.
I was also bone-tired. When we finished dessert and returned to the living room, I slumped on the sofa.
“Hey! Slumber party,” Tullah said, to laughter.
I didn’t care. I wasn’t going to be able to sleep, the nightmares would wake me, but damn, it felt so comfortable. The party was getting on fine without me. Some kind soul turned the lighting down and lit the fire.
I grabbed Alex and Jen.
“I want you two here with me. And I will not have you arguing.”
I guess being tired and drinking a few glasses of wine made me fierce. They were meek as kittens as they sat on either side of me. A few token glares may have been exchanged, but wine and warmth worked its magic.
I gathered a reluctant hand from both of them and hugged them to my chest.
Conversation fell to murmurs. Someone stripped the guest rooms of mattresses and pillows and scattered them around.
Must remember to get them to tidy up tomorrow.
Jen had been so laid back, but I was feeling guilty, between yawns.
Pia’s face floated past, grinning like a cat. Comforters appeared. I sank into a sea of contentment, my Athanate pheromones probably swamping everyone.
A nightmare made the strongbox creak, and I felt hands from both sides silence it, pressing it down. Down.
∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞
I am a creature of night and shadows. The day has long folded back. Edges become soft and blurred, walls insubstantial as mist. Souls glow. These, this warm cluster, that is me, many in one. A House. A pulse of Athanate pleasure. Yessss.
Hana lies in my lap, twitching, deeply asleep.
I look up and, with no more than a stretch, see through the veil of walls, to the quiet patter of the guards’ minds, bored but alert.
If that far, how much further?
The night is smoky with the haze of a million minds, like candles in the dark. Somewhere out there, I seek one that burns with malevolence, leaking poison fumes.
If we could just reach, could we not see?
“You do not have the strength.” The dragon’s voice calls me back. “Welcome, House Farrell.”
“Kaothos, you damn lizard. Am I always dreaming when we talk?”
“What is dreaming?” The sizzling of dragon laughter. “Walls are dreams.”
Her scaled body lies inside and outside
the room, passing through walls. It is bigger than before.
“I’m not talking to you without Tullah,” I say.
“Wise,” says a voice I recognize; my great-grandmother, Speaks-to-Wolves, in her wolf form, pads into the room from the darkness. “Or at least wiser than you were, cub.” She sniffs Hana’s unresponsive body gently and turns to Kaothos. “Wake your host, Shaper-of-Flames.”
“I prefer Kaothos,” she says, but Tullah stirs and rubs her eyes.
“Oh, freaking hell!” she says. “What is this? Spirit Skype?”
“This is a time for careful decisions.” Speaks-to-Wolves. “And a time for apologies.”
Kaothos laid her head alongside Tullah.
“It is. I have damaged you, House Farrell and your spirit guide. Hana sleeps. She will recover.”
“And me?”
“I do not know. The path of energy through you may take away your ability to use energy for yourself. I did not know this. I am sorry.”
“And?” Speaks-to-Wolves says.
“And I may have damaged more. Your key for the energy is anger. You keep that hidden inside you. A secure place. I reached for it. I was clumsy. I may have made this place less secure.”
She’s talking about the strongbox, about where I imprison all those things that would make me weak, make me lose control.
“I may be able to fix it,” she says.
I hold up both hands. “Enough.”
Tullah’s mouth is set, deeply unhappy.
“You must accept boundaries,” Speaks-to-Wolves says to Kaothos. “You must be accept training and guidance.”
“The community?” Tullah asks.
Speaks-to-Wolves lowers her head in confirmation. Or threat.
Kaothos’ great lids sweep down and up. “I will.” The Athanate stirs in me, hugely pleased. Kaothos’ great eye fixes on me. “Does that mean that we will have the Athanate Blood that will empower us?”
“Maybe. In time,” Speaks-to-Wolves says.
“How can you be so sure you can control the Blood?” I ask.