by Josie Hunter
“I’ll be better,” Robb said, “if you tell me you have a plan because I’m not going to fit through that window.”
* * * *
“Planning is what I do best,” Stephanie grumbled. “But I usually manage without so many witnesses.”
Robb stepped toward the group, keeping a cautious eye on the huge jackrabbit-shifter. He looked a bit unpredictable.
She pulled a backpack off her shoulder, and her comrade-in-arms began to dig through it, removing more rope, a knife that Stephanie shoved into her boot, a hacksaw that she clipped to her belt, and some tools. The bag still bulged with provisions unknown. They’d come prepared. The man shoved the Dumpster aside and got to work removing the window while Robb and his cohorts stood around like cannon fodder.
“Keep a lookout,” she said. “And find some way to divert the people in the club. I can’t guarantee this is going to be quiet.”
Damn, the girl was bossy. He liked her.
* * * *
Rosa became aware of a noise above her head, somewhere near where the dismal light filtered in. She heard the murmur of voices, the sounds different from some of the others she’d heard from the window before. These voices sounded comforting, familiar. She also heard a loud scrape then a metallic noise, something she associated with tools. She tried to concentrate, but it was so hard. She slipped back to sleep where it was quiet and safe.
* * * *
Steve and Marcus headed back to the side street. Though after midnight, in a city like New Orleans chaos still reigned and quite a few people roamed the streets. Most were in various stages of drunkenness, but the time for subterfuge had long passed. They needed to make their move and just hope no one got caught in the crossfire.
“I’m ready for my close-up, Mr. DeMille,” Steve murmured.
He clenched his fists then raced through the door to Coral’s, barreling past the doorman, a big, beefy guy—probably another bull-shifter. The bull tried to grab him, shouting a nice collection of profanities in several different languages. As he lunged toward Steve, Marcus plowed into the man’s stomach, knocking the guy back to allow Steve clear sailing. The two men ended up in a heap on the floor, and Steve was happy to see Marcus, though not as big, was clearly hyped up enough to keep the bull on the ground.
The music coming from the small stage died with the screech of a bow across the bass, and the room settled into a deadly silence. Standing at the microphone, Coral went stock-still.
“Where the fuck is that son of a bitch!” Steve roared.
He stood in the center of the room, eyeing the patrons with deadly menace. They all sat frozen in their little chairs, some with glasses raised halfway to their mouths, staring at him as though he’d fallen through the ceiling from another planet—a very loud and uncouth planet. Most stared at him with dignified, though horrified, gazes.
“Where is that worthless sack of shit?” He stomped across the room and lunged over the bar. He grabbed the nearest bartender by his shirt. The other guy dropped his bar cloth and wisely slid backward.
Behind him, he heard a punch land, but he couldn’t worry about whose nose had been smashed in. Hopefully not Marcus’s. A table overturned and crashed to the floor as the two men continued to roll. Several patrons cried out before slithering to the other side of the room looking for an exit.
“If you don’t tell me,” Steve said, yanking the man’s face as close as he could, “I’m going to send this place to hell and send a few of you with it.”
The man’s eyes widened, but snake-shifters were hard to intimidate. “If you don’t tell me a name, sir, I can’t help you.”
“Miguel Santos, you moron,” Steve growled. “The owner of this fucking place. Unless you’re the conniving bastard sleeping with my wife. I tracked her here.”
“N–No, sir…it’s not me.” The man shook his head, the dark hair around his handsome face swaying across his features like a dark curtain. Steve saw the wheels spinning in the man’s head, as he probably wondered which bitch happened to be this crazy man’s wife.
“So, if it’s not you, it’s Santos,” Steve snarled. “It sure as fuck wouldn’t be the first time, but it ends now.” He shoved the man away, slammed his fist on the bar, and shouted, “Where the fuck is he?”
Jesus, how long before the cops arrive?
New Orleans had its share of altercations, but serpent-shifters generally had beaucoup power, and their call would go to the front of the line. As he continued to interrogate the bartender, he was aware of patrons sneaking from the bar. He was glad to get rid of both witnesses and potential victims, but how long could he hold their attention?
One thought kept rolling though his head. Is this everyone? Or have we missed someone?
* * * *
“Jesus Christ,” Raptor said, looking up at the ceiling. “What the hell is that racket? It sounds like someone’s trying to tear the place apart.”
“Go check,” Talon said as he unlocked the door to the dank storeroom. “I’ve got to get the specimens.”
“Not a good idea. I’ll watch the hall.”
“Fuck, brother, if there’s trouble, someone’s got to keep people from coming down here. Do you want to explain to Santos how we let people into the cellar?”
Raptor blew out a heavy breath, dropped the shirt he was holding, and began to stomp toward the staircase.
Talon pushed the heavy door open and stepped into the room just in time to see a small shadow rappelling down the wall from the window. He quietly put the tray on the table and waited until the tiny woman had landed on the floor.
“Can I help you with something?” he asked.
She whirled around, and her hand snatched at something in her boot. A knife. How adorable. She was so small he was pretty sure he could knock her into the wall with his little finger. He probably should have done just that, but something in her dark eyes kept him where he was. The girl put her back against the wall and began to slowly inch her way along the floor.
Rosa Santos moaned, and Talon watched as the girl’s face snapped in the direction of the soft noise.
“So, it’s a rescue mission then?” Talon asked.
“Just stay where you are.”
“You going to stop me with that little knife?” Talon asked with a laugh.
“Maybe.” The girl tilted her face and studied him. “Maybe not.”
Her gaze lifted up, and Talon followed the direction. A shadow skimmed across the empty window casement like a bug on a still pond. Talon caught a glimpse of a small crossbow pointed in his direction. Depending on the skill of the hand that held it, a shot might kill him, and it might not. He decided not to provoke the guy but not because he was afraid to take a hit.
He listened to the altercation above. The sounds of shouting and furniture being knocked around filtered down the stairs and wound down the hall like echoes of another time. He was more than a little sick of this shit.
He watched quietly as the girl hunkered down beside Rosa and began to feel over the woman’s body with her free hand, looking for serious injuries no doubt. “I’m here to help,” she cooed.
Rosa made a sound, possibly some words, but Talon had no idea what they were.
Something fell from the window and landed in a heap on the floor. While the young woman went to retrieve it, Talon figured out it was a harness. The chick had thought of everything. She got to work picking the lock on the handcuffs and made quick work of them. Man, she was good.
“How’d you know she was here?” Talon asked.
“Detective work,” the girl said.
“You don’t look like a detective. You look like a high school girl.”
“Everyone’s a critic in this damn town.” The girl didn’t spare him a glance. She grabbed the harness and began to strap his captive into it.
“Not criticizing. Just pointing out the obvious. Were you a cheerleader? You look like you would have been a cheerleader. Cute and perky. I’ve always liked cheerleaders. Of course,
as you can imagine, they haven’t always liked me.”
She laughed. It wasn’t quite what he’d been expecting, but he liked the sound of it.
He waited a few seconds while she snapped the buckles then hooked her arms around Rosa’s armpits and started to drag her beneath the window. Talon listened intently for his brother’s return. The sounds of the fight seemed to be fading. “Better hurry with that. My partner will be back any minute, and he’s not going to be a happy camper.”
She’d just hooked the harness to the rope when the door slammed completely open, smashing into the opposite wall and rattling the table and his medical supplies. The girl gave a yank on the harness, and Rosa Santos began to slide up the wall just as Raptor charged into the room like a raging bull. He lunged toward the little cheerleader, and as Talon was about to grab him, a bolt split the shadowy darkness and slammed into his brother. Raptor’s body flew into the air and hurled backward to hit the brick wall with a thud that actually vibrated through the room.
Raptor’s eyes widened, and instantly his mouth began to froth with bubbles of blood. “T–Talon…h–help me.”
“No can do, bro.” Talon shook his head, filled with both relief and sadness. “You’re gone, bro. Too damn far gone. I knew it when I saw you, but I still…” He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I wanted it to be different, but it’s time.”
His brother clutched at the arrow in his chest, trying desperately to draw it out even as his fingers became slick with blood. His terrified eyes lifted to Talon’s. “P–Please…T–Talon.”
The rope descended, and the girl was getting ready to climb out of the cellar, but her gaze remained locked on them.
“Sorry, Rap.” Talon gripped the arrow. “This isn’t how I wanted it to end.”
Before he could think, before he could feel, he slammed the arrow as hard and as far as he could. Raptor cried out, the most horrible sound Talon had ever heard.
“F–Fly fast, brother.” Blood bubbled out of his mouth like a horrible wet rope. “Sh–shoo, bird. Get outta my t–tree.” His brother tried once more to talk, but his voice got lost in the gurgle of the blood. His eyes closed as his last breath wheezed from his chest.
Talon whirled around. The girl was halfway up the wall.
“Wait!”
The girl paused, obviously feeling secure enough in her accomplice’s skill with that crossbow.
“I have something you’ll need. Something for her.”
She seemed to consider his words, and then she dropped to the floor. He raced into the hallway and grabbed Raptor’s shirt. He furiously dug through the pockets until he found the vials. He walked back toward her slowly, holding them out at arm’s length.
“Her shifting ability has been compromised by daily doses of some chemical.”
“What kind? Who’s done—”
“No!” He put up his other hand. “No questions or no antidote.”
“Okay.” The girl held out her hand, and he dropped the vials into her palm.
“One dose should work, but there are extras if there are complications.”
She stuffed the vials into her cleavage then wrapped her hand around the rope. The girl’s gaze shifted to Raptor slumped against the wall. “That was your twin.” She sounded almost sad.
“Yeah, but we were really nothing alike,” Talon said. He yanked on the rope. “Now get the fuck out of here.”
She began to ascend the wall as someone tugged on the rope. She stared at him until hands pulled her through the window and she vanished.
He willed his shimmer and flew out into the hallway, leaving the prison room behind. Hopefully, with the freedom of the sky and wind, he could find forgetfulness and some fucking peace. First stop, his aerie in the Appalachians. Cool wonderful air. Mountains of solitude. His own city in the sky. He hadn’t been home in forever. He planned to take his brother’s final advice and fly away fast.
* * * *
Robb took her unconscious body into his arms and held her close. His beautiful lover. She was so cold, so still, a mere shell of the woman he loved. But he’d bring her back to health. They would all bring her back. He just needed to get her home.
He lifted her into his arms as he heard the first wail of the sirens. They fled the alley and rounded the corner just as Steve and Marcus came running from the door of Coral’s. They’d started away from Bourbon Street when a woman’s voice split the night.
“Wait! Morgan! Take me with you.”
Robb turned to see a woman wearing a long red dress running toward them. “Who’s Morgan?”
“I am,” Steve said with a shrug. “That’s Coral, the singer in the club.”
She continued to run toward them, practically tripping in her stilettos. She came to a halt in front of them, breathing hard. Robb saw tears running down her cheeks.
“I can’t stay there any longer. Please.”
“What do you think?” Robb glanced between Steve and Stephanie.
“According to my research,” Stephanie said, “she’s an innocent, but—”
“We should take her word for it,” Marcus said. “She’s damn good at what she does.”
“Agreed,” Robb said, shifting Rosa tighter against his body. He nodded toward Coral. “Help her along, Steve.”
Stephanie led them down a warren of narrow side streets to a black SUV parked in the driveway of a private home. They all piled into the vehicle, and just as they sped away, the street beneath them began to rumble and shake. Robb clutched Rosa tighter as the night around them lit up like a fireworks display.
Robb pulled Rosa even closer to his body and glanced behind him to stare out the back window of the SUV. Suddenly they were driving in the brilliance of day as the fireball exploded behind them, rising into the sky in a firestorm of destruction. The night crackled in a kaleidoscope of colorful light as lightning-fast splashes of red, yellow, and orange filled the night one after the other, followed by a plume of dense black smoke that chased them down like a demon shadow. Robb pushed Rosa farther down into the seat and splayed his body on top of her.
Rusty held the wheel as best he could, but the concussive blast knocked them off the street, and they hit a post. Everyone jolted in their seats, and Stephanie cried out as her head hit the windshield. Marcus and Steve slid sideways, and Coral slammed into the side door, the weight of two men nearly crushing her slender frame. One of the men swore, and the smell of blood permeated the air. Rusty slammed the vehicle into reverse and peeled out in a shower of sparks.
Even in the excitement of their escape, Robb became aware of the one thing he’d been hoping for since they’d pulled Rosa out through that window. Rosa’s respirations had increased and the heartbeat beneath his chest was beating stronger, more regularly.
“Robb?” Her quiet voice reached his ears above the roar of the fire behind them and the screech of the bent U-joint trying to get them a little farther from the chaos.
When he looked down, her eyes were open. Not quite lucid, but open and seeing him. “Hi, Rosie.”
“You came for me.”
“Always, baby, always.” He tugged her against him as her eyes closed again, his heart hammering a grateful rhythm in his chest.
“Nice driving, Rusty,” Steve said. “But I wouldn’t have hit that pole.”
“Fuck you,” Rusty said, but there was no malice in it. Robb thought he heard a chuckle in the man’s voice.”
“Everyone okay?” Marcus asked. “Spygirl, you okay up there?”
Stephanie dabbed at her head with something she pulled from her bag of tricks. “I’ll live.”
“Was that your handiwork back there?” Marcus asked, laughing.
“No, but I was ready for any contingency,” Stephanie said. She sighed heavily. “Now, can we go back to Catamount? I am so sick of New Orleans.”
Chapter 14
Rosa woke slowly to the sound of voices. Her head had been stuffed with cobwebs, her tongue felt like sandpaper, and her entire body ached. Sh
e was also a bit chilly. She’d definitely woken up feeling better every other day of her life. She started to sit up, and memories slammed through her, spiraling in a vortex of pain, fear, and desolation.
But beyond those terrible feelings, her serpent coiled, waiting patiently for her to wake up.
Oh, my little friend.
The serpent slithered toward her, wrapping around her thoughts, calming her emotions, giving her back the part of herself she’d lost for…how long? It had seemed like centuries of torment.
“She’s awake.”
She cracked her eyelids against the bright light, only to discover the brilliance came from a small bedside lamp. She was in her old room at Cattail, and shadows drifted toward her like comforting dreams. The scent of flowers was nearly overwhelming, and when she squinted and glanced around, she saw the room was filled with flowers. She also saw a very welcome face.
“Hi, Rosie.”
“Oh, Robb.” Tears pricked her eyes, and before she could stop them, they slid down her cheeks in wondrous warmth. “How…where…”
He pressed a finger against her lips. “There’s plenty of time for talk later. Just get better.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
“Not good enough, Jackson.”
She reached out and clutched at his shirt, yanking him down as hard as she could, though she felt as weak as a kitten. His mouth slammed into hers, and the warmth of his mouth was a balm to her soul.
“Hey there, sugar. How ya feeling?”
Steve’s face came into view. She tugged on a length of his hair, and he came toward her with a smile, kissing her gently then standing back to make way for Marcus. He hovered back for a moment as though afraid to hurt her.
“Come here, Marco. That’s an order.” She tried to smile, but every muscle, even the smile ones, felt weak.
She saw the tears in his eyes before his head dipped toward hers. His kiss was as sweet as key lime pie.