Inside Straight

by Mark Henwick

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “Yeah. Instead of sneaking around El Paso as if you were planning to invade enemy territory, hand the work to Alex. We’re all one pack now, remember? Cameron’s words were: one pack, New Mexico and Colorado. Alex has got to be down here anyway, so why would it need two of you?”

  He scowled. He didn’t refuse, and his grimace showed how unhappy he was that he hadn’t even thought of it that way.

  “Why would I want to work with Alex?”

  “Because the bosses said you have to, and they appointed me to make sure it happens.”

  He grunted at that. It was what Felix had said: to ensure the two parts of the pack work seamlessly and without friction, we appoint Amber Farrell as liaison.

  “Mi corazon, the last thing I need is to be traveling back and forth between the two of you, interpreting your snarls into diplomatic language that doesn’t get the other’s hackles up. None of us has time for that, and it would weaken the defense against the Confederation.”

  He didn’t like it, but he knew I was right.

  This was exactly like sparring in the gym; while he was off balance, I pressed my advantage.

  “Which is why I called Alex and told him I was meeting you down here. He should be along any minute. By the end of the day, you’ll have agreed on a way for White Sands to move in while the old El Paso are moving out. Houses can be traded, businesses handed over. Less hassle, less waste, less inefficiency. You’ll be free to look after more important things. Win-win-win.”

  Zane actually snarled, loud enough that someone wandering through the terminal stumbled and looked around to see where the rabid dog was.

  Alex’s reaction hadn’t been that different when I called him on the way down, but I’d worn him down. Eventually, he’d given me the address of the pack’s house in Vernal. He’d agreed to order the Denver pack’s patrols in the area to incorporate the search for Weaver’s hideout, promised to send me twenty-five reliable El Paso werewolves to help... and he would order them to coordinate with New Mexico pack members that Zane was going to send me.

  If you get any, he’d said.

  Snarky bastard. Well, I’d done okay on that count.

  Meanwhile, Alex had arrived here early. I could tell he was outside, and there was nothing wrong with Zane’s werewolf senses.

  He leaped up off the seat.

  “It’s only Alex,” I said. “You’re both alphas, but you’re also lieutenants on equal footing in the merged pack. There’s no call to snarl at each other. You have to meet him sometime, Zane, and I wanted it to be while I was down here in El Paso.”

  Alex came prowling through the doors, with that sort of stiff-legged gait male alphas all seem to get around potential rivals.

  He had his dominance dialed down; not completely off, but not challenging. That was as much as I could ask for.

  Zane struggled to dial his back down as well, looking as if it was going to choke him.

  We all met up in the middle.

  El Paso and the surrounding area was, temporarily, Alex’s territory. Zane was thinking clearly enough to acknowledge it, and spoke first.

  “Deauville. Hello,” he said and put his hand out.

  “Quivira,” Alex answered and they shook briefly. “Welcome to El Paso.”

  Oh, he’d had to force that out.

  “Wonderful,” I said, and gave them a bright smile. “We’ll be on first-name terms in no time.”

  That got the lip-twitch type of silent snarl from both of them.

  It didn’t go badly, after that start. Both Alex and Zane had a job to do, and I was right, they were doing it the wrong way. Leaving Alex in charge of changing the White Sands pack for the El Paso without a break was much better.

  An hour or so later, I decided they wouldn’t be at each other’s throats without my presence, so I was getting ready to make my excuses and leave.

  Alex got a call he had to take, leaving me with Zane for a minute.

  Zane hadn’t said a thing about us, and he was too proud to start it.

  “Tell me, guapo, what you’re thinking about us?” I asked. “You and me.”

  “That we got some unfinished business,” he said.

  “Really?” I chuckled. I looked at him the way Bian might, and ran lazy fingers through my hair. Totally worth it for the effect on his heart. “I imagine once I leave, mi corazon, one of the things you’re going to talk about is what happened at the warehouse before the challenge.”

  Zane’s eyes bulged. That was not what he was expecting.

  I went on. “Alex is going to tell you I wasn’t in my right mind. That I was under the influence of an evil Adept working.”

  “Were you?” He looked hard at me.

  “A little.” I couldn’t help teasing him. “But hear me out. If I was a pure werewolf, I’d be mated to my co-alpha. You and I wouldn’t be having this conversation, and I wouldn’t be having very wicked thoughts about you.”

  His nostrils flared. If he were a bull, he’d be pawing the ground.

  “But I’m a hybrid, and the snake side of me does things a little different. The snake side of me tells my wolf that having two alphas in my bed would be a really great gig.”

  He couldn’t tell if I was bluffing or not. He wanted it to be true, and he knew he wanted it so badly, he was working through all the reasons I might be tricking him. Overthinking. Same kind of mistake he made playing cards. He couldn’t forget that I’d beaten him at poker, and the suspicion that I’d done it with a real cool hand ate him from the inside.

  “Claro, guapo.” My voice went all growly and I wasn’t putting it on. “You want to get in my pants, you got to get in my bed. You want to get in my bed, you got to get an invitation from my husband.”

  “Mierda. Like he’ll do that!”

  “You don’t know that, but I’m telling you what’ll happen any other way. Nothing. How you two work together down here will set up the future.”

  Alex was coming back. I stood up.

  “So, in addition to the twenty-five from El Paso, seventy-five New Mexico wolves, with their tails up, knocking on my door in Vernal by 7 a.m. tomorrow, and I will love you forever.”

  I kissed Zane on the forehead.

  “I’m going to leave you two alone, ’cause I’m a fool like that,” I said.

  I kissed Alex. On the mouth. Not as deeply and as long as I wanted, but enough to get everyone’s Blood racing.

  I was bad, because my Athanate was loving this.

  Chapter 65

  I was still thinking about Zane as the Pilatus took off and Yelena pointed us back toward Denver.

  Yes, I had gone down to Doña Ana intending to flirt with Zane and get him to loan me some werewolves to hunt for Tullah. All fair. It wasn’t like Zane was an angel. There was nothing I’d done that he wouldn’t have.

  But I’d gone way overboard. I’d never really been any good at fluttering eyelashes, but I suddenly seemed to have learned hardcore flirting.

  Why was I teasing him like that? Results?

  What I’d said was true; if I were pure werewolf, Alex and I would be exclusive—that’s what true mating did for werewolves. Which wasn’t to suggest ordinary werewolf love-matches were any less for not being true matings. Given the disparity in numbers, most female werewolves had a couple of male werewolves as lovers, if they were so inclined.

  My wolf wasn’t that interested in my Athanate House, or my needs for Blood and kin, even though she enjoyed the benefits. My wolf would have been content with just Alex.

  Or had that changed?

  Why didn’t it feel as if this stuff with Zane was a purely Athanate thing?

  I’d teased Zane when I’d visited Albuquerque with Tullah. He’d teased me back when he’d visited Denver with Cameron.

  But neither of those came anywhere close to the burning lust at the warehouse, or the way I’d just been acting with him.

  Blame it all on Weaver’s working which lowered my inhibitions?

>   What if it was more than that?

  Nothing was going to happen, obviously. Obviously. Alex wasn’t going to become such good friends with Zane that he’d invite him into our bed. No, nothing was going to happen beyond werewolf levels of teasing and flirting.

  Yes, but what if this was something my wolf wanted—or needed?

  A mated pair of wolves gained dominance from their bond, more than just the simple addition. One plus one ended up with four. What if three werewolves mated? True mating. One plus one plus one—how much would that make on the dominance scale? Nine?

  And if Zane was out of the question, what about, say, Billie, down in LA? Much more acceptable to Alex.

  What about both? Four alphas? Level sixteen dominance?

  I’d never had these thoughts before. Since Weaver’s working had been let loose in my mind, something had changed and it wasn’t just about libido.

  Using the aircraft’s cell phone facility, I called Amanda.

  “Yes, Flint and Kane are fine. I’ll hand you over to them in a second,” I said to her. “I just wanted to know if the doctor was in this morning.”

  “Of course, Boss.”

  “And this is covered by client privilege stuff?”

  She laughed. “That’s lawyers, Amber. Psychiatrists say patient confidentiality stuff. But yes, I won’t talk about what we talk about to anyone else. I’m alone at the moment, and I’m just closing the door.”

  “Good enough for me. Okay, when Athanate blur a person’s memory, it gets more difficult the more there is to blur because everything’s connected up, right?”

  “More or less.”

  “So when an Adept designs a working that affects a part of someone’s mind, we’re not talking about surgical precision.”

  Her answer came a little slowly as she realized where I was going. “No, we aren’t.”

  “Something that is nominally targeted at inhibitions, or lowering resistance to compulsions... that could affect a whole bunch of other mental stuff.”

  “Probably. Are you asking whether Weaver’s working has changed your behavior in other ways?”

  “Yeah. If my aversion to politics got stored in my brain in the same place as my inhibitions...”

  “You running for governor?” She laughed again. “I see what you’re getting at, but you already identified the problem with this theory. There is no single, isolated part of the brain or mind where an aversion to politics would be stored. But, on the other hand, and pointing out I’m not an expert on Adept workings, I can see that a working attacking inhibitions may very well affect aversions.”

  So having had a lifelong aversion to politics, now maybe I going to be interested in it?

  I shuddered.

  I really didn’t want to be involved, unless it couldn’t be avoided.

  “Thanks for your help, and I’ll pass you to Flint.”

  I handed the cell over and settled back.

  Weaver’s workings were subtle and powerful. To make me more susceptible to his compulsions, he’d devised a working that undermined inhibitions, but might have affected me in dozens of other related ways as well before the Hecate had stopped it.

  What crazy things was I going to do?

  Like starting to build a werewolf political base with enough dominance that Felix and Cameron might see it as a threat? And using their own packs to do it. That would play well when I next saw them. In Louisiana. In a couple of weeks’ time.

  No.

  But as if my thoughts straying to the Hecate saving me from Weaver’s working had summoned Gabrielle, she arrived, bringing me a coffee from the galley.

  She wouldn’t meet my gaze.

  “Sit,” I said and she sat next to me.

  “Gwen’s not like that,” she said before I got a chance to open up the conversation.

  “What other explanation could there be?”

  “I don’t know.” She sounded miserable.

  “You’re so sure of her, but she doesn’t trust you enough to tell you what her spirit guide is. She doesn’t share what the League’s plans are, let alone what she’s planning.”

  Gabrielle had no answer.

  I was angry because I’d talked myself into trusting Gwen, and now she’d obviously betrayed us. But I still couldn’t quite see why. She’d made the decision that kidnapping Tullah was more important than being allied with Kaothos?

  I couldn’t understand it. But now I had a general idea of where Tullah was, and maybe enough werewolves to go looking for her. If I found Tullah, maybe I’d find answers to why the Hecate had done what she’d done.

  Meantime, I needed to think more about Tullah.

  “Okay, clearing your mind of what the Hecate has or hasn’t done, what do you think Weaver can do, now he has Tullah?”

  “It’s obviously some kind of trap for Kaothos, using Tullah’s connection. I can understand how he might force Tullah to make that connection, but I don’t know how he could create something strong enough to hold Kaothos.”

  I asked the question that had been giving me nightmares.

  “What if his first step is to do something to Tullah’s mind?”

  She looked sick. “I don’t think that would work. All that he really gets from Tullah is a connection to Kaothos. And if the whole Denver community works together they can make a trap.”

  “Not strong enough to hold Kaothos?”

  “Not for any length of time. Even if he’s making them all work under a compulsion, he’d never have complete control over everything. The moment someone makes a mistake, Kaothos would get out.”

  I thought about control, and the Hecate’s coven that had slipped enough for Kane and Flint to break the working. Then I thought about a coven keeping control of a dark magic spell over years and years.

  “So tell me about soultrees,” I said.

  “I’m not supposed to talk to you about them,” she replied, biting her lip before continuing. “But anyway, I don’t know much. It’s kinda not encouraged in the League. People think it’s a bit shamanic. I think only the really old covens have them. The French Canadian covens call it Cœur de Lune.”

  “Moonheart?”

  “Yeah. I love that name. I talked to a woman in a coven which has one. I think they’re a bit like a reservoir for the coven. A repository of every member over time. Everyone shares a bit of themselves with the soultree and gets a bit of everyone else in return.”

  “And an old soultree would be powerful?”

  “It’s possible.”

  “More powerful than the individual members? And self-aware enough to act independently?”

  She blinked. “I’m not really supposed to talk about this outside the League.”

  “Which means the answer is yes,” I said.

  “Theoretically,” she replied carefully. “But I’m pretty sure Denver doesn’t have a soultree, if you’re thinking about how they’d try to trap Kaothos.”

  It wasn’t the only thing I was thinking about.

  Even if my experience was limited to my family curse, it seemed Gabrielle wasn’t any more of an authority on soultrees than I was, so I let her go. I called Bian to update her about the results of the triangulation and to organize Ops 4-10 to head out for Vernal under Annie’s command.

  All the time, the back of my mind was still churning around what little I knew of soultrees.

  I had to assume that Ash, if that was her name, was the soultree of the Irish coven responsible for the curse laid on my great-grandfather’s family: that all the first-born would die. A curse that was an enormous and complex working and required great power, over years.

  Which meant Ash had to be an old and powerful soultree. Probably very powerful.

  I held my cooling cup of coffee and tried to focus my mind on workings the way Tullah had suggested, but first, I reached down inside me until I got the sense of connection to the darkness there.

  Imagined I was speaking to someone called Ash.

  Asking about taking the powe
r directly into me. Quietly.

  The coffee heated up in an instant.

  No one else noticed. I didn’t need to pull this power through anyone else. And for simple things, it responded.

  I cooled the coffee. Heated it back up. It was much quicker and easier if I touched the mug, but either way, it worked. I knew from Tullah that cold, heat and fire were standard magical workings, and even if my control wasn’t up to creating fintyne, the Adept magical equivalent of napalm, heating and cooling might be a very useful working to have.

  So... I had some strange arrangement which seemed to allow me to use the power that fed the curse. Was Ash actually directing the curse, or was Ash only the power?

  If Ash was directing the curse, I couldn’t see why she’d be allowing me to use the power. So, assuming that Ash was the power and the coven, who directed it, didn’t become aware and stop me, I could presumably use this against Weaver somehow.

  Unless it was a trick. Intended to make me depend on it, and then vanish at the critical moment. Or using the power was all part of the curse and it would backfire on me some other way.

  If I used the power, could I direct it away from Kath and her unborn baby?

  Or if I tried that, would it cut my access off?

  I ran fingers through my hair and sighed. Too many questions. I had no time to experiment and so I couldn’t rely on this ability. I had to go against Weaver with what I knew I could depend on: guns and physical violence. And I had to put off the issues of Kath and resolving the curse for another day.

  Chapter 66

  The Arapaho, in flight in the early, early morning of the next day, wasn’t the ideal place to get a call from David.

  Jen’s Pilatus had a smart-comms capability that allowed passengers to use internet and cell phones. In contrast, the Arapaho had standard aviation radios. Not even a connection to the Ops 4-10 tactical network.

  David’s call was probably connecting through the cell phone towers at Vernal and it was at the edge of their range. The quality of the connection reminded me that we couldn’t use cells in the Ashley Forest, and we didn’t have enough Ops 4-10 TacNet headsets for everyone. Coordinating this search was going to be a bitch, so naturally, that was going to be my job.