“They were silver-lined,” I snarled. “He’s lucky I stopped there.”
The freaky markings etched in her skin pulsed with harsh emerald light. “He failed to mention that part.”
“I figured.” Bad seeds learn all the tricks early. That included how to keep their darker urges sated while not alerting the brass to their leanings. Fitz was fae, and he had worn gloves to handle me that day. Still his revulsion had leaked through. “I bet that happens a lot in a place like this.”
“Less often than you want to believe. Macon specializes in fae criminals. You’re the only warg inmate on the roster.” She made a note on my folder with sharp cuts of her pen. “The staff here uses silver cuffs when a restraining Word won’t do. They’re standard issue and what most guards carry. Under normal circumstances, it’s the most humane option.”
I cast her the flat look I reserved for dog owners upon realizing I’d stepped in a steaming pile of crap.
A Word was just that. A single word. At least on the surface. Imbued with magical purpose, it activated once spoken. It was a humane way of restraining fae and supernaturals, considering our bevy of allergies to common and precious metals. Guess who hadn’t tried a hypoallergenic Word on me until after I had broken his face?
“I’m not defending Fitz.” She plucked at the edge of the papers. “He knew you were a warg, and he knows wargs are allergic to silver. I’m explaining how he could pass it off as a simple mistake, and why you can’t allow his version of events to go unchallenged. The next inmate he discriminates against might not survive his prejudice.”
“You’re taking my side?” I sat up straighter, as though her endorsement had pulled my strings. “Just like that?”
“Seeking justice is more than my job, it’s in my DNA.”
“Okay.” I gave her my full attention for the first time since her arrival. “I’m listening.”
“There’s a reason I had you brought to Macon,” she began.
“I’m all ears.” I flicked one of mine. “Enlighten me.”
“You’re a beta now, Dell. You don’t get to make mistakes.” She tapped the file with her knuckle. “Not ones this big.”
The urge to defend myself never materialized. She was right. The buck for my actions, and those of the pack when operating under my supervision, stopped with me.
“Lorimar is unique,” she continued. “Few fae trust wargs, let alone mate them. The uniqueness of Cam and Cord’s union has left their pack in a bind, and you got squeezed the hardest. Observing warg traditions comes as second nature to you, you were born to it, but you must also learn and uphold fae law to protect yourself and those beneath you. Possessing a strong beta who can navigate the social intricacies of both cultures is the only way their mating, their pack—your pack—will work.”
“You’re right.” The righteous indignation that had puffed me up since my incarceration fizzled out of me, and I sank lower in my chair. “I can’t ruin this for them or for the pack. I’ll step down. Zed is acting gamma. He can—”
“Whoa, girl.” Thierry mimed pulling on the reins. “No one is asking for your resignation. At least not yet. Not ever if I have anything to say about it.” She read the shock on my face and grinned while showing too many teeth. “I’m invested in you in ways you can’t begin to imagine.”
That was slightly terrifying coming from her.
“There were extenuating circumstances,” she continued as though she hadn’t just thrown me a curveball. “You’re a new beta, and that’s a huge responsibility, but you’ve also been de facto alpha while yours have been attending the Gathering. You’re not an alpha. Forcing you to act like one stretched you too thin. It exhausted you. Not to mention the physical strain of patrolling the rift site every night. The decisions you made that led you to this point were above your paygrade. Your actions should have been overseen by your alphas.”
A warning note spiked my voice. “They’re doing the best they can.”
Months ago, a psychotic fae serial killer crossed realms and staged a murder spree through the South. Nicknamed Charybdis, he had fixated on Cam. The rest was complicated. She died, he died. She came back, he didn’t. And in the middle of all that chaos, a nasty spell he had concocted backfired and ripped open a rift leading from this world into Faerie. Fae had been raining into our zip code ever since. And wargs, the Lorimar pack in particular, had been left holding the umbrella.
“Yes, they are. I don’t blame Cam or Cord for what happened either.” Thierry’s ready agreement nipped my irritation in the bud yet again. “Had the conclave taken a more proactive role in attempting to contain the situation, then your alphas wouldn’t have been required to mount their own campaign for assistance that resulted in leaving a newly formed pack with inexperienced leadership at its helm.” She grew animated. “This incident proves the need for integration. It illustrates the need for greater cooperation between our factions.”
The incident, not to put too fine a point on it, was a massive political kerfuffle courtesy of yours truly.
Prior to my incarceration, I had been presented with an ultimatum from a haughty fae who claimed to be in search of a missing Seelie prince, Tiberius, who was squatting on property close to ours. The young man had been stealing provisions from shops in town and kidnapping residents, and I had been glad to get rid of him. My job was, after all, dispatching fae from this realm. I had been pleased with the outcome right up to the point when I returned home to find the prince’s mother and father waiting for me. Tiberius had been a far more valuable asset than I had realized, and I’d botched his handling by returning him to a power-hungry aunt estranged from the rest of the family. Hence the charges of aiding and abetting in the kidnapping of a royal diplomat.
Really, it sounded worse than it was when they put it that way.
“The only way to prevent future mishaps is through cooperation between the fae and the other supernaturals native to this world. The time has come for the conclave to welcome representatives from the wargs, the witches, the vamps and all other sects large enough to volunteer a speaker.”
A lightbulb must have flashed over my head when I got what she wasn’t saying, because Meemaw squinted in my direction. “You’re using this as a platform for reform.”
Who knew she had political aspirations?
“I am.” A straight shooter was Thierry. “It’s going to be a long, grueling campaign. Fae don’t like change. I’m going to need all the help I can get. And I’m going to need the goodwill of both the earthborn fae as well as those sympathetic to our cause in Faerie. I’m going to have to prove this can work, that we can all cooperate. That means we start by cleaning up this mess as an act of contrition.” Leaning forward, she braced her elbows on the desk. “But…I can’t do jack until I get Tiberius back.”
“How are you planning on doing that?” He was a world away. “Chase him through Faerie?”
“Not me, no.”
“Then who?”
Thierry just sat there and watched as the cogs in my brain churned out the answer.
“You’re crazy,” I spluttered. “I can’t go to Faerie.”
“You have an excellent sense of smell, you’re a natural tracker, and you have a second skin that will keep you warm if you have to cross into Unseelie territory in pursuit.” She toyed with her ink pen while steam poured out of my ears. “Wargs aren’t native to Faerie. No one will see you coming.”
I braced my palms on the edge of her desk to steady me before I toppled out of my chair. Faerie. Another world. I had barely managed to survive this one. “Even if I agreed to this suicide mission, and I get the feeling there’s not a whole lot of choice involved, I’m in prison. The rift is all the way back in Tennessee.”
“Yeah. About that.” A funny smile tilted her mouth. “Most wargs don’t track such things, but it’s common knowledge in the fae community that all the tethers leading into Faerie were severed.”
Since becoming beta to a fae alpha female, I had begun
studying her culture, and I did know about the tethers. From what I’d read they were like magical bridges that spanned from one set point in this world to a corresponding location in the other. Only someone had smashed them, isolating fae in whichever world they happened to be in at the time.
Me? I suspected the conclave was thrilled with the rift for providing them contact with their homeland after such a long dry spell. Unrestricted access to their motherland would explain why they were so slow to offer help with plugging the gap.
Thierry still expected an answer, so I gave her one. “I read a paper on the emotional toll the severance was taking on fae who were visiting Earth at the time the event occurred and have since been forced to become citizens of this realm.”
“Here’s the thing.” She screwed up her face and lifted a finger. “There’s one left.”
I waited for the punch line. She didn’t disappoint.
“The tether is anchored in a cell here at Macon.” She waved a hand through the air in a vague manner. “Until the rift over Butler opened, it was the only means of traveling between realms, and it was reserved exclusively for conclave use. It’s anchored in Unseelie territory, and it was heavily taxed both ways.”
This sounded a whole lot like Thierry was echoing my earlier thoughts. A gaping portal in the sky might not be as convenient or reliable as a tether, but it was free. That was motive for the conclave dragging its feet right there.
Penny-pinching bastards.
“You have access to the tether,” I surmised. “That’s how you plan to get me there.”
I noticed she didn’t rush to fill in the minor details. Like, you know, getting me home again afterward.
“Our worlds are poised on the verge of war,” she pressed. “If we lose Prince Tiberius, that verge goes bye-bye. The Seelie won’t let an insult like that stand. Not when they’re grooming him to rule. They’re itching for a reason, and—however well intended your actions were—you handed them one.”
The hot gasp of my anger at Thierry puttered into a wheeze. I hated when she was right.
“How will I know where to look?” Dazed and more than a little queasy, I accepted this rescue mission was going to happen whether I wanted it to or not. Might as well do it right. “I’ve studied fae politics, but not geography.”
“That’s why you’re bringing a team with you.” She held up three fingers. “Three is the maximum allowance for the tether within a twenty-four-hour period, and you have no time to waste. We need you back in five days. Three would be better.”
Zed’s name sprang to mind, but I couldn’t take him. The pack was down two alphas, and now their beta. They couldn’t lose their gamma and still function. Nathalie was solid, but that meant picking Aisha for my second, and I didn’t trust her. Haden was good, but he was young. Impulsive. I was reckless enough without encouragement. Abram, as the pack healer, must remain at home. That left Job, who was too submissive for a covert op, and Moore. No. Just no. I was not putting my life or anything else in Moore’s hands.
Who did that leave? Who else was crazy enough to traipse across Faerie in search of a kidnapped prince?
A knock set Thierry’s eyes sparkling. “Yes?”
Littlejohn, back in human form and wearing sweats, barred the open doorway with his wide shoulders. “You’ve got company, ma’am.”
Curious, the wolf prompted me to fill my lungs. What I scented ignited warmth in my chest and unspooled the tension in my gut like I had knocked back five shots of rum. Burnt metal wafted into the room from the hallway, and my other half raked at my insides to get to the source.
Nostrils flared, Thierry nodded then made a beckoning gesture. “Send him in.”
I twisted in my chair as Isaac Cahill prowled into the room. Isaac Cahill, who was Cam’s favorite cousin. Isaac Cahill, who had broken my wolf’s heart, and okay, he might have dinged mine too.
Tall and lean, dressed in jeans, a faded T-shirt and boots, his dirty-blond hair tousled and his blue eyes grim, he arrowed straight for me. He cupped my face between his palms, his thumbs stroking my cheekbones. My treacherous pulse danced the rhumba, or maybe that was the wolf in my gut bounding like a pup through a meadow at the sight of him. I’m not sure he meant to guide me to my feet or if I did that part on my own. But I was standing in front of him before I made the decision to move, and he was staring past my eyes into my soul. I hoped for my sake he didn’t see his name carved on the walls of my heart.
Dell Cahill. Mrs. Dell Cahill. Mr. and Mrs. Isaac Cahill.
Death by concrete box was looking better and better.
“They refused to allow you visitors,” he growled, giving no sign of possessing x-ray vision, which, for Isaac, was an actual possibility, and I relaxed. “I’ve been here every day since you were arrested, and the guards turned me away each time until today.”
A raspy throat cleared, and Isaac released me with obvious reluctance to turn and face Meemaw.
“You’re looking good, Meemaw. The shawl is a nice touch.” For some reason, he sounded on the verge of laughter. “How was your trip?”
Cocking my head at their familiarity, I was pretty sure I had identified the tattletale responsible for Meemaw’s intel. Now I just had to decide what to do about him.
“Thierry provided an escort. He doesn’t talk much. It’s one of his finer qualities.” Meemaw thumped her cane to make her point. “I’ve been waiting to see Dell too. Of course, I can’t get around like I used to. I just called down in the mornings and saved myself the trip.”
“I tried that.” His hand found its way back in mine. “They refused to give me any information over the phone.”
“I had Thierry’s private number,” she explained.
“Ah.” He spared Thierry a glance I was unable to decipher. “I see.”
“Well, I don’t see.” I squeezed his hand and dragged his attention back to me. “What are you doing here, Isaac?”
The long-suffering look he bestowed on me told me I was missing the obvious. Except not much had been obvious to me since the day I got issued Day-Glo orange scrubs. “What do you think? I’m here to break you out.”
Jaw falling open, I almost bit my tongue when he tapped my chin and clicked my teeth together. “You do see Thierry—a conclave marshal with arresting powers—sitting there, right?”
“Yes.” A half smile curved his lips, and he winked at her. “Who do you think cooked up the plan?”
Chapter 2
The synapses in my brain sparked like fireworks on the Fourth of July, and I made the connection between the fae to my left and my impending adventure. Turning from Isaac, I faced Thierry. “You said I got to pick a two-man team.”
“No,” Thierry corrected me, “I said you got a two-man team. I never said you got to choose them.”
A twang arrowed through my chest when I realized what Isaac’s presence meant. “Looks like you’ll get your wish.” My throat tightened. “You’ll get to explore Faerie like you always wanted.”
His many-times-great-aunt Zelda had been paid her weight in gold and precious gems, a hefty bribe from a frustrated Faerie king, to leave his lands and chart this world in the hopes that being given an assignment might defuse the lethal combination of having a magically potent and perpetually bored subject stirring chaos in his court. She was the first Gemini who migrated to Earth, and the others, being a communal race, flocked after her. Isaac would be the first of his kind to return since their mass exodus. Gemini were, in fact, thought extinct in Faerie. Now he would complete the cycle his aunt had begun all those centuries ago.
“Dell.” Isaac gripped my shoulders. “Don’t look at me like that.”
He had always been smoke I couldn’t cup between my palms. This time my fingers didn’t curl to try. “I’m worried about Cam.” I couched my fear he might lose himself to Faerie as hers. “You’re like a brother to her, and she’s not going to be thrilled if you run off and get yourself killed.”
“I didn’t come here for Cam.”
His hands flowed up my throat, slid over my jaw and cupped my face. “I came here for you.”
The potent draw of the unknown sat between us. Both of us knowing I wasn’t the only reason for his presence. Both of us unwilling to pry open that can of worms in polite company.
Noticing Meemaw’s marked interest in our conversation, I withdrew from his warmth and faced Thierry. I found the ceiling fascinating all of a sudden, and not just because it allowed me to keep hot tears from rolling down my cheeks. I had cried over him enough. I ought to have run dry by now.
A firm knock rattled the door, and then Littlejohn peered into the room. “Another visitor, ma’am.”
Thierry and I inhaled in stereo, and I felt my eyes rounding. The crushed rosemary-and-leather scent was unmistakable. She waved her hand. “Send him in.”
“Enzo. Not you too?” I scarcely believed my eyes. Damn but Thierry was playing with fire by recruiting him.
Isaac and Enzo shared the same height, but there the similarities ended. Enzo’s chocolate eyes were soulful and rich, his black hair slightly curled and in need of a trim. Genetics had blessed him with a natural tan my pale skin would never hold despite the fact I spent most of my days outdoors, and he only glimpsed sun between trips from his car to his lab. Like all redheads, I burned. And like all women, I envied the complexion I didn’t have.
The most dangerous thing about Enzo wasn’t his killer smile, but the fact he was the younger brother of Miguel Garza, the most powerful witch in the southeast. Enzo was no slouch, but he was apprenticed to his brother, and Miguel would spit nails if he had any idea his little brother was standing inside Macon Correctional Facility.
“You didn’t think I’d let Isaac have all the fun, did you?” Enzo crossed to me, shouldered Isaac aside and pressed a warm kiss to my cheek. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”
“Your brother will have a coronary if he finds out about this.” I aimed the unasked question at Enzo and Thierry.
“Then we’ll have to make sure no one tells him. I won’t if you won’t.” A bright grin broke across his face. “Without a patron, witches can’t enter Faerie, and no fae with the influence to act as a patron is willing to stick their neck out for a lowly human with bastardized magic.”
Wolf at the Door (Lorimar Pack) (Gemini Book 5) Page 2