“Ah.” He gave a snort of laughter. “A witch with so many enemies she cannot tell whom to fear first. How many lives have you befouled and besmirched?”
I scowled at him. Surely he understood that I could tap the ley line and change all of them into the things I’d seen in the upper floors of the den—
Even as I thought it I knew I could never do that to a person on purpose. I felt the hardness fade from my features.
“Who do you think would pay the most?”
Chin lifted proudly, I asked, “The Rege is an extortionist?”
The Rege backhanded me with enough force to propel me against the side seat. “Never. But I cannot refuse the opportunity to add to the coffers.”
My already-concussed head did not take that blow well. I blacked out for I don’t know how long. When I woke, I lay there dazed and reeling for several minutes before feeling recovered enough to sit up.
I wondered what time it was. The road through the Cultural Gardens wound through like a meandering stream at the bottom of a valley, and here the day’s last light was blocked by the sloping heights of the garden. The tinted limo windows made it even darker. I hadn’t detected Menessos waking, so this had to be dusk.
“I always get my way, witch. As you should recall. Or do you need another lesson?”
In answer, I scooted as far from him as I could and tried to rub at my now puffy jaw. The way they had me tied up, all I could do was scrape the rope over it. I’ve been abused enough for one day.
Considering his words, however, I had to infer that he believed he did rape me when I had invoked that power and influenced him. I’d said, “You’re finished here.” Maybe in his mesmerized mind, that implied the deed had been done.
Another car pulled in behind the limo. Because it was now the time period of civil twilight, this car had the headlamps on and they were the new Xenon kind. They made me squint even through the tinted rear windshield.
Then another car arrived behind that one, and another. I detected nearly a dozen dark figures coming toward the limo. The driver of the first car exited and joined those moving in.
I was ready to throw up again. Where’d that bag go …
Menessos awoke. After a moment of adjustment, the sense of completeness filled me, and took the edge off my pain. I abandoned the interior bag search. Peering out the rear window I saw the driver of the car with the offensive lights.
Johnny.
The local wæres formed a line to the side of the Audi Johnny had driven. The car gave them some cover from any prying eyes of passersby. Drivers wouldn’t think much of cars stopped here, and the presence of a limo would likely offset the oddness of suited tough guys standing around in the garden.
Gregor opened the door and the Rege slid out with a grace not unlike Menessos’s. He stepped forward and the door slammed before I could exit. Another guard came to stand at the door to the other side. I was reduced to watching out the window like a kid.
“Where is she?” Johnny demanded.
The Rege used his thumb to point at the limo. “Inside.” He tilted his head, assessing Johnny. “Gregor documented his wounds. They were quite nasty.”
Johnny held up his fists. “If you’re after a matching set of your own, I’ve got ’em right here.”
The Omori all growled and moved half-steps forward. “Never insult your Rege!” Gregor snarled.
The Rege stopped Gregor with a gesture.
“You’re the Domn Lup?”
“I am.”
“Prove it.”
“Give me the witch first.” There was an edge to Johnny’s voice. I heard it even through the glass.
The Rege hadn’t missed it, either. “Why?”
“Why not?”
He shrugged nonchalantly like a man who knew he had the advantage. “Are you sure you want damaged goods?”
I hadn’t expected he would play his hand so soon.
Johnny shifted his weight, tensing. “What did you do?”
The Rege spread his arms. “I entertained her.”
I thought for certain Johnny would go into an all-out transformation. But he didn’t. His chin lowered. “Show her to me, or I’ll tear you apart.”
“I’d like to see you try.”
“What I did to him,” he indicated Gregor, “was restrained.”
“I’d say she’s faired marginally better. But not by much.”
Either he was trying to instigate Johnny to change, or male pissing contests had just been taken to a new level.
The good thing was that everyone was focused on the two of them. Inside the limo, I was sitting right next to the door. Twisting, I put my feet against the door, levered the handle, and kicked out with all my might.
The rearmost edge of the door caught the Rege in the small of his back, scraping him and sending him forward.
Gregor reacted. He reached for the door, but the window hit his knuckles hard; it forced his arm back and left him to be broadsided by the door—right in the balls. He doubled over.
As I shot between them, Gregor grabbed my leg. I fell flat, elbows hitting hard and my bound hands flapped out before me. In a heartbeat Johnny was there, helping me up.
“Leave her,” the Rege snapped.
Johnny stilled. I craned my neck to see why.
While Johnny had bent to help me, the Rege recovered and drew a knife from somewhere. He held it against Johnny’s throat.
“Sharing power with you isn’t in my plan, boy.”
“My whole pack knows about me.”
The Rege shrugged; it made Johnny suck air through his teeth. A thin line of blood appeared where his skin and the blade edge met. “The Omori are very good at what they do.”
Johnny wouldn’t give in. “So is my pack.”
“Ha! Welders. Construction workers. Movers. What do they know of being hunted?”
No one was paying much attention to me. I was on the ground and therefore helpless. But if I could draw attention to me, Johnny might get a shot at getting out of his predicament. “He underestimates everyone, Johnny. It’s his personal flaw.”
The instant my voice distracted the Rege, Johnny threw himself backward, kicking up his feet. Johnny’s foot strike drove the Rege’s arm upward, and the knife sailed into the air. The Rege lost his balance, pitching forward onto his knees.
Johnny’s flip left him neatly crouched.
The dagger thunked into the ground between them.
Johnny snatched it and stood, glowering down at the Rege.
Gregor put his foot on the back of my head and applied pressure to my lump. I screamed. Grass and leaves got in my mouth. All I wanted to do was keep him from grinding his heel on my head.
Reaching behind my head, I groped up his shoe and under his pant leg, I clawed down Gregor’s sock and dug my nails into his skin as I screamed again.
Once, I had pulled power from Menessos. Being bound to me, he fed on my energy and I had been able to call that power back to me. But through him, I’d also pulled from Goliath. While Gregor didn’t have any power of mine to call, his power was pooling on the surface of his aura.
I drew on that power; I yanked on it. The earth roiled under me and it seemed I became a geyser of fiery acid ready to erupt.
Suddenly, Gregor wasn’t accosting me anymore.
Wiping grass from my mouth, I rolled over. He was scurrying, crablike, away from me. “She tried to make me change!” he shouted.
I was mad enough—and hurt enough—to spit nails now. I got my feet under me and shouted back, “I did not! If I’d meant to do that you wouldn’t be in man form right now,” I said, stalking toward him. “What I did was remind you of what I can do.” I kept advancing. He twisted to get his feet under him, trying to run even though he wasn’t up and balanced yet.
The big, brawny Omori retreated before me, drawing their guns.
I heard Johnny laugh. “Those pussies are your brave Omori?”
I stopped and turned to face him.
&nbs
p; “Greg there said we Americans were weak … right before I kicked his ass.” He shook his head at the Rege. “Fuck. You guys are clueless.”
CHAPTER TWENTY
I strode toward Johnny as he told the Rege, who was still on his knees, “Tell your pups to put their guns in a pile on the ground. Now.”
The Rege made a gesture of conciliation. Metal clacked on metal as the guns were dropped. Johnny motioned to Todd and Kirk, who patted the Omori down and collected the weaponry.
Johnny untied me and took my face in his hands to give me an inspection. Johnny’s touch was so light, so warm, I didn’t want it to stop, even when his thumb stroked my cheek. I flinched; being walloped twice today by the Rege had left me bruised.
His rigid posture yielded to embrace me. Emotion radiated off him. His face filled with relief and protectiveness. He understood how I’d felt when he disappeared under the Lake Erie surface.
“You were skipping your intro with the Rege?”
“Max was murdered, you were missing. Kind of took priority.”
“She’s not just a witch to you,” the Rege said disgustedly.
“Deal with it,” Johnny growled.
The Rege rose up onto his knees. “I left my mark on her insides.”
Johnny jerked away. I grabbed his arm—his skin darkened under my grip and fur pushed up between my fingers. Claws sprouted from his fingertips as I watched. His breath rasped harshly and he leaned threateningly over the Rege. “No,” I said. “He didn’t.”
“Yes, I did!”
“Do you remember it? In detail?”
Uncertainty clouded his features.
“He thinks he did,” I said to Johnny, “but he didn’t.”
The Rege’s confusion was replaced with vehemence. He spat at our feet. “You used magic on me?”
I didn’t answer. I didn’t even deign to acknowledge that he’d spoken to me.
Todd and Kirk returned to our side with the weapons, and passed them out to their own people. Kirk ordered, “Keep them handy, but out of sight. We don’t want the police crashing our little shindig.” Chris LaCroix was on our side. That was interesting. Kirk didn’t offer him a gun.
Johnny said, “Explain how murder and kidnapping became a good idea.”
The Rege put one foot on the ground, preparing to stand.
“Down!” Johnny commanded.
“I am the Rege! If you are to be crowned, you’ll need my endorsement.”
“But you don’t share, remember?”
The Rege shook with rage. “You need me!”
Johnny shrugged. “And if you’re dead? Do you think your replacement might understandably be more accommodating to my needs?”
The Rege put his knee back on the ground.
Bully the bullies; it’s all they understand.
“Now explain,” Johnny commanded.
“Ask Gregor,” the Rege replied.
“Kirk,” Johnny said, as he stepped away. Kirk positioned himself so passing motorists could not see he held a gun on the Rege. Johnny stopped before Gregor. “Answer.”
“I intended to question her. I wanted to kill her, too, but first I wanted to know if there were others who could do what she could do. When the Rege arrived I told him what I had done and what my intentions were and why—”
“Tell me why.”
“The humans, if not the witches, will eventually seek to destroy us.”
Johnny shook his head in irritation.
Gregor continued. “He wanted to question her personally. I didn’t think that was safe. I suggested we set her up so that WEC would have no choice but to have her Bindspoken. Then we could recapture her and question her when she’d been magically spayed.”
Now I understood why I’d heard these wærewolves use the word “Bindspoken” in their conversation. Gregor was taking high rank on my Least Favorite People list.
“But I, as always, obeyed the will of my superior.” Gregor bowed his head submissively in the direction of Rege.
I suspected that was a hint, a suggestion, or a call to action of some kind and kept my attention on the Omori behind them.
“And what was your purpose for questioning her personally?” Johnny asked the Rege.
“I agree with the Omori’s assessment of our enemies. I add only a reminder that as the Rege my vantage point of the situation is better, the scope of my sight broader. When the day of our challenge comes—and it will—it is my intention that we are prepared.”
“Are the grimasa-azils not enough?” Johnny asked.
“It is the best we have, but I would be a fool to ignore the opportunity to surmount our one weakness when it stands before me. If she can truly bestow us all with permanence in our man-minds, then we eliminate our only moment of weakness: when the animal takes over and we cannot work as a united front. What she can give us better equips us for the inevitable.”
It was basically the same argument Johnny used to convince the pack wæres that the spell was worthwhile, but when the Rege said the words, the idea lost its charm.
“And what if I don’t agree that the Fate you see is ‘inevitable’?”
“Then you are naïve.”
I’d thought Johnny must know what answer he’d get to that question and had been mistaken in asking it, but when he bristled in response, I understood he knew exactly what he was doing.
“You need to stop insulting the Domn Lup,” Kirk said.
Subordinates telling the Rege what to do evidently pissed him off. His reaction was unsympathetic. “I rule the court. That won’t change even if he proves himself the Wolf King.”
Kirk had jumped in, so I took my shot. “You don’t believe he’s the Domn Lup?” I asked. “Gregor witnessed a full change for himself. Did he not tell you?”
The Rege’s compassionless gaze shifted to me. “If he is to be crowned, he’ll need my endorsement. Or, as he has already suggested, he can kill me and hope my successor is more pliable. But he’ll want something, too.”
Of course. Being the Domn Lup wasn’t enough; the bigwigs expect their political favor to be bought.
“What do you want?” Johnny asked coolly.
The Rege stood. This time Johnny didn’t argue.
“I want her,” the Rege said, pointing at me. “The witch becomes mine, my tool. You”—he arched a brow and frowned distastefully at Johnny—“tone down your image, learn the talking points, and make the rounds of your American media.” He smoothed his suit jacket, tugged on his cuffs to straighten the sleeves. “Draw their attention while the witch gifts us all.”
“All?” Todd questioned.
The Rege glared at him. Todd shifted back a half-step.
“How many wæres are there now?” Johnny asked.
“I don’t have an exact count,” the Rege said casually.
I was sure he was lying.
“Over a quarter of a million worldwide,” Chris LaCroix offered helpfully.
The Rege’s rigid glare found Chris. To his credit, Chris held his ground.
“If she transformed fifty a day,” Kirk said, “every day, aside from the scheduling nightmare that would be, it would take over fourteen years.”
I was not signing on for that. Though stunned at being the bargaining chip on the proverbial table, I found my voice. “No way.”
“You see?” Gregor’s voice cracked like a whip. “She is not on the side of the wæres!”
“I’ll give you the spell,” I countered. “You can find another witch who can perform it for you.” It wasn’t like the Lustrata was the only witch who could do this spell. It was in the Trivium Codex after all, the book of sorcery spells from the fairies. Not that finding another witch to do it would be easy. Sorcery required a lot of energy and the moonlight enhancing spell was no different. Most witches simply wouldn’t have the power within themselves to perform it. That meant it had to be powered by the ley lines, and not many witches were willing to tap a ley because of the initial pain and the addictive ramifications.
Of those who did perform sorcery, few would hazard such repeated exposures, and fewer still would be willing to take such a risk to aid the wæres. “All you need is a witch willing to perform sorcery. She can use a ley line to power the spell.”
Gregor flung his arm out, pointing at me, but addressed his superior. He marched closer to the Rege. “Agreeable, logical aid being placed at our feet, and all spoken softly from a pretty mouth. We are being soothed into a sense of security, so that we may be struck down!”
I wondered if all the Romanian wæres hated women.
Walking forward and making a conciliating gesture, I said, “Look, I’m not against wæres keeping their man-minds. I’m all for it, actually. The need for kenneling would be nearly eliminated. Rogue attacks would be a thing of the past. That’s good for everyone.”
Gregor spun on me. “I’ll never trust any witch that much.”
“Why?” I pointed at the pack members here with Johnny. “They trusted me, and rightly so. If you hadn’t intervened, it would have been to their benefit. It was to the benefit of the three who’ve already experienced it.”
“They did not trust you.” The Rege inched forward. “They trusted the Domn Lup. What exists between you and that pack exists because of him. Your worth is based only on the value he places upon you. That is not something that will carry over to your allies in WEC, because witches and wæres weren’t meant to mingle.”
Oh, Goddess. Not the tenet of the good ol’ days.
The Rege caught my eye-rolling. “You mock me?”
My arms crossed. “I mock the irrationality of that old idea.”
“Irrational?” His shout resonated inside my head, reminding me of my goose egg. “Witches have the power to misshape us, destroy us!”
Despite the flecks of spittle on my arms from his raging, I remained calm. “I saw what I could do to you. And yet I haven’t.”
He squinted suspiciously. It made him look all the more evil, which until then I hadn’t thought was possible.
“Yes, witches have the power to misshape you, but the truth you don’t want to acknowledge is the counterpoint that balances that. Witches also have the power to eliminate your weakness, Rege. All you’ve been willing to see is the danger they represent. Your fear has created a wedge where there should have always been a bridge. The time for that dogma is past and now it’s your attitude that has to change. Let it trickle down to all wæres. Guide them to desire man-minds as a means of safety. Use the benefits—like the fact that kenneling won’t be necessary—to convince them.” If I was to be involved in this, I didn’t want them to misunderstand. “I know it will take time to find the right witches who can do this, but I can help you find solitaries or those disaffected by the organization. If you develop a businesslike relationship with them, WEC will eventually have to see that doing their part to build that bridge of trust will take us all into the future with firmer footing.” I uncrossed my arms. “This world will keep spinning no matter what, but all of your people—and all of mine—must take personal responsibility for their own progress.”
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