He was silent; he did know it. It was who she was, and why he loved her.
“And who will rule in your absence?” he finally asked.
Selena covered one of his hands with her own. “You know that too.” He started to shake his head, and she stilled him with a look. “You will rule as I did, with my wishes in mind. I trust you to do so. You may not feel fit to rule, but you alone know my heart. There is no other. You won’t be alone; Telly owes us allegiance and protection. He might be mad, but he has honor. The jaguars would not strategically attack a kingdom with Telly at its helm.”
He nodded; she was right, of course. “What of you?”
“I can protect myself. You three,” she glanced up at David and Brom, who were listening though their eyes roved the room. “You are here for Tiala and Nysh, who cannot protect themselves. It is imperative we get them out.” David and Brom glanced down at her, a brief meeting of gazes, but their eyes spoke volumes. They were committed.
Rigo’s attention abruptly left her, his entire body going taut. Frowning, Selena followed his gaze to the door.
A small plain man held the door open for a group of suits walking in. Selena’s eyes narrowed. They weren’t shapechangers, but they had a strangeness to them. They moved easily into the crowd, looking like any other bunch of guys meeting up after work for a drink at one of the rowdier bars in the area, and yet they set Selena’s teeth on edge. Rigo’s, too, by the look on his face.
Wait, no — not all the men looked normal. A huge one stepped through the door last, sweeping the interior of the Roadhouse with an almost sleepy gaze, eyes heavy and hooded beneath low, thick brows. If it weren’t for the calm demeanor, Selena would have picked him for the bodyguard type.
She shot Rigo a questioning look and he shrugged. Selena didn’t like it. Like most of the ancients of her kind, she didn’t believe much in coincidence. Something about the newcomers seriously ruffled her feathers.
Her second in command’s voice brought her head around, snapped her out of her brooding.
“If Seshua denies the wish for dominion over our kingdom,” Rigo was saying, “then he can’t justify the capture of our wards, or the exchange of you for them. He may let us all go.” He tried to keep his voice neutral, but there was a thin thread of hope in it. Selena shrugged, closed her eyes.
“Perhaps,” she conceded, “But we can’t count on—” Her eyes snapped open and her gaze fell unerringly on the strange newcomers to the bar. As though he could feel the weight of it, one of them — a tall, sophisticated looking blond — turned to meet her stare.
His face was empty, and his eyes weren’t human.
Selena forced herself to look away.
“Rigo,” she hissed, turning her face into the warmth of his neck to hide the shock and recognition there. “What are their kind doing here?”
“Their kind?” Suddenly his frown smoothed out, eyes going wide. “Dear gods.” He wrapped a protective arm around his queen. He turned his face to hers to say something else, but a familiar sound cut him off.
“The phone,” he said, gaze flicking up to David. The boy already had the cell phone out in his hand, ringtone barely audible beneath the noise of the Roadhouse. David frowned down at it.
“Unknown number.” He met Selena’s eyes before he answered it. “Harpies. Who is this?”
His face went from grave to white as he listened. His eyes never left the queen.
“Yes, yes,” he murmured into the small phone. “Hush. She is here.” He handed the phone to Selena, leaning down, pressing his mouth so close to her ear his lips vibrated against the sensitive skin.
“It’s the girls,” he whispered. “They are free.”
Alan’s focus narrowed down to the striking dark haired woman. He shut out every shred of sensory input save for her: her voice, and the voice of whoever it was she was speaking to. He glanced away, eyes unseeing, so she would think he had turned his attention away.
“Alan? What —” Robert cut himself off when he sensed what Alan was doing. He took his master’s elbow and carried on with the charade, pretending along with the other members of their backup team that they were taking a look around the bar, waiting to order drinks and searching for a free table. Vahan picked up on their tension; nothing about him outwardly changed, and he didn’t move fast, but a second later he was shadowing Alan, making it look casual.
Alan let himself be led. He felt Robert’s mind probing at his as Robert tried to see what had caught his attention, and he didn’t resist; the less he had to explain, the better.
The woman and the female she spoke to conversed in a mix of Spanish and Nahuatl; Alan made up for the words he missed with telepathy. “Where are you? How did —”
“Hiding, we ran and hid, Telly freed us and told us to wait but —”
“Where is he? He left you?”
“The girl, the girl was in trouble. He told us to wait and hide and he’d come back but he — we — what if —”
“It’s okay, hush, I understand. You are both whole and safe?”
“Yes yes, yes —”
“Where are you?”
“Crawlspace.”
“Safe?”
“Yes, yes —”
“Stay there. You have to stay there — hush a moment.” The woman’s thoughts plunged, whirling, despair and rapid mental calculation warring with each other. She wanted the girls to stay somewhere safe and wait for her to get them out, but she doubted the chances now of the king showing her wards mercy. They had escaped and run. Would the king punish them simply to spite Telly’s interference?
“Mama, we can —”
“Hush!” Selena looked at her male companion, eyes wide and devastated. She was torn.
“Mama! I tell you, we can get out.” There was a tough resolve in the girl’s voice that made Selena pause.
“What do you mean?”
“The sanctuary guards are all over the place, something happened. Place is deserted, not even ocelot maidens around. If we can sneak up to the big room before the stairs and get past the guards there —”
“It’s too dangerous, they’ll just grab you and —”
“If we change, we can fly over them. Big chamber. Lots of room. One of us can change back, easy to open the door from the inside — not from the outside, but from the inside, easy. Right?”
“You are right.” Selena knew it. The antechamber at the foot of the stairs that descended from the Roadhouse to the underground temple wasn’t designed to hold prisoners unguarded. The door was impossible to breach from the outside, but from inside the antechamber…
Selena thought furiously, mind racing, completely unguarded. Alan listened to her thoughts just as easily as he did the conversation.
“You’d never get past the guards topside.” But if the guards weren’t there… “If we could create a diversion up here, then you may get through.” Selena’s face turned hopeful for an instant before she frowned, her eyes pained. “No, it will never work. We cannot challenge the jaguars; if we do, you’ll simply be killed when you emerge, if we live through the fight ourselves. I’m sorry Nysh, we can’t do it, it’s too dangerous—”
Robert, following his master’s thoughts, interrupted Alan’s concentration. My lord , he said in Alan’s mind, would you risk trying to penetrate the sanctuary?
Alan met his eyes. Perhaps . We have enough backup surrounding this place. They could attempt our retrieval, come in a second wave. Our initial attack would take out at least half the security in the bar. With our minds together, we could communicate enough to give them the advantage we won’t have.
Our odds would be mediocre at best , said Robert.
Alan smiled. Do you need much more?
Robert shook his head.
Nysh was talking, but Selena had ceased to hear her. Her gaze lifted.
“Nysh, wait a minute. Trust me flower, just a moment.” Selena’s attention shifted away from the phone in her hand, to the tall blond man picking his way
through the crowd towards her. David and Brom stiffened behind her. Rigo curled one foot around the front legs of Selena’s seat and pushed her away from the table, so his body was in front of hers, eyes never wavering from the approaching stranger.
Alan stopped in front of their table, hands by his sides, face pleasantly blank. He pitched his voice low for their ears alone. “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation,” he said slowly, and Selena’s heartbeat trebled and began to hammer against her chest. She knew he could hear it, knew it sang to him.
Slowly, slowly he leaned forward and put his long, manicured hands on the tabletop. “Please, do not be afraid. I think that we can help each other.”
22
Selena ground her teeth together, clamping down on the avian shriek of warning that threatened to leap from her throat. Instinct demanded she take to the air screaming, defending her brood. Instead she gripped the phone tighter in her left hand and put her right hand on Rigo’s leg, gaze riveted to the pale-eyed stranger. Eyes the color of sand, and so still. The big man moved up behind him, but Selena was no longer fooled; the blond posed the true threat.
“Who are you?” Her voice was low and steady.
He lifted his chin and met her stare from beneath dark lashes. “My name is Alan,” he said, voice clear and cultured, empty as no shapechanger’s voice could ever be. “Yours is Selena, and the girl on the phone is called Nysh, and I know it in the same way I could know almost anything about you should I care to. But,” he paused, eyes narrowing, nostrils flaring. “I have no wish to offer you violence. I overheard your conversation, and I’d like to propose a deal. A profitable partnership.” Alan straightened and pulled a chair up to the small table, folding himself into it comfortably.
Selena’s heart beat faster than most shapechangers’ hearts were capable of, her body urging her to change and gore Alan’s pale eyes out of his attractive face. And if she thought she’d stand a chance, she would, but his people outnumbered hers — and they weren’t shapechangers. She hadn’t fought his kind in a long time, and now was not the time for a refresher course.
“What if I’m not interested,” she said. “In anything you have to offer.” She was grateful for the silence over her cell phone. The girls would wait for her, because she had told them to.
Alan frowned at her, folding his hands in his lap. “What if,” he said softly, his voice like glass against the inside of her head, “I don’t give you a choice?”
Rigo’s thigh muscle jumped beneath Selena’s fingers. She gave him a squeeze and he stilled, but the change sang through him, like a storm contained just beneath his skin. She could feel Brom and David behind her, the same; humming. People had unconsciously begun to move away from their table. Selena had to do something, or they would be noticed.
She took a deep breath and as she let it out, willed Rigo to relax. She closed her eyes, slowing her heart rate. She willed her own beast to stillness, knowing it would slow the collective pulse of the others.
She opened her eyes and fixed them on Alan. She didn’t even need to speak. He leaned forward.
“You need a diversion, a distraction, and we need a way into the sanctuary.” Alan nodded as Selena’s eyes widened. “Yes,” he said. “We’re here for her. For the girl. And it’s none of your concern. If your girls can get us into the sanctuary, open the door from the inside for us, then we can guarantee every guard in this godforsaken place will be looking elsewhere when you escape with them.”
“How?” Selena had already noted the bulky look of Alan’s body beneath his tailored suit, and had a bad feeling she knew exactly how. “We are not warriors,” she bit out. “We can’t challenge the jaguars, and I won’t risk my people in pointless combat. My girls are just as screwed if we die up here.”
“You will not have to fight,” said Alan, leaning forward. “My men and I will position ourselves near the exits leading to the rear rooms of the Roadhouse, and once I have established contact with your girls, we will —”
“What will you do if I refuse?” Selena interrupted quietly.
The big man behind Alan broke into a slow, dazzling smile, eyes still hooded and lazy and without a shred of humanity. Alan cocked his head, studying Selena, managing to look blank and thoughtful at the same time. “If you refuse, I will turn this Roadhouse into a slaughterhouse,” he said reasonably. “And lay the blame at your feet, Harpy Queen.”
Selena’s beast flared hot against her insides. She took her hand away from Rigo, anger threatening her control. “Nysh,” she spoke into her cell phone, voice tight. “You’re calling from a cell, aren’t you flower?”
“Yes, mama. Mama, are you —”
“It’s all right. Nysh, I’m going to need you girls to do something for me, okay? Can you hold on just a minute more?” She barely heard Nysh’s reply. Her voice was brittle when she addressed Alan again. “You want them to call you when they get past the door to the antechamber, don’t you?”
Alan raised an eyebrow. “That won’t be necessary. They’ll be close enough to the surface for me to contact them directly, if I establish a rapport with them now.” Selena blinked. Her heart fell. Alan held his hand out to her. “Give me the phone please.”
Selena hesitated. “Nysh,” she murmured, “There’s somebody here who needs to talk to you.” She met Alan’s eyes. “And Tiala, he’ll need to talk to her too.” She put the phone in Alan’s long-fingered hands, beast recoiling, clawing at her bones.
“Nysh,” Alan said, voice gone rich with hypnotic command. “Is your sister listening?” His Spanish was perfect. His eyes narrowed in something close to pleasure. “Good, good. You will respond to me when I call. When you reach the final door, you will wait for me. You will do as I ask of you. That is all I want. Tell me.” He was silent a moment. “Very good. Here, your mama wants to talk to you some more.”
He handed the phone back. Selena raised it to her ear, could hear Tiala singing faintly. “Mama?” Nysh sounded calm.
“Yes flower?”
“We’re going to get to the surface. Just like the nice man wants us to. Aren’t we?”
Selena ground her teeth.
“Yes, flower.”
Three tables away, a big man with red-blond hair, a face like a truck and a barrel chest that strained against his motorcycle vest tore his gaze from the exchange between Selena and Alan, leaned back in his chair, and swore under his breath. He rubbed a huge hand across deep brown eyes, pinched the crooked bridge of his nose.
“Yo Red, what’s up?” The grizzled man at his right leaned forward, drink in hand, cocking a thick eyebrow. “You zoned out for a minute there, man.”
Red glanced at his friend. Henry hadn’t overheard the conversation between the Harpy Queen and her new friend. He didn’t even see them. Like every other ordinary shapechanger in the immediate vicinity, he had to know mind tricks were being used on him to stop it from happening, and with a subtle cloaking effect like this, it was unlikely. Red would have to point it out to him. And pointing it out would let the one who called himself Alan know.
“I need another drink,” Red told Henry, voice like a hacksaw on gravel. Raking his hand through his bristling crop of hair, he stood and began making his way through the press of the crowd to the bar, thinking furiously. How the fuck was he supposed to stop this from going down? A full house on a Friday night, the queen of the harpies blackmailed —
A pretty girl in denim bumped up against him, jerking him out of his thoughts. The girl stopped dead in his path when her eyes found his face. They widened when her gaze dropped down the length of him, drinking in the solid wall of muscle that was his body, stopping at his right shoulder and the place where an arm should have been, thick and huge to match his remaining left. His biker vest and the white tank underneath did nothing to hide the clusterfuck of scar tissue at his shoulder joint.
The girl swayed, blinking slowly. “What’s your name, tiger?” Alcohol slurred her words, but Red could see her dragging a deep lungfu
l of air, taking his scent, pulse quickening. Her gaze roved over his wreck of a face, darted to his shoulder and back again, anxiety and horrible fascination making her eyes go huge. But still her body lit up and leaned into his.
It was a reaction he was used to.
“The name ain’t tiger, that’s for sure,” he muttered and pushed her aside. Her sound of protest was lost to the noise of the bar as Red angled his huge frame in beside the other patrons waving for the attention of a bartender. He didn’t have to wave, just brought his one meaty hand down on the countertop and caught the eye of the harried kid pouring drinks, who rushed over.
“Wh-what’ll it be sir?”
Red dug a handful of bills out of a breast pocket and slapped them down. “Bourbon,” he rumbled at the kid. “No ice.”
Miraculously, the kid managed to get a pour of the amber stuff into the glass. “There you go,” he said with a nervous laugh, amber liquid sloshing as he handed Red the drink. Red grinned at him without humor and moved away, humid bodies parting for him. What the fuck were they doing, hiring kids to work Friday nights in a place like this? Sure, they were shapechangers, but they were still wet behind the ears. Red scanned the bar area, noting with disgust how young all of the bartenders were. How young a lot of the patrons were, for that matter. So many of them, innocent, ignorant, all probably going to get shot up tonight if he didn’t do something about it.
And he had to do something about it. Even if it meant using a mind trick or two of his own, a not so subtle push to get most of these idiots out of the Roadhouse — even if it meant warning the stinking jaguars about Alan’s plan.
He didn’t have to mention Selena. But he had to do something.
Telly would have his hide if he didn’t.
“Fuck it all to blazes.” He downed his drink. Looked like Red Sun was about to get involved after all.
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