Crux

by Moira Rogers

  Steven didn’t meet Jackson’s gaze. He followed Mahalia, jerking the door shut behind him.

  John Peyton turned his attention to his daughter. “We’ll be leaving shortly. Is everything in order?”

  Her spine straightened. “Yes, sir. We’ve coordinated as best we can without more information.”

  Jackson glanced out the window in the back door as Nick explained the particulars of their last-minute plans to her father. Usually, Mahalia’s fits of temper, while impressive, were short-lived, but it didn’t seem as though she’d be getting over her anger at Steven any time soon.

  Mackenzie jerked awake as a hand on her arm shook her slightly. “Hey. I got us a room.”

  Marcus looked exhausted, and she could hardly blame him. Her body felt stiff and sore as she climbed out of the car and gazed at the friendly brick facade of a familiar chain hotel. “Are we in Boston?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I need to try to call the people who were helping me.”

  He nodded and pulled a bag from the backseat. “Let’s go upstairs. We can get some food and you can use the phone in the room.”

  The room was clean and comfortable. Marcus ordered enough food to feed them twice over and disappeared into the bathroom, leaving her on the bed with the phone and a directory.

  By the time room service showed up with two rickety carts, she’d established that no one was answering any of the business phones—not surprising, she supposed, as it was barely past six in the morning in New Orleans—and no one had their home numbers listed.

  She left messages everywhere she could think of, which was exactly two places: Jackson’s office and Nick’s bar. As an afterthought, she’d found a listing for Mahalia’s home and called it as well, trying not to wonder what it might mean that the phone rang and rang without anyone answering.

  She unloaded the various trays from two carts as a way to distract herself as she tried to figure out another way to contact Jackson. By the time Marcus emerged from the bathroom again, freshly scrubbed but wearing the same clothing—warded against Charles’s magic, she reminded herself—she’d run out of ideas.

  She smiled and gestured to the overloaded table. “There’s a lot of food.”

  His answering smile was relieved but guarded. “Good. I’m famished.”

  “I figured.” She swallowed, uncertain about how to proceed. She’d torn his life apart with her very presence, and though it hadn’t been her fault…

  I still feel guilty.

  She dropped into one of the chairs. “I have no idea what to say.”

  “You have nothing to say. Nothing to explain.” He lifted a saucer of sliced fruit from the table and picked at it. “I believe that ball is firmly in my court.”

  Mackenzie winced. “But you didn’t know.”

  His lips twisted in a poor approximation of a smile. “You don’t feel, even slightly, that I should have?”

  There was no answer to that. She thought, briefly, of offering him a gentle lie, but in the end she just sighed. “I don’t know, Marcus. How can anyone? The whole thing is just so screwed up.”

  “An inarguable fact.”

  “How else can I contact people? Someone said Nick’s father was someone important. Maybe I could find him?”

  “Nick?”

  “Nicole Peyton. Her father’s the…” She furrowed her brow and tried to recall the conversation she’d had with Jackson. “The Alpha? The big boss daddy werewolf.”

  Marcus’s eyes widened. “John Wesley Peyton, yes. Yes, he is. We could call his office in New York, but we wouldn’t get far.”

  “Shit.” She sighed and rubbed at her temples. “Okay. I guess I’ll keep calling Jackson’s office. Their assistant should show up in a couple hours.”

  “Why don’t you try to get some sleep?”

  Mackenzie struggled to summon a smile for him. “I think you’re the one who needs sleep. You look done in.”

  His gaze slid past her. “There are two beds, and no reason we can’t both sleep.”

  “Yeah, I just—” She wouldn’t be able to sleep again, not without talking to Jackson. She had to tell him she was safe, hear his voice, tell him she’d see him soon. God. I’m pathetic.

  “I get it,” Marcus interrupted. “Eat something, all right? After that, you can keep making your calls.”

  Heat flooded her cheeks. She ducked her head and stared at a stack of pancakes to avoid having to meet his eyes. “Thanks, Marcus. Not just for this. For everything.”

  “Don’t thank me. Please.” He dropped the saucer back to the table and eyed the glass doors leading to the balcony. “I need a minute, okay? I’ll be right back.”

  She felt helpless. There was nothing to do but watch in silence as he crossed the room and slipped through the glass door. Mackenzie waited until it slid shut before picking up the telephone again.

  She’d called the office so many times in the last hour she’d memorized the number. She dialed it and held up the phone, listening to five rings followed by Kat’s chipper, friendly voice. “You’ve reached Holt and Jacobson Investigations—”

  Mackenzie slammed the phone down and fought a snarl of frustration. Her stomach growled instead, a loud-enough noise to make her start. “Fine.” She surveyed the vast meal in front of her. “I’ll eat. I’ll sit in a hotel room, talk to myself and slowly go crazy. Crazier.”

  The pancakes on her plate had no insights to offer. For that reason, she took particular joy in eating them first.

  There was something almost anticlimactic about storming Charles’s lair.

  The process was highly involved, almost tedious, and required them to stop a hundred feet outside each protective barrier while Michelle gathered her power and channeled it through the amulets she and Mahalia had prepared with painstaking care.

  By the time they reached the last protective ward, Michelle looked pale and unsteady. Aaron murmured something to her as she stopped, the words too soft for Jackson to make out. She smiled wanly in return and shook her head, but leaned against him as she closed her eyes and breathed deeply.

  He didn’t feel anything, which was the most frightening part. Michelle was gathering a massive amount of magical energy, but she was expending just as much magic to hide her efforts. If he hadn’t seen her do it—twice, no less—he might not have believed it possible.

  The fact that the man holding Mackenzie had just as much power—and decades of experience using it—was something he tried not to think about.

  The amulet around his wrist turned hot, and Michelle gasped. “I—I think—” She swayed, and Aaron steadied her as Nick stifled a gasp of her own.

  He looked at the carved wooden disk, doing his best to ignore the rust-colored smears of Steven’s dried blood on it. “You did it, Michelle. They’re working.”

  “Never doubted it for a minute, honey.” Mahalia laid a hand on Michelle’s shoulder, her dark red nails a stark contrast to the borrowed T-shirt the Seer wore, and Jackson shuddered. More blood. He was suddenly glad he didn’t believe in omens.

  Nick stepped forward. She’d dressed Michelle in her clothes, and they wore the exact same outfit. It had taken Michelle a while to understand why Nick would want to risk someone mistaking them for each other, but she hadn’t argued. It would be dangerous for Nick, but none of them would be safe. Now, looking at them was like looking at a mirror reflection, and Jackson could have sworn even the magic surging through Michelle was echoed in her sister.

  “You going to make it?” she asked softly, rubbing Michelle’s arm.

  Michelle opened her eyes, and her lips curled into a self-deprecating smile that Jackson recognized all too well. Michelle could have been Nick then, right down to the slightly wry tone in her voice, even if the words were too formal. “I suppose I’ve gotten used to being the most intimidating person around. For a second I didn�
��t think it would work.”

  “You did good.” Nick surveyed the break in the trees ahead and bit her lip. “The house is just over that rise.”

  Jackson nudged Alec. “Should we go in separately from the others?”

  His partner frowned and cast a look at Steven. “Is Michelle going to have to blow off the front door to get us in?”

  Steven hesitated just long enough to make the answer clear. “Maybe.”

  “So we go in together.” Alec grinned at Michelle, though it must have taken great effort to hide his discomfort as he patted her arm encouragingly. “Make a lot of commotion when you knock, Michelle. That should get everyone’s attention.”

  The way her face lit at Alec’s acceptance was heartbreaking. “I don’t think I can do it quietly. Jackson and Mahalia had better shield for all they’re worth, though, or the backlash will knock them over.”

  Jackson held up both hands. “Consider me warned.”

  Nick whispered something to Aaron and glanced at Jackson. “We all know what to do.”

  Try our best and hope like hell it works. “Yeah.”

  Steven and Alec took the lead. Michelle fell into step behind them, with Nick pressed tightly to her right side and Aaron towering next to her, one hand hovering over her back. Mahalia slid her hand into Jackson’s as they cleared the trees and crested the rise. The house came into view, and she sighed nervously. “Here goes nothing, Jack.”

  They made it to the front door, and the blood pounded in Jackson’s ears as he steeled himself against Michelle’s magic. Still, he thought his head might explode along with the wood, and it took him a moment to orient himself as the group charged through the shattered remains of the front door, guns drawn, spells at the ready.

  Alec and Steven jerked to a stop so quickly Michelle bumped into Steven and stumbled back into Jackson. He barely caught her as ironic applause filled the room.

  A large, curving staircase rose in front of them. Charles stood on the fourth step, surveying them with absolutely no surprise as he brought his hands together one last time and smiled. “Goodness, Miss Peyton. Was that entirely necessary? You youngsters are so ostentatious.”

  The two men who’d attacked them outside the bar flanked Charles, and Jackson’s heart stuttered. “Where’s Mackenzie?”

  The Seer’s icy blue gaze focused on Jackson, and there was nothing left of sanity in his expression. The utter lack of emotion, of anything human, chilled him. Charles acknowledged his reaction with a tiny, wry smile and a nod. “So. You must be the reason she was so resistant. At first.”

  Crazy as a fucking loon. He glanced at Alec and saw his partner had come to the same conclusion. “Look, we’d all love to hang around and engage in some banter—”

  “She’s gone.” The flat, weary words came from the shifter beside Talbot, the one he’d fought in the alley by Nick’s bar. “Marcus took her and left.”

  Charles sighed in disappointment. Power surged, magic so strong it made even Michelle’s formidable energy pale in comparison. Charles flicked a finger as if knocking away a piece of lint, and the large shapeshifter grunted as his feet flew out from under him and his body flipped over the banister and barreled into the wall. The drywall buckled when he crashed into it, and the man sank to the floor, unconscious.

  “I’ve had quite enough of traitors,” Charles said, his voice chillingly casual. Jackson realized too late that he’d turned to watch the shapeshifter fly against the wall. He yanked his attention back to Charles.

  Charles held a gun in his hand. The world slowed, the time between each heartbeat an eternity as Jackson scrambled for his magic. Michelle gasped softly, and Alec swore and aimed his own gun at Charles.

  Too slow. The barrel of Charles’s gun swung in a perfect arch to point directly at Steven’s head. His finger twitched once, and he fired.

  Mahalia screamed, and chaos erupted.

  Nick caught Steven as he slumped toward the floor, and Aaron shielded Michelle’s body with his own. Alec and Jackson returned fire, but their bullets skittered to a stop a foot shy of Charles and clattered to the marble stairs.

  Charles smiled at them and rasped in a labored breath. Mahalia chanted, her dark eyes alight with fury, and the Seer clutched his throat.

  Under Aaron, Michelle gasped. Magic gathered in the room, taking on visible colors as Mahalia’s voice grew louder. Mahalia wasn’t incredibly strong, but rage fed her power, and Jackson felt the tug as she reached out and gathered magic from every available source.

  Charles’s response was more direct. He dropped one hand to clench around the shoulder of his last remaining ally. The small spell caster sucked in a sharp breath, and Jackson had only a heartbeat to brace himself as Charles ripped the power from the man’s body.

  The caster screamed, high and pained, and the world exploded. Darkness engulfed Jackson, and he cursed as everything fell away.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Mackenzie ate, showered and flipped through every channel on the television. Twice. She brushed out her hair and braided it tightly. She unwove it and left it hanging around her shoulders. She paged through the phonebook on a whim, and called directory assistance once looking for John Peyton in New York City. She even called thirteen of the twenty-seven results before she gave up.

  Marcus slept through all of it, dead to the world, and so worn and exhausted even in sleep that she didn’t have the heart to wake him.

  She was on her third pass through the television when the phone finally rang. She lunged for it, heart in her chest, and answered in a shaking voice. “Hello?”

  “Mackenzie?” The voice was young and female, but so nervous she didn’t recognize it at first. “Holy shit, where are you? Is Jackson there?”

  “Kat?” Mackenzie’s fingers clenched around the phone. “No. Have you heard from him? Is Mahalia all right? I tried to call her house—”

  “Wait, wait—” Mackenzie heard Kat’s muttered curses clearly, as well as the sound of keys clacking on a keyboard. “Jackson didn’t find you? You’re not with him?”

  “I’m in Boston.”

  “Fuck.”

  The panic in Kat’s voice set Mackenzie’s heart to racing, and she curled her free hand around the edge of the bed and tried to control her breathing. “What’s going on, Kat?”

  “Shit. Nothing, don’t freak out.” More keys clacked, and Kat swore again. “Hey, can I put you on hold for a second?”

  “No! Kat, what’s going on?”

  “They’re going in to get you. Or they think they are—” Kat’s voice stopped abruptly. “Shit, this is all coming out wrong. Just hold on a second, okay? I want to try their phones.”

  Mackenzie’s heart pounded so loudly she could barely hear Kat’s words. “Hurry.”

  “Stay on the line, I’ll be right back.”

  Mackenzie listened to the silence on the other end of the phone and tried not to think of how many things could go wrong if Jackson and Alec and Nick were trying to get into Charles’s house to rescue her.

  The line clicked again all too soon, and Kat’s worried voice filled her ears. “No one’s answering. Everything’s going straight to voicemail. They’re probably already on their way in, or maybe on their way out—”

  “Shit. Kat, it’s dangerous. Charles Talbot is crazy. He’s so damn strong.”

  “They know that, Mackenzie.” Kat sounded like she was trying to convince both of them. “Don’t underestimate Jackson. He’s smart and really good, and Alec’s a scary motherfucker. They’ve got Nick and Nick’s dad and even Nick’s sister—oh—oh!”

  Mackenzie’s heart jumped. “What?”

  “Nick’s dad. I can try to call Nick’s dad. There’s no way he went in with them.”

  “You have his number? I can call him.”

  Kat cut her off. “No. Oh, hell no. The fucking Alpha? I haven’t g
ot his number, but I can find it.”

  “How?”

  Kat laughed nervously. “Did Jackson and Alec tell you anything about me?”

  “Just that you’re their assistant. And psychic.”

  “Yeah, I’m not really a secretary, though. I mean, I answer their phones, but they pay me for my other skills.”

  The roundabout explanation frustrated Mackenzie. “Jesus, Kat. Just spit it out.”

  “Sorry. I’m a nervous babbler. I mean, when I get nervous sometimes I talk a lot—” Obviously. Mackenzie ground her teeth to keep from interrupting. “But what I’m trying to say… I’m sort of a computer whiz. I mean, good with the less-than-legal stuff.”

  “You’re a hacker?” Mackenzie asked incredulously. It was hard to reconcile the cute, sweet-faced young woman in the girly sundress with that mental image.

  Then again, she hadn’t expected Jackson to be some kind of wizard. She didn’t feel like a shapeshifter.

  “Hacker. I don’t care what Mari says, that word is so misused. There’s all this craziness about computer geeks trying to reappropriate it, and all the crap about it being a benign phrase, but it really is insulting since the etymology—”

  “Kat.” Mackenzie cut her off. “Focus, would you?”

  “Right. John Peyton.” The noise of keys clacking returned. “Hey, I’m going to go so I can make some calls. I’ll call you back when I can, okay? If I get Jackson, I’ll give him your number.”

  “Okay.” She took a breath. “Thanks, Kat.”

  “Sure, Mackenzie. Hang in there, okay? I’m glad you’re not all caught in the evil clutches of a crazy criminal mastermind anymore.”

  “Thanks. Me too, I guess.”

  “Yeah. Talk to you soon.”

  The line clicked, leaving Mackenzie staring at the phone with a confusing mixture of worry and bewilderment. Jesus. That is one weird kid.

  When Jackson was safely in front of her, she’d tell him that. With a tiny smile, Mackenzie hung up the phone and sat back on the bed to wait.

  Please be safe. Please be here soon.

  “Jesus, Holt. Wake the fuck up already.”