by Lori Drake
“I agree,” Cathy said. “Let’s start with what we know. I’ve had someone on the inside for a couple of months. I know how Madrigal operates. He’s not just holding Addy and Chris prisoner. He’s trying to turn their minds to him.”
“And Dean,” Joey added. “He has Dean too, which means we can’t talk to Roger, so we have no idea what’s going on in there anymore. When was the last time your inside man contacted you?”
Chris chuckled softly. For all Joey’s feminist tendencies, she still assumed it was a man.
“Yesterday,” Cathy said, twisting a ring on her finger absently. It was a tell. She was withholding something.
“It’s only been two days,” Reginald said. “How much sway could he possibly have developed?”
Cathy’s nose wrinkled. She wobbled her head back and forth. “Eh… more than you might expect. My contact says that he prefers to win converts with good old-fashioned charm, but he doesn’t shirk from using magic if they prove to be particularly willful.”
“Willful is Mom’s middle name.” Joey sighed. “And we know he’s been manipulating Chris’s dreams to get into his head.”
“Has he? Interesting.” Cathy’s expression turned thoughtful. “Anyway, the effects of mind magic are extremely difficult to reverse. If he manages to turn them fully”—she glanced around the room, a pained expression on her face—“there may be no turning back.”
21
Cathy’s words dropped into the room like an anvil. Joey looked between the faces gathered around Justin’s bed, seeing everything from hopeless despair to stoicism. She herself was somewhere in between, but as she sat there thinking about losing Chris forever, despair got a toehold, and it was a slippery slope. As she scrambled for purchase, Chris’s words came back to her.
If you come apart, they’re going to come apart too.
At least one of them had learned something besides chess from Adelaide.
Joey took a deep breath and used Chris’s words as an anchor. “We’ll get them out before that happens. How many people can he magically brainwash at once, anyway? It has to be taxing. Magic comes with a cost—right, Aunt Cathy?”
Cathy nodded. “Indeed. What do you propose?”
Joey toyed with the paper tape on the back of her hand. “It’d be nice if we could talk to Chris or Roger. They know the layout of the place. For all we know, they could be here right now.” She paused, an idea springing to mind. “Sam, how do you feel about being possessed again?”
He grimaced and rubbed the back of his head. “Why me?”
“Please?” Joey said. “I’ll get you box seats for the Seahawks.”
Sam snorted softly. “Bribery isn’t necessary, sis. But you’re on. Roger, Chris, if you’re here—”
Ben tensed beside Joey when Sam broke off mid-sentence. She curled her fingers around his and squeezed. “Roger?” she asked.
“No, it’s me. Um, Vampirella.”
Joey couldn’t keep the laugh from spilling from her lips. Everyone else just appeared confused. “It’s Chris. That’s our safe word.”
“Oh god, my brain,” Ben said with a groan, snatching his hand from Joey’s. “I did not need to know you were into that kind of thing.”
Joey rolled her eyes. “Not that kind of safe word. You know what, forget it. It’s him. Trust me.”
Sam-Chris crossed the room in three long strides to get to the bed. Reginald moved over, letting him take his place nearest Joey. “What happened? Are you okay?” He cupped her cheek, and she caught his hand and tugged it downward.
“Don’t, it’s just… too weird,” she said, motioning at Sam’s body.
Sam looked chagrined. “Right, sorry. What happened?”
“The cultists attacked us at the meet. I think it was a setup. Mike was in on it.” Joey glanced past Chris to Justin. They hadn’t quite had a chance to sort out just how Justin came to find and help her, or what that meant. “He said they have his kid, that he had no choice. I’m pretty sure the bitch that stabbed me was his wife.”
“I wouldn’t put it past them to use what— Did you say stabbed?” Chris folded Joey’s hand in both of his, studying her with a frown.
“Yeah, they tagged me with a silver blade.”
Chris’s eyes widened and his grip on her hand tightened.
Joey quickly added, “I’m going to be fine. Justin’s vet friend stitched me up, and Cathy helped me heal, so it’s not as bad as it was.”
“Justin?” His eyes flicked to the odd man out.
Justin lifted a hand in a silent wave.
“He’s one of the locals,” Joey explained.
Chris nodded and glanced between Justin and Cathy. “Seems like I owe you both a huge thank you. So… thank you.” His gaze settled on Cathy. “I met Naomi last night.”
“I heard,” Cathy said, nodding.
“Naomi?” Reginald asked.
“Cathy’s inside man,” Chris said. “Or woman, in this case.”
“What other resources do we have?” Joey asked. “Chris, can you draw us a map of the layout of the place?”
Chris nodded. “I just need pen and paper.”
“On it,” Justin said, and slipped out of the room.
After he left, Chris looked back to Joey and lowered his voice. “Can we trust him?”
“He saved my life, so I’m willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.”
“What about the rest of his pack?” Ben asked.
“I don’t know,” Joey said. “I may have burned a bridge with one of them the first time they tried to take Dean.”
“Wait. The first time?” Cathy asked, leaning forward in her chair.
Joey nodded.
“Does he know about Dean’s ability?” Cathy said.
“Probably. Mike does, and it’s probably safe to assume that anything he knows, they know. Why? Do you think that matters?”
“Quite possibly. Madrigal is something of a collector,” Cathy said as she sat back in her chair once more. “He collects people with unique abilities.”
“Are you saying that everyone there has some sort of supernatural talent?” Chris asked.
“No, not all,” Cathy said. “But there are some. He has several psychics, a pyrokinetic, a few different kinds of shifters, and, of course, enough witches to claim coven status. But the majority of his people possess no power of their own.”
“And we have…” Joey paused to conduct a mental tally. “Five wolves, two witches—counting Naomi—and one ghost, plus two wolves and one medium in a compromised state.”
“More like four and a half wolves,” Ben murmured.
Joey put her free hand over her stomach and shot him a glare. “Either way, we’re not going to get anywhere with a show of force.”
“Stealth may not be possible,” Chris said. “They’ve got a wicked fence. It’s protected by a sentry spell of some sort. Trust me, you don’t want to touch it.”
“Actually, with Naomi’s help, I believe we can get past that,” Cathy said. “If not magically, she can let us in the front gate.”
Justin returned with a legal pad and a mechanical pencil for Chris. Joey relinquished Chris’s hand and studied Justin. “I’m sorry, by the way. I know you were upset with Mike for getting involved, for putting your pack at risk. We’ll try to keep them out of this as best we can.”
“Huh?” Justin had withdrawn to lean against the wall by the dresser. He cocked his head. “Oh. That wasn’t why Mike and I had words.”
“What was it, then?” Joey asked.
“Tina—Mike’s wife—got tangled up with Madrigal a year or so ago,” Justin said. “She left him and took their son with him to live on the compound. When I found out he was helping you get in touch with them, I suspected he might be up to something shifty. I didn’t like it.”
Joey took a sip of water, frowning. “Why didn’t you say something?”
Justin spread his hands. “He’s my Alpha. It’s tough being caught in the middle, between loyalty
and honor.”
“Well, I do appreciate you helping my daughter in the end.” Reginald rose and stepped toward Justin, offering him a handshake. “Can we count on your help to reclaim my wife and son?”
“And Dean,” Joey added. Lest he forget.
Justin didn’t answer right away. With a thoughtful cast to his features, he flicked a glance around the room. Then he shook Reginald’s hand. “Yes, sir. You can. And maybe when this is all over, there might be a place for me in Seattle? I hear they have a great library system.”
“Not my call, son. But I think we can work something out.”
Joey leaned over to peek at the map Chris was drawing. He’d done the exterior by then and was working on the inside of the house, floor by floor.
“Okay, so we have a way in and we have a map,” Joey said. “We can do this tonight. Sneak in, sneak out, easy as pie.”
“Says the woman who’s never made a pie,” Ben remarked, earning an elbow to the stomach.
Chris paused and looked up from his mapmaking, meeting Joey’s eyes. “What about Eric?”
“Roger will take care of him,” Joey said.
“His room is spirit-proofed. We’re going to have to lure him out somehow.”
Joey worried her lower lip between her teeth. “That makes things… considerably more complicated. Do you know where his room is?”
“I have it narrowed down to three.”
“Naomi may be able to help,” Cathy said.
Joey nodded. “Mark them down on the map. We’ll figure something out.”
“Who’s Eric?” Justin asked.
“Long story,” Joey said. “I’ll tell you later.”
Chris put the finishing touches on the map and passed it to Joey. “I should be getting back,” he said. “Someone might come looking for me, if they haven’t already.”
Joey passed the map to Ben and scooted over to wrap her arms around Chris, hugging him tightly. Then a little less tightly when her not-quite-healed stomach twinged.
“Give us a minute, would you?” she asked. Everyone filed out while she sat there hugging Chris and wishing she could forget that he was in her brother’s body. A kiss would’ve been nice, or even just a chance to look into his eyes. But she didn’t have that option, not without it being weird, and she couldn’t escape the thought that if things went sideways… she might not have another chance to make things right between them again.
So she held on, even after everyone had gone and the door clicked quietly closed behind them.
“Be careful, okay?” she said. “And be strong. Don’t let him get too far into your head before I get there.”
“I’ll do my best.” He lingered in the hug for several long breaths, then pulled away. “See you soon.”
“Wait.” Joey grabbed his hand, holding it in both of hers. She’d had a lot of time to think the previous night while she lay awake, and there was something she couldn’t let him go without saying. “What happened on the road… I forgive you, for leaving. I know Eric made you do it. I know he would’ve hurt Mom more if you hadn’t. I would’ve done the same thing.”
He drew her toward him with fingers behind her neck and pressed a chaste kiss to her forehead. Then he gathered her in his arms and held her for a little longer, stroking her hair. “If I don’t make it out—”
“God, don’t say that. Of course you’re going to make it out.”
“His magic is powerful, Joey. I almost couldn’t pull myself out of it last time. I don’t know if I can do it again.”
She pulled back and grabbed his face between her hands. Her eyes locked with his. “You will.”
“But if I don’t”—he silenced her with a finger to her lips—“please take care of my pack. Make sure the house renovations get finished, and let them stay there rent free as long as they want to.”
Joey’s eyes stung and she bit her lip, blinking back tears, but nodded.
“Thank you. I love you, Joey. You’re going to be an amazing Alpha when that day comes. I just hope to hell it isn’t anytime soon.”
A couple of tears escaped her control and slid down her cheeks, but she laughed in spite of herself. “Me too. And I love you too.”
He smiled, and then he was gone. Sam’s smile transformed into a bewildered look. He blinked slowly and pulled his head away from her hands.
Joey dashed the tears from her cheeks quickly. “Thanks, Sam. You did great.”
“Where’d everyone go?”
“Just outside. I wanted a minute alone with Chris.” She managed a small smile. “No funny stuff, I swear.”
He nodded. “Okay. You’ll fill me in?”
“Yes, but first there’s something I need you to do.”
“Okay, what?”
“Call Jessica.”
“Is that what he wants?” Sam tilted his head and rubbed his stubbly jaw.
Joey shrugged. “I think this is one of those occasions where asking forgiveness is better than permission.”
When Chris got back to his room after a much-needed shower, there was a sticky note on his door.
A sticky note. For some reason, that surprised him, like he’d expected vellum and calligraphy or something. It read: Come see me. -M
Despite his lack of interest or desire in such a meeting, a thrill shot through him. Had Marc written the note himself? Before Chris knew it, he’d lifted a hand to caress the note with reverent fingertips. Swallowing, he ripped the note from the door in annoyance and crumpled it in his hand.
He was no trained dog to come when he was called. His body still ached from his grueling punishment, and he was worn out from lack of sleep on top of it—hardly in any condition, physically or mentally, to go another round with Marc’s magic. He’d managed to shake it off so far, but it got harder each time.
What if next time is one too many?
He’d hoped that with all the ruckus around his fight with Eric and their subsequent punishment that the cult leader would forgo a session with him today, but apparently that was not to be.
What if I just don’t go?
Chris paced his room while he debated his options. Pretending he hadn’t gotten the note was out of the question, since he’d crumpled it. If he didn’t turn up, Marc would probably send Karina looking for him. He could lie down, pretend he’d fallen asleep. But that’d just be delaying the inevitable. He could accelerate his escape plan. Go back to the garage, break in to the key box, make a break for it, and join up with Joey and the others to come back for Dean and Adelaide.
Oh god. What if I tell him they’re coming while I’m under the influence of his spell?
Chris stopped pacing and rubbed his face with both hands, wishing the thought had never occurred to him. It’d jeopardize everything. If he did try to escape, and failed, what would happen? He’d probably just end up in Marc’s study anyway. Whatever he did next, he couldn’t risk making anything worse. He had to act normal, or at least conform to expectations. He’d fought his way clear of Marc’s magic before. He’d just have to do it again.
Fifteen minutes later, Chris stood outside Marc’s study, staring at the ornately carved wooden door with a lump in his throat. He swallowed, drew a deep breath, and slumped his shoulders before knocking. There was a pause, then Marc opened the door himself.
“Ah, my wayward wolf,” Marc said, the hint of a smile in his eyes. “Come in.”
Submissive behavior didn’t come naturally to Chris, but he did his best to appear cowed as he crossed the office and settled into a chair.
“Thanks for coming by. I’m sure you would’ve preferred a nap.” Marc walked over to the desk and leaned against it in front of Chris, the same as he had on Chris’s other visits to his study.
“The thought did cross my mind.”
Marc held out a hand. “Here, let me ease some of that burden for you.”
Chris bit the inside of his cheek and placed his hand in Marc’s. It was easier to keep up the act when he didn’t meet Marc’s hypnotic gaze
. Plus, keeping his eyes lowered would make Chris appear submissive.
The glow of magic sprang to life around Marc and spilled slowly down Chris’s arm. Chris’s skin tingled and he closed his eyes, biting his cheek harder as the warm energy spread across his shoulders and down his back, unwinding the knots in his tired muscles and restoring some measure of vitality.
“That’s much better, thank you,” Chris said, hoping it would make Marc stop. But no, the warm energy wrapped around his chest and spread lower, down his torso and into his legs.
“You’re quite welcome.” Marc enfolded Chris’s hand in both of his. “Open your eyes.”
Chris’s blood hummed with energy by then, but his eyelids were heavy. He dragged them up, but focused his gaze on the floor.
Marc leaned forward and lifted Chris’s chin. “Look at me.”
Chris lifted his eyes, fixing his gaze between Marc’s eyebrows. It was a trick he’d learned from growing up around so many alphas. You had to be careful about eye contact at times, but you didn’t want to keep your eyes lowered in submission either. This was completely different. If he fell under Marc’s spell again…
“Did you learn your lesson today, Christopher?” Marc’s voice was low, like a verbal caress.
“Yes, sir.” Chris’s pulse raced, but was it fear or excitement? He couldn’t tell. It was as if his whole body was full of light instead of skin and bone. He couldn’t even feel the chair under him anymore.
Marc stroked along Chris’s jaw, rough with four days’ beard growth. “Why haven’t you been shaving, my wolf?”
“I-I didn’t want to.”
“Hmm. I see. You will shave tomorrow.” The hint of censure in Marc’s words was unmistakable.
Chris’s stomach tightened. “Yes, sir.”
Marc withdrew his hand and leaned back, studying Chris in silence while warm, tingly energy continued to flow between them.
“I must confess, I find you fascinating,” Marc said.
Chris had no idea what to say to that, so he held his tongue. His head felt light, and he wondered if he was about to pass out again.
“Normally I would find your resistance charming, but you are a puzzle I’m eager to solve.” Marc stroked Chris’s hand again, then tightened his grip.