Deadlock: Southern Arcana, Book 3

by Moira Rogers

  “Carmen, just come to dinner. Then say no, if you want.”

  Someone entered the lobby with enough roiling emotion to hit Carmen like a blow, and she bit her lip to hold back a pained moan. “Go sit, Miguel. I’ll be a while.”

  He started to argue, then caught sight of the young woman who’d walked into the clinic. She was almost as tall as Carmen, with spiky short hair that bore nearly every color in the rainbow.

  Her wide blue gaze darted around the room, skipping over Tara and only lingering for a heartbeat on Miguel before fixing on Carmen. “Franklin’s not here?”

  “No, I’m sorry.” She eased around the counter, taking care not to move too quickly. The girl had a swollen lip, and one eye was red and puffy, like she’d been hit. “I’m Carmen. Come in the back and sit down.”

  “It’s bad. It’s bad.” The girl tightened her grip on the strap of her bag until her knuckles turned white. “There’s a body. I mean, he’s not dead, but I didn’t know how long my stun gun could keep a shapeshifter down and I panicked and called Alec, and if Franklin’s not here to calm him down it’s going to be so bad. I should—I should go before he sees me…”

  Tara held the cordless phone in her hand. “Should I call someone?”

  The police or Franklin, the nurse could mean either—or both. “Not yet.” Carmen touched the girl’s shoulder and braced herself against the immediate jolt of emotion that ripped through her. “We can deal with your friend when he gets here. If not, I’ll page Franklin. He’ll hustle right over.”

  The girl laughed, and it sounded hysterical. “No one can deal with Alec Jacobson when someone he cares about just got punched in the face.”

  Carmen recognized the name. She was confident in her ability to handle almost anything, but a black-sheep alpha wolf with a questionable reputation might be beyond her. “All right. Tara, call Franklin. We’ll be in room three.”

  The girl let Carmen lead her down the hall to the last examination room on the right. Franklin had laid out a lot of money to have the room warded specifically for psychic magic, and that could be important once the girl’s shock began to wear off. “What’s your name, honey?”

  “Kat. Katherine. Katherine Gabriel. I—I have a file, I think. I need to go to the…” She trailed off as they stopped in front of the room, which she clearly recognized. “Yes. This one. You can tell I’m psychic?”

  “So am I.” Carmen started to reach for a gown, but thought better of it. “I can’t tell what kind, but I can sense it.”

  The confession seemed to settle her a little. “Empath. Me, I mean.” Her lips tugged down into a frown. “You are too, aren’t you? You feel…feely.”

  “I guess I must.” She helped Kat onto the table and reached for the ophthalmoscope hanging on the wall. “I’m going to use a light to look in your eyes. It might be a little uncomfortable.”

  “I’m okay. I got punched in the face a couple times. It’s all uphill from there, I guess.”

  “That’s one way to look at it.” She started examining Kat, quickly but carefully, checking for lingering signs of trauma. “What happened?”

  “I’m not sure. I—I was on a date. We walked out to where he’d parked his car, but I guess he’d locked his keys in it? So I was going to call someone I knew who could spring the lock, but then…” Her voice trailed off into uncertainty. “It happened so fast.”

  “Someone attacked you?” Carmen prompted.

  “Him. They attacked him first. My date.” Another pause. “I think. He turned his back on me and I got out my stun gun, but shifters move fast. He knocked me back into the car…” Kat lifted a hand and rubbed at the back of her head. “I don’t think it’s bleeding.”

  “You hit your head?” The girl’s pupils were even and reacted well to light, but head injuries could be tricky. “What else do you remember?”

  “I don’t remember where my date ended up.” Her fingers curled around the edge of the exam table. “I think he ran while I was trying to get the shapeshifter off me.”

  She sounded so lost. Carmen spent a moment shoring up her mental defenses. “Kat, do you think there’s a chance that—”

  Noise and voices in the hallway distracted her from her question. One belonged to Tara, raised and pitched in distress. “Look, you can’t go back there. You have to—”

  The door slammed open.

  Alec Jacobson—because it had to be him—was tall, solid and angry as hell. Not that Carmen could feel his emotions, not with the shielding on the room, but it didn’t take an empath to see the man was pissed. Dark eyes fixed on Kat as his jaw clenched under his neatly trimmed beard. “Katherine LeBlanc Gabriel, tell me the bastard’s name right now.”

  Kat heaved a tortured sigh and gave Carmen a look that clearly said, I told you so.

  Tara skidded to a halt behind him. “I tried to stop him.”

  “It’s okay. I’ve got it.” Carmen rose to stand between the man and Kat, careful to keep her gaze steady but not challenging. “Out.”

  “No.” He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t have to, not when he could convey so much arrogant confidence in one word. “Katherine? The name.”

  “Damn it, Alec, it wasn’t my date. And I didn’t ask the mugger for an introduction while I was tasering his ass, okay?”

  Carmen took a deep breath. “You’re upsetting my patient. Please step out into the hallway. I’m not going to ask again.”

  For the first time, the man looked away from Kat and fixed that piercing stare on Carmen. His gaze traced her face, as if he was looking for something in particular, and he frowned. “You’re the Mendoza girl.”

  It wasn’t a question, but he seemed to be waiting for some sort of response regardless. “Dr. Mendoza. I notice you’re not moving yet.”

  Kat’s voice came from behind her. “You’re wasting your time. He’s not going to—”

  Alec took a step backwards, then a second, until he stood squarely in the hall.

  “—whoa.”

  Carmen turned to Kat. “Sit tight. I’ll be right back.” She could calm the man down, or at the very least distract him until Franklin arrived.

  Except that, once she’d closed the door, she wasn’t quite sure what to do or say. She shoved her hands into the back pockets of her jeans and tried to smile. “Thank you. She’s had a rough night.”

  Worry tightened his expression. “What happened?”

  “She and her date were attacked. She’s shaken up, has some minor injuries and might have hit her head. But she’s mostly scared of what you might do.”

  “No she’s not,” Alec replied, voice steady. “She’s scared I’m going to call her cousin, her cousin’s oh-so-scary little wife, my partner, my partner’s pissy alpha bitch girlfriend, and we’re going to form a posse and kill some folk. And to be fair, she should be.”

  “All right,” Carmen conceded. “But that’s a hard thing to have on your conscience, so cut her some slack and hold off on calling together the mob, okay?”

  Alec raised one eyebrow. “How much do you know about your family’s political activities?”

  “About my family?” The question was so unexpected that all she could do for a moment was gape at him. “What could that possibly have to do with anything?”

  “I didn’t mean—” He rubbed at his beard. “Shapeshifter politics, then. Wolves. Franklin told me you don’t get tangled up in the politics, but he never said if you knew the first thing about them.”

  She wanted to ask him what the hell he’d been doing, talking to Franklin about her. Instead, she shrugged and tried not to get defensive. “Enough to recognize that there’s a big damn difference between shapeshifters and shapeshifter politics. What do you really want to know?”

  “Do you know who John Wesley Peyton is?”

  “He’s the Alpha. Has been for years.”

  “Yeah.” Alec pointed at the room where Kat sat. “That girl’s overprotective cousin just married Peyton’s daughter. Unless you’re a witch
who’s gonna magic those bruises off her face, the only way to stop mob action is for me to take care of it now. Fast.”

  “Right. Where is her cousin?”

  “Wyoming.”

  “Then you’ve got a few hours.” Arguing was getting them nowhere. “Look, my priority is making sure Kat’s all right. Give me ten minutes to check her out, and I’ll ask her to talk to you. I promise.”

  “Fine.” The corner of his mouth tugged up. “Better go let your nurse yell at me. Sinclaire gets pissy when I rile up his employees.”

  The smile transformed his forbiddingly handsome face, and Carmen had to remind herself not to stare. “With good reason.” God, she sounded breathless. “Your reputation precedes you, Alec Jacobson.”

  For some reason the words made him flinch. “So I’ve heard.”

  She hadn’t meant it as an insult, but trying to explain would only make it worse. “I’m sorry.”

  He waved it away. “Not your fault. I am a raging jackass. Comes with the gig.”

  The casual words disguised real pain, and she had to take a step back before she reached out to comfort him. “Wait in the lobby. I’ll let you know how Kat is once I finish her exam.”

  Alec pulled a battered cell phone from his pocket and turned away. “I’ve got a few calls to make anyway, but tell Kat I’m not going to call her cousin. Yet.”

  “Sure.” His back was broad under the tight black T-shirt he wore, and his jeans were just worn enough to—

  Carmen dragged her gaze away from his receding form. She was trembling a little from the effort of keeping up her emotional shields, so she turned and ducked quickly back into the room.

  Kat was eyeing the door with obvious worry, and Carmen smiled. “Alec’s going to hold off on calling your cousin, but you’ll have to talk to him when we’re done here.”

  Some of the tension bled out of her. “I don’t want them to worry. My cousin and his wife, I mean. His sister-in-law just had a baby, and they need to be up there with her, not down here pulling muggers apart.”

  “I got the feeling there wouldn’t be much left by the time your cousin arrived.”

  The girl’s lips pressed together. “Yes, Alec is good at cleaning up my messes. You’d think they’d stop acting like I’m helpless, though, since I’m the one who keeps leaving bodies on the ground.”

  There was something hopeless and chilling in the words, and Carmen fought a shiver as she pulled on a pair of gloves. “I’m most worried about your head. If you smacked it on the car like you said, I mean.”

  “It hurts.” Her fingers drifted up to her head again. “It aches. I think I smacked it pretty good.”

  “If that’s true, you might need to go to the hospital, get a head CT.”

  “No. No.” Both of Kat’s hands dropped to the edge of the exam table, as if she was expecting Carmen to pry her off and throw her out. “I have to stay in this room, especially if I have something wrong with my head. I can’t be outside the shields.”

  Even if Carmen kept her at the clinic for observation, watching for complications to arise, there wasn’t much she’d be able to do about them. A hemorrhage would probably require surgical intervention, something beyond her capabilities on the best of days. Franklin might be able to handle it in a pinch, but not with the clinic facilities. “We can’t fix a brain bleed in this room, Kat.”

  Kat’s stony expression didn’t waver. “The last time I got scared and lost control, I killed someone. I’m not going to a hospital full of people. If something happened, I wouldn’t care if I lived or not.”

  She could have understood depression or hopelessness, but the sheer, steely resolve of the girl’s words scared the hell out of Carmen. “What if I knew someone—a psychic? A telepath who could come in here, peek in your head and tell me if anything seemed off?”

  Silence, as Kat’s eyes narrowed. “What’s their name?”

  Clearly, she didn’t trust that anyone Carmen could suggest would be someone she didn’t already know. “It’s my brother, Miguel. The guy in the lobby.”

  Kat tilted her head, her icy chill thawing to curious interest. “So you’re an empath and he’s a telepath? It must have been strong in your family, for both of you to be psychic.”

  She helped Kat peel her brightly colored cardigan down off her shoulders. “Think that’s impressive? My other brother, Julio? He’s the overachiever of the family. A precognitive and a shapeshifter.”

  “Really? Is it reliable? Strong?”

  “There aren’t many guys in his fire house who’ll—” Carmen sucked in a sharp breath as she caught sight of numerous contusions marring Kat’s arms. Only a few were fresh, and most carried the sickly yellow tinge of at least a week’s age. “How did you get these bruises?”

  Kat blinked and looked down. “Oh, fuck. That’s why I wore the sweater. I swear, it’s not what it looks like.”

  If she had a dollar for every time she’d heard that, she wouldn’t have to work. “Has someone been hurting you, Kat?” Carmen looked her dead in the eye as she asked. Not many people could prevaricate without hesitation.

  “Well, yeah. But I’m paying her to.” Kat held up both arms and studied the bruises with something approaching pride. “Self-defense lessons. Have you ever heard of Zola? She’s a shapeshifter. A lion. And she can set Alec on his ass, though he won’t ever fight with her in front of anyone else. I think it stings his manly ego to get schooled by a girl.”

  Carmen didn’t need empathy to see the truth in the girl’s words. “Okay. How many fingers am I holding up?”

  “Uh, three? Are you going to have your brother look at my head?”

  “It’s either that or a trip to the hospital for that CT we talked about.” Carmen eased up to sit beside Kat on the exam table. “Does it bother you, the thought of having someone you don’t know poking around in your head?”

  “Not really. A lot less than the thought of having someone I do know poking around in there.” Kat smiled wanly. “It’s been a long year. I’ve had a few uncharitable thoughts, and I wouldn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings. I know they’re doing their best.”

  “It’d be reasonable, you know, if it bothered you. It would me, and most everyone else too.”

  “That would make me a little bit of a hypocrite, wouldn’t it? I’m strong. Too strong to block out everything, unless I want to give myself a permanent migraine. People don’t get much privacy from me.”

  She sounded sad, and Carmen didn’t blame her. Outside the warded confines of this room, she had to be beset on all sides by other people’s emotions. Everything they felt, Kat felt. It was a surprisingly lonely way to live, enough to drive a person insane. “I’m lucky. My abilities are low, midlevel at most, and I’ve had a lot of training. I can block pretty much anything, if I concentrate.”

  “Yeah. I can’t.” Kat dropped her hands back to her lap, her fingers toying with the loose, flowing fabric of her long dress. “With great power comes a great need for jumbo bottles of Advil.”

  “Then maybe you and Miguel have more in common than I thought.” Carmen peeled off her gloves as she slid off the table. “I’ll go get him, and maybe hold off your glowering friend for a few more minutes, hmm?”

  “Thanks. I didn’t mean to cause so much trouble, but I panicked. I’m feeling better now, I swear.”

  “You’re probably going to be fine. Humor me for a little while longer.”

  Kat wrinkled her nose. “Humoring people is my part-time job.”

  Halfway down the hall toward the lobby, Carmen heard Miguel laugh. “No, see… To hear my grandmother tell it, she never actually married Primo Ochoa before she ran off with my grandfather. And really, who can blame her for it? The Mendoza charm is legendary.”

  “Uh-huh. Well, the current crop of Ochoa boys are famous for being the least charming bastards of their generation.” Alec sounded amused, as well. “Meanwhile, I hear your big brother just about caused a riot by laying a little Mendoza charm on the oldest Reed g
irl. Didn’t he get challenged over it?”

  “Twice,” Carmen answered. “Set her brother and her cousin on their asses. Miguel, can you help me out for a minute?”

  “Sure.” He shoved his cell phone in his pocket. “What is it?”

  “Kat whacked her head, but she wants to avoid the hospital. She’s willing to let you take a look, make sure nothing’s scrambled.”

  Alec frowned. “Does she need to go? If so, she’s going. Over my shoulder, if necessary.”

  Deadly handsome or not, the man was infuriating. “Sit down, for Christ’s sake. No one’s going anywhere over anyone’s shoulder.”

  His gaze tracked along as Miguel made his way down the hallway, but Alec gave in and dropped into a chair. “What’s he going to do?”

  For a moment, she debated following her brother to make sure Kat was at ease while he did what he needed to do. But what she’d told the girl was true—she and Miguel probably had plenty in common, and not many people felt ill-at-ease with him.

  She settled into a chair across from Alec’s. “He’s a telepath. It’s hard to explain exactly how he reads thoughts, but…suffice it to say, if she has head trauma from the attack, he’ll know.”

  “Ah, yeah.” He inclined his head. “I forgot about the Mendoza psychics. Stupid of me.”

  The words held recrimination, but it was directed at himself, and Carmen got the distinct impression that he prided himself on knowing all the facts of a situation, on exhaustively examining a situation for every possible outcome.

  Except that wasn’t it, not exactly. It wasn’t a matter of taking pride in his own preparedness—it was a matter of necessity. “It bothers you when you think you’ve dropped the ball.”

  His face closed off and his eyes narrowed. “Obviously I get that empaths can’t help picking shit up, but it’s rude to rub it in our faces.”

  Something about the man turned her into a complete ass. “Psych rotation, not empathy, but you’re right. It was impolite. I’m sorry.”

  Alec just shook his head and rubbed at his jaw. “Me too. I’m pissy. Shouldn’t be taking it out on you, but I’m at my wit’s end with that girl.”