by Lauren Dane
She knew he would be capable of far greater speed and stamina, but he kept pace with her, though he didn’t take it too easy. She knew she’d be wiped out when they finished. But until then she simply enjoyed the night, took in the world when it was dark as they ran.
At night she heard animals she didn’t during the day, especially birds. This far out from the city, unimpeded by the lights, the stars overhead glittered brilliantly. The air was clean and crisp, absent a lot of pollution. Lark loved it out there for this very reason. It always felt to her as if she simply breathed in all that excess magick floating around so that when she was done with a run she was fully charged, even as she’d physically gotten her ass kicked.
The automatic nature of running or walking always opened her mind up to thinking over problems. It was one of the reasons why she so often went for long walks or runs. Just to turn her body over to something physical while her mind would be free to mull over things.
They ran and she thought. The tragedy in Toronto was heavy on her mind and her heart. She’d failed to help them find the kidnapped witches until after they’d been murdered. She hated to fail on normal stuff; failing when people’s lives were at stake left her tied in knots.
And left her with the inescapable belief that this was so much more than junkie turned witches and mages getting a fix. They were organized. The disappearances happened too close together to be the same group of witches they’d dealt with here in Seattle a few months back. So there appeared to be several teams at work.
The kidnappings had similar patterns, which was another point in the organized column. Operating in several cities and with some basic knowledge of the most often hidden lives of Others.
The new mafia? After all, hadn’t human organized crime started with illegal drugs and other forbidden pleasures like prostitution and gambling? Which meant looking for one or two people was a waste of time. Because someone, or some group of someones, was at the top giving orders. So then who was the boss? A turned witch, even one with a very long life, still had an expiration date. Who was in charge then and why?
And now it had jumped from witches as the sole victims to include more than one type of Other like Weres. Which meant there was a greater hunger for the trafficked magic. If it was for recreational use, it would indicate thousands of mages hungering for stolen magic for their power. So where did they come from all the sudden? It didn’t entirely make sense.
Another scary thing was that the mages and turned witches had no way to hold the stolen magic for later use. While witches like Lark and those in the Owen and Gennessee clans had the use of a font, non-witches lacked the ability to create or hold a font together.
Mages used the power they stole to enhance their own spells. So when they drained a witch, they took all the power, using it immediately. Turned witches fed their hunger immediately as well.
So what was their purpose? Why work together? Was there something out there she hadn’t factored in? Was there another threat they weren’t seeing? Or had underestimated?
Until she understood them, she wouldn’t be able to catch them. Sure, she could catch the turned witch here and there, but this was a conspiracy of sorts and the why was integral to stopping it.
Chapter 7
“IF you were any other person, I think I’d be worried about your penchant for going on long walks alone at two in the morning.” Simon looked her up and down after she’d proclaimed she needed to go for a long walk. This witch and her walks. Didn’t she remember there were people out there trying to hurt her?
And she happened to look like an easy target that night. Albeit a pretty one. She wore a short skirt showcasing legs he thought he’d been the only one to see when she swam in his pool or ran on his land.
But she’d come to his club after her date. He reminded himself of this fact. And she’d returned from her date with a giant slice of cheesecake that she’d presented to him with a grin.
He was defenseless against cheesecake. And it was pretty delicious. She’d situated herself at his table and chattered away while he’d wondered just exactly how her date had ended.
Early enough, he thought somewhat triumphantly. It had been just after midnight when she’d shown up.
Was there a kiss? Probably not. He’d have scented that. “So I didn’t know you liked shifters.”
She snorted and stole a strawberry from his plate. “Are we on that again? What’s not to like, anyway? When shifters aren’t rogue and making my job harder, you’re all pretty cute. And I know I won’t break any of you.”
He couldn’t stop his grunt. Break? “What is it you do to your boyfriends that breaking them is an issue?”
“Humans are fragile. That’s all I meant. Perv.”
Why did he continue this banter? He should stop; it was veering from light flirtation to something else. He didn’t… he glared at her… he shouldn’t think dirty, filthy sexy things. But now he couldn’t stop thinking them. Damn it.
“Anyway, he’s nice. Dinner was good. He reads.”
Simon snorted. “He reads? You expect me to believe you really dig that this wolf reads? And by the way I am not a shifter. I am Lycian.” He sniffed, indignant.
And she sniffed right back. “First of all, yes, yes, I do dig that he reads, thank you very much. I happen to find smart, well-read men sexy and interesting. That you’d assume I was shallow ticks me off. Also, I’m sorry if I insulted you with the shifter thing.”
He waved a hand. “Stupid, knee-jerk reaction. I don’t think you’re shallow.” Off balance, he shifted and changed the subject back to walking and away from this dangerous territory. “Why don’t you come back to my place? You can walk on my land all you want. Hell, I’ll even come with you.”
“I can’t run in this dress.”
He bet she could, actually. He’d yet to doubt her ability to do whatever she wanted to. Though she did look nice in it. Short with heavy tights. But not sexy high heels. Soft, well worn boots that rode to her knee. She had a new streak in her hair. Shocking pink she continued to tuck behind her ear. She even had date makeup, which he had to admit she did a pretty good job with.
Date. He mentally snorted. When did she even have time to meet anyone? She worked all the time. Had traveled to Toronto just the week before to aid with an investigation of missing members of the local clan. That hadn’t ended well, though he knew she’d made some important connections with the clan up there.
He knew she took the deaths of those witches personally and held herself responsible for not finding them in time. As her friend, he wanted to make her feel better for it. That was all there was to it. She needed some rest and some solace and he could give it to her.
“You still have workout clothes at the house. We can walk instead of taking a run.”
What could some werewolf named Tad give her? Simon would not only be an ear for her troubles but actually help her with solutions. Some skinny hipster wolf couldn’t do that. Simon would give her a safe place and an outlet for the stress of her job. Hell, he could teach her a few things about a true wolf’s wild side.
He frowned because he was back to thinking some filthy things about her again and it wasn’t normal.
“Why are you making that face? I’ll come with you back to your place. It’s not that I’m trying to escape you or anything. I just like to be out late. I love the quiet of the world at three in the morning. I love the light. It’s not dark. Not daylight. It’s as if the whole world is washing from one thing to the other, like a slow wave.”
The light from the cases over the bar cast deep blue over her face. In the right light she was beautiful. That realization struck him dumb for long moments.
“You’ve got a way with words.”
Surprise lifted her eyebrows and then she smiled. “Thank you.”
He shrugged, suddenly off balance. He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “You’re welcome.”
“While you say you’d be worried if it was anyone else but me, I think yo
u are worried. Which is partly sweet because it’s nice to have people concerned for my safety and all. But also hello, sweet, pretty Lycian, I am totally capable of walking outside at any time of day or night.”
Sometimes she’d lecture him in this prim sort of voice. He liked it when she got that way, when all that kooky hippie stuff faded into something more stern.
Facets. She had them, that much was clear. Like how at different times of the day, and in different lights and whatever weird-ass clothes she decided to wear, she could be fey or hipster chick or even one of those boho ladies who seemed to congregate at the organic coffee place down the road from his house.
“I know. And yet I like to urge you to keep to safer behaviors that won’t get you kidnapped and drained by mages. Silly me.”
Back to bickering, he felt more even, steered her through the club and out the back doors toward his car.
She halted, digging in her heels, drawing him up short as she did. “Something’s wrong.”
He got in front of her and she snorted, moving around his body. “Kind of my job, Thundarr.”
“What?”
“Cartoon hero. Big barbarian. Sort of like ThunderCats?”
“Did you just compare me to a cat?”
“Concentrate on the real issue please.”
“Let’s get you in the car then. Or back inside. This is serious shit, Lark.”
She grabbed a strand of her hair and twirled it around her finger as she gave him an exaggerated pout. “Really? I’m such a girl, I had no idea.” Her tone went very dry and he knew he was being chastened. But… he liked it. “Back off. Your testosterone is messing with my magick.”
“How so?”
She narrowed her eyes and planted her hands on her hips. “Oh my god. Are you arguing just to argue? This is why you’re so hot. Because otherwise no sane woman would tolerate your bossiness. I need to use my othersight. Step back a little.”
Hm. He backed off a little and kept an eye on the immediate area as she did her witch thing.
Her face changed when she opened her othersight. Softened as she gave over to that force inside her.
But it wouldn’t do for him to lose his own damned focus like a pre-maturation wolf. She was his friend. He’d joked with her and smoked cigars with her. He needed to remember that.
“Come on out and fight me,” she called and he growled in response. Not that she seemed to care. She circled the lot, looking carefully. There was a high wall surrounding this part of the property.
The man was annoyed that she hadn’t ceded to him right away. This was his ground, his territory and she was deliberately starting a fight with whatever might be out there in the dark.
The wolf within—his beast—approved of her mightily. She moved like a predator. Her attention was sharp, intent and the magick began to flow from her, filling the space. The scent and taste of it brought the feral part of his senses closer to the surface.
The reaction slammed through his senses, sending him reeling a moment.
And then three males hopped the fence and landed just feet away. All his confusion faded as the warrior took over.
“You don’t hold our chain.” One of the larger males, a mage with a terrible dye job, stepped forward.
She snorted. “Really? I called, you came. Seems to me like I yanked and you yielded.” One handed, she’d tied her hair into a knot and away from her face. The sweet, geeky girl home from a date look was gone, now her features were hard and her stance vibrated danger. She radiated so much violence it set something inside him singing, nearly moving him to howl.
Instead, he moved to her back, pressing his to it. Their magick mingled and he couldn’t resist taking a deep breath, drawing it into his lungs.
“There are really only two ways to end this. I can beat you to a pulp and you can confess your sins afterward. Or you can tell me what you’re doing and if you do it quickly, I may show you mercy. One way or another you’re going to tell me just what you’re doing here. And to be totally honest with you I’d rather beat your ass first because I loathe cowards and cheats.”
“I’m not a coward or a cheat!” The bad dye job male yelled this as he charged at her and Simon moved from her way so she’d have the space to defend. He knew better than to interfere and there were two other males to keep an eye on as well. If they made a single move he’d crush them under his boot heel.
Instead, he watched, impressed by the sweeping kick of her left leg that sent the guy sprawling face-first into the asphalt at their feet.
“Mage, you can’t best me. I own my magick, she owns me. The earth sings through my veins. You have no magick but what you steal. That and I’m pretty badass and you’re a junkie.”
“We’ll see what you say when you meet him.” The male picked himself up and threw a ball of dark, sickly energy at her. She deflected it easily and sent it back, sending him to his knees on a strangled gasp.
She ignored the downed mage and turned to the other two. “Well? Deliver your message like the lapdogs you are. Also, this him business is hokey.”
“We don’t take orders from you.”
She rolled her eyes and much to Simon’s horrified fascination, his cock twitched. He gave himself a stern talking-to, but that part of his body was notorious for ignoring good advice.
“Well then, come on. Show me what you’ve got. I hope for your sakes it’s more than Tweedledum over there. It hurts like mad to eat pavement. He may need a dentist when you leave here. Hope you guys have good insurance over at the villain’s bureau.”
And then she was a blur as she sprang into action. Her magick singed the bricks on the wall behind the males who’d been standing.
“No.” Simon grabbed one of them, a sallow, sweaty fellow in a stained shirt, by the scruff of the neck and picked him up. “It’s not very gentlemanly to attack a woman when her back is turned. At least have the courage to do it fairly.”
The mage tried his magic on Simon, who trusted not only his own magick, but the wards etched into his skin and the ones Meriel had given him. Simon punched him in the face hard enough to render him unconscious and then dropped his body.
That’s when he caught sight of Lark’s impressive left hook as it connected with the mage’s jaw, sending him sprawling backward into Simon’s car.
“You better not scratch my car, human.”
Lark laughed as she danced out of the way of a ball of molten hot magic that barely missed her. He fisted his hands, growling.
“Dude, don’t make him angry, he’s got a wolf inside him. Also he’s nine feet tall and three feet wide.”
“I don’t give a fuck about you and your half-breed friend, bitch!” The mage charged her and she landed a fist to his temple and he went down, his eyes rolling up as he lost consciousness.
“That’s Ms. Bitch to you,” she muttered as she toed him over and pulled a set of cuffs from her bag.
Well now. “Where’d you get those?”
“I told you I had a date earlier. You never know when they might come in handy.”
Hmm.
“Interesting.” Simon looked the three over.
“I don’t have three pairs. It was just a first date and all. Do you have rope or zip ties? Also, a blanket to protect your backseat while we haul them to the Owen building.”
“You sure do come with a lot of trouble.”
She waggled her brows. “Yeah.”
“More fun than I’ve had in a while, though.”
“I don’t think they expected to be arrested and brought in for questioning.” Lark sat on the edge of the desk near the door to the cells holding the mages. They’d brought them in after tying them up and hauling them over in Simon’s car.
Meriel paced. “I can’t believe you threw down in the lot instead of calling someone!” She and Dominic had been waiting there when Simon and Lark arrived with the prisoners.
“This is my job. I am very good at my job. Also, Simon handled one of them. He’s got very large
fists. Thank goodness. He’s handy to have around.” She winked at him and he blushed.
Blushed.
He puzzled her. He’d been so prickly about her date but in the lot he’d worked with her, not against her. His respect of her skills as a warrior was important. More than she’d realized until that moment when he’d stepped back and let her kick the shit out of those two jackwagons while he handled the third.
“Next time you’ll call.” Meriel frowned.
“I did call. Also, you wouldn’t expect Nell to call, or Gage. You’d expect them to handle it and then call. Which is what I did.”
“Yes, but—”
“But what? You don’t trust me? You don’t think I can handle myself? I’m small and too fragile to handle my biz?” She crossed her arms over her chest, suddenly pretty mad.
Simon looked to her, his gaze closed and sort of enigmatic. Lark had no idea what he was thinking, which was odd given how up until earlier that day they’d been pretty good pals. She’d been able to read him and now all the sudden he seemed mysterious. Still, she’d punch his gorgeous face if he backed Meriel in this silliness.
Meriel sighed. “You’re right.”
Gage came in and headed straight for the door to peek inside. “Good work.” He turned to Lark with a big grin. “Damn, three?”
She laughed. “Two. Simon felled one of them in a single punch. Made me wish my fists were as big as a bulldog too.” She jerked her head toward Simon who… blushed again.
“What’s their story?”
“They just regained consciousness a minute or two ago. I’m going to suggest we not bother with the asking-nicely part and just go into their heads to get what we need.”
Meriel leaned against the doorway. “There are rules.”
“Yes, there are. For witches. None of these men are witches. They attacked without provocation. They threatened your clan, your witches and your power. They made an assault on our very ground. They are not covered under the covenant. It is an abomination to even imagine so. As a unit they have stalked, harmed and killed our people. They have no place left on this Earth where they should be given succor.”