Alpha Assassins Guild: (Complete Series: Books 1-5)

by Juniper Leigh

  “Just so.” He slipped his arms into his white dress shirt and began to button it up. Viola absently noted how sad she would be to see him clothed, but gave a sharp shake of her head to clear her mind of the thought. “Then there’s Clan Paraves.” He met her gaze with brows raised in question as to whether or not she had a guess about that one. She did not. “Birds,” he said, plainly.

  “Birds?”

  “Yes. They’re largely birds of prey — hawks, raptors, and the like — and they have named their clan for the clade Paraves, which used to include dinosaurs, but they’re just fucking birds, so like…” He arched one lithe shoulder in a shrug, a smug little grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “But they can get places we cannot. They can fly, which I guess is pretty cool.”

  “What else?”

  “Ah, let’s see… Clan Equus.”

  “Horses.”

  “And donkeys. Oh, and zebras.” Largely clothed, Rowan slipped into the chair opposite Viola, attempting to keep the conversation as light as possible. “Those are really the only clans with which we’ve had any dealings. There are all sorts of other clans that have large presences in different locales. The South and Southwest is pretty big for water-based clans, but we don’t get many of those shifters around here. They’re mostly surfer-types. They prefer Florida, California.”

  “Right,” Viola murmured. “Can you turn into anything else, or just a cat?”

  “Panther,” he corrected, rather sharply she thought, and he shook his head. “And why would I want to? Panthers are baller as fuck.”

  Viola smiled faintly and gave a nod of confirmation. “I suppose they are.”

  “So, does this mean you aren’t still mad at me?” Rowan asked, plucking a pack of cigarettes from off the kitchen table. He wasn’t much of a smoker, but he thought, given the circumstances, that now was as good a time as any to pick it up. He fished a smoke from the pack and placed it between his lips, sparking the lighter to life and leaning in for the stick to catch flame. He inhaled, exhaled a thick plume of smoke into the air over their heads.

  Viola continued to stare at him through a long stretch of silence, one pregnant with all of the unasked questions she had tumbling through her mind. “I’m not sure,” she said finally. “I’m not sure what I am.”

  He peered at her, inclining his head slightly, before rising to his feet and holding out his hand. She looked at him, puzzled, but ultimately slipped her hand into his and allowed him to tug her to her feet. In one fluid motion, she was wrapped up in his arms, and he was rocking her gently back and forth, back and forth. “You’ve had quite a night,” he gently intoned.

  “You can say that again.”

  “But it isn’t over yet,” he said, and pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. “Come. I have to take you to see my father.”

  ***

  In all the time that she had been working for Somnus Sacrae, she had never actually been taken to any sort of headquarters, or heart of operations. Rowan had always just come to her, trained her in his own space, or hers, delivered her marks directly to her, always ensuring that she was on comfortable ground. But all that was about to change.

  He had given her a moment to freshen up somewhat, and she tugged on a pair of skinny jeans and knee-high boots, a black blouse and a leather jacket, and she instantly felt more confident, more like herself. Her black hair she pulled out of the fancy chignon she’d sported to the gala event and secured in a side ponytail that sent curls tumbling over one slender shoulder. Rowan was still looking very smart in his tuxedo when he opened the passenger’s side door of the limousine for Viola to climb in beside him. They weren’t going to pretend anymore that she was a wealthy socialite and he her chauffeur. She was rather sad to see the charade was over, and it felt kind of odd to be riding in the front of a limo with no one in the back.

  “So, where is this place?” she asked, leaning forward in her seat to scan through the radio stations.

  “Not far,” Rowan said by way of explanation. In the dead of night, the city looked like any other, with empty streets and dimly glowing lamps. She couldn’t see the forest she’d so recently left behind, not from the heart of the city. She could barely see the sky, what with the skyscrapers turning the landscape into a veritable urban jungle. Eventually, Rowan pulled the limo to a stop and climbed out, leaving the keys in the car, engine running. Viola got out with him and rounded the nose of the limo, headed toward the curb, and hooked a thumb over her shoulder.

  “Aren’t you gonna, like… park?” she asked.

  “Someone will come get it and bring it into our garage.” Rowan rounded the corner and opened a tinted glass door for Viola, who passed through into a small vestibule. Like a bank, she thought, where the ATMs might be. The interior door was locked, but there was a little keypad next to it, and Rowan quickly entered a code. A small light on the pad went from red to a blinking green, and he opened the door for Viola again. This time when she stepped inside, she couldn’t really help but marvel.

  She found herself in the lobby of a grandly appointed building, art deco in design, with indirect lighting that gave the whole place a sort of shadowy feel. The floor was black marble, the sconces a polished brass, and a set of three chandeliers boasted tier after tier of hanging prism crystals.

  There were two sets of black leather couches in the lobby, and at the far end, next to the elevator bank, was a desk, behind which sat a young blonde with big green eyes and a mass of wavy yellow hair, the color of freshly hewn corn. Rowan headed toward her, and Viola was close on his heels.

  She smiled when she saw him approach, and her smile was a glittering thing that lit up her young face. “Good evening, Mr. Weaver,” she said, rising to her feet.

  “Katherine,” he said, by way of greeting. “I’d like you to meet Viola St. James. Viola, this is Katherine.”

  “A pleasure, Miss St. James,” Katherine said, the smile never fading. “Can I offer you two something to drink? Water, coffee?”

  “No, thank you, Kath,” Rowan said, falling into an easy lean against the desktop. “Can you please just ring my father and let him know we’re on our way up to see him?”

  “Absolutely, Mr. Weaver,” Katherine said, resuming her seat at the reception desk.

  “Thanks — actually, don’t mention Viola. Just let him know I’m here, won’t you?” Rowan took Viola by the elbow and directed her toward the elevator bank before either of them had the opportunity to see Katherine bob her head in affirmation. Rowan hit the button to call for the elevator, and it wasn’t long before he and Viola stepped inside.

  “Lioness,” Rowan said, breaking a small silence.

  “Hm?”

  “Katherine. She’s a lioness. Young, new to the clan.”

  “Oh,” Viola said, bobbing her head in a nod. “Oh, I see. Katherine. Kat. Kitty, maybe?”

  Rowan wrinkled his nose as though he’d whiffed something foul. “God, no. Don’t ever call her that. Ever. That’s just the worst.”

  Viola let out an abrupt bark of a laugh, but fell into silence just before the elevator doors parted, granting them admittance directly into one of the largest and most lavish offices Viola had ever laid eyes on. The elevator bay was separated from the office by a series of glass windows, and one door, which opened for them as soon as they stepped foot off of the elevator. The office itself was two stories, with a staircase curling around a grand piano at the center of the room. To Viola’s left was a broad executive desk in rich cherrywood, with two armchairs angled in front of it. To her right was a very well-appointed bar, around which were shelves filled to bursting with leather-bound books. This place screamed money, money, money.

  “What’ll you have, son?” a voice called, and Rowan and Viola both tilted their heads up to watch Alec Weaver descend the staircase. He was what Viola would affectionately refer to as a silver fox, with a full head of white hair and a neatly trimmed white goatee. His eyes were emerald green, almost otherworldly in hue, and he was tall,
like his son, and lean. He and Rowan shared the same aquiline nose and chiseled jaw, but Alec had rather a humorless mouth, and very few smile lines around the eyes. This was a man who was all business.

  “Whiskey, neat,” came Rowan’s easy reply. “And Viola would like… what’ll you have, Vi?”

  Rowan’s words stopped Alec dead in his tracks and forced him to peer down the staircase to where Viola stood, somewhat dumbfounded. “Miss St. James,” he said coolly, “at last we meet.”

  “Viola had rather an interesting night, Pops,” Rowan said as his father continued his descent down the staircase. “Thought you might want to hear about it in person.”

  “Is that so?” Alec breezed past them and headed straight for the bar, whereupon he began to pour three whiskeys into tumbler glasses. He slid one across the bar toward Viola, and she accepted it graciously, silently.

  “Doesn’t say much, does she?” Alec remarked, canting his head to the side and regarding her the way a bird of prey might regard a mouse. Or the way a cat might. Viola shivered.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, sipping from her glass and relishing the feel of the whiskey as it slid down her throat, smooth like butter, burning like embers. “I’m just not entirely certain that I’m awake right now. This all seems like some kind of weird dream to me.”

  Alec cast a furtive glance toward his son, and Rowan just shrugged and downed his whiskey before taking the liberty of pouring himself another.

  “To what are you referring?” Alec inquired, sipping from his own glass and sliding his free hand into the pocket of his pleated slacks.

  Viola hesitated, parting her lips to speak and producing only a gawking silence. Just like in the nightmare. “Go on,” Rowan urged, “tell him.”

  And she did. She told him how Graham McCallum had been her mark, how she’d infiltrated the gala event at the Natural History Museum, how he’d seemed to have taken a bit of a shine to her, and how she’d gone home with him. She even revealed the bit about how she had started to like him, too. How she had made the mistake of allowing herself to be wooed, how they’d made love, and how she had settled easily into his arms. She didn’t dare look at Rowan as she recounted this part of the story, and her cheeks burned pink at the details.

  “Then I came out of the bathroom,” she continued, “with the nail file, and when I went in for the kill, I guess I… missed? But in any case, he let out this great, beastly scream and before I could tell what was going on, McCallum was gone, and a great brown bear had taken his place.”

  Alec narrowed his eyes at her and set his glass on the bar top as he studied her face. She could tell his eyes were shrewd, discerning. He could tell that she had left out something critical.

  “What was it,” Alec asked, sidling along the bar and emerging on the other side of it, “that made you, ah, remember your mission?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, it seemed like you had gotten rather cozy with Mr. McCallum, seemed like perhaps you’d changed your mind about the task at hand. Does that sound accurate?”

  Viola bent her head, dropping her gaze to the floor. “I don’t know,” she answered as honestly as she could. She didn’t fancy herself someone who could be so easily distracted.

  “In any case, something changed. Something happened to set you back on track. What was it?”

  She wracked her brain, trying to think of what he meant, and then she remembered. Lifting her eyes, she locked her gaze on Alec’s, and spoke: “He knew who I was.” That had been it. Without her ever having told him her last name, he called her Viola St. James. “He knew my name, and I never gave it to him.”

  Rowan and Alec looked pointedly at one another, before Alec gave a slow nod of his head. “I need you to go home and pack up anything of value,” he said in low, urgent tones. “I need you to be prepared to abandon entirely anything you do not bring with you when you return here. Do you understand?”

  Viola blinked owlishly. “No,” she said at length, “no, I don’t understand. What is going on?”

  “I’ll go with her,” Rowan said to his father, but Alec Weaver killed that notion with one look.

  “I need you to gather the council,” Alec said, long strides carrying him with great purpose across the expanse of the lavish office. He moved around his desk and took a seat in the leather executive chair behind it, plucking a phone up from its cradle and tucking it under his chin.

  “At this hour?” Rowan was attempting to sound relaxed, but even this minor quip had strain to it.

  “Yes,” Alec confirmed, entirely without humor. “Immediately.” He paused and shifted his attention to the empty space in front of him. “Katherine, prepare the guest suites, and have—” Alec glanced up at Rowan. “What ungodly hour is it, anyway? Never mind. Katherine, breakfast for, oh, fifteen. Or twenty. The council will be on its way in.” He moved as though he were going to hang up the phone, but pulled it back to his ear. “And Katherine,” he said gently, “don’t forget to have a room made up for yourself. I want you to stay here for the time being. Thank you.” He hung up the phone and leaned back in his chair, rubbing at his eyes in a gesture that belied his stress, and his age.

  “I’m sorry,” Viola timidly broke the silence, “but I honestly have no idea as to what is going on. Why the sudden commotion?”

  “Because,” Alec replied, patient but weary, “if Graham McCallum knows who you are, then he knows who sent you, and why. I can’t imagine that Ursus won’t be looking toward retaliation for the offense.”

  “Retaliation?”

  “They’ll send someone for us,” Rowan clarified, “and for you. Someone as good as the Somnus Sacrae agents, someone we’ll never see coming.”

  “Which is why we have to relocate you,” said Alec, rising to his feet and making his way back toward them at the bar, “and until we can find a more permanent solution, you’ll stay here with us.”

  “This is insane,” Viola mused quietly, her exhaustion catching up with her.

  “Yes, but it’s also time sensitive, so…” Alec curled his fingers around her arm and gently directed her back toward the glass doors, and the elevator bay. Rowan was sluggish in how he followed behind, watching her with tired eyes the color of freshly mined peridot. The group of them paused before the elevator, and Alec gripped Viola by the shoulders and peered down into her face. “Fetch anything of any value to you, but do it quickly. You won’t be returning to that apartment.”

  “But my furniture…?”

  “It’s just stuff,” Rowan chimed in. “We’ll get you new stuff. Better stuff.”

  “Please, make haste,” Alec said when the elevator doors opened and he ushered her inside. “And when you return, you’ll have a room made up, a safe place to sleep, and everything will seem much clearer.”

  The elevator doors closed and Viola was alone, her head swimming. Where was she? And who were these people? She would need to sleep, and soon, or she might actually go insane. But there was a certain relief to the moments she had by herself in the relative safety of the elevator cabin, and she leaned her weary head against the side of it as it brought her down to the lobby, allowing her eyes to come to a brief, but delicious, close.

  She tried to recap what she knew: she was an assassin who worked for an organization of shapeshifters, and she had been systematically killing off key members of other clans. She was in an elevator, in the headquarters of Clan Felidae, and she was fairly certainly that an agent from Clan Ursus was, at this very moment, coming to kill her. She had to abandon her life and come live in a glorified office building until this all blew over. But what about her sister? Her eyes sprang open even as the doors parted to grant her admittance into the lobby, and she jogged over to Katherine’s desk. The little lioness was on the phone, speaking in hushed but hasty whispers into her phone. She glanced up when she saw Viola approach, and placed her hand over the receiver.

  “Can I help you with something?”

  “My sister,” she said, “I ne
ed Alec — er, Mr. Weaver… I need him to make arrangements to ensure my sister is safe through… all this.”

  “Verity St. James?” It wasn’t really a question so much as a seeking of confirmation, and Viola could only nod her head. “We always have eyes on her. There will be one of our agents posted nearby already.”

  Some of the tension went out of Viola’s body, and she heaved a sigh of relief. She didn’t realize she’d been leaning against Katherine’s desk for support. Katherine peered sympathetically up at her, offering the faintest hint of a smile. “Viola,” she said in serene tones, “go home, gather your things, and come back here as quickly as possible. All right?”

  “Yes.”

  “I have a car waiting for you outside.”

  CHAPTER 2

  She must have drifted off to sleep in the car on the way back to her apartment. She had been dreaming of a pleasant something, a world where there were no such things as shapeshifters, and she hadn’t grown up to be an assassin and she and her sister weren’t orphans. But all of that vanished and dissipated like so much mist when the driver of the car reached into the backseat to give her leg a little jostle.

  “Miss St. James?” he said. “Miss St. James, we’re here.”

  She awoke with a sharp intake of air and blinked the sleep out of her eyes. The power nap hadn’t helped any: in fact, she thought she was rather worse off than she had been before. But she tried to smile at the driver all the same, wondering what it was that he could shift into. Judging by the big eyes, warm smile, and orange whiskers, she assumed he was probably a standard orange housecat. She wanted to give him a hug.

  Instead, she stretched her arms over her head, thanked him, and climbed out of the car.

  “I’ll be waiting for you right here when you’re ready to leave,” he said, and plucked his cell phone out of his pocket to entertain himself while she was upstairs.

  Viola shoved her hands into the pockets of her jeans and strode languidly toward the building, trying to muster up the urgency she had felt when she left the Felidae headquarters. But her body simply was not cooperating. She shook her head sharply to clear it of cobwebs, and let herself into the building. She took the steps two at a time and pushed through the front door of her apartment, left in the same, familiar disarray it was always in. She felt a pang of sadness at having to leave it all behind that lasted only a moment before a pair of arms encircled her from behind.