She stopped beneath one of the skylights. “Where’s the light coming from? It’s dark outside.”
“Streetlights.”
“We’re that close to the surface?”
“Where we’re walking used to be street level in Seattle circa 1889. They just raised it all when they rebuilt after the Great Fire.”
Her people had stories of the smoke coming over the mountains. Great dark clouds that smudged the sky.
“This place is confusing. Now where are we?”
“How did you come in the first time you came to meet Achilles?”
“Through Doc Maynard’s Public House up on First Avenue.”
“And he met you there?”
Raina nodded. “Very cool bar with a fascinating Victorian vibe.”
The devilish dent in Slade’s chin deepened as he gave her a knowing half smile. “He took you down into the Seattle Underground from street side, then. That’s why you bypassed the atrium. The doors we have leading to the underground are farther out toward the edge of the complex. That way we don’t get any accidental tourists.”
Raina’s heart was pumping faster as Slade kept up the brisk pace down one hallway that branched into another and yet again into another. “How do you think he’s going to take the news that the Weres want to crowd in on your celebrity status as local supernaturals?”
Slade’s brow creased and a tic pulsated in his jaw. “They’re just using it as an excuse to expand their territory. They don’t give a shit about being recognized as legitimate. They’ve been perfectly happy for centuries to stick to their side of the mountain. Besides, what could they possibly want with territory in Seattle? It’s not like they’re going to go hunting.”
“Unless they’re bargain hunting at the Nordstrom Rack,” Raina chimed in. But her joke fell flat with him, making her uneasy.
“Not funny. That Were said Robbie had come to them. If that’s true then there may be some older kind of magic at work here that we’re not aware of.”
His words had the impact of getting slapped with a cold washcloth in the face. “Wait, hold up a second. Are you telling me you’re blaming their abduction of a member of my community on magic?”
Slade shrugged and countered, “Are you telling me your tribe doesn’t have any legends that deal with magic?”
Raina bit her lip. Sure they did. Plenty. And her whole life she’d worked diligently to keep that hocus-pocus mumbo jumbo from influencing her life. And now here it was, back again, taunting her, threatening to unravel everything she’d tried so hard to accomplish to bring her people into a modern world.
“That’s ridiculous. They’re legends. Stories. Myths.”
Slade came to an abrupt stop that forced her to turn around.
“What?”
His golden eyes were intense. “A year ago we were just myths to mortals, too.”
Raina nibbled on her bottom lip. She didn’t like admitting he was right because it forced her to consider the possibilities that her tribal lore wasn’t just lore after all. But then again she was working with a vampire. Against shape-shifters. She never would have believed that could happen a year ago.
“You’ve got a point. But that still doesn’t help us.”
“What does your lore say about the wolves and how the Whisperer is connected to the ancestors?”
Raina pressed her lips firmly together. She wasn’t supposed to talk about it. Sharing that kind of information with outsiders, especially a qelaen, was forbidden. On the other hand, keeping it secret had done nothing to help her thus far. She sighed against the heavy invisible weight pressing in on her chest. Raina decided she might as well start at the beginning.
“When the Creator made man he put them into the form of Beaver to swim and be cleansed because the world was full of unpleasant things. And he gave the assignment of bringing human beings to life to four wolf brothers, who took Coyote’s place as the head of all animal people after Coyote had cleaned up the place and then retired.”
Raina pinched the bridge of her nose, her memory supplying all the smells of burning sage on the campfire as she’d been told the stories each year. “The four wolf brothers fought over what to do with Beaver when it was time to pull him out of the water. The Creator had told them they would have to cut Beaver into twelve pieces to create human beings. They all wanted to have the honor of being the one to kill it to start humans and made a bunch of different spears for their hunt. The youngest brother was the only one to survive hunting Beaver.”
“They ever actually catch it?” Slade said as they passed a rusted-out bathtub and a brick wall plastered with old-fashioned Victorian-style advertising posters.
“Yes. The youngest wolf brother killed Beaver and cut it into eleven pieces that made up eleven of the tribes and used the blood to create the twelfth. Then he gave a piece to each of the animal people and had them scatter the bits of Beaver flesh and breathe life into them then showed the new human being what to do and what to eat.”
He opened a door, holding it for her as they branched off down another hallway, this one without the small glass blocks in the ceiling. The hall was narrow enough that they could no longer walk side by side. “Sounds like your typical creation myth,” he said as he stepped in front of her, leading the way.
Now the only view she had was his broad back encased in a black leather jacket and his tight butt in black camo fatigues. Not that she was complaining. It was an exceptionally great view. But if Slade was who she thought he might be in the legends, then this was the hardest part to tell him.
“It is. But here’s the other part of it. The youngest wolf brother is our great grandfather, the one who brought us to life. And in times of trouble the ancestors return—those large wolves, Weres, shape-shifters, whatever you want to call them. The people will return to them, to become part of the ancestors and take on their powers.”
“What, like some kind of homing device or fail-safe?”
“Kind of, but not exactly. I think that whatever makes them able to shift is somehow dormant in our DNA. The virus you mentioned must somehow activate it. That must be why Robbie hasn’t returned if he went to them.”
That didn’t make Slade feel any better about the situation. All it meant was there was another damn variable he couldn’t calculate, and when it came to blowing stuff apart, like this weird situation with the shifters, it was all about the proper calculations. “Well, there’s only one person I know of who might have a clue if that’s true. Dr. Chamberlin.”
“Dr. Chamberlin?”
“My commander’s wife, Rebecca Chamberlin. She’s a superbrain about genetics and DNA and all that. She’ll be able to tell us if this is possible and maybe figure out a way to stop it.”
“I don’t know if you can stop it.” Even Raina heard the worried edge to her own voice.
He slowed his steps and glanced over his shoulder at her. “What do you mean?”
“Well, there’s this prophecy that one day would come a warrior not of the people, but born to the ancestors all the same. He’d be the one to end the line of the Whisperers and would come to rule both the ancestors and our people.”
The odd, faraway look in her eyes made an uncomfortable swish in the pit of his stomach. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
She broke eye contact with him. Another bad sign. “I think that’s something you should take up with your commander if he hasn’t already briefed you.”
A cold sense of dread sluiced down Slade’s back. Damn. Double damn. This was why he didn’t like cops. They knew what was coming, but were always waiting for you to fall into it, and then slap you for it.
He spun, blocking the hallway. It wasn’t that hard—his shoulder almost reached wall to wall in the narrow confines and she didn’t know her way back. She was trapped. “Why don’t you just save me the time and tell me yourself. Obviously you know something I don’t.”
“It’s just a guess. I don’t know anything for sure,” she hedged.
Slade crossed his arms. “But it’s a good hunch. Good enough that Achilles believed you.” The air around him spiked with the angry smell of pepper.
Raina bit her lip and nodded.
“Hit me.”
“We think you may be part Were.”
Chapter 10
The news was like a sucker punch to the solar plexus. Hard, deep, and if he’d been mortal, stealing his ability to breathe. “What the fu— Are you serious?” Slade rubbed a hand over his sternum and leaned against the wall of the hallway, letting the brick hold him up. “A shifter. You think I’m part shifter?”
They were twenty-five feet, maybe less, from the drab olive-green door leading to the security center, but suddenly it felt like hundreds of yards away. He saw the light of hope flare in Raina’s eyes when she spied the door.
“I really think you ought to talk to your commander about this.”
“Damn straight.” He sprang into a stride, a sickening mix of adrenaline, fear, anger and uncertainty pumping hard through him.
Slade marched the rest of distance down the hallway and slammed open the door to the security center. The head of every security officer sitting at a monitor or cleaning their weapon snapped up at the abrupt intrusion.
“Where’s Achilles?” Slade said, the raw edge to his voice making his fellow security officers Titus, Mikhail and James tense. They traded looks with one another.
What the hell, man? Titus’s voice echoed in Slade’s head. Sometimes he hated the fact that he could hear them communicating, especially when they were all in the same room together. At one time, when he’d just transformed from Shyeld, he thought it was very cool. It had made him feel like he really belonged to the clan. Now, with all the emotion swirling in his gut it was a pain in his ass.
I don’t know. Maybe his assignment was worse than it seems, Mikhail answered.
Nah. I mean, come on, look at her, she’s hot, James said with a little too much interest for Slade’s taste.
“The commander’s due back in five,” said James, his brilliant blue gaze roving over Raina. His mouth broke into a wide smile, showing off his fangs. “Hey, did you bring us lunch?”
An insane desire to clip James in the jaw streaked across his mind. Slade resisted it. “Can it, Crawford. This is Officer Ravenwing. We’re on an investigation op and we need to talk to the commander ASAP about the Wenatchee Pack.”
That sobered everyone up quick. A dark spiral of smoke formed into kick-ass Doc Marten boots, military fatigues and the broad shoulders of his commander. “What about them?” Achilles said. “I didn’t expect you back so soon. Have you finished assisting Officer Ravenwing with her case?”
“We need to talk. Alone. Sir,” he added as an afterthought, realizing how forceful his tone had become. He nodded at the other vampires on the security team.
“Clear out.” Achilles didn’t even have to look at the others before they vanished in spirals of smoky particles. He did a quick survey of the room. “I assume you’re okay with Ravenwing staying?”
Slade nodded.
Achilles crossed his thick arms. “What happened?”
Slade glanced at Raina. She nodded, giving him the go-ahead to tell the story. “We went to the farm where the young man was reported missing. I scented Were presence on the place and we tracked it up the mountain. In the morning—”
Achilles furrowed his brow slightly and held up a hand. “In the morning? Why didn’t you just keep tracking?” He glanced at Raina. “Were you too tired to continue, Officer?”
“No, sir,” she replied, her chin tilted upward, her hands clasped behind her back, feet braced apart in a militarylike stance Slade could appreciate and loathed at the same. She wasn’t the pushover he’d originally thought her to be, but she was still every inch a cop at the moment. “Mr. Donovan fell ill.”
Achilles shifted his gaze back to Slade and he arched a single golden brow. “Fell ill?”
“Moon sickness, sir,” Slade said quickly.
Achilles narrowed his green eyes. “How ill?”
“The usua—”
“He passed out cold,” Raina cut in.
Achilles fixated his entire attention on Raina. “How long was he out?”
“About six hours.”
“Six?” Achilles raked his hand through his blond hair, making it stand up in tufts and spikes. “This is far worse than we anticipated.”
“What the hell did you anticipate?” Slade interrupted.
“I think Doc can answer that for you better than I,” Achilles returned. He closed his eyes and Slade knew he was mentally communicating with his wife. Beside Achilles appeared another dark curl of particles that formed into a woman with curly chestnut hair, a pair of thick black-rimmed safety glasses on her heart-shaped face and a long white lab coat over her jeans and T-shirt.
“Glad to see you made it back in one piece,” she said to Slade. She turned to Raina. “You’re the game warden, Officer Ravenwing, right? I’m Dr. Rebecca Chamberlin.” She held out a hand.
Raina shook it, but her expression turned pensive, as if she didn’t want to hear whatever it was Dr. Chamberlin had to say. A sense of dread clamped down hard on Slade’s gut, cutting it with cold, painful teeth. “Achilles says you know what’s wrong with me.”
Dr. Chamberlin looked at him, a flicker of interest in her eyes as if she were examining him under some damn microscope. “We believe the moon sickness you’ve been experiencing is symptomatic of exposure to the Were virus at some time in your past.”
“I’ve never been bit,” Slade protested.
“You’re sure? Our records show that you didn’t remember anything of your life before being introduced into the clan in the Shyeld training program. Is that true?” she asked.
Slade gave one nod in answer, but his mind filled with the first terrifying memories of waking up alone in Seattle, an eight-year-old with a torn-up foot. He was ten before the clan had brought him in off the streets.
“Then how can you possibly know what happened before you came here?”
“How do you know it’s Were virus?” he shot back.
“Blood samples. You didn’t think we took those for your physicals just for fun, did you? There’s a form of the virus in your system, but for some reason it hasn’t activated fully yet.”
Slade speared his commander with a glare. “Are you telling me you knew about this? You knew I was part Were?”
Achilles jerked his head in Raina’s direction. “She’s the one who brought the intel to us about your mother’s connections to the Wenatchee Pack. That’s the first time we made the connection to it being the Were virus. We knew it was circulating in your system, we just didn’t know what the virus was until she connected the dots.”
Slade swiveled his blistering gaze in her direction. “At any time up on that damn mountain, did you think that maybe you ought to share this with me?”
She’d closed herself off behind her uniform. “Your commander determined it was need-to-know information—”
“And you thought I didn’t need to effing know?”
Achilles growled. “You don’t have to like it, Donovan. But you do have to abide by my decisions—otherwise, there’s the door.”
Slade swore under his breath. There was no way he wanted to jeopardize his place in the clan, but damned if he didn’t feel every inch the outsider, just like he did his first year as a Shyeld in training. He’d busted his ass to prove his worth and now it was all slipping through his fingers like sand.
He glanced at his commander. It didn’t make sense. Why, if they knew he was part Were, would they have allowed him access to the clan in the first place? “How is this even possible? I’m a vampire. I’ve already transitioned. I can’t be Were and a vampire at the same time, can I?”
“Under the right conditions, anything is possible,” Dr. Chamberlin said. “You just happened to hit the genetic lottery. An untransitioned Were made into a vampire. You must have been young enough that
the Were virus was still dormant when you began taking the vampire ichor treatments as a Shyeld. From what I’ve been able to piece together, the Were virus is different from the vampire virus. It won’t activate until after puberty, but the ichor would have arrested its development.”
Slade thought about it. The wound on his foot had healed by the time Achilles had found him. He’d been recruited to be a Shyeld at twelve, far younger than the others because Achilles said he showed promise. He caught Achilles’s serious gaze. “You didn’t know any of this until after you’d already converted me. Did you?”
Achilles didn’t have to say a word. His eyes told Slade everything he needed to know. “We knew nothing about your background until Officer Ravenwing brought us copies of your birth records and information about the tribe. Then there were some suspicions. Kaycee, your mother, had come to us seeking refuge. We didn’t realize at the time of her transition that she was pregnant.”
“Wait. Are you telling me my mother was some normal chick who got knocked up by a Were, then ditched him and became a vampire while she was pregnant?”
Dr. Chamberlin pulled her glasses off her face, folding them in her hands. “That’s one way of putting it. We knew you had traces of vampire virus in your system when you came to us as a child. It’s one reason you were selected to be a Shyeld.”
Slade plowed his fingers through his hair, gripping the back of his skull. “Why the hell didn’t anybody tell me that?”
“You didn’t need to know,” Achilles answered simply.
Slade pointed a finger at him. “I’m getting pretty damn tired of that being a pat answer for everyone screwing with my life around here.”
Dr. Chamberlin put a hand on Slade’s arm. “Once we found out about the Were virus we didn’t know precisely what might happen to you, given the unusual mix of genetic material swirling around in your body. We were being cautious, waiting to see if you were going to transition fully or remain vampire.”
The Half-Breed Vampire Page 10